#a wallet but he keeps the whole wallet and shows off the photos inside as if he actually knows the people

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

#bllk smut #blue lock smut #reo smut #reo x reader #barou smut #barou x reader #rin smut #rin x reader #sae smut #sae x reader #itoshi smut #itoshi x reader #shidou smut #shidou x reader

[boyfiejay]

Polaroid Love

OR What kind of polaroids would Enhypen keep in their wallet / phonecase

PAIRING : OT7 x female Reader

GENRE : fluff, lovesick enha boys

Warning : none really, lmk if i missed smt

Author's Note : Happy Valentines to people who have a valentine and people who don't, wrote this in 30 mins because i forgot it was valentines 🤩 single people things ig

Heeseung

Keeps a strip of photo booth pics in his wallet

●It was like you guy's nth date and you randomly spotted a photo booth

●And obviously you had to take pictures for you both

●Heeseung had happily obliged (he was just letting you drag him around the whole time)

●The space in the booth is so small so consequently you sat on his lap with his arms around you

●Man was over the moon, not only does he get to keep cliché couple photos, he also has you on his lap

●You both take photos with various different poses

●For the last one, Heeseung softly grabs you chin and turn you head. His lips already on yours before you could realise, he pulls away after a couple seconds.

●Resultantly you got the softest photo of you two ever. His mood instantly lightens up whenever he sees it.

Jay

A polaroid of you holding his guitar

●Man loves his guitar so much it makes you question if he even likes you

●But surprisingly he never ever said no to you anytime you wanted to hold his baby (he would never say no to you)

●And whenever you practiced on his guitar, he just felt so giddy inside

●The way you were so gentle and careful with it was too much of a happy sight for him

●So he makes the logical choice to capture this moment

●The polaroid remains in his phonecase and he never feels embarrassed or shy to show you off

●Infact he talks too much about you, so much that his friends beg him to shut up

●But anyways he loves that polaroid with his life.

Jake

A picture of you with Layla

●He has his priorities straight, only cares for his two girls (forgets his mom AGAIN)

●But he sulks so much when he realises that layla loves you far more

●But then again you two look too cute together so he can't even get mad about it

●So you were just playing around with layla, and then suddenly you hear the shutter of the camera

●The picture is kind of blurry, but ita the best he could get with how enegetic Layla is.

●Shows the picture to anyone and everyone, like dude no one talked about your dog or your girlfriend, why are you pulling their photos out

●But he's just so energetic and happy no one even says anything to him, Sunghoon probably has that photo revised so much he could draw it blindfolded...

●Makes the photo into a polaroid and keeps it in his wallet, so now its easier to take it out.

Sunghoon

You both laying down in the ice rink

●Ice skating dates with him are honestly not boring despite you being their for the 10th time

●He finds something to entertain you with every single time and its just amusing

●It had been around an hour of sunghoon chasing you around and you were very tired

●So instead of going to the sitting areas, you decided to lay down in the middle of the rink, just trying to stabilise your breathing

●Sunghoon, also somewhat tired layed down beside you, it was quiet for a while until sunghoon took out his phone

●He took a couple picture of you with your eyes closed, which would later be used for blackmail, because you looked dead in those pictures

●When you finally opened your eyes to see what he was upto, you saw him make a funny face through the screen and laughed

●Gotta admit he has some very good timing because the picture turned out of be very cute and later became a polaroid.

Sunoo

Heart on the cheeks trend but a polaroid

●You two were just scrolling on tiktok and finding random beef that keeps happening there

●And you come across a tiktok where friends / couples draw hearts on their cheeks with lipstick

●Excitedly you showed the tiktok to sunoo who immediately ran to your bedroom to get your favourite shade of red lipstick

●Although you were the one who found that trend, sunoo seemed too excited to try it out

●You both drew the hearts and clicked some pictures, even taking ones with your polaroid camera

●And after everything was done and you were washing your faces, sunoo randomly told you that he had been waiting for you to see that trend

●Because he knows you would be happy that you found the tiktok before him :((

●And although telling that to you defeats the whole purpose, you still were very touched by this

●That polaroid is never leaving his wallet istg

Jungwon

You with flowers in your hair

●You both were just walking around with maeumi, you walked so much your feet were starting to ache

●So you both sat down on a park bench with maeumi playing around you two

●It was very peaceful until jungwon plucked flowers from the small bush near you two

●He just randomly started putting different flowers in your hair and you were far too tired to ask him why

●After he was satisfied with his masterpiece, he quickly pulled out his phome and started taking pictures of you from different angles

●One of the hundreds of photos he took was absolute perfection, you smiling at the camera as the sun hits your face just right

●As much of a simp he is, no one can deny that he really did took a phenomenal photo

●It was his lockscreen wallpaper for half a year, then turned into a polaroid that will stay in his wallet for eternity

Ni-ki

A candid of you in his clothes

●I'm obsessed to the agenda that riki loves seeing you in his clothes

●And it was just another on of those times, you two had came running through the heavy rain so you wore his clothes till yours dry off

●Now this guy was red in the face when you just walked in the room

●No matter how many times he's seen you like this, it still makes him flustered

●You were busy with something and he just snaps a couple pictures of you, adding them to his collection of your photos

●Now you had no clue of those pictures for a good couple weeks, until he came to you giggling and all

●Why? Because he turned those photos to polaroids and although you were going to tease him about it, he was just so happy :((

●He's such a cutie patootie around you...

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enha fluff #enha fanfic #enha x reader #enha imagines #heeseung x reader #enhypen jay x reader #sim jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen niki x reader #enha heeseung #enha jay #enha jake #enha sunghoon #enha sunoo #enha jungwon #enha niki #enha jongseong #enha jaeyun #enhypen heeseung #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jay #enhypen sunoo

[timeslugarts]

Second Pass.

Part 2 of my Vera x Vox fic (part 1 is here)

A/N - Oh man, I wrote this ahahahaha I feel like I've been working in this forever! I'm so pleased, though. I hope all of you enjoy it! FINALLY Vox knows her name. No beta, and like tell me how I did? The nerves for posting my writings are always so high with me.💙💖

Nsfw 💖💙

It has been a week, ONE WEEK, and Vox was still scouring the databases for the bitch that took his wallet. She had taken his wallet, for fucks sake. His. Wallet. This was more than just whatever money was inside, but about the principle of the matter. Of he, a great Overlord of Hell couldn't keep sinners in line than what good was he. He had to find her and make her pay.

"Oi, Vox!" Velvette's clipped tone snapped him out of his reverie.

"Not now Velvette darling." Vox spoke smoothly, but unmistakably irritated.

"Oh, are you still trying to find that tasty little thing that played you?" Velvette smirked haughtily at him. "You know if you wanted help, all you had to do was ask?"

Vox turned to glare at Velvette over his shoulder, "do you know something?"

She grinned and leaned on his desk, "I may or may not have gotten my hands on the guest list from Val's secretary."

"Val doesn't know?"

"Of course not! What do you think I am, stupid? And that secretary definitely won't be saying anything anytime soon." Her grin was malicious now.

"Oh Velvette I could kiss you!"

"Ew."

Vox stood up as Velvette handed him the guest list. Handwritten, weird.

"Anyways, I need a favor, Val trashed my fabrics closet after last night's little Angel mishap, so I need a whole new."

"Oh absolutely, anything you need." Vox really wasn't listening, already scanning through the list of names and aliases until one stood out.

Spitfire Demon.

He just knew it had to be her. Quickly going over to one of his many computers he typed the name in, a shifty photo and vague details appeared before his eyes. The photo was unmistakably her, her little blue flames glowing brightly and mucking up the view.

The only note that really stood out to him was added by Val.

NEED.

Vox could only assume he meant as an actress. How long has Val known about this woman and why is Vox just now finding out about her? He was a media empire! He should have more dirt on her than this bullshit. Along with Val's note was a list of presumably bars. Shit like, The Inferno Room, Lucifer's Lounge, and of course The Shit Hole.

This seemed like as good of a place as any to start his search, it was only until the night grew dark that he decided to slip away and zip through the wires until he came to his first stop, The Inferno Room.

Vox dusted off his jacket before entering the bar.

Why is she always hanging out in these disgusting places?

He spotted her almost immediately back pressed against the bar and a man looming dangerously close. He had her arm in a vice and seemed to be pulling her to him. Her little flames fluttered angrily around the guy, maybe trying to push him away, but to no avail.

The jingle of the door gave Vox away, however the only person to look up was her. Recognition flitted across her features and instead of the shock he was hoping for, a coy smile took place on her lips instead.

"Oh dear," she tutted at the man, "I did tell you my boyfriend would be showing up." She gave a brief nod in Vox's direction. The sinner looked over his shoulder and saw for the first time Vox in all his glory.

He had to play this up, he had to be the one to teach her a lesson, not this random asshole. So, for the pure sake of entertainment, he put on his best debonair smile and looked at his little flame.

"Is this man bothering you my dear?" He said cooly, sliding up next to her.

"V-vox, Mr. Vox, uh sir." The sinner was very aware of who he was which made this little play all the more fun for him.

The asshole had thrown her hand down in a panic and took a hesitant step back. Instead of making a break for it, she surprised Vox by pressing herself against him, his arm instinctually wrapping itself around her waist. She smiled gently up at him and he felt his heart stutter. The words she spoke next got him even more excited.

"He absolutely is, sweetheart." She batted her lashes and he squeezed her tighter to him. It almost felt real, they felt insync, like an actual couple. His grin turned manic at her implications, his eye widening, the rings of mind control turned on the poor asshat who just happened to mess with the wrong girl at the wrong time.

"Wait no I-" but it was too late, the sinner had looked into Vox's eye and was trapped. Now he would do anything, eat off the floor, give him his watch, kill himself. Dumb minds were so susceptible to his little power, it's what made being an Overlord so easy here in Hell, everyone was so ready to put their faith in anything. Vox briefly glanced at the woman at his side.

Maybe he'd try this on her later.

For now, a bit of fun wouldn't hurt. "You heard the lady, dog, maybe you should try being less annoying and more entertaining. How about a dance?" And just like that the lowly sinner started to dance, arms flailing about, no sense of rhythm, just hopping up and down. Almost like a monkey.

"Oh, isn't that interesting." She purred at his side, Vox's chest swelled a little with pride at that. "Maybe we should have him take his clothes next?" She grinned, languidly stroking her fingers up and down his back making him shiver.

"You heard the lady." Vox nodded his head to the still dancing man who had begun to sweat. Before the words left his mouth the sinner, without stopping, began undressing in the middle of the bar.

He was attempting to take his pants off while still hopping and dancing about. He had fallen multiple times now, once face flat on the floor breaking his nose. Blood poured freely from his nostrils. He was covered in sweat and blood, tears leaked from his eyes, he was starting to look disgusting, Vox grimaced at the pathetic sight.

On que, as if reading his mind, his spitfire whispered, "This is getting a little boring don't you think? We have other more fun things to do." She grabbed his hand and laced her finger through his. Vox looked down at their hands, thoughts racing through his mind.

Wasn't he supposed to be doing this to her? Why was she so comfortable around him? What was he supposed to do?

With everything racing through his mind he finally landed on, it was just a wallet, and gripped her hand tighter and followed as she began to lead him out of the building.

Vox let himself have one stray look back at the sinner who was breathing so hard now, hyperventilation was probably right around the corner. He looked down at the woman next to him and blinked. The sound of a neck breaking mixed with the jingle of chimes could be heard as they pushed open the door and made their way outside.

"I know a lovely little place, hidden on the outskirts of town. Very quiet, perfect for a little rendezvous." She had walked ahead of him pulling him along.

Vox wasn't sure what he was doing. He really wasn't sure what was going on at all. He just killed someone because she batted her pretty eyes at him. He had no problems killing someone, but doing it so willingly for someone else just because they said please? What was that!?

He had to remember why he was here, this bitch took his wallet! Him! The Vox! One of the Vees!

They were approaching yet another grungy looking bar and Vox couldn't help but chuckle.

"Is something funny?" She twirled around to face him. Eyes bright, little flames dancing gently, an eyebrow arched.

Vox pushed her into the side of the building, caging her in with his arms. "Are you taking me here to rob me blind again? These gross bars seem to be your m/o."

Still she didn't seem startled; she only looked up at him through lidded eyes. Vox had to ignore the heat that went to his crotch.

"On the contrary kitten," she placed her hands on his chest. "I plan on paying you back." She took a finger and lightly traced the edge of his screen. Vox raised his own eyebrow to match.

"Lead the way." He whispered, breath already heavy with want. "This better be good, you stole quite a bit." He resumed his pace next to her.

"Oh hush, you have more than enough to make up for it being the great Vox of Voxtech after all. " She nudged him with her hip.

"So you did your research?" He asked, cocking a brow.

She laughed, it was musical, like bells. "Only after the fact," she grinned, "if it wasn't for your ID I wouldn't have thought otherwise."

"Can I have that back by the way? It's kind of important."

"Hmm," she tapped her chin in mock thought. "Only if you're good."

They pushed through the doors into the new bar, this one was filled with smoke and low music that thrummed in one's chest. She smiled and waved at the bartender who waved back.

Vox rolled his eyes, "is there a skeezy joint in town that you don't know?"

"I only know the good ones, the ones with dark corners for sharing dark secrets." She grinned, pushing him into a small room.

There wasn't time for questions, the wallet was the last thing on Vox's mind as he stumbled on to the small bed.

She locked the door and turned the lights low, her flames brilliantly shining in the dim lights. Her ponytail was the first to go, instead of falling around her shoulders the blue of her hair gently wafted around her, almost like a halo.

Her black dress fell to her ankles and Vox had to stop himself from choking. Her pink flesh was so tantalizing and the lacey black undertakings she wore were just begging to be torn to shreds. If she had used his money to buy them he couldn't even be mad, they looked so good on her.

"Your turn." She whispered as she straddled him, fingers making their way to his bowtie and slowly undoing the knot. Once that had slipped from his neck and onto the ground she began shrugging him out of his jacket which she unceremoniously threw to the floor. The tightness in his pants had started to become uncomfortable, she was moving so slowly. He decided to help, moving his hands to quickly undo the buttons.

She slapped his hands lightly. "Ah ah ah, I told you I was going to pay you back. So just relax." She replaced his hands with her own and began working her way down. With each little bit of his skin that appeared she would kiss it gently.

Vox laid his head back and tried to steady his breathing. Sex with Val was fast and rough, it was almost like a business transaction in it of itself, they only ever fucked if one of them needed relief. To have someone move so slow and touch him so softly was making his heart race.

After removing his shirt she finally, finally, got to the button on his pants. His dick was so hard by now it was embarrassing, the tent in pants was very visible and she licked her lips at the sight.

"It would seem you definitely need someone to take care of you darling."

"I absolutely do not need any-" he groaned as she grabbed at him through the fabric. The pressure finally gave him some relief.

"What were you saying?"

"Fuck-zt you." He panted out. She popped the button on his trousers and paused, raising an eyebrow and looking up at him.

"Shut up!" He blushed, his boxers clearly visible with tiny TVs peppering the fabric.

"I think it's cute." She cooed. Anything Vox was about to say got stuck in his throat as his dick finally sprung free. Rock hard and leaking precum the cold air causing him to his.

She lowered her head and placed a gentle kiss on the tip. Tongue swirling around and lapping up the precum that had spilled. Vox inhaled sharply. Her hand grabbed the base of his cock as she licked a long stripe from the bottom to the top before taking him in her mouth in one fluid motion. Instinctually he bucked up into her mouth. She felt so fucking good, so warm and wet.

He groaned as she tightened her grip and began sucking him off.

Fuck she was really good at this part. The feeling of her tongue moving around him in her mouth, the movement from her hand. Her other hand was wrapped around his hip, keeping him in his place. His claws were on either side of him, tearing at the sheets, as he moaned and panted.

The slurping noises she was making were so lewd and the way she was looking at him, Satan alive he had no control over himself. Before the band could snap she removed herself, Vox whined at the loss.

"Tut tut, no whining here," she climbed on top of him, legs stretched on either side of him, "momma's here to take care of you." A slight snap of her hips had him groaning, the friction was too good.

He looked at her through a hazy of lust, drool dribbled down her chin, Vox lazily lifted his hand and wiped it away with his thumb. She wrapped her hands around his own, pulling his thumb over to her mouth and sucking on the digit.

"God you're so hot." He continued to move his thumb so traced the shape of her plush lips, so black and soft. She leaned into the touch hair spilling over to the side, he reached his claws out to touch the blue fires only to find that it was soft and warm. It didn't hurt at all.

He was so focused on the feel of her hair that when she pushed down on his dick he let out a pathetic choked moan. He could only be embarrassed for a second before she started rolling her hips against him. He could feel himself throbbing inside her, the delicious stretch of her walls around him. He may be stuck in Hell, but he could pretend that Heaven felt like this.

She picked up the pace and started to bounce on his lap. He let out a garbled, "close." His breathing was labored, his screen was glitching and small sparks of electricity were flying off of him.

As she continued to move her hips she leaned over and whispered "Alright, now be good for me and cum, don't worry, I can take it all."

That sent Vox so far over the edge. He could feel himself release inside of her, filling her up, her walls clenching around his dick as she came with him. She moaned and he swore it was the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

They were panting, she was leaning over him breathing into his shoulder the warmth from her breath dancing over him. His claws stroked her sides as also tried to calm himself down. Lifting her leg and tucking her body into his, she snuggled close. Vox wrapped his arm around her as they lay quietly, her fingers tracing nonsensical shapes on his chest. It was nice, peaceful.

A little blue flame danced into his sight, Vox stuck his hand out and it zipped in between his fingers finally hovering lightly over his palm. Just like her hair it was warm and soft, almost like a thick mist.

"What even are these?" He whispered in the dim lighting.

She only yawned in return and snuggled deeper, "I'll tell you about them some other time."

If his head had been with him he would've understood the implications of that statement, but instead all he did was hum in acknowledgement. His eyes were heavy, and his little blue flame was already asleep at his side. He looked down at her sleeping form, her hair gently drifting about her face. Her small fires had died down, only producing a subtle light, as if they too were sleeping. Vox pulled the covers so they were underneath them making sure they were comfortable and snug. Vox grinned to himself as he slowly drifted off next to his little flame.

When he awoke he was almost disappointed to find the bed was empty, but he couldn't say he was surprised.

After finding almost all his clothes he noticed on the bedside table was his wallet, and on his wallet a hastily scribbled note.

Borrowed your jacket, promise I'll give it back next time

XOXO Vera

And underneath that was a phone number. Vox looked hard at the note.

Vera.

He finally knew her name. His little blue flame, his Vera.

#vox #vox x reader #vox x vera #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #vox x oc #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox smut

[mortemoppetere]

A ludicrously huge box sit in Emilio’s room, taking up most of the bed. It’s wrapped in custom Perro-faced wrapping paper, with obnoxiously large bows plastered all over. Inside the box, there is a series of smaller, also wrapped (with different Perro faces) boxes.

Each of the boxes opens up to a smaller and smaller set, sometimes branching off to two or three smaller boxes, but in the end there is only three that are different. The last, actual gift-baring boxes have special wrapping paper, with a number, as well as a picture of Emilio instead of Perro. In the photo, he is doing the infamous scrunchy face.

The first has a [cigarette roller] and instructions on how to use it.

The second has a [polaroid camera] and several things of film.

And the third, a much larger box, has the woodworking kit, as well as the card from Teddy.

“If you made it this far you deserve the extra whiskey I stocked in the cabinets downstairs. I commend you, honestly super proud, Cortez. Enjoy your gifts.

This way you can never run out of cigs, and don’t have to rely on stores being open. You can take pics of things that make you smile and have the physical photos to remind you when shit gets bad. And then something new. I know your hands are good for more than destruction, I think this will be a good way to prove that. There’s supplies in the crafting room, might be a great way to keep you busy.

Merry Christmas, agapitós Asshole." 

Emilio’s not sure what to expect as he begins the journey of unwrapping. The Perro paper does make him smile a little -- he actually shows it to the dog, who gives approximately zero shits about the whole ordeal. Naturally, Emilio does get a little frustrated the more he unwraps. He has to take a couple smoke breaks, mostly just because his attention span isn’t built for this. But it’s not bad. He kind of enjoys himself a little.

When he gets down to the Emilio paper, he makes his scrunchy face at the sight, wondering how Teddy even got that picture of him. He does not show Perro this wrapping paper. Perro, already napping on the pillow, is okay with that.

The cigarette roller confuses him at first. He has to read the instructions to get an idea as to what it is, but he finds it interesting and useful, which are his two favorite qualities in a gift. The camera is more familiar. He’s not sure how Teddy found film for it -- even Emilio knows that most people don’t use film anymore -- but he’s grateful. Unsurprisingly, digital photography isn’t something he loves but, as a P.I., he does know how to work a camera.

The larger box is unwrapped carefully; he’s half expecting something to jump out at him. But the woodworking kit is... good. He thinks it’s a weapon at first, tries to puzzle out how to use it, but he catches on quick. 

And then, there’s the note.

He reads it three times, runs his fingers over the ink. His chest feels tight and weightless at the same time. He knows the feeling. He remembers the feeling. He wishes he didn’t. (He remembers how it ended, too.) He looks at the scribbled out word at the end, wonders what it said, wonders if he’s better off not knowing, if Teddy is better off with him not knowing. 

He thinks they probably are.

He folds the note up, anyway. He puts it in his wallet, next to the only photo he has of his daughter. 

Then, with everything unwrapped, he wanders off to go find and bother Teddy. 

#submission #eldritchaccident #teddy: christmas #gifts #this got long... just bestie behavior from these two as always

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

#Obey me #Obey me! #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

[ceruleanchillin]

Honeymoon Headcanons: Mayans Edition

Characters: Angel, Coco, EZ x F!Reader

Miami (Angel)

It wasn’t difficult at all to decide where the two of you would take your honeymoon. When you weren’t gonna be naked, Angel wanted you in sundresses and bikinis. You wanted him in linen shirts, and to feel him up in a club. Couple that with you both wanting a tropical environment, and Miami it is.

Angel letting you handle the accommodations, because you seem to know more about what you wanna see/where you wanna go than he does. He only cares about a bed and shower for when he’s not taking you in the inappropriate places. He just hands over the cash, though he complains about his hurt wallet.

Angel hard as a rock when he sees your new name on your plane ticket.

The two of you nearly missing your flight because your husband needs to “show his wife he loves her”.

You babying him on the flight, because Angel has never flown anywhere before.

“Mami, it’s perfectly valid to feel like a flying toaster can’t safely get you anywhere but a casket. Which they can’t even put you in, because you’ll be everywhere!”

Cue you distracting him with kisses and dirty words in his ear, which gets you initiated into the Mile High Club

Barely making it into the cute little condo before the two of you are at it again, collapsing in the late hours to jet lag and mutual satisfaction.

Your first official day is spent dragging Angel around the humid streets. Knowing he stresses easily if you plan things too tightly, and wanting to wing it yourself. It’s surprising how well you to fit in, it almost feels like home.

Angel switching from being jealous, because your tiny cotton sundress is attracting more than just his attention, to him kissing all over your dewy skin because so much of it is visible.

You getting as jealous as Angel, because it seems like each place you drag him to has openly interested ladies. It’s the white linen shirt that he won’t fully button no matter how many times you try to make him.

Angel basking in the attention, and even playing it up to force you to be the one to initiate inappropriate public sex.

Smirking when you break after a woman pays for his (and unintentionally yours) order at a small cafe you stepped into and you snap and drag him to a hidden place.

“I only love you querida, mi alma.” he whispers in your ear when he bottoms out inside you.

You two are a beautiful couple. Photogenic as all hell. Alone, neither of you have a problem attracting interest, but together, you make people want to be seen around you. That’s why you have no problem club hopping to all the exclusive places.

Angel taking photos and videos of you dancing because he’s so enthralled. He can’t wait to show your kids one day when they ask why he fell for you, and he explains how full of life you are.

Getting enough liquor in Angel to get him dance somewhere away from the club, especially since he (lies) and says he can’t.

You and Angel competing to see who can get the most people to buy your drinks + the two of you losing track because you both get drunk.

A quickie in the coatroom is the prize, Angel fucking you to the hypnotic beat.

Spending a few hours apart the following day, only to still keep texting and FaceTiming each other until you met up, touch starved, at a small restaurant.

Deciding to spend the rest of the day at your Airbnb laid up under each other after Angel scores weed. Teasing Angel about his monetary complaints when you spend all night enjoying the small backyard pool.

Angel thanking God for getting an adventure loving woman as his soulmate when you wake him up the next afternoon to inform him you rented jet skis for the day.

You being impressed when, while jet skiing, Angel silver tongues your way into an invitation to a nearby yacht party out of the host.

FaceTiming Gilly to make him jealous that you two are doing Hookah and drinking Casamigos in a hot tub.

Angel ramping up the mockery when EZ and Coco appear on screen, attracted by Gilly’s whining. Everyone looking overworked and salty, while you and Angel are living your best non-sober lives.

Slipping away from the party to one of the rooms on the boat, because once again, you and Angel never know when to stop teasing each other before it ends up in sex.

Feeling bold enough to suggest that since Angel’s been documenting so much of the trip, that maybe he should film this too.

The aftermath being a surprisingly sweet series of kisses and confessions where the two of you express how thankful you are to have found each other. How you can’t wait to build a forever together.

Marfa + Roswell (Coco)

No one knew how you got Coco to agree to travel for your honeymoon until you finally revealed where you were going. Splitting a week between Marfa and Roswell.

You and Coco are that “weird” conspiracy, incense, and weed couple, so it makes sense.

Giving Coco an edible before you leave, because like Angel, he doesn’t fuck with air travel like that.

“They got me with that bullshit in the military, but that was out of my control. You askin’ a lot right now, you’re lucky you’re cute mujer.”

Coco getting progressively handsy during the flight as the edible hits. Eventually, you stop fake-fighting his neck kisses and forward touches.

Also like Angel in that he’s unafraid to become a member of the Mile High Club.

The ride from the El Paso airport, to the car rental place, to Marfa takes far longer than Coco would like.

He’s used to long stretches of trip on his bike, and when you notice him becoming antsy, you distract him with interesting facts about Marfa.

The entire time, Coco can’t help but think that you’re the perfect road trip co-pilot, only to realize he actually meant his life in general now.

Coco proud as hell when you fall in love with his accommodations choice like he did. The colorful airstream trailers of the El Cosmico hotel are the two of you through and through.

You both trying to be responsible adults and refresh after travel, but continuing to get lost in each other during the whole process.

Shower sex -> Making out while drying off -> Touching while searching through your bags for something to wear -> bed sex -> repeat

Looking thoroughly mauled when you finally manage to get Coco off of you and into the car in search of food the next afternoon.

Coco being happy you can’t cover up due to the heat, while you wonder what superpower he and his boys have that let them wear flannel and long sleeves in the heat.

Dragging Coco to a cute cafe you saw on instagram, and him knowing, by the hipster design of it, that his wallet is about to cry.

Stealing food from his plate, and laughing at him sucking his teeth and whining when he catches you.

“You’re stuck with me forever now Johnny sooo….get used to this.”

“Small price to pay for that I guess.”

Finding small shops to go to and being Siamese twins in every one. Coco showing he has good taste in a lot of things one might think he wouldn’t. Him opening up his wallet at everything you 'ooh' and 'aww' at. He can’t help it, he likes you happy, and your kisses and adoring looks are addicting.

For almost everything you get, Letty gets something too. Neither of you wants that tantrum when you get back.

You fighting yourself to avoid the art supply store, and Coco not having it.

“I have so many supplies already, it’s an addiction at this point.”

“So? Get some more. It’s our week, we shouldn’t stress about shit.”

Coco bragging on your talents and successes to the art shop cashier when you checkout.

“Cocoooo.” you murmur hiding your face in his shoulder, arms around his waist.

“Don’t be shy ma, you’re fucking amazing. I love your skills.”

Cue the cashier swooning at the two of you.

Finding unique liquor stores and getting tipsy on samples. It becomes twice as fun when locals, and other tourists alike, start discussing the Marfa lights with you, and you and Coco impress everyone with your ideas.

Being invited to a bonfire smoke session with the other El Cosmico guests when you get back.

Sketching Coco by the firelight, because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in that moment, and now he’s officially yours.

The sex being on another level of intimate that night, because all day you and Coco have been engaging in your respective love languages, and it culminates in mutual need for each other.

The drive to Roswell being more tolerable for Coco, but he still misses his bike. Your excitement about AlienFest is so palpable however, he quickly forgets.

Your hotel being more conventional, but the people you meet making up for it. Finally, you and Coco aren’t the weirdest ones in the room.

Taking the time before the festival starts to check in with friends and family and accumulate odd souvenirs for them. You believe Coco is intentionally getting them stuff they’ll hate.

“Taza won’t wear that baby, he has better taste in jewelry than UFO earrings.”

“Ok, but can he bitch about us not getting him anything? Plus, you can guilt anyone into anything.”

Doing cute edible pastries at the festival.

“You know Aliens are demons right? Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard were doing summoning rituals in the Mojave in 1946, and Roswell was the following year.”

“Word?…Shit. Tell me that again when we’re not rolling. I wanna read about it………you’re so smart mami.”

Coco realizing between every snack stop, every dance he shares with you, every trinket you pick up, and every little conspiracy tidbit you share, that you’re his wife now. That the peace he’s been feeling all week, that he thought he’d never have, is going to be his new normal.

New Orleans (EZ)

You and EZ both enjoy engaging with history and culture, and felt that your honeymoon should be built off of your shared interests. During your meticulous wedding planning, it was decided New Orleans would be the honeymoon destination. It didn’t hurt that you missed your southern roots too, even if you weren’t from New Orleans.

Traveling with EZ is a dream considering you’re both pretty organized, together people. He’s not afraid of flying, but you’re always a little nervous.

EZ being Best Husband™️ and soothing even the most minor of your stresses by turning your attention to the excitement of your trip and your new relationship status.

Teasing EZ in-flight won’t get you Mile High Club initiated, because he finds it much more entertaining to punish you by letting you work the both of you up, and making you stay that way for the duration of the flight. He’s got enough will power to suffer through it, because your soft whines make it worth it.

The airbnb is everything it was promised to be, and you’d appreciate that later, but all you can think of is your husband when you step through the door. That’s the other half of why EZ likes to leave you waiting. Your aggression and exclusive desire for him gets, and keeps, him hard.

It rains the following day, which is just as well, because neither of you are quite ready to stop physically expressing your love for each other. The day consists of ordering food, falling out of your clothes and onto each other, separating to read, falling back on each other, and quick naps.

Angel sending mocking texts in your Reyes group about how you’re trying to turn his brother bamma like you, only to stop when you threaten him with no souvenirs.

EZ and you taking responsibility for your own tour because let’s face it, you both know exactly what you want to see, and can plan a more satisfying tour for the both of you. You take turns deciding where to go next.

When it’s his turn, EZ picks an art museum, and can’t quit smiling about it. You think it’s because he picked a place he really wanted to go to.

“Babe, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” your excitement always makes EZ’s heart race with his own.

He hands you the guide brochure he picked up at the door, folded to the section he wants you to look at.

“Faith Ringgold exhibit?!”

He hums and nods, grunting when you knock into him with a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I love you.” you look up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears and he just kisses you, afraid he’ll cry if he says anything.

The two of you avoid the tourist trap spots for lunch and find a cute family owned cafe. You order for the both of you based on what you know about southern cuisine and both of your tastes.

You love watching EZ fall in love with the food as he keeps asking “Can you make this?” about everything he eats.

The two of you walking through the Garden District in the evening. Hands swinging between you with no plans but to admire the beautiful homes and foliage.

EZ noting how awestruck you are, and you describing what you love about the historic, towering homes.

He catches that when you describe what your dream home in the area would be, he and your future children are mentioned frequently, and it makes butterflies dance in his stomach. He can picture your family in the yards around him.

The two of you almost make it back to your Airbnb, but give into your baser urges after all the domestic conversation. EZ pulls you into an alley for a quickie, the two of you fighting to silence the other’s vocal expression.

You teasing EZ after that he’s more like his brother than he thinks. Him teasing back the two of you would’ve been caught and arrested if he was like Angel.

The following day is relaxed and less planned. The both of you getting thoughtful gifts for each member of your family, blood and otherwise. EZ scores major points for the gifts he suggests for your mom and dad, and you kind of want to jump him again.

EZ is glad you’re impressed, but it’s nothing to him. It all comes naturally because he loves you so much, and refuses to be anything other than the husband he knows you deserve.

AN:

I didn’t want to add this, cuz I wanted to end on a sweet note, but you just know Angel would accidentally send that vid to one of his boys.

Personally, I lose it for shit like this. Anything domestic in writings is my jam, so I decided to make these headcanons.

- Fun fact: Jet Ski is kind of like Bandaid in that it’s become the generic term for “personal water vehicles”, but it’s actually a specific brand’s name for their PWVs. I learned this while writing this enjoy��.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #ez reyes #ez reyes x reader #reader insert #angel reyes imagine #coco cruz imagine #ez reyes imagine

[cherryrogers]

what about call me baby bucky and y/n going on dates? maybe a fair or carnival with their friends? games, rides, food, cute photo booth photos? :)

call me baby masterlist

cmb bucky x reader + carnival dates !!!

i don’t think they’d actually plan a date there i think they’d end up going with the group but ultimately disappear off in their own bc they’re annoying like that lmfao

they’re soooo competitive. like. so competitive. they decide they have to play every carnival game bc they keep one-upping each other

“god, what happened to chivalry? be a gentleman and let me win, barnes.” “when have i ever been a gentleman?” “you have your moments.”

one of those moments being when it starts getting cold and B gives you his jacket (it’s so warm. he is *literally* a human heater)

still, you walk around with your arms wrapped around his waist (he is just *so* warm, and he smells like heaven)

going on Big rides even though neither of you really want to but you’re both too proud to say you’re too scared

so the whole time you have a death grip on each other’s hands

and when you get off you both decide it’s time a good time to go get food

you get hot dogs and sit at a picnic table opposite each other

B gets ketchup on his face and this conversation arises:

“you have ketchup on your face.” “shit. get it for me?” “i’m not your mom. get it yourself.” “you’re meant to wipe it off with your thumb, then we’re meant to kiss and it’s meant to be all romantic.” “you’re so weird.” “…” “… fine, c’mere, idiot.”

that was a bad idea bc now you can’t stop kissing

“you thinking what i’m thinking?” “photo booth?” “i was thinking more the guy’s bathroom. more roomy.” “my god, james buchanan. i have dignity, you know.” “because getting off in a photo booth is way more respectable.” “yeah… we’re awful human beings.” “well, we’re awful together, right?” “right, babe.”

you do go to the photo booth (only to take photos (and make out a bit, but whatever)) and you each put one in your wallets

“this is so… coupley. it’s almost disgusting.” “don’t worry. steve and peggy have matching necklaces.” “ergh. yeah, okay, that’s worse.”

secretly though the thought of you having a B chain around your neck gave bucky… many thoughts. some (most) not so PG

but you didn’t need a necklace for him to know that you were all his. he knew you inside and out like no one else did

and you’d show him how much you… cared about him later, when no one else was around

(loved. loved him)

#bucky barnes x reader #cmbfanfic

[nectarous]

— ᴘʟᴜɢɢᴇᴅ ɪɴ.｜ᴏᴊɪʀᴏ ᴀʀᴀɴ x ᴄᴀᴍɢɪʀʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ

WARNINGS: sex work, camming, use of anal plug, solo male mastrubation, bicurious atsumu.

W/C: 1.2K.

SUMMARY: atsumu might’ve just found his new favorite camming couple.

⇦ RETURN TO ARAN WEEK MASTERLIST.

you were worried, introducing your boyfriend to your job. not that aran would judge you if were in sex work, but the reactions of the audience that took you months to acquire mattered a whole lot in an industry as brutal as camming; introducing a new person to that persona it’s taken you so long to craft was pressurizing. people signed up for a one girl act, and that’s what you’ve delivered for so long, but it can get so dull sometimes. sitting in your camroom alone talking to a glaring screen until 4am.

but, like always when it comes to aran, there was no reason to worry. welcomed with open wallets and positively perverted comments. it’s easy to tell how handsome he is just from his voice and those lame puns he opens up with caught the hearts of your loyal viewers each night. the flecks of his kansai accent and, of course, his body meant that he quickly became a regular on your streaming nights. it seemed like all he had to do was sit there and he was fawned over.

from an outsider’s perspective, how could they not take pleasure in your dynamic? you’re both comfortable in your skin, him with a body chiselled from years of dedicated volleyball, you and your soft curves and dips, good humored and substantial, and even after being on live for hours on end he can yank orgasms out of you until you can barely keep your glassy eyes open.

the two of you weren’t the most popular by any means, staying anonymous and not showing your faces being one of the biggest reasons for that, but the dedication you put in your job shows. clear camera work and immodest colorful sets and a decorated space for the long nights with fairy lights and naked posters, sets you apart from the other girls on the site. 

atsumu logs into his favorite camming site with practiced ease. it’s a practiced habit at this point; come home from a gruelling msby practice, shower, choose from the meal prep osamu begrudgingly cooks for him every sunday, and settles in for a great night. it’s close to midnight, the moon winking teasingly from behind the curtains. 

browsing the couples tap while roughly drying his hair, he absentmindedly scrolls until he sees a cropped photo of a couple he’s not familiar with. the girl’s smiling, glossy lips quirked up and a cobalt lingerie set, while the man behind her holds a tit in each hand.

cute.

clicking on the video link , he leans back into the soft chair and waits to see who he’s working with tonight, pulling down the band of his gray sweats. 

all that’s visible, is a zoomed in frame of her folded up legs in a variation of a seated cowgirl, feet tucked underneath her ass. the sides of her tits are visible, nipples pressed into the man’s chest. the sight of big, rough hands spreading her ass so the twinkling pink butt plug flashes with every roll of your hips has him humming in satisfaction.  

wait. that’s aran. 

it’s easy to instantly identify even with all the blood rushing down, deep rumbles of his childhood friend egging some girl on, is that you, cooing at how good of a girl she is, you are.  atsumu could recognize that voice anywhere, he hasn’t gone a day without hearing it, and that hand painted polka dot mug he gifted aran when they were barely teens placed next to the bottle of lube on the desk.

he’s not familiar with that room, but he faintly theorizes it’s the one door that you keep locked. even the discovery of the room he’s been pestering you to let him peek in fades from the thought that some of his closest friends are so hypnotizingly, fucking hot. 

the few minutes of watching are one of the best things he’s ever seen— the shelves of whips and collars and pastel dildos framing the both of you, your glistening skin and aran’s solid thighs, has everything hardening up.

the loud  disgusting arrangement of slapping skin and duos groans echoes in the lone apartment. his hand absentmindedly traces down his rapidly rising torso until he can grip at his pulsing cock. thumb dragging over the slit, and biting at his flushed lips. he could only imagine how whorishly your faces look right now, how aran’s stone-sculpted face looks sweaty, and how you’d look heated and jumbled,

even though he feels slight awkwardness at gawking at one of his best friends fuck his girlfriend, he can’t look away. the few times his cock pops out of you, atsumu appreciates the pretty pink tip and the manscaped pubes and the muscles in aran’s thighs flexing. aran’s bigger than he expected, it looks like your cunt’s barely taking him in. and that little lingerie set you’re wearing, crotchless panties and lace and thigh highs has him imagining what it would feel like grabbing at the fat in your thighs and tasting all of you.

 there’s no harm in watching, is there? 

how would it feel to be on top of you, underneath him, shoved between you two with one of those toys on the plexiglass shelves. to feel your nails rake against his tense muscles and aran’s hands squeezing at his waist, and all the gooey electrifying energy you two excude.

your little pants and that fucking plug, that keeps catching his attention, and he wishes he was earlier to see how aran shoved it in you, how much your spread around the silicone. the way aran spouts filthy, dirty praises has atsumu’s thighs twitching and a faint red hue dusting at his face.

any embarrassment atsumu might’ve felt fleets away when he watches the way you cream around arans cock, and how that light layer of cream forms on the base, and those squeaky, steamy keens forced out of your throat every time he bottoms out. 

he silently curses at the camera cuts off at your necks; it doesn't catch that expression on your face or the way aran’s lips tug up at your eyes rolling back. 

aran’s harsh hisses boom through the speakers, that he’s so lucky only he gets to see the mess he makes of your face; tinged voice demanding that you to stare into those intense eye, hissing how he’s going to pump a baby in you, and how he’s going to let hundreds of viewers watch it happen. the way he slams into you, he’s going faster, somehow harder, feet planted on the ground and nimble hips meeting yours with a thundered precision.

what isn’t aran good at?

aran comes inside you with a groan, and atsumu tumbles down after him; furiously yanks at his cock, matching to the bouncing pace aran yanks your hips with. fuck, it might’ve been one of his most intense sessions in a while, coating his bare chest in limpid strings of white, a few drops on his chin squirting on his chin. 

it feels like his heart is going to burst out his chest with how fast it’s pounding, and his hands are still shaking just a bit, and he stares up at the ceiling comically wide with the realization that he just jacked off to his best friend of a decade absolutely obliterate. you.

he sends in a couple thousand tokens, that’s his splurge of the week it seems, with a private message attached. 

from blondeballs85: nice work, aran-kun ;)

#aran smut #aran x reader #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #aran ojiro smut

[tojisveryown]

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

Ｒｅｑｕｅｓｔ: 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘠𝘶𝘫𝘪. 𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳?

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ: 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 20'𝘴

Ｗｏｒｄ ｃｏｕｎｔ: 1.9𝘬

Ｎｏｔｅｓ: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘨𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳

.  ღ  .

Itadori grew confused at the sudden knock on his door, it was way too late for it to be Nobara or Megumi. He turned on his side wrapping his blanket over him hoping the knocks would stop and whoever it was would just come back tomorrow. However the knocking didn’t stop which caused Itadori to groan as he got out of bed, putting a shirt on over his head he yawned as he came closer to the door 2:41am, Who the hell is at the door?

Itadori unlocked and opened his door, there stood his former sensei, Gojo Satoru next to him was a little girl around four years of age. 

“Yo Yuuji, how you been?” Gojo invited himself in dragging the little girl inside with him.

“Hey don’t just come in, it’s almost three am, and who is that?” Itadori eyed the little girl and he was reminded a lot of his ex-girlfriend, but not quite.

“Where’s your hospitality to your favorite sensei? I thought I taught you better.”

“Ha very funny, now what’s up why are you here?”

Gojo perked his lips together and leaned back on Itadori’s couch, he crossed his legs and observed his apartment, “Remember Y/N?”

Itadori’s memories of his ex flashed before his eyes, he remembered her alright. He remembered that he cheated on her and ever since he hasn’t really been dating. “Yeah what about her? She doing alright?” 

“I guess you could say that-” Gojo was cut off by the sudden ring of his phone “Mmh- oh? Okay, I’ll be there. Sorry Yuuji we’ll have to continue some other time, higher-ups need me.” Gojo gave the little girl seated next to him some candy and patted her head before he left, he gave Yuuji one final wave and hurried off to Jujutsu Tech. 

“Hey wait you forgot- you forgot your kid??” Itadori looked at the little girl and she was fast asleep on his sofa. “Cute.” 

.  ღ  .

The next day Itadori woke up and walked over to his kitchen. “Huh, that was a weird dream- holy shit!” surprised at the little girl who was sleeping on his couch, he took a few steps back causing his back to crash into the wall “Huh so it wasn’t a dream? Who even is that.” 

He shrugged and made his way to his kitchen making himself some breakfast. As he was eating he noticed a pair of eyes staring at him, “Hey, what do you want for breakfast?” 

The little girl rubbed her eyes and with a soft and small voice she said “Pancakes, please.” Itadori mentally clutched his heart and nodded his head, making his way to the counter, he began to create the pancake mixture, using the recipe him and his ex used to use. He began to let his mind wander to what Gojo was about to say. He brushed off the thought and poured the mixture onto the hot pan.

The little girl stood behind the doorframe leading into the kitchen with her head poking out, Itadori smiled and flipped the pancake. This could’ve been us, if only I didn’t fuck it up.

Itadori finished making the pancakes and plated them nicely on one of his cream white plates getting a fork and some syrup. He placed the plate on his counter and motioned the little girl to sit down at one of the chairs 

“Do you want anything to drink, orange juice? Apple juice? A smoothie?” 

The little girl looked up at Itadori after stuffing her face with the fluffy pancakes he had made, a small voice spoke “Water please.” 

“Are you sure?” The little girl nodded.

After breakfast Itadori noticed that the little girl had no change of clothes nor did she carry anything with her, she must be uncomfortable in the same clothes. “Hey, do you wanna go shopping?” the little girl looked over at him with a questioning look, “We can get ice cream if you’d like too um.. er.. what’s your name?” 

“Hana, can we get strawberry?” 

Itadori smiled and nodded, he lifted Hana up on his shoulders and together they entered the train station. 

Hana ended up falling asleep on Itadori’s shoulder, Itadori was in awe. He took a picture of them together while Hana was sleeping and sent it to Gojo, reminding him that he left a whole child in the hands of someone she doesn’t know. 

.  ღ  .

They entered the mall and as they were heading over to the ice cream stand Hana gripped onto Itadori’s hand, “Hey what’s wrong?” 

Her grip tightened and she let out the words “Don’t wanna get lost.” He smiled and lifted her up onto his shoulders. He was quickly growing fond of Hana, something about her just gave Itadori a sense of happiness, something he’s been longing for. 

“What can I get for you two today?” 

“Can I get one strawberry scoop and one vanilla?” 

“One strawberry and vanilla scoop coming right up, that’ll be 9.87 please.” 

Itadori pulled out his wallet and gave the cashier his card, and while opening his wallet Hana noticed a very old photo of her mom 

“Mama?” 

Itadori flinched and brought Hana down from his shoulders, “Hey you saw your mom? Do you know where she is?” 

Hana simply pointed at his wallet, for a second Itadori questioned it but he soon opened his wallet and showed her “Silly Hana there’s no one in here.” He let out a laugh and patted her head.

“Mama.” She said again pointing at the Photo of you that was neatly put in Itadori’s wallet. 

Itadori’s heart dropped. He thought back to the thing Gojo was saying about his ex and how he got cut off due to the higher ups, he quickly put his wallet away and lifted up Hana, carrying her in his arms along with their ice cream Itadori headed to Gojo’s apartment as fast as he could.

.  ღ  .

“Yuuji? I didn’t expect you here- oh hi Hana how are you?” Gojo leaned down to pick Hana up, he brought her inside of his apartment and changed the channel on his TV to something Hana would enjoy watching. 

“Sensei, who’s Hana’s mom?” Itadori asked with a shaky voice, he closed the door and headed towards where Gojo was seated. 

“Oh yeah about that, did you know that Y/N was pregnant when you two broke up?” 

Yuuji’s heart stopped. “She was what?” 

“Mm yeah that’s what Miwa told me.” 

“Miwa huh? Are they still friends?” Itadori rubbed his hands together, anxious of what Gojo’s intentions were bringing Hana over. 

“I guess you could say that,” Gojo lifted his sun glasses and placed them on the counter, “You do know that Hana’s your kid right?” 

“Well yeah I figured.” 

“Great! I’m gonna need you to fill out these papers.” Gojo handed Itadori a stack of papers and a pen that had Gojo’s face plastered all over it. 

“Papers? What for?” 

“Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji, how dense can you get? Papers so you’ll have legal documents to state that Hana is in your custody.” 

“Huh? But isn’t she in Y/N’s care?” 

Gojo bit his lip, he sighed. Putting both palms on his cheeked and elbows resting on the counter he started, “Yuuji,” Itadori replied with a hum, he furrowed his brows while he began filling the papers out, “You remember that Shibuya incident that happened about a three months ago?” 

“Oh yeah the one where over forty people died because of Sukuna right?” 

“Yeah... Y/N was one of those forty.” 

It fell silent, the faint noises coming from the TV was blurred out from Itadori’s hearing. Y/N.. died? 

“Sensei-”

“Look I know it’s a lot to take in, you did love her more than anything but you have to be strong Yuu, Hana lost her mom and all she has is you.” For once Gojo’s words were actually something Itadori could use for wisdom. 

“Does she even know I’m her dad? It’s been like five years since Y/N and I broke up.”

“Don’t know, but I’ll tell you this. When I heard news that Y/N was killed by one of Sukuna’s guys I was sent to look through her apartment for clues as to why they’d specifically get her and when I got there she at least had three pictures of the both of you framed.” 

The indistinct memories of the night you and Yuuji broke up filled his mind to the brim. 

.  ღ  .

You were shifting around. Making sure everything was perfect was such a hassle but you wanted tonight to be perfect. You longed for this day and you wished and hoped that you’d be able to start a family with the man of your dreams. 

You waited for Itadori to get home, you knew he would love the dress you wore tonight, a mid length white flowy dress that he picked out looked amazing on you. You did your hair as well. Awaiting for the homemade dinner along with news to deliver excited you. The look on his face as he realized he would be a father very soon was something you’d never forget.

After thirty minutes of waiting the door finally opened to reveal a slummed Yuuji.

“Hey what’s wrong? You look down, something on your mind?” 

“Y/N we need to talk.”

“Oh no that’s not good.” You let out a laugh to lighten the mood and what you received was nothing but silence. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I love you so so much. More than words could explain and I know I fucked up, I really do, please forgive me I promise it’ll never happen again.” He pulled you into a hug, and yet you were confused as to what he was babbling on about. 

“Yuuji? What’s this all about?”

 “I cheated.”

You took a step back at the sudden words that escaped your lovers mouth. You were in disbelief. Denial was the only thing you felt but then Yuuji kept talking. 

“I’m so sorry, I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in anymore, every time I look at you it haunts me.” He reached over to you and your body moved on it’s own, you took a step back causing Itadori’s face to drop. He knew he had lost you. 

In that moment you knew announcing your pregnancy to him would just crush him more, you sighed and pulled him into your embrace. 

“It’s okay Yuuji, I forgive you. Please don’t do it to your next girlfriend.” 

“Next? You don’t mean-”

“Yes. I do, I’m sorry Yuu. I love you but there’s no way I can trust you now.” 

He nodded, he knew trying wouldn’t get him anywhere once you made up your mind. He accepted the punishment given to him. He was the one at fault no matter how you looked at it.

The next morning you packed your things. You knew as well as he did that being in the same apartment would only hurt the both of you more. You decided to leave. You sought out a peaceful life with the baby growing inside you. 

“May we meet again in another life.” You gave Yuuji one last hug and a kiss on the cheek and within seconds you were gone from his vision.

.  ღ  .

Itadori had thought losing you was apart of the punishment he received from him cheating on you, he had never thought that the day your relationship with him ended would be the last day you’d ever see each other again. 

He believed you gave him another chance, that fate did as well. Hana coming into Itadori’s life a few years after you had left his was another way to atone for his sins. 

And if it was for you, Itadori would gladly take the opportunity. 

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 | 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 

#tojisveryown #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x you #itadori yuuji x y/n #itadori yuuji fluff #itadori yuuji angst #itadori yuuji headcanons #itadori yuuji hcs #itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori x y/n #itadori fluff #itadori angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen

[mdawritings]

“Arrested” [Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader]

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: E

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader

Wordcount: 8,510

Summary: 

The BAU is working a case in the DC area: an unsub killing women outside of nightclubs and bars. When you get arrested and manage to end up in the same precinct as Aaron Hotchner, the team discovers that their unit chief has been sleeping with a MUCH younger woman. Even more importantly, they discover that aside from being Hotch's fuck buddy, you have had direct contact with the unsub. Told through cute and smutty flashbacks throughout your relationship with Aaron.

AO3 Link

It had been weeks since you’d seen Aaron. The first week you didn’t see him was because of a case over the weekend in Florida. You had sent him a few scandalous pictures while he was flying home…

You rest your head against the arm of your sofa lazily. You reach for the phone and look at the simple text from Aaron. “On the way home now. I want to see you soon.” Just those words send bolts of happiness, excitement, and arousal through you. You press the top of your phone to your lips to suppress your growing smile. You text him back.

“Been imagining your hands touching me instead of my own”

Aaron picks up his phone at the chime. He reads the message from you and can’t help but start to stir a little. God, the thoughts of you home alone… touching yourself thinking about him. Yeah, that definitely does something to him. It’s not like you weren’t in his thoughts the entire time. It's difficult to focus on a case when all he really wants is to be home, buried under the covers with you, taking in your light, yet intoxicating perfume. Touching your soft, perfect skin. Hearing you scream his name… He almost lets out a moan but catches himself and looks around the jet at his sleeping coworkers.

He quickly replies to your message, “Oh yeah?”

You jump up from the couch, exhaustion rapidly dissipating from your previously sore limbs at the thought of seeing Aaron tonight. Memories of his large hands touching, groping, squeezing your body flood into your mind.

You hurry to slip on the purple lingerie set you bought. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror. You take a few minutes, capturing some, quite honestly, fucking amazing photos.

“Missing the feeling of you buried inside me” You send the photos along. You grow even happier at the thought of him getting a fucking hard-on while just a few feet away from his sleeping coworkers. You revel in the effect you manage to have over such a powerful, dominant, authoritative man. It makes you especially proud to think about his normal demeanor, stoic, hard-faced, serious, and how easy it is for you to reduce him to simpering, whimpering, moaning mess under your touch. Your phone chimes a mere seconds after sending the photos.

“You are torturing me. We HAVE to see each other when I land”

You fell asleep in your bed in that lingerie waiting for him. You didn’t see his messages until the next morning, saying the sitter for Jack fell through and he probably wouldn’t be able to see you until next weekend.

At the start of the second week, he got called away to a case in California. That one took up the whole week and by the time he got home, he was way too exhausted to spend time with you.

This kind of thing went on for two weeks. A full month without Aaron had been torture. It wasn’t like you expected him to drop everything and come running to you. You understand he has a kid to take care of and an FBI unit to run. Plus, it isn’t like you two are really dating. Do you sometimes wish you were? Hell yes. Is it reasonable or feasible? Absolutely not.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy what you have going on right now. He comes over to your place, tired and frustrated from a long day at work, and he— well he fucks your brain out. You’re always working hard on your Ph.D. and Aaron’s job is just plain stressful. You both need and enjoy the amazing stress relieving benefits of casual sex. You do enjoy each other’s company without having sex sometimes. It usually happens on those weekends when you or he or both of you are way too exhausted. But really, it's the moments after sex that make you question what you truly are to one another…

Your heart rate begins to steady and you can’t help but smile up at Aaron. He looks down at you with that small Hotchner version of a smile. It’s a smile that wouldn’t seem like much to anyone else, but you know how infrequently he lets the corners of his mouth turn up in happiness. “How do you do it?”

You soon realize after letting the words out, (and from the confusion on his face), that he cannot, in fact, read your mind and understand what you mean, “How do you go from seeing all that bad out there in the world to lying in this bed with me with that adorable smile on your face?”

For a split second, you think you’ve said something wrong. The smile falls from his face and his brows tense up. You always tease him about his eyebrows, telling him the more he frowns the more wrinkles he’ll get.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to cross a line—”

“I don’t want to pull you into all this… my work. I want to protect you from it.” Your heart practically sinks into your stomach. That’s not the type of language you use with your casual sex partner. Then again, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t worry every time he leaves for a case. You worry that you’ll never see him again. You won’t even find out he’s dead because no one knows about the two of you.

“Y/N,” he pulls you out of your thoughts. His voice cuts through the silent room and you look back up into his soft eyes. They’re searching your face, scanning your behavior. You can tell he’s trying to figure out what you could possibly be thinking.

“Stop doing that,” you warn him, but your tone is light-hearted, “That whole studying my behavior thing you do.”

“Profiling,” he corrects you and runs a hand over your hair. The action is like a natural reflex for him, he’s not even consciously aware he’s pulling you closer to him.

“Right. That. Stop profiling me,” you laugh.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what’s spinning around in your head when you zone out like that.”

“I’m thinking about the fact that you listen to me rattle on and on about statistical physics but you don’t talk about your job.”

“You need to stop talking about physics after sex. It makes me feel like I’m sleeping with Reid,” he laughs and notices your confusion, “He’s a coworker of mine. You’d like him.”

You’d like him. That phrase sticks with you. Does that mean he wants you to meet his coworkers someday?

You’re not sure why you and Aaron never discuss a real relationship. Well, it’s more like Aaron never discusses a real relationship. Aaron doesn’t really discuss anything. The first time you really talked to him you thought his closed-off nature was charming, dreamy…

“Aaron Hotchner… right?” You look over the man who has just walked up to the bar next to you.

He reaches for the beers he’s just ordered, obviously for a group, but stops as you call out his name, “I’m sorry do I know you?”

“You work for the FBI… Behavioral something unit.” Your laugh sounds loud and obnoxious to you, but to him, it’s bright and cuts through the din of the chaotic bar.

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. He looks you over before turning his attention back to your face, searching it for answers.

“Oh god!” You're not really the type to strike up a conversation with a man in a bar but you’re feeling bold, not to mention empowered by the liquor, “I must seem so crazy. You gave a talk at Georgetown I attended. I’m a Ph.D. student there. It was about criminal psychology.” His face softens as he begins to realize you’re not a crazy stalker nor an obsessed fan. You stick your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, again, I guess,” He nods as he shakes your hand. You can tell he’s just trying to be polite and he glances over his shoulder at a group of people at a booth. Their eyes are all on you two. He wants to go back but something about you is drawing him in. “So you’re pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology?” He moves to sit at the bar next to you.

“Actually no.” You feel flush rushing into your face as he moves closer to you and sits down. You can’t help but look over his body. He’s much closer to your height now that he’s sitting down. He’s wearing a black quarter zip and dark jeans. His hair is neatly gelled back. He does not fit into this atmosphere. “I’m getting a Ph.D. in physics. I conduct theoretical research on the experimental implementation of quantum computing with trapped ions in— I conduct research.” Your blush deepens.

Aaron smiles widely at your ranting before jumping in, “So what were you doing in a criminal psychology lecture?”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment, “I snuck in. It sounded interesting.” You shrug slightly and reach for the drink from the bartender. “I almost didn’t show up, but then a classmate told me one of the FBI agents was very attractive.” You give a small wink before reaching for your check for your drinks from the night. “And she was right, Agent Prentiss is drop-dead gorgeous.” Your attempts to keep a poker face fail, your lips curling with delight.

Aaron laughs as he takes the check from your hands. “You don’t have to—” You protest slightly but Aaron holds up his hand to silence you.

“My treat. As a thank you, for breaking the rules to see my lecture.” He shares in your smile as he hands the bartender his card, paying for your drinks. Your ex just broke up with you a few weeks prior so you came out to cheer yourself up. Seeing Aaron Hotchner up close and personal is… definitely a pick me up.

“Do you have a business card or something?”

“Uh… yes.” Aaron is hesitant to hand it over but reaches into his wallet for one. You grab a pen and take the business card from Aaron. You scribble down your number on the back and hand it to him.

“This is my number.” You hold it out before reaching for your purse. He looks down at the number and then back up at you. For a grown, adult man, he doesn’t seem to understand. You can see confusion written all over his face, it’s quite adorable honestly. His face though it seemingly remains emotionless, in just the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him, you see hints of smiles hidden under a professional, powerful exterior.

“Call me sometime. You know, so I can pay you back for that drink.” You stand up from the bar, legs weak from the heavy drinking you’ve done, “Or if you just want some company.” He nods slightly in response and you turn to leave. You can’t help but turn for a second to watch as Aaron walks back to his table of what appear to be friends. One of the women looks back at you and smiles the most infectious, sweetest smile at you. You return it and move to leave the bar.

It wasn’t until late that night that you got a call. The drinking your sorrows away didn’t stop once you left that bar. You were curled up on your couch, a glass of wine clutched in your hands.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter.

“We didn’t really get to talk much at the bar, but I’m pretty sure you made some promises about paying me back for that drink,” A stern man’s voice cuts through the phone.

“Aaron?” you ask momentarily confused, “It—It’s late, are you drunk?”

Your laugh rings through the phone and it’s that laugh that has Aaron so intensely drawn to you. He can’t help himself. He needs to be near you, “Just go to the door.”

You stand up, “My door? How did you get my—oh right. FBI agent,” you muse and open your door. And there he is, standing at the door with the phone pressed to his ear. He pulls it away and hangs up. “This is incredibly creepy, I hope you know that.” You lean against the doorframe, pulling your large sweater around yourself tighter. His eyes run over you. You grin slightly, catching his wandering gaze, and at that, he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So about that drink you owe me.” Aaron takes a few hesitant steps into your apartment. He closes the door behind him, “How about you pay me back wit—” he starts to talk but you don’t let him finish his sentence. You grip his shirt and pull him close, your lips melting against his.

It’s messy and passionate and needy. You struggle to stumble along, guiding him towards your bedroom and his hands are touching every inch of you. He hurriedly pulls your sweater off and tosses it off to the side before unzipping your dress. You let it fall to the floor and kick it off as you match his frantic pace, pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans. He lays you down gently and reaches around to unclasp your bra.

“Holy fuck,” Aaron groans as he takes a second to take in your naked body.

Then he’s leaving a trail of soft kisses down the expanse of your chest and breasts. He travels down further. His lips brush against your inner thighs, his stubble tickling your skin. He smirks up at you wickedly as he grips your thong in his teeth, pulling it down your legs. You already know your soaking wet pussy will give away just how bad you want him right now.

He doesn’t hesitate, he goes to work on you. Licking and stroking and rubbing your clit. Your back arches and you grip the sheets and his hair. You massage your breasts, panting heavily as two of his fingers press into you, his tongue flicking your overly sensitive bud of nerves. “Oh god, Aaron yes!”

His name rolls off your tongue and you continue to chant it like a fucking mantra as his somehow rough yet gentle touch drives you wild. You feel the knots building in your stomach. Your legs tremble with pleasure as your eyes shut harshly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You’re panting intensely at this point and the whole room practically slips away as your orgasm hits and your body feels out of control. Every nerve ending on fire. And Aaron is merciless, he continues to lick and tease as you ride out your high.

He can’t help but grin proudly at the number he’s done on you. As he comes up to plant a few more kisses on your lips, you feel his rock hard erection pressing against your thigh. You kiss him hungrily while fumbling to stroke him through his boxers.

The groan the emerges from his lips is… holy fucking shit it’s sexy. You flip the two of you over so you’re on top of him, your chest pressed against his. You dip your hand into his boxers, pumping the entirety of his length. You feel him getting harder and his cock twitches in conjunction with a loud, throaty groan. “Y/N." His eyes flutter open and he grabs your arm to still your motions. “I need you, now.”

Within seconds he’s peeling his boxers off, you roll the condom down onto him and you slam your hips down on his. You can’t contain the loud gasps and moans as you feel your walls stretch around him. Fuck it’s been too long since you’ve had sex. You’re still for a second and Aaron bucks his hips, needing friction, needing to thrust and feel your tightness around him.

“Oh god." Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head as Aaron takes an agonizing pace, lifting your hips all the way up just to slam them all the way back down again.

He has a vice grip on your hips and you can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips. You grind your hips against his as you ride him faster. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Hotch lets out another one of those agonizingly sexy groans.

“I’m close,” you whine out. Aaron reaches to rub your clit with his thumb as he starts thrusting his hips up to meet yours chaotically. That combined with his large cock hitting your sweet spot sends you tumbling over the edge once again. It’s not long after that you feel his cock throbbing deep inside you, his hips messily thrusting and his face contorted up in pleasure. His panting becomes rapid and it's not long before he’s coming undone inside you. You flip off of him to collapse at his side on the bed.

“So when are we doing this again?” you pant heavily and hear a beautiful sound beside you. The sound of Aaron laughing.

Sometimes you worry if he’s embarrassed by you. I mean, you’re a few years shy of 20 years younger than him. You’re still in school. He was starting college by the time you were out of diapers. He runs a whole goddamn unit of the FBI and you’re still a student. You both are in entirely separate places in life, how do you reconcile that? It’s not as if he keeps you secret. Jessica knows you and you met his son Jack one time. Besides, you’re not really showing him off either. Not that you have many people to show him off to.

Like said, it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him which has just left you to sit around and overthink just about everything.

Aaron is working a case in DC. You saw the news reports the other day. Women were turning up dead in alleyways behind popular nightclubs and bars in the downtown area. Despite this horrifying news, you were happy when he told you the case was at home. It meant less travel. Less travel means Aaron is less tired. Which means more sex for you. And god, did you need sex.

It’s your friend’s 27th birthday and in an attempt to keep her from crying about getting a year older, you and a group of friends promised to go out drinking with her. You reach for your phone to check for any messages from Aaron. You would drop all your plans if he told you he was coming over tonight. There is one new message but it’s not exactly the text you were hoping for.

From: Aaron:

Please be safe for the next few days. Don’t go anywhere alone. Call me if there’s any trouble or if you need anything at all.”

You furrow your brows. It’s not news that Aaron cares about you and wants to look out for you but usually while on a case it’s radio silence from him. Yes, if you were really in danger he would want you to call immediately, but usually, he tells you he needs to focus on the job and nothing else. You dismiss the text, chalking it up to the presence of a serial killer in the city you both live in. Hell, you were pretty freaked out too. You had seen the girls on the news, 20-30, with your hair color and around your height.

You let out a long sigh, knowing you are most definitely not getting laid tonight. It’s time to get stupid drunk with your friends and enjoy your night anyway.

It does not take long for you and all your friends to reach the perfect level of sloppy drunk. Seeing as you all haven’t been out in months, what with some of you pursuing real jobs, grad school, med school, and whatnot, there hasn’t been a lot of time for screwing around as you did in college.

“So come on! You cannot still be single,” your close friend Sarah screams in your face over the music.

“It’s complicated,” you feel your words starting to string together. They’re not quite slurred but it’s getting there, “He just comes over, fucks my brains out, we spend some time together, and then it’s over.”

Your comments provoke a loud response of laughs and cheers from your friends, “So we don’t even get a name? Or a job? Or where you met him?”

“He guest lectured a course on abnormal and criminal psychology a few months ago,” You start to explain but Sarah is cutting you off before the words have left your mouth.

“Months? This has been going on for months?” You roll your eyes. The bartender places another full tray of shots in front of you guys. She nods towards a man at the edge of the bar. As you look up, he gives you a small wave and smiles. Creepy.

“No, I ran into him a few weeks after and I just gave him my number.” You down the shot, souring your face up before reaching for a lime wedge to chase it, “And then things just happened.”

“Name? Job? Age?” Another friend rattles off at you.

“Isn’t this Sarah’s birthday? Shouldn’t we be talking about her?” You try and steer the conversation away from yourself. You turn back to the bar and see that same man who sent you the shots staring at you. Even when you turn away you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Well I want to know, so this is a birthday present,” she continues to pry and it drives you crazy. You're just not ready to share what you and Aaron have with the world.

“His name is Aaron and he works in the FBI and he’s 45,” You mumble that last part into your glass as you take a long sip.

“He’s how old?” Your friend’s jaw drops and another friend grins widely. Your face is burning hot at embarrassment and all the attention.

“Can we all just shut up and drink?” you command forcefully before downing your own.

Hotch looks down at his phone, waiting for any sign that Y/N has seen his text. He doesn’t panic though. She has a life, she’s busy. She probably has plans for the evening. Maybe she’s out… with someone. Aaron shakes his head slightly before forcing his attention to the case. But his mind wanders. Would she go out with someone? It’s not like anything between them is defined. I mean, he would never go out with anyone else. He just wants her. If she wants to go out on a date she can do whatever she wants. Yet, Hotch can’t help but feel the jealousy coursing through his body. The idea of someone else touching her… yeah, that makes him angry.

His more rational thinking takes over. Maybe she’s busy with school work. He knows how hard she’s been working on her research. He fails to hide a smile as he thinks about the way her face lights up when talking about her research. The passion she has for her work is extremely adorable...

You hear three short raps at the door, “It’s open!” you call out as you rush to get all your thoughts down on your computer. You hear the door open and the footsteps approaching.

“You leave your door unlocked? Do you realize how incredibly unsafe and unwise that is?” You can hear that Aaron probably has his stern face on, judging by the disapproval in his voice.

“I knew you were coming,” You shrug and gnaw at your bottom lip furiously as you work, “I just need one moment. I was thinking that in a controlled quantum environment...” As you start to ramble Aaron’s hands snake around your waist. He pushes your hair to the side, placing feather-light kisses along your neck.

“Mm,” He mumbles against you.

“Wait, wait,” you moan, “If you keep doing that I’m going to lose my train of thought and I will never forgive you unless you can formulate how to create thermal distrib—” He nips at your skin and gives your hips a squeeze. Your groans grow louder.

“The physics can wait,” Aaron growls against your skin, turning you around so he can passionately kiss you, “I need you now.”

The panic doesn’t ease because Aaron reaches to call you once again. You don’t pick up because well… you’re a little preoccupied drowning your liver. He thinks, if you had just given a small ok text, he would know you’re safe. But he’s panicking. He continues to panic for the next hour until something unexpected soothes that anxiety. The sound of your screaming drunken voice radiating throughout the entirety of the precinct the team is working in. But as soon as the wave of anxiety dissipates, he feels his stomach drop.

“I’m a victim here!” you screech and cement your legs in place so that the officers holding your arms are practically dragging you.

“Ma’am please!” You kick your legs violently as the officers try to seat you in a chair. They undo your handcuffs and redo them so that your hand is cuffed to the desk. “We’re understaffed and backed up so you sit here and shut up while we get you booked.”

“He was feeling me up! Under the skirt over the panties. He grabbed my ass, I’m sure I have a mark you wanna see it? He assaulted me!” you continue to screech and reach for the hem of your dress, ready to flash every cop in the precinct your ass.

“So you smashed a bottle over his head? Real ladylike,” one of the officers steps forward and holds your hand tight to keep you from lifting the dress.

“Don’t I get a phone call.” Now your words are slurred together. That last round of shots before you got arrested is hitting you hard.

“Once we book you.”

“I know a federal agent. From the FBI,” you spell out the letters obnoxiously, “Do you even know what that is?”

“Yes, I’m sure the federal government will come running to post your bail. Stay here. Don’t move,” the officer commands and you hold up your handcuffed wrist to demonstrate that you’re quite frankly incapable of going anywhere.

“Oh my god,” Prentiss lets out a small laugh from the conference room. “I can hear her through the closed doors.”

“Well, most of this room is glass and sound travels through the glass just about the same as it does air. A better insulating material would be a foam or fiberglass or even a mineral wood composite,” Reid clarifies before giving that signature tight-lipped smile.

“She is… really something,” Morgan laughs and nudges Hotch, “Hotch look.”

Hotch turns and sees what he’s dreading. He sees you, drunk out of your mind. Your skimpy dress is somehow simultaneously riding low on top and riding up on the bottom. You have a small cut lip and a little bit of blood on your dress. His brows furrow deeply. “Oh god,” he mutters under his breath.

“These cops are supposed to stay in the bars and clubs for protection. Why are they wasting time on drunk girls?” Rossi finally chimes in.

The cops finally get you settled into a chair and you kick your feet like a child. “Call the FBI! I know them.”

“Oh does she now. You guys know her?” JJ rolls her eyes and laughs, “I am so glad I never got arrested when I was in college. My parents would’ve killed me.”

“College? Girls do not look like that in college,” Morgan smirks.

“We have to focus on the case,” Hotch's jaw tightens as he sees Morgan look over your body. It’s not something new for Morgan but when he’s making those eyes at you specifically, Hotch feels that surge of jealousy again.

“Call them! Call Agent Aaron Hotchner.” You lean back and try to cross your arms, but your right hand is yanked back by the cuffs.

The team all turns to Hotch with wide eyes. “You know her?” Rossi smirks.

“Where exactly do you know her from?” Emily fights the grin growing on her lips as she looks over her stone-faced boss.

“I’m sorry what?” The cop glances down at you.

“Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Unit Analysis Science thing or something like that he’s in the FBI he’s unit chief. I know him.” You roll your eyes at the cop who is speechless, “Oh god. Are you that thick? A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H…” you trail off the alcohol inhibiting your spelling capabilities, “N-E-R. Aaron Hotchner! Call him and he’ll tell you to let me go.”.

The cop glances at some of his coworkers before looking at the conference room. You follow his gaze and see Aaron with a large group of other well-dressed agents. “Oh fuck,” you mutter. Aaron opens the glass doors and steps out of them walking towards you.

“So how does he know this girl?” Prentiss tries her best to hide her spying on you and Aaron.

“I got money on babysitter,” Morgan nods.

“No way, she’d be with Jack right now. I’d say she met him at work." JJ leans against the desk, watching Hotch as he looks down at you, crossing his arms.

“Then we’d all have seen her before. Plus she wouldn’t be telling them she knows the FBI. She would technically be part of the FBI. Why not use that?” Rossi rubs a hand over his goatee.

“He’s sleeping with her,” Reid states simply before turning back to his geographical profile on the board.

“What?” Multiple members of the team turn in shock, not only at the statement but at the fact that Reid is the one making it.

“No way. She’s… at most 27 years old.” Morgan shakes his head, “She is not Hotch’s type.”

“Are you jealous that Hotch has more game than you?” Reid teases without turning away from his work.

“When was your last date, pretty boy? Huh?” Morgan hits him on the back of the head playfully.

“Officer.” Aaron steps in between you and the officer. Good thing, because two more minutes with that guy and you would be charged with a lot more than resisting arrest and public disturbance.

“Aaron!” you squeak, “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well, she’s definitely not a coworker. She called him Aaron.” Rossi nods at the rest of the team still in the conference room. For a team of profilers, their attempts to hide the spying are weak at best.

“I’ll take care of her.” He doesn’t bother looking at you, but he gives the officer his best unit-chief glare.

“Sir we have a process to go through here. We’re still processing her arrest,” the officer attempts to argue with Hotch but you can see the discomfort clearly in the officer. He struggles to meet Hotch’s eyes.

“Please officer, we have much more to deal with here. I want to find this guy before another body drops. We need you out there patrolling the bars for the guys, not the drunk girls the creeps hit on.” Aaron takes on a stern voice.

“Yes agent.” The cop is visibly annoyed but isn’t willing to get into a fight with a federal agent all over your stupid drunk ass.

“Are you injured? You’re bleeding.” He grabs your chin in his calloused fingers, turning your face from side to side to assess the small cuts. You almost moan into his touch but remember the current location.

“No, no it’s someone else’s.” You turn out of his grip, trying to push his hands off.

“Someone else’s? What did you do?” Fuck. Aaron is furious with you. His arms are crossed against his chest and you can see the veins in his neck standing out. The tone he takes with you is harsh and you’re not used to him speaking with you like that… at least not used to it outside the bedroom.

“It’s not my fault okay!”

Aaron holds the bridge of his nose frustratedly, “Y/N. I have a serial killer to profile, catch, and stop from murdering innocent women. Can I just get the truth?”

“This creepy guy kept sending me and my friends drinks all night so when I went to the bar to get us another round he came over. Things got messy.” You shrug your shoulders. “Can you take off these cuffs now?” You hold out your wrists, pouting out your bottom lip. You can physically see him soften at that.

As Aaron reaches for the key and undoes the cuffs, he shakes his head at the stench of alcohol seeping out of you, “You’re gonna have to do better than things got messy.”

“I just…” You pause, knowing the details of the story are going to make him upset but he wants the truth, “I knew he was a little off. Weird and creepy and pushy, you know?” You rub your irritated wrists, “So he starts talking to me, offering me some drink. I know better than to accept a drink from a stranger so I turned him down. That's when he grabbed my arm and well… tried to cop a feel.”

“Cop a feel?” Aaron’s jaw has tightened and his hands are clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are pale.

“He slid his hands under my dress.” Your hand ghosts over the sore spot on your bottom where the man dug his fingers into your flesh, “He grabbed my legs and then my ass and then… and then he tried to get his hands in my underwear.” You show Aaron the red marks on your inner thigh. You’re not sure what you expect from him, but his face remains hardened. The only emotion readable on him is anger.

“The blood is from self-defense,” Aaron begins to understand.

You nod, confirming his statement, “I grabbed the first thing I could and smashed him on the head. I think I sliced his eyebrow. By the time the cops came, he was gone and I was in cuffs.”

Aaron looks back at his team in the conference room. In a poor attempt to hide their spying, they all rapidly turn their eyes to their work. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes looking over the red bruising on your cheek. He fights every urge to reach out and touch you, stroke your face softly and kiss your lips, “Did he hurt you? We should get a medic to check you out or–”

He doesn’t have a second to finish that thought. “Hotch, another body just dropped,” Morgan and Prentiss come rushing out of the conference room, “We’re going to the crime scene now.”

Aaron nods at his team members, “Call me if anything stands out.” The team nods and Aaron reaches for your arm, walking you towards the rest of the team, “I don’t want you alone right now. You’re going to sit here and keep quiet, understand?”

You bite your lip and look around at the team, still pretending as if they’re not listening in, “Jeez way to embarrass me, Aaron,” you mumble under your breath as you drop down into a chair with a loud sigh like a child.

JJ can’t help but come over to talk to you, “I’m Jennifer." You give her your name, "It's so nice to meet you Y/N, how do you and Hotch know each other?”

“Hotch?” you let out before quickly realizing the nickname for Aaron. You shake her hand, “Oh Agent Hotchner and I are just fuc–“

“Friends,” Aaron cuts in, “Y/N and I are friends. We have a case to get back to,” Aaron frantically changes the topic of conversation but your little comment doesn’t go unnoticed by the team members. Even Reid is smiling slightly at your comment.

You sit back in your chair and take in the sight of Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. The confident and commanding energy he exudes is immensely attractive. It’s not long before the agents that left for the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss return with news for Aaron.

“Sir we found something weird at the crime scene,” Morgan steps back into the room.

“Weird?” Hotch cocks his head slightly to the side.

“There were droplets of blood over the victim’s dress but it wasn’t her own,” Morgan shakes his head.

“But you called and said she had no defensive wounds, he drugged her like the others. How could he have been injured?” Hotch turns back to the other case files.

“We’re not sure,” Emily shakes her head, “It’s possible it’s unrelated but maybe he might have been hospitalized for something recently?”

“What about any witnesses?” Hotch nods, “Any people at Churchkey bar see anything unusual? A man that was a little too forceful with women?”

You snort slightly at that, “I wouldn’t say that’s unusual for a bar.”

Hotch shoots you a hard glare that shuts you up for good, while Prentiss lets a smile shine through.

“The bar was mostly cleared out. Apparently the bar was packed earlier tonight but it cleared out after a bar fight broke out.” Morgan informs the team.

You bite your lip harshly. Aaron told you no talking but… this is more important, right? “Wait, Churchkey bar?” You finally speak up and all the agents turn their attention to you.

“What about it?”

“That’s the bar I was at tonight.” You trail off at the end of your sentence.

“You remember someone or something off?” Rossi looks over your body language.

“I think I talked to the unsub. I think... I’m the one who injured him." You unconsciously wrap your arms tightly around your body.

“You think you could walk me through the night? Tell me about him, it could really help us,” Morgan moves to sit on the edge of the desk to face you. "We could do a cognitive interview." He nods at Hotch.

"A cognitive?" You look between the two men.

"It's a memory recall exercise. We would walk you through the night and you tell us as much as you can," Morgan explains gently.

"And it could help you find him?" You ask, unsure how much you remember about him.

"You might not realize the type of details that help us form the profile." Morgan places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Aaron clears his throat. “She’s not sober enough for a cognitive." You can tell that the fact that his personal life is bleeding into his work is driving him crazy.

“If I can help catch this creep, I want to help. I’m fine.” You touch your finger to your nose a few times in an attempt to demonstrate your sobriety.

“Then you should drink some coffee before we start,” Aaron dismissively addresses you before turning to leave, “And I’m going to want the whole truth.” He stalks off towards the interrogation room.

Rossi runs to catch up with Aaron, pulling him off to the side. “Aaron, you cannot conduct this cognitive.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron snaps, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Take a step back, pretend she’s not someone you clearly care about,” Aaron rolls his eyes at Rossi’s comment but plays along as he continues.

“She’s a young girl… just how young is she?” Rossi raises a brow at Aaron, losing his train of thought.

“Dave.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Rossi holds his hands up in defense, “Fine, okay. She’s a young girl, she’s a little drunk, and she’s been sexually harassed in a bar by our unsub. Who do you send in to talk to her?”

“The least intimidating figures to her,” Aaron nods.

“So definitely not the angry boyfriend who wants to kill anyone who touches her,” Rossi clarifies.

“I’ll send in JJ and Prentiss,” Hotch sighs and turns before pausing, “And I’m not her boyfriend.”

Rossi simply smiles and pats Aaron’s back, “Ok boss.”

You sit up in your chair tiredly as Emily and JJ walk into the interrogation room.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Agent Prentiss and you’ve already met Agent Jareau,” Emily sits across from you.

“He can hear us, right?” You bite your lip and look towards the glass.

“Who can hear us?” JJ takes a seat and places a file in front of you.

“Aaron.” You search the glass, knowing that you won’t be able to see him but that he definitely can see you.

“Oh uh-” Emily pauses, unsure what to say in response.

“Do you want more privacy? I can ask the agents to leave.” JJ starts to stand.

“Hearing this would help them figure who the killer is?” You’re gnawing your lip hard enough to draw blood, a nervous habit Aaron never hesitates to point out to you.

“Yes,” JJ sits back down.

“Then it’s fine.” You look over one last time, “Just make sure Aar— Agent Hotchner,” you correct yourself, “Make sure Agent Hotchner doesn’t lose his shit.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirks and lets out a small breath, “We’re going to walk you through the night. If it gets to be too much you let us know and we’ll take a break, okay?”

Well, now you’re really nervous. You let out a small breath, “Okay.” You close your eyes as Agent Prentiss starts.

“You’re in the bar. It’s crowded…”

“Y/N I think he really likes you,” your friend Sarah laughs. “Come on go talk to him.”

“No, I really shouldn’t.” You feel dizzy and light on your feet from the alcohol the man has been plying you and your friends with.

“Why?” Another friend chimes in, “Big strong Agent Hotchner going to punish you for talking to another guy?” Your friends taunt you playfully.

You smile widely at them, “Yes, yes he will.”

“You naughty, naughty girl!” Sarah laughs. You feel eyes on you and look back to the man at the bar. He’s hunched over in his stool. He looks nervous, but he smiles sheepishly at you and waves. It’s not long before he’s calling the bartender over again and pointing at you animatedly.

“Next round is on me,” you say softly to your friends, keeping your eyes on the man’s face, memorizing every detail you can. His face is young but worn and tired. The wrinkles on his forehead tell you he frowns a lot. They’re lines that appear on Aaron’s face too. You think about how you tease Aaron about smiling more. God, you miss Aaron right now. You wish he was here to make you feel safe. As you walk up to the bar, your presence causes the man to stand up and move closer.

“I was going to order you and your friends more drinks. I ordered you a vodka soda. It’s what you’ve been drinking all night, right?” He stutters slightly as he talks to you. He slides a glass over to you, but you know better. Strange man... drink that you didn’t see the bartender actually make... no way.

“I was actually going to order a beer,” you try to reject the glass, “You take the vodka soda though. You’ll see why they’ve been my go-to all night. He’s been making them very strong.” You look at the bartender, ordering a beer. You pray that the young bartender senses your discomfort.

“Come on it’s a harmless drink.” The strange man moves into you, pushing the glass closer. “You have the drink, we’ll get to know each other better… you’ll like it. I can make you like it.”

Thinking about his words sends chills down your spine. You have to take a moment to let out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to continue listening to this?” Rossi eyes Hotch. Hotch’s face is contorted so harshly into a mixture of anger, disgust, and sadness. His neck muscles tense, his arms are tightly crossed against his body. He doesn’t even acknowledge Rossi.

“Can you keep going?” JJ eyes your face. You nod.

“No thank you, and no more drinks for my friends and I. We can get our own drinks.” You turn to grab your beer but soon the man stops you. He grabs your wrist tightly, placing his other hand behind your back. He pulls you flush against him. His rough, calloused fingertips grab and scratch up your thighs, under the dress. He grabs your ass so hard you want to scream out. He continues to trail his fingers up, hooking around your panties and—

A sickening shattering noise and cracking erupt as you swing the beer bottle at his head. The man screams. “You bitch!” He slaps your face. You stumble back, falling on the floor, cutting your hands on the broken glass from the bottle. Your skin is sticky with alcohol and you glance down at the blood on your dress. The bar grows louder. The commotion intensifies. You feel a friend’s hands wrap around your arms pulling you up off the ground.

“Wait he—!” You look around for the man but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Not long after that I was being shoved into a cop car and escorted here.” You finally open your eyes and look at the two agents.

“I can make you like it?” Emily asks you to clarify. She speaks slowly clearly enunciating her words but you can hear the disgusted tone in her voice.

“That’s exactly what he said.” You wrap your arms around yourself, “Does that all help?”

“Yes, yes it does,” JJ reaches out to touch your hand gently. Your eyes flick back to the one-way glass. You can’t see Aaron but you can tell he’s probably fuming. He probably has that signature scowl on his face.

“Am I—” You clear your throat and try to adjust your dress for more modesty, “Can I go?” Prentiss gives you a sad, pity-filled smile and nods. You stand up quickly and exit the room in a rush, colliding with Aaron’s strong chest as you do. You look up into his eyes and you see something in his face you’ve never seen in all the times you've been with him: sadness. You bury your face into his chest and his arms wrap tightly around you. “I was scared,” You choke out as his large, warm hands rub circles into your back, “I needed you.” You ball up his shirt in your fists. You’re not one to cry easily, but your body shakes as you breathe heavily.

“I know,” his voice cracks as he rests his chin on top of your head. He runs one hand over your hair softly, shushing you gently, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You pull away from his chest and frantically pull his lips down to yours. A strong hand goes to your back, holding you close to him. You hear the interrogation room door open behind you, the two agents stepping out, but neither you nor Aaron break the kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Aaron breathes against your lips, pulling you back into a tight hug. “You’re safe here with me now.”

———

You lift the heavy metal knocker and let it slam down twice, waiting for the door to open. When it does, Rossi envelops you in his arms, a wide smile spreading across his lips. He grabs your face tightly, kissing each cheek joyfully. “Bellissimo! I’m so glad you could make it.” Rossi places a gentle hand on your back and leads you inside.

You walk into the crowded kitchen and the members of the BAU all turn and smile back at you. Aaron moves towards you and quickly gives you a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m so happy you’re here." 

“I’m so glad you’re finally home.” You pull away from Aaron to make the rounds hugging the people who are like family to you at this point.

Morgan wraps a friendly arm around your shoulder and can’t help but tease Aaron, “Hotch, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your girl?” He turns to smile at you while Aaron shakes his head.

“I had to stop by the research lab so I just had my classmate Tyler drop me off after we finished up." You shrug.

“Tyler, huh?” Rossi grins, hoping to rile up Aaron a little.

“Is he cute?” JJ chimes in with a laugh.

Aaron quickly clears his throat, hoping to change topics. He raises his brows at you, “So do you want to share the news or should I do it for you?”

“Oh my god, you’re totally preggers!” Garcia squeals and runs to hug you again. You glance at Aaron and can only laugh.

“No, no.” You smile as she pulls away and you look at the shocked faces of everyone in the kitchen, even Aaron looks a little rattled. You playfully nudge his arm, “See what you did? Always causing trouble.”

“Me? If I recall correctly you’re the one who got arrested for being drunk off your ass and trying to fight a serial killer.” His comment elicits a series of small laughs from everyone.

"Yeah and it helped you catch him, so really you all should thank me for being drunk." You playfully argue with Aaron. "Anyway, the actual news. No, I'm not pregnant." You point at Penelope as she opens her mouth to say something else. 

“You’re looking at the proud new owner of a Ph.D. in physics!” You do a small cheesy spin as the rest of the team congratulates you, “Handed in my final thesis paper today.” Aaron smiles proudly as you move back to his side.

“Yeah that’s great and all but you’re still two Ph.D.s behind me.” Spencer can’t help but tease you. In the past year, he’s become one of your closest friends, especially since Aaron can’t even seem to begin to understand your thesis research.

“All right cool it kid.” You joke with him.

“Kid? I’m older than you.” Spencer laughs. Aaron comes closer to wrap his arm around your waist. The gesture is comforting and just this touch sends waves of pleasure through your body.

“Reid might have two more Ph.D.s than you but he’s got nothing on your good looks.” Prentiss winks at you.

“She’s got that right,” Aaron smirks as he kisses your cheek gently.

“Ok, ok, enough small talk.” You feel your face flush, “I came here to learn some cooking from chef Rossi, not talk about how hot I am.” You see Aaron roll his eyes with a smile and you pull him close as Rossi starts the demonstration.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Aaron has his arms wrapped around you from behind. He speaks softly so only you can hear.

“I know,” You smile, happiness flooding through your body, “I love you too.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #smut #ao3 #read on ao3

[blackwidow-bby]

Never Be The Same- Mafia!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: Mafia Boss au but y/n kidnaps the mafia boss

Warnings: Cursing, violence, gun mention and gun use, kidnapping

AN: I saw this prompt from a tiktok where someone asked "your favorite trope but reverse" so I did it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't often that you got anonymous letters sent to you by someone looking for your "services". You had left the spy life years ago with a little help from the Witness Protection Program in order to pursue a much quieter life doing...well currently you were just working as a florist. Before that you cleaned headstones at the towns local graveyard, which was scarily a lot bigger than the town you were in. You had quit that job when you got the first anonymous letter on the steps of the shed where you kept your tools. The thought of someone knowing where you worked, hell, who you were, especially when they shouldn't spooked you more than working in the graveyard around sunset.

The request wasn't for anything serious. A simple adult-napping job of some woman. The stranger who left the note definitely specified that they wanted the target alive. It would have been an easy job with some extra cash to put in your pocket, but instead you jumped ship and quit that day and moved to another apartment complex. You even went so far as to get a P.O. Box instead of using the complex's mail. The threat wasn't that big to get the government involved in relocating you again.

You almost you wish you could go back in time to the early morning before you received the letter by some covered stranger. Your skin turned white when you saw the simple little envelope with your old agent code name; Viper.

Sneaky and deadly, you always knew the perfect moment to strike. Whoever this person was had to have also been an old agent from the same organization you worked for. That was the only way you could explain away the anxiety that boiled in the pit of your stomach. Once was an instance, but twice is a hobby, you decide you'll at least think about taking the job. Opening the envelope, your heart started to pound quickly inside its cage. You can't believe you were about to put yourself in this position after leaving it for so long.

The letter read:

Dear Viper;

It has been many years since the last time I've seen your face, the first time I thought you were a ghost. Certainly after seeing your face again, I knew for sure my mind wasn't fooling me. It is with a heavy heart that I ask for your help. Unfortunately a family member of mine had found themselves in trouble with a mafia member. Unable to keep their end of whatever bargain, the mob killed him. I need you to find the person who did this to my brother and bring them to me completely unharmed. I want them conscious, I want my face to be the last ting they see before I get revenge for a member of my family ceasing to live among those that loved them.

The target's name is Natasha Romanoff. At the bottom I've left a burner number and an address if you do decide to take my offer this time, the payment will be handsomely.

Much Thanks;

Otter

Natasha Romanoff? Sounds mafia enough to you. Gods, what a messed up situation to get into. Would it really be enough to possibly have to change your identity again? What if this person was important to this group and they decided to come after you? You sat in silence thinking for a long time if any of this was really worth it. There was a tiny voice that peeped up in the back of your mind. You had been kinda bored lately, this could be the spice you need to add back an old pep in your step.

It was decided. You'll get to work searching for this person in the morning. Wow, that took so much persuasion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got started early the next day. Definitely not due to not being able to sleep in the first place. Oh no. Thanks to the nerves building up over putting yourself in a shitty position. Luckily for you though, this Natasha woman wasn't hard to find at all. The mafia she was affiliated with, operated in the city near the town you lived in. They also apparently seemed to operate most of their business out of a simple pet shop. This has to be the inner workings of a screen writer, you thought to yourself.

Your nerves began to get the best of you on your walk back home. It seemed like everyone's eyes were suddenly on you, like they knew exactly what you were up to. You picked up your speed and released a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you saw the steps to your apartment complex. You quickly ran inside up to your floor and slammed the door behind you. Gosh your nerves were starting to annoy you. How did you ever make it as a top agent is beyond you thinking of the position you were currently in. All feelings aside, you pressured n to pack for the trip you'll soon be taking to the city. It was going to be another long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your trip to the city was surprisingly smooth. Light traffic. Sun was out. If not for this little mission, if you could call it that, the day would have been perfect to do some sight seeing. You found the "pet shop" just as easy as well. You set up camp on the side of the street in front of the building to see if your target would possibly show up today. You were really hoping this didn't turn into a multi-day stake out. just wanting to get all of this over as quickly as possible so you can go back into hiding again.

It took about 7 hours, well into the late afternoon, before you spotted her walk in. Surprisingly, she was alone. Perfect, time to move in. You got out of your car and casually walked around the side of the business to see if there happened to be a door. The alleyway of the building was dark enough that anyone on the street wouldn't be able to see in. The sound of a creaky metal door could be heard just around the corner. You guess the back will have to do. As you got closer to the sound, you saw the woman in the back of the building talking with a man. You couldn't make out a single word they were saying. Their conversation wasn't important though, only getting her to Otter was.

Your heart began to race as the moment to make your move came closer. This is what you had trained for your whole life. The stealth and ability to make a move without anyone around you knowing until it was too late. Your eyes trained on the red-head in the back of the building. You gave a silent prayer to whoever was listening that the person she was with, would leave her alone for just one second. That's all you needed; one second.

Suddenly, it was as if all of the puzzle pieces fell into place. He left to go back inside. Time slowed down in an instant. You immediately released a breath through your mouth and moved in. You could see every single moment, all of the steps you took right up to behind her. Watching her turn around carefully but never hearing you step up behind her. At the very last second when she had finally caught sight, one hand reached but to grab her arm and pin it behind her back while the other reached around her head with a chloroform rag to incapacitate her.

The hard part was done. The red-haired woman fell limp in your arms, so you maneuvered her into a bridal position to easily carry her to your car. Time was of the essence. Someone would be coming to look for her soon. Swiftly and quietly, you walked back through the alley and reached your car. Knowing you had some time before she woke up, you could stop later to tie her hands and legs once you were farther away from the city. You placed her down in the back seat before getting in the front and driving away. You let out the most dramatic exhale and looked for the letter Otter had given you of his number and location.

One ring

Two rings

So you did take my offer?

Yes, I'm headed to the location now.

Excellent, thank you for your work.

Yeah, whatever.

Click

You drove on for another half an hour before you reached the location. It was an old abandoned warehouse settled 20 minutes in the opposite direction from the city. The sun was completely settled at this point making the surroundings very dark. The sky had an almost purple glow from the towns nearby lights. Getting out, you circled the car to the back passenger door to remove the woman and bring her inside. She was still passed out from the chloroform only stirring slightly as you picked her up.

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you don't remember her being this heavy. Trudging the knocked out woman inside, you found a small chair and placed her down. Your timing was sort of off and thought better to tie down her hands and legs now before checking her pockets for any weapons or forms of identification. The woman's head lulled from left to right while you searched. You found a knife on her belt holster, a small revolver tucked in the back of her pants, a wallet, and a set of keys but not car keys. Her eyes started to flutter while you fingered through the wallet. Nothing important, a drivers license, a couple of business cards from the "pet store", and a what looked like a family photo. The people in the photo looked familiar to you, very familiar.

"What are you doing with that?" The woman mumbled in your direction. You looked her in the eye not saying anything. The woman was gorgeous with the single light shining down on her causing an angelic glow upon the crown of her head. Her red tresses seemed to almost burn in your presence. You looked away from her and continued to inspect the photo she kept in her wallet.

"Who are these people with you?"

Her head lulled once more, "Why do you want to know?"

"Answering a question with a question won't help you. What is your affiliation with the mafia?"

"I'm their fucking boss."

In that instance your eyes widened. Of course, that's why the men in the photo looked familiar to you. She was the fucking heir to one of the top mafia rings in the country. This idiot, Otter, wanted you to bring in the living heir and current head hancho for what she did to a simple family member that got caught up in the wrong group. The sweat was beginning to pour now that you realized you were absolutely fucked.

Before you could say anything else, Otter, the man of the hour, busted trough the doors.

"Viper! I knew I could count on you!"

"What the fuck man?! You really had me capture the fucking mafia BOSS?! We're both going to be fucked if you don't explain everything right now, Otter." You were sweating rivers at this point. Utterly frustrated and hot in the warehouse. The red-head was slowly coming to 100% but her eyes still couldn't fully focus.

"Calm down Viper. Your work is done with me. I'll cover everything up and you can go back to your quiet life."

"Over?! If you don't give me a very good reason to leave her here in your possession, I'm taking her with me." you were shouting at this point. The red-head was now staring at the both of you dumbfounded at the whole situation everyone was in.

"She killed my brother!" You swore you could see steam coming off of his head. "She killed him and left him to rot!"

"Your brother was nothing but scum who tried to steal weapons from me to sell for himself." She had responded this time. Otter quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket and aimed it at the woman.

"He would never have done anything to harm his family or himself!"

She didn't falter her glare one single bit, even with a weapon pointed at her head. "He'd be living a healthy fulfilling life had he not crossed me."

He cocked the gun this time. "Shut up you stupid bitch!"

A smirk played on her lips, she was enjoying getting a rise out of him. Like she knew something the both of you didn't know. Like she knew no matter her outcome someone would always be out there searching for both of you for the rest of your lives until you got caught, or god forbid, kill yourselves to keep from being caught. Your nerves were spiking again, you couldn't let Otter kill Natasha Romanoff.

You sucked a quick gasp. Otter didn't notice but Natasha did. You had her gun.

Natasha's eyes darted back and forth between you and Otter. He was getting upset at the fact that her attention wasn't solely on him. The arm that was holding the gun stopped its falter and held up straight to Natasha's face. "Look at me! I want my face to be the last thing you see when I kill you, you stu-"

BANG

Natasha jumped. She had seen the whole thing take place but didn't really expect you to do it. She could see the tremble in in your hands as they stayed in the same spot. Your eyes were wide, lip quivering, you couldn't believe what you had done and now you had a new problem to cover up. Natasha had a look of empathy in her eyes. You didn't want to be in this position from the get go and it had only gotten worse for you.

"Hey, look at me..." Natasha spoke up softly to break your trance. She had leaned her body towards you in a manner to reach out. "You can put the gun down, its going to be okay now." Your eyes darted down to the gun and back up to Natasha's green eyes. Still shaking you slowly lowered the gun to the ground before you walked over to her cautiously. Tears were falling down your face, the weight of the situation was hitting you. If you had never agreed to Otter's request, you would be cozied up in your bed, awaiting another new day.

Your fingers found Natasha's bound wrists. her skin was surprisingly cool to the touch. She stared at your face the whole time you unwrapped her from the chair. The fresh tears leaving clear trails down your slightly dirtied cheeks. The slight glow of your e/c eyes under the florescent lights of the warehouse. You knelt down in front of her to then remove the binding on her ankles. Something within her compelled her to reach out to you. Without even realizing it, the red-heads palm was already resting on your head. She reveled in the silky smooth feel of your h/c locks. The slight dampness from the sweat that had overcome your skin. She could feel the softness of your fingers slowly circling around her last ankle when your sad eyes looked up to hers.

"How did you manage to capture me without anyone seeing you?" Her hand slipped down to your cheek. "In all of my years, I have not once not heard someone creep up behind me the way you did."

The steady stream of tears grew heavier, your quiet life was about to be destroyed by your own need for a change. She would certainly have your feet for getting a one up on her.

"It was my job. I was known for being so light on my toes, no one could hear me coming." your voice wavered, but the words got out.

"Well I could use someone like you by my side." Natasha held out her hand to you as she got up on her feet. Not really having her ground, she nearly fell when you caught her by the waist. The two of you held your breath as you both stared deeply into each others eyes. You could swear if you inhaled, her scent would be enough to drive you mad. "My guys will cover all of this up for you."

You sat and thought about everything she said. The would would probably prove more exciting than working at a flower shop and probably be more fruitful. You smiled at her. You could feel her warm breath near your lips.

"When do I start?"

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #x reader insert #marvel #black widow x reader #mafia!Natasha romanoff #prompt fic

[stovetuna]

Oh! Oh! Your Tony-finally-accepts-Steve-Loves-him fic was so lovely. A+ 🥺

And the reverse-ish! The first time Steve realizes Tony doesn’t actually believe him when he says I love you and how Steve both reacts and comes to term with the situation (does he plan on talking about it? Love offensive with super romantic dates? Figure out that the solution to this problem a marathon not a sprint?)

aaaaaahhh I am gonna EXPIRE

can you imagine?? the moment I think about it my heart absolutely BREAKS in the best, most bittersweet way, because oh, Steve. you really thought the moment you kissed Tony the first time—you were sitting next to him on the living room sofa, a whole empty seat on either side of you because you were so unnecessarily close together, but then you were struck by the thought not close enough, and you were in the middle of listening to and watching Tony watch the Lost in Space reboot (so many science critiques you didn't understand a lick of but you are more than happy to play audience to the things Tony cares about, loudly) when you leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of Tony's motormouth, which apparently was all the invitation Tony needed to crawl into your lap and press his warm, warm, warm lips to yours and kiss the breath out of you—he understood.

because it was so easy to go from best friends to romantic partners, and you had years of friendship between you to hearken back to. Plenty of moments when you thought you'd made it clear to Tony that you loved him, that you cared about him, that you admired and respected and yes, deep down (not that deep, really) were very much attracted to him.

you thought.

so when you kiss the first time, you think he knows. when you go on your first real date and play footsie all night under the table and hold hands the whole walk home, you think he knows. when, a few days later, he slides inside you, deep and hard and wet, and butterfly-kisses the tears from your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are as he fucks you, wailing, into the mattress, you know, down to your soul, to the basest atoms of your existence, that Tony loves you as much as you love him.

but something isn't right, because even as weeks, months go by, and you move into Tony's suite and fall asleep wrapped around him almost every night (except those when he's in another country, and the bed is almost as cold as the ice, or when he's consumed by some project in the workshop and loses track of time), and you tell each other "I love you" out loud multiple times, and say it without words in a million other ways, you get the feeling that Tony. doesn't. believe you?

you're baffled. genuinely, it doesn't make sense. you've loved each other for years. even when you fought, bloody and fierce and deeply, horrifically wrong, you loved each other. it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much—felt like a piece of you being ripped away, phantom pain aging you inwardly until every step in any direction that wasn't toward Tony was agony—if you didn't.

but even though Tony says it back, and he does, every time, even when you're yelling at each other after a battle goes "tits-up," thank you, Logan, he has this look in his eyes, and the only word you've been able to put to it is doubt.

at first you think it means Tony doubts you—your feelings, your intentions, yourself and all the baggage that entails—but that thought quickly passes. because you know he doesn't. you know, from experience, that Tony's worst thoughts and feelings very rarely have anything to do with anyone other than himself. which means Tony doubts himself. maybe even reality. not in a "you might be a Skrull" kind of way, but in a "this is too good to be true" kind of way.

and doesn't that just break your fucking heart.

for months you watch this doubt flicker like a guttering little flame in Tony's bright blue eyes, every time you say "I love you, Tony" with your voice. it's never there when you're brushing your teeth next to other in the morning, bumping hips and giggling like the children you never got to be; it's not there when you silently hand him his coffee and kiss him on the temple on his way out the door to a morning meeting, grousing on the phone even as he blows a kiss to you before the elevator doors close; it's not there when you sit down next to him after a battle, on the steps of some middle-of-nowhere courthouse that just got blown up by some no-name villain, taking unspeakable comfort in the radiating heat coming off the armor that kept Tony safe in combat, and without having to ask or say anything at all Tony takes the helmet off and you lean your foreheads together and just breathe each other's air, too relieved and too exhausted to kiss; it's not there when you make love to him, slowly, excruciatingly sweet, your hips rolling in a steady, undulating wave between Tony's long, golden thighs, his arms loose around your neck, his gorgeous voice gone raspy and quiet from screaming through two orgasms already, and you tell him to look at you as you come together one last time.

it's only when you say it. put words to it. make it real. that's when that banked ember of doubt flickers to life, and it feels like you have to start all over again. which isn't a hardship, per se. not at all, really. it's an honor and a privilege and an absolute pleasure to be a part of Tony's life like this. it's also frustrating, and infuriating, and dangerous, but that was always the case. the only difference is now, you can have make-up sex.

you fight about it first. it starts out in earnest, a forthright—if frighteningly vulnerable—conversation over dinner that turns into a shouting match to rival anything from the war that of course gets cut short by the Avengers alarm going off and having to Assemble before you can clear the air. he almost dies in the battle, short-circuited by an exceptionally advanced EMP that takes out the RT (and whoo, boy does that make you spiral, thinking back, to the moment you did that to Tony, almost killed him, and thinking those thoughts while you keep vigil at his bedside for days makes you wish harder than you ever have before in your life that you could drink yourself to death), and you're too relieved when he opens his eyes and the first word out of his mouth is your name, like he's the one who should be relieved, to bring it up again.

you love him. he loves you. it works. better than that, it's good. and eventually—quickly, even—you learn. you learn tell him in every which way you can think of, without words, how much you love him, and why. you text him pictures from your runs through Central Park (he makes the photo you sent him that spring, of the adolescent raccoon emerging from a hollowed-out tree, his lock screen for a week before he changes it back to a picture of you in bed drooling onto your pillow). you help him take off the armor when he's dead on his feet. you feed him. you train with him. you listen to him ramble on about bad movie science and cheer when Matt Damon mentions him in that Mars movie. (You literally cry laughing when Tony picks up the phone at the end of the movie and calls Matt Damon and tells him to text him next time, "I'll come pick you up, just stop getting lost in fucking space, asshole!")

you kiss his scarred fingers, with their fresh cuts and scrapes and bruises from working in the shop, with a reverence. you draw baths for him and don't join, even though it's one of your favorite things to do in the world, because you can just tell Tony is going through something and he needs the space to work it out for himself. you're always there to fish him out when the water gets cold, and by that time Tony's ready to tell you about whatever's eating him.

you call him every foul, dirty name in the book when you fuck him loudly against the wall and sob yourself hoarse when he makes love to you for what feels like hours, so slow and deep and steady you honestly lose track of how many times you come. you clean him up after and tuck him in. you kiss him on the forehead before you go on your morning run, every morning without fail (except for those when you're apart, and you still, even after almost two years, catch yourself mid-motion sometimes, about to kiss empty air—you text Tony about it and he laughs every time).

you learn to be patient. you learn to show more than you tell. because you realize that Tony was lied to his entire life, about so many things. Lied to his face about who he was, who he was going to be, who he never would be allowed to be. Told over and over again by liars and cheats and villains and friends and lovers and family that he wasn't worth the effort of loving. that he would never be loved for anything other than the black credit card in his wallet, the cars in his garage, the houses and the private jets and the clothes and the money and the things he invented—the things he made—that were supposed to help people but only ever ended up killing them.

money, and blood.

it's no wonder he doubts.

so you set yourself to the long and genuinely joyous (if at times frustrating) task of convincing Tony that not only do you love him, more than you've loved anything else in your life, ever will, but he is lovable. not worthy of love, not deserving, and he is those things, but inherently—he is a sweet, caring, kind, fierce, sexy, strong, dangerous, incredible, dorky, suave, fumbling genius of a man and he is loved for those things.

it takes time. good things always do.

you've had a little velvet box hidden away in your bottom bedside drawer for four months when Tony wakes up and sees you in bed with him, realizes you've been watching him sleep—so peacefully, the furrow between his brows erased, as you play with his slightly overgrown hair (you wish he'd keep it, but it's a hazard, in your line of work). you kiss him on the forehead and say good morning, sweetheart, because it is, even if it is pouring down rain outside.

maybe especially because it's raining outside. because here you are, high up among thick grey clouds that smother every inch of the city, so it's just you two, in this bed, together in your own little world, and you're watching that stubborn ember of doubt in Tony's eyes finally get washed away.

read part one

#responses #rachel writes fic #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #stony fic #superhusbands #PHEW OKAY TIME TO GO CRY NOW #I can't remember the last time I wrote something in second person?? WHO AM I

[kim-seungmine]

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.  

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.  

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation?  I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!” 

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.

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[darter-blue]

And now for some stucky fluff...

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four on tumblr

Bucky’s sense has left him. It left him somewhere back on the dance floor. Maybe even before then.

It’s entirely possible that in fact he’s never had any.

He spent too long talking at Steve about particles… about soulmates… about whatever it is that's happening between them. And by some miracle, Steve is still listening, still looking at Bucky like he’s interesting, like his words mean something. And Bucky needs to harness that. Needs to grab at it before it slips through his fingers.

So he quits his yapping. He grabs Steve and he pulls at him again, marvels at the complete lack of resistance there, at the way Steve just follows him. When he dares to look back over his shoulder, Steve is still there, still staring at Bucky as if he is something wondrous. Somehow not tripping, or faltering, despite not watching at all where he’s going and or paying any kind of attention to the people or the noise or the chaos of the casino around them.

Steve’s eyes are only for Bucky.

Even as Bucky pulls them through the garishly painted doors. Even as Bucky leads him into madness.

Bucky turns away from Steve to face forward, to push clear of the doors and let them swing closed behind them.

It’s much quieter in the chapel.

Bucky sweeps his eyes from right to left and takes in the pastel pink walls, the blue ribbons along the pews, the couple chatting at the top of the aisle. One dressed as Elvis - white jumpsuit and cape, big hair, sunglasses, guitar flung over one shoulder, not slim, but filling out that jumpsuit nicely all the same - the other wearing a hot pink t-shirt that reads ‘we will wed you’ in white lettering across the chest and a fifties retro polka dot skirt.

They both look up as Steve and Bucky enter.

‘He-ey,’ the man dressed as Elvis says, smile and eyes widening as he looks past Bucky and up and up to Steve, then back down and up again. One eyebrow raising in slight disbelief, no doubt, at the existence of such a perfect being.

Bucky can’t blame him.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ the woman in hot pink says, coming forward, arms outstretched, ‘hello boys!’

‘Hello,’ Bucky says, smiling at her exuberance, and her very excellent blond bee-hive up-do, and slows to a stop about halfway down the aisle.

‘Ma’am,’ Steve says, affability dripping from the buttery smooth tone in his voice, coming to a stop on Bucky’s right.

‘Oh, you two look like a match made in heaven!’ the woman says, stopping a few feet from them, she holds up her hands and makes a frame with her fingers, placing Bucky and Steve in it and looking through at them with one narrowed eye. ‘Oh yes. Beautiful, beautiful.’

‘Uh…’ Bucky starts, and falters. At a loss for exactly how to proceed.

He looks up at Steve and Steve looks down at him with an encouraging smile, slides an arm around Bucky’s waist and squeezes him closer.

‘We umm… do we have to make an appointment?’

‘You two?’ the woman says, eyeing them both up and down, ‘no appointments necessary, come come come.’ She spins around and starts heading towards Elvis, checking back to make sure Bucky and Steve are following her, ‘Come with me, I’m going to take care of everything.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky says, looking up and Steve and shrugging his shoulders.

Steve laughs and squeezes Bucky tighter, walking them down the aisle together. ‘How do you make everybody fall in love with you like this, Buck?’

‘Me?’ Bucky says, laughing and shaking his head at Steve. As if Steve has no idea of the kind of magnetism he’s exuding. The uncanny resemblance he has to a greek god.

‘Yes, definitely you,’ Steve says, ‘People are never this easy with me.’

‘I am,’ Bucky says truthfully. Everything about Steve screams home to Bucky. Screams safety and happiness. Bucky couldn’t be anything but easy with him.

‘Yes you are,’ Steve says softly. Squeezing Bucky again. He’s going to have to stop doing that, it's so warm, his arm is so strong, his hand is so big, Bucky feels encased by him. It’s dangerously addictive. Bucky wants to lean into it and let himself go.

But, actually, why can't he? This is a chapel, they are about to leap into the craziest decision Bucky has ever made in his life... So Bucky does lean into it. Lets his side press into Steve, lets them fit together like a solved puzzle.

‘Okay boys, we have some forms, we have some catalogues,’ the woman says, gesturing them into a room off to the side of the chapel, ‘I need you to put your decision making hats on, okay? We have about thirty minutes before the next couple comes in and I want to slot you right in, yes?’

‘Okay,’ Bucky and Steve say together, nodding their heads.

‘Good, good. So take a look over these, sign them, pick your rings and I’ll charge them all to your room. You’re staying in the casino right?’

‘Yes,’ Steve says, moving forward before Bucky can answer, ‘Charge it to my room, please.’

Steve starts pulling out his wallet, shows his identification and takes the pen the lady offers him, and Bucky watches with a sort of fascination, as Steve becomes completely in control.

‘Steve Rogers,’ the woman says with a smile Bucky doesn’t understand. Knowing, familiar. ‘I’m Mavis, it’s so lovely to meet you.’

‘And you,’ Steve says. He opens his arm out to Bucky to gesture him forward, and slides it around Bucky’s shoulder when he gets close enough. ‘This is Bucky.’

‘James Buchanan Barnes,’ Bucky says, holding out a hand for Mavis to shake, ‘pleasure to meet you, Mavis.’

‘Oh well you are just the sweetest thing,’ Mavis says with a chuckle, her cheeks blushing, ‘absolutely adorable.’ She pushes a catalogue towards Bucky, ‘Find your rings, darlin’ while Steve here fills out the paperwork. I just need some signatures from both of you and I’ll set up everything with Larry over there,’ she points to Elvis who waves back at them from the altar, ‘while you pop out and find yourselves a witness.’

‘Can’t you be our witness, Mavis?’ Bucky asks. He doesn’t want to unpack the kind of recklessness that it takes to be getting married in a seedy casino wedding chapel and needing to nab random strangers to be their witnesses.

‘Oh of course I will, darlin’ boy, but you need two. And Larry is the officiator, he can’t be a witness I’m afraid.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Steve says, looking up from the paperwork and handing Bucky the pen, ‘You sign these and pick out the rings, Buck, I’ll go grab somebody.’

‘Ahh... sure,’ Bucky takes the pen and watches as Steve takes off on a mission, ‘I’ll just… pick out my wedding ring from this plastic catalogue…’

‘Okay,’ Mavis says, bustling about in the small room and not watching Bucky at all, ‘Here are your complimentary t-shirts,’ she pulls some material from a storage box under the counter, ‘here is your album,’ Mavis plonks a hot pink vinyl photo album right next to Bucky’s ring catalogue, ’and here’s your notepad.’

‘Notepad?’ Bucky looks at Mavis and then down at the small notepad, blue and pink and with a vegas sign as a watermark in the background.

‘You might want to jot some quick vows down, honey.’

‘Oh.’

It occurs to Bucky, as he looks down at his coloured notepad, at the ring catalogue on laminated sheets of pink paper, at the t-shirts Mavis has put down for them on the counter, that this is perhaps a terrible mistake.

And then he looks a little closer at one of the rings on the last page… plain white gold (plated, he’s guessing) flat bands with an inscription on the inside that reads, ‘For we are but two halves, together whole’ and wonders if in fact it's the opposite of a mistake.

What if this is fate?

‘Bucky, I found somebody,’ Steve comes tearing back into the chapel followed by a dazed looking man, wide eyed and smiling, looking up at Steve as if he just met the messiah. ‘This is Scott.’

‘Hi Scott,’ Bucky says, dragging the man’s attention away from Steve, ‘thank you so much for doing this.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Scott says, beaming back up at Steve, ‘for this guy? Anything.’

He looks starstruck - Bucky can totally understand where he’s coming from.

Scott is absolutely bouncing on the balls of his feet, ‘You are a lucky guy, Bucky.’

Bucky looks at Steve, who is looking worriedly between Scott and Bucky, reminding Bucky momentarily of a confused puppy, and has to wholeheartedly agree.

‘You still sure about this, Buck?’ Steve asks, puppy dog eyes kicking into full gear.

Bucky can’t help but smile. ‘I um… found these I sort of like,’ Bucky says in lieu of an answer, pointing to the picture of the rings on the laminated page, ‘what do you think?’

Steve looks down at them, at the inscription decsribed underneath the picture and looks back up at Bucky with the softest, sweetest smile. ‘They look perfect.’

‘Yeah? You think so?’

‘I do.’

And Bucky’s heart melts. He feels the warmth of it spread right through his chest.

‘Perfect!’ Mavis cries, swooping in to grab the catalogue and disappear into the chapel, yelling back ‘get yourselves to the altar boys!’

‘I guess we ah… head out there?’ Bucky gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, to the altar, ‘let me just um…’ he jots down a few lines and then rips the page off and hands the notepad to Steve, ‘for your vows.’

‘Ahh…’ Steve looks adorably terrified at the notepad Bucky has just handed him and looks over at Scott who is smiling at both of them now.

‘You guys look good together,’ Scott says, grabbing them both around their biceps and pushing them together, ‘this is really special. Thanks for letting me be a part of this, Cap.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Steve says, calm but bemused as Scott’s hands keep squeezing.

Bucky looks up at Steve and then back at Scott who almost seems to be tearing up.

‘You guys know each other?’

‘I wish,’ Scott says, shaking his head with a laugh, ‘what a dream this night has turned out to be.’

And Bucky can’t help but laugh. It’s just crazy enough to be perfect for this evening. ‘For you and me both,’ Bucky says. And Scott squeezes his arm a little tighter. ‘We even have this t-shirt for you.’

Scott takes the t-shirt Bucky offers him reverently. ‘Viva las witness,’ he says with awe. ‘This is amazing.’

‘And for you, sir,’ Bucky says, handing one to Steve.

‘Thank you, Buck’ Steve says, standing back from them both to pull off the button down he’s wearing.

Bucky can’t stop the gasp that escapes as Steve’s shirt slides down his arms to reveal the wide expanse of chiseled porcelain perfection underneath.

Steve smiles at Bucky’s no doubt slack jawed expression but Bucky can’t look away. It’s… a lot. IKt’s more muscle than Bucky has ever seen on a real live person. Toned and smooth and carved out of marble.

What is Bucky getting himself into?

Steve is pulling the pink ‘groom’ shirt over his chest and down over his washboard abs and Bucky has to hold his hand back from reaching out to touch him, to slip his fingers under the soft material of the t-shirt.

‘Your turn, Buck,’ Steve says, staring at Bucky with one eyebrow raised, handing him the blue shirt.

‘Uh-uh.’ Bucky shakes his head. 'Nope, not after that,' he waves his hand in the direction of Steve's chest, 'no thank you.'

'Buck?'

'I don't look anything like that.'

'Nobody looks anything like that,' Scott says, his eyebrows still at his hairline.

'Scott, could you give us five minutes?'

'Yeah, I'll just…' Scott backs out of the room and towards the altar, 'let me choose you some music. Be right back.'

'Bucky,' Steve steps closer as Scott disappears, 'you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with.'

Bucky lets him closer, but doesn't move.

'But this,' Steve puts his hands to his giant pecs, nearly breaking through the t-shirt, 'this is not what makes me, me.'

'I know,' Bucky tucks his hair behind his ear, nodding his head 'I know that.' He does know that. But it’s hard to not be intimidated by his perfection.

'And as beautiful as you are,' Steve says, reaching out to take Bucky's hand and hold it, put it up against Bucky’s chest, 'this isn't what makes you, you.' Steve presses the finger of his free hand against Bucky’s forehead. 'This is, Buck. This is you, yes?'

'Yes.' And it’s true. He forgets that sometimes but it’s true.

'And it's amazing, you're amazing.'

'I am?' Is he? Bucky doesn’t feel amazing. He feels like he’s just scraping by most of the time.

'You are.'

Steve is looking down at him with so much affection, Bucky knows it’s not a line. It’s what Steve really thinks.

'You are too,' Bucky lifts his own free hand to touch Steve's forehead, 'you're so lovely.'

Steve leans in as Bucky traces his hand down to his cheek and rests his forehead against Bucky's. 'You don't have to wear the t-shirt, Bucky,' Steve says softly, running his hand through Bucky’s hair, 'You don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do.'

Steve's hands on him are like a balm. They radiate care and calm, and they speak Steve's truth.

Bucky’s insecurity washes away. He wants to be part of this. He wants to be all in. 'I do want to wear the t-shirt,' Bucky whispers, 'It's cute.'

Steve laughs and almost snorts. 'It's perfect for you.' Steve nods. 'Want me to give you some privacy?'

'No,’ Bucky doesn’t want Steve to go anywhere. ‘No I want you to help me.’

Bucky takes Steve’s hands in his own and places them gently at the hem of his t-shirt - faded and worn and washed too many times, all the more comfortable because of it.

Steve slides his hands up under the hem and over the bare skin above Bucky’s waistband, dragging the tips of his fingers across Bucky’s stomach. Bucky breaths in a sharp gasp of air as Steve’s thumb runs over his hip bone.

‘Gorgeous,’ Steve sighs the word, his breath on Bucky’s lips, he’s so close.

Bucky lifts his arms to let Steve run his fingers up further, taking the material of the shirt with him and lifting it slowly over Bucky’s head. He runs his hands back down Bucky’s chest, fingertips burning into Bucky’s skin, charged and electric.

They slow at Bucky’s stomach, sliding around the smooth, slightly rounded softness of Bucky’s waist to settle on his hips, rubbing circles over the bone with his thumbs.

‘Beautiful,’ Steve whispers, ‘you’re perfect, Bucky.’

‘Thank you,’ Bucky whispers back. Not because Steve has said it, but because he’s made Bucky believe it.

Steve’s nuzzles closer, reaching up to kiss his lips against Bucky’s forehead, Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s chest, up to Steve’s shoulders and around his neck-

‘Showtime boys!’ Mavis says, bursting into the room and then throwing a hand over her eyes as Steve and Bucky jump apart, ‘Oops! Sorry, but you need to get your sweet little butts out there, we’re running out of time.’

‘Yep, sorry, sorry,’ Bucky grabs for the blue t-shirt, ‘Elvis said we do’ plastered across the front in bright pink lettering, ‘coming right out.’

‘Better late than never,’ Mavis says with a wink to Steve and Bucky laughs at the blush that creeps into his cheeks.

‘Shit,’ Steve writes quickly in the notepad as they both hustle out to the altar, Scott off to the side pairing his phone with the sound system as ‘Fools rush in’ starts up over the speakers and Larry-Elvis smiles down at them as they move into position on either side of where he stands a step above them.

Steve tucks the notepad into his pocket and shuffles his feet. Bucky stands straight and reaches for his hands, pulls them into the space between them, holds them there, safe between Bucky’s own.

‘Welcome folks,’ Larry-Elvis drawls, ‘We’re gonna keep this short and sweet, I as a certified official in the state of Nevada, do preside over these two young men, to bring them together in holy matrimony-’

Steve catches Bucky’s eye and bites his lip. Bucky can only look back and try and keep from vibrating out of his skin.

‘-James Buchanan Barnes, did you have some words for Steve,’

‘Ah, yep…’ Bucky says, grabbing the torn out page from the pocket of his jeans, ‘Ah, Steven-’

‘-Grant,’ Steve says quietly.

‘Steven Grant Rogers, somehow it feels like I’ve known you forever. Somehow I feel like tonight I have met the kindest, most wonderful man in the world.’

‘It’s so true,’ Scott says quietly from behind them, and it makes Bucky smile.

‘Whatever brought us together, whatever force has drawn us to each other… It feels like fate, Steve. I think maybe you’re my person.’

Steve is nodding, smiling, he squeezes Bucky’s fingers.

‘And Steve?’ Larry-Elvis asks, ‘did you have words too, son?’

‘Yeah I…’ Steve doesn’t reach for his notepad, he looks at Bucky and squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, ‘James Buchanan Barnes, my heart knows you. However our particles have danced together through time, I found you here and now, and I’m going to hold on for as long as I can-’

‘Oh, god,’ Scott sobs behind them.

‘-I think you’re right about fate, Buck, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life, just being a part of yours.’

‘Beautiful!’ Mavis cries, running over with the rings, ‘Rings boys, time to wrap it up.’

Bucky has to smile at the chaos, at Steve’s face as he bites his cheek and tries not to laugh. He checks back at Scott to see him taking video of the ceremony and hopes that he can watch this in the morning, sober, and remember how light his heart is right now.

‘That was beautiful, Steve-Steve Rogers,’ Bucky says leaning in to whisper.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Steve says back and they smile at each other like idiots as Mavis hands them their rings and the song fades out on Elvis singing about falling in love. It couldn’t be more perfect.

‘You may kiss the groom, fellas,’ Larry says with a sweeping hand, ‘I now pronounce you husband and husband.’

And all of the noise fades away around them as Steve steps in, brings their joined hands up to their chests and reaches down to rest his lips against Bucky’s.

‘May I?’ he whispers against Bucky’s mouth.

‘Fuck yes,’ Bucky whispers back, and Steve laughs as he closes that last tiny distance, presses his warm lips softly to Bucky’s and opens them just enough to fit their mouths together.

The tenderness of it has Bucky in freefall.

He sighs into the taste of Steve’s lips, the luscious sweep of them against Bucky’s, and Steve has to let go of Bucky’s hands to reach around and grab him, take Bucky’s weight where he has dropped into Steve’s hold, pressing deeper into the kiss as he does, opening wider to it, gently nudging his tongue against Bucky’s and Bucky pushes back, licks softly into Steve’s mouth, sucks at the plumpness of his bottom lip, reaches his hands up around Steve’s neck and holds on.

The bang of the confetti canon has Steve snapping back up to standing, pulling Bucky with him and wrapping his arms around him, as if to shield him. Looking up and then back at Bucky as the coloured paper rains down on them.

Bucky can't help huffing a happy laugh at his husband. His husband.

‘Congratulations!’ Mavis and Larry-Elvis and Scott all cry from around them, but Bucky’s world is all and only Steve right now. The crystal clear blue of his eyes, the rose of his cheeks, the sharp nose and pink lips, and the look of absolute adoration on his face.

‘Wanna get out of here?’ Bucky asks.

Steve smiles even wider, ducks his head to kiss Bucky again, slow and soft and sweet and whispers into Bucky’s mouth, ‘I do.’

It’s perfect.

#stucky #stucky fluff #fluff #accidental husbands #stucky fic #steve/peggy #steve x darcy #bottom bucky #cap steve #shrunkyclunks #my writing

[shokobuns]

POSE

rin gets a polaroid camera.

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut, consensual picture taking, unprotected sex, creampie, tit sucking, needy!reader, dom/sub-ish dynamics, fingering, oral (both f & m), edging, implied dumbification

(a/n): this is unedited im sry ahhhhhhhhhhhh but anyways i kept listening to pose by yo gotti n it just led to this

rin has always loved taking photos.

he loves to save treasured moments on camera, whether it was a miya twin fight or a candid of you feeding some ducks at a pond. moments like that were to be saved by him, kept in an album or his wallet. a wholesome sentiment.

he's ecstatic when he gets a polaroid camera, using up the first set of film at the very party he received the gift at. pictures of atsumu stuffing his face with cake, kita petting the family dog, you smiling up at him as you pile your plate up with food. every single one was kept, every single moment was immortalized.

click.

rin loves taking photos of you.

especially when you're looking at him with half lidded eyes, saliva dripping down your chin. you barely register the flash of the camera, only feeling the pain in your throat and the arousal that soaks your underwear. his fingers run through your hair as he stares down at you with adoration. your knees hurt, but it doesn't matter. not when you're looking up with him with teary eyes and your mouth full of cock.

"on the bed, bunny." he orders and you obey, legs spread apart to showcase the wet spot on your panties just how he likes it. your skirt is flipped up, nipples poking through your flimsy tee.

click.

he sets the camera aside, trailing kisses down your neck, hands making their way under your shirt to fondle your breasts. one hand rips off the soaked fabric, his thumb immediately finding your sensitive nub and rubbing lazy circles. he throws your shirt off somewhere in the room and latches his mouth onto your hardened bud. your hands thread through his hair, pushing his face further harder onto your chest.

you can't help but grind yourself onto him while he looks up to your face with admiration. your mind is clouded and he can tell by the way you're barely able to sit up.

when his mouth leaves you, you whine and fall back before you hear that familiar sound.

click.

your slick pussy on display for him under your black skirt, tits wet with his saliva. he has to take a picture.

"rin, i need you." you choke out, relishing the feeling of his fingers on you.

"just wait, bunny. need some pictures of you when i'm away." he pulls down your skirt, leaving you completely bare in contrast with his half clothed body. it's almost embarrassing, but he doesn't seem to mind. "pose for me."

you don't know how to pose like this, let alone how he wants to see you. so you bring your knees to your chest, covering up your breasts as you stare down your lap. it feels somewhat humiliating to be so exposed no matter how many times he's seen your body and you're especially shy in front of a camera.

"i said pose, baby." he growls, yanking your legs until he's above you with a perfect view of your tits, eyes closed, legs pressed together. his hand rests firmly on your stomach, preventing you from moving away.

click.

it's almost as if he could sense the self consciousness radiating off of you when he comforts you with wet kisses from your shoulder down to your belly. his lips travel lower and lower until he's sucking on your thigh, making sure to leave marks. your hands grip the sheets in anticipation when you feel his breath on your heat. he has full access to every part of your body, but you trust him. you just really need him to touch you now. "need you, really bad- ah!"

he doesn't let you finish, immediately latching his mouth onto your clit until you're squirming, pushing his head closer until his nose touches your navel. your thighs rest comfortably on his shoulders, but he doesn't let you close them, keeping your pretty pussy spread apart for his tongue to abuse. the wet muscle prods at your entrance and presses against a sweet spot, causing your empty hole to clench.

the familiar knot in your stomach begins to unravel, the familiar pleasure making your head dizzy.

click.

but rin doesn't let it happen yet.

he's more interested in the image of your head thrown back, your tits pushed outwards, and your glistening cunt. rin loves how ruined you look when you're about to cum despite the fact you've been denied the pleasure that you've been craving the whole time.

but you're tired of it.

so you do the work yourself, gaining enough confidence to walk forwards until his back hits the wall and pull his shirt until it's fully discarded. your hand wraps around his fat cock, your fist unable to fit all the way around, but you pump it anyways, rubbing his slit while you bite into his shoulder. "i- i told you to be patient, didn't i- oh-"

you're back on your knees, mouth sucking the angry red tip until his eyes squeeze shut. your hand pumps what you can't reach while your head bobs up and down his cock. he hits the back of your throat ever time, but you tolerate it for the sake of letting him nearly reach his release. he groans and you feel the familiar twitch as his hands card through your hair. that's when you grab the camera.

click.

what's the harm in having some pictures of your own?

his cheeks are flushed red, lips parted open, dark marks left on his broad shoulders. you leave the photo on the table. barely a second later, he's grabbing you by the waist and throwing you onto the bed. it all happens fast.

he hovers above you with the camera in hand, arms resting on both sides of your head, sucking on your neck until it's bruised purple as he slides into your quivering hole. the sudden intrusion makes you tighten it and he hisses through his teeth at the familiar warmth surrounding him. "think you can just leave me like that? takin' a fuckin' picture, too?"

he doesn't give you time to adjust, setting a fast pace and driving his cock into you before you can process it. his hand rests on your throat, squeezing the sides until your eyes roll to the back of your head. your mind is foggy and the only thing you can really feel is his length filling you up until he's in your guts.

click.

you can't hear the camera anymore. you can't think clearly anymore either. "look at that." he mutters, admiring the ring of cream forming around him. your little hole is stretched out when he pounds into you, hitting the sweet spot that's deep inside of you every single time, wet sounds filling up the air of the room.

he's relentless.

and you let out a mix of blabbering, whining, and moaning that satisfies him even more. your back arches off the bed, legs wrapping around his waist, and he knows you're close.

click.

it might be blurry with how fast he pistons into you, but he's sure that he got the lewd image of his cock stuffing your pretty cunny full. it's sticky, creamy, and the most erotic photo he's ever taken.

and now he has the perfect angle. one that shows off your fucked out face and your sore pussy. your walls pulsate around him, his fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing furious circles until you clamp down. his hips still and his cock throbs before he fills you up with his cum, your tight cunny milking him for all he's worth.

your hands grip your breasts as you look up at him with glassy half lidded eyes. your cheeks are heated up and blotchy, drool sliding down your chin.

click.

it's a pretty sight, he thinks. he captured one of the most lewdest moments on camera and he's elated at the obscene sentiment. when he finally pulls out, a mix of slick and white cum leaks from your fucked out hole, filling him with a sinful sense of pride. your bare chest falls and rises with every breath. he can tell that you can barely register the sticky mess spilling from your pretty pussy, but before he cleans it up, there's one more thing he might as well do.

click.

he sets the developing photo down before grabbing a wet rag and wiping up the mess between your thighs. "you're so pretty, bunny."

his breath tickles your ear and you let out a weak giggle, "thanks, rinnie. i'll pose better next time, i promise."

"no need, you were perfect."

you smile and pull him down until he's laying with you in the bed, blanket covering your bare bodies before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

taglist: @shrtorizawaa​ (luv u babes!)

#tw.dumbification #tw.head #tw.creampie #tw.unprotected sex #tw.picture taking #tw.edging #tw.smut #🌟.wap! #🌟.suna rintarou #tw.unedited #🌟.unedited #🌟.works! #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #rintarou suna smut #rintarou suna x reader #rintarou suna x y/n #suna rintaro smut #rintaro suna smut #suna rintaro x reader #rintaro suna x reader #suna rintaro x you #🌟 — works!

[kira-fluff]

Hello! Have you done headcanons for a MC that is a really good artist? Like, that's what she loves and hopes to make a career out of it? (For the RFA, V, And Saeran?) thankyou! Bye bye! \ ^-^ /

a/n: I LOOOVEE this idea! As a passionate artist myself, this one hits home :) As you probably know, I���ve updated my rules, since you specified 2, I will pick 2 from the RFA :) Again, let me know if you’d like to have different characters than the ones I picked! I went for MC instead of Y/n this time. Let me know what you think. Thanks! 

Also, this is pre-relationship and it may or may not have turned into a confession headcanon oh gosh 

- 

MC is an Artist +Confession bonus 

V +bonus confession 

As a fellow artist, V would be incredibly proud of you 

Even though he might sometimes have trouble saying it 

V has always showed actions above his words 

You’d quickly gathered this from his lack of communication with the RFA chat and text messages between the two of you in general 

But you understood him, in a way 

You related to the freedom he felt whenever he expressed himself through his photography 

Because you felt that same feelings when you painted 

You were incredibly inspired by Beatrix Potter, your memories of her various artworks inspiring you to do the same 

You adored nature just as much as V did 

Together, you both made a beautiful pair 

You wore an adorable flower-patterned, yellow sun dress

A beige sunhat you held to your head with a hand, carrying your brushes and paint palette

Him, dressed smartly in a sweater with khaki pants 

 V could carry your easel for you, his professional photography bag slung around his shoulder. 

You’d laugh, turning around to look at him, the wind blowing in your face, urging him to “Come on!” 

V had never thought you more beautiful than the time you’d accidentally tripped into a meadow of freesias, scattering them every which way 

You gasped, whipping out your pocket book, etching down the scene before you 

After a measurable silence, you looked over at V who had been quiet in taking pictures of you 

He keeps many copies of the pictures, putting one in his wallet and other places he’d look frequently just to make him smile 

He’d never let others besides himself see them, but they were the most beautiful photos he’d ever taken, and this not just by his standards of your beauty 

You sometimes would catch yourself sketching him during your time outside with him, sitting in a quiet pasture 

The world’s creatures were your muse, but you couldn’t help yourself from taking every opportunity to capture V’s every expression

And maybe that’s when you realized you were completely and utterly in love with him. 

In those quiet times in the meadows, all along you were in love with him. 

When you’d caught V taking candids of you, you always would beg him to delete them, which he begrudgingly would, if you really begged him 

But.. other than that, you were positive V had no real feelings for you outside of a deep friendship. 

That must’ve done it. He knows.  

Because suddenly, V had become incredibly distant, flaking out of your naturalist escapades, becoming increasingly difficult to come in contact at all..

it was all pointing to the fact that he had realized how deeply you loved him. 

You in turn, pushed away everyone around you. 

Rejection hurt. So much. One does not truly understand it until they’ve felt it themselves. 

It came to a point where you had no more tears left to cry, you knew he was gone forever. 

Your love, your inspiration. 

All was gone. 

You hadn’t touched a paint brush in months 

You’d been skipping meals for a while, beginning to feel more and more fatigue because of it. 

It came to the point where all in the RFA (except V) had become so worried about you that they’d sent Jaehee and Yoosung over to check on you 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d checked your phone 

Your blinds and curtains had been shut for a subsequent amount of time. 

It had been weeks since you’d last changed your clothes, your hair was unkept. 

You stopped taking care of yourself completely, emptiness overtaking you. 

You had always had a dream of making artwork your career.. but just when your freelance career had begun to take off.. you lost everything. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to touch your paints or pocket book. It reminded you too much of him. 

You weren’t concerned about money, Rika’s apartment was already paid for and… well, with no real meal expenses, you didn’t feel any real purpose to continue. 

You heard a soft knock on the door. 

Instead of answering, you groaned, rolling over in your sheets – hoping if you ignored the knocking they’d assumed you weren’t home.

Any last grain of hope you’d had left you a long time ago. 

“….MC?” 

You slowly sat up in your bed. It was Yoosung. 

You instantly felt shame for ignoring them.. and looking, well, like this. 

“I’m coming in!” Came a loud shout, causing you to panic. 

Damn. Seven must’ve opened the apartment.  

Seven was concerned for you, given the surveillance footage, he couldn’t find almost any instances when you’d left your apartment. 

Given your apparent closeness, Seven shot a text to Yoosung, Jaehee, and of course, V. 

Yoosung and Jaehee replied in agreement and concern, V, however, said something very different. 

// V:  I’m sorry. I can’t go. >> [sent, 6:08am]

707: I thot the 2 of u were rly close. Did sth happen? >> [sent, 6:09am]

V: I’m selfish. I can’t see her anymore. >> [sent, 6:29am] 

707: ? >> 

707: > [sent, 6:29am]

read, 6:32am. //

You began to cry, embarrassed and ashamed, as Jaehee and Yoosung called your name throughout your hollow feeling apartment. 

Immediate concern covered their faces when they saw you teary eyed in your bed. 

“Oh, MC, hey, it’s going to be okay.”, Jaehee immediately held your head in her arms. 

She ordered Yoosung to get some food from your local convenience store

From there, she opted to begin cleaning you up. 

Jaehee didn’t want to force you to do or say anything, so she never asked questions – unless to ask whether you were comfortable taking a shower or perhaps, eating something later. 

You were not opposed to the help, rather, you felt indebted to them, feeling guilty for causing Jaehee, Yoosung, and likely Seven a great amount of trouble. 

Jaehee made quick work of stripping your bed sheets, stuffing in the laundry and opening the blinds, cleaning your room and dusting where necessary 

A part of her chastised herself for not doing so sooner, but she and the others were afraid that they’d be intruding on your right to take a social media break or something of the sort. 

Yoosung came back relatively quickly, a meal in hand, per Jaehee’s request. 

He made quick work of making his specialty – an omurice omelette. 

Jaehee continued to tidy up, checking up with you when she’d realized the apartment had gotten too silent

You at last stepped out of the shower, your hair taking on a glimmer, as if thanking you for taking care of it at last. 

You washed your face, trying to gather your thoughts as your shoved a crew-neck shirt over your head, opting for jeans and slippers as well. 

At last coming out of the bathroom, you at last made eye contact with Yoosung and Jaehee you began to cry again. 

Without hesitation, they rushed toward you for a hug, hushing you when you’d blubbered, “I’m sorry, thank you, I’m so sorry” in between dry heaves. 

After a quick call to Seven from Jaehee, Zen, Jumin and Saeyoung had made their way to your apartment as well. 

They each had their piece to share, kind words of encouragement and love. 

You were happy by their words, but… 

V wasn’t here. 

At last gaining confidence through their encouraging words, you ushered them to the large sofas that laid beneath your TV. 

Looking down, you said, “I-I’m sure you’re all wondering about V and I..” 

You didn’t dare look up when your sniffles began. 

You took a deep breath before beginning, “This is nothing to his fault, but….” your lip wobbled, “I believe.. I think he realized that I had completely fallen for him,” you laughed pathetically, “Still am”

Seven began, “MC–” 

“I don’t blame him, really, I never intended to tell him… it’s awkward.” 

Zen clenched his fist, “That asshole…” 

“And my friend” Jumin quickly rebutted. 

“P-please! I didn’t tell you this to make you dislike him or anything! I just felt like I owed you all an explanation…”, you begged.

Seven stared at you for a while before saying, “MC… V he’s– I think you should tell him properly.” 

Zen, ever the hot-head, stood up shouting, “And get her heart broken all over again?! How heartless can you be!” 

You smiled ingenuinely, “He’s right, Zen.” 

Before you could change your mind, you picked up your phone, and for what felt like years, you at last dialed V’s number. 

On the last ring, you heard sound that the caller had, picked up though there was no sound on the other line. 

Jumin and Yoosung ushered everyone out of the room, deciding to take a little stroll outside the apartment complex. 

After a moment of silence you started, “…..V?” 

You now heard him breathing on the other line.

“V, I know you’re there. Please…” You felt your voice wavering, “P-please… come to my apartment.”, you whispered a final, “please.” 

V was silent for what felt like hours before saying, “……..okay.” 

You hung up, attempting to mentally prepare yourself for the world of hurt you were about to endure again. 

After a long silence in which you’d zoned out, you suddenly heard the door bell ring. 

You glanced up. Only V ever used the doorbell.. always had. 

You slowly crept toward the door, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. 

Gently opening the door a crack, you took in V. 

It had been a few months, but he looked so different. So…hollow. 

You moved for him to come inside, closing the door behind you. 

“Um, V, there’s something I need to tell you.” 

“You already know my answer.” 

You looked up, tears welling in your eyes, doing your best to ignore his statement. 

“V… I love you.” 

You’d never seen V so taken aback, his whole face grew pale. 

“Y-you love me?” 

“Have. For a long time.” 

You looked down, “You can go now.” 

Yet you didn’t hear a sound of movement. 

Looking up, V was still standing there, shocked. 

At last, you managed to hear the softest whisper, “All this time….”

You leaned in closer, “What?” 

“I- I loved you.. I love you. Since we’d first met. I-I thought you didn’t want a thing to do with me. Thought you’d figured out I’d fallen in love, so I distanced myself.. selfishly to try not to get hurt, but I still did. And all this time you felt the same.” 

You were now the stunned one. 

“Really?” 

V gently smiled at you, enveloping you in a tight hug, “Really.” 

Jumin +bonus confession 

You loved to create stories 

Various areas of fiction, watercolor splashing against crisp, white pages 

Telling a beautiful story in color 

And Jumin adored it. 

He adored you. 

He admired your deep passion to create and your love for everything. 

He couldn’t understand how you could see the beauty in everything around you… for Jumin, he tended to consider things in their degree of usefulness. 

For the longest time, his father and those around him had encouraged this mentality 

And so, Jumin rarely sought for things that would have no real purpose – his penthouse proved this point by its bare walls – void of artistic charm

It wasn’t until you’d met him through the RFA that you’d immediately brought a force of color into his life 

He remembered well the first time you’d come to his apartment 

You gently ran your soft fingers against the walls of his penthouse saying, “Mr. Han, I think you need some more color in your house. It looks like a hospital in here!” You turned to him, a playful smile on your face. 

The breath was knocked out of him. 

God, he could never say no to you. If you’d ask, he’d get you anything you’d ever need. 

But he loved that you didn’t appreciate that kind of affection. Jumin knew he immediately ran to gift giving for love because it was the only way he had been shown love throughout his life…. and, it didn’t really mean anything to him. 

Still, he desperately wanted to be helpful, so if you were ever in a financial struggle, he’d offer to assist you. 

You’d proudly decline, declaring you could do it all yourself. He liked that about you too. Your independence, your kindness. 

It didn’t take long for him to realize he had taken to you greatly. 

One day when you’d come over for a visit, while petting Elizabeth III, you said, “Hey, Jumin.. have you ever fallen in love before?” 

Tension filled the air while Jumin stared at you. 

How could MC be so blind. 

When it had been a few moments he’d not answered, you awkwardly said, “J-just kidding! I figured you’re probably engaged – that was a stupid question, sorry..” 

Jumin was stricken by your sudden uncertainty, but didn’t make anything of it. 

“I’m not engaged. Don’t listen to anything my father says regarding that. And to answer your question, I think I might have an idea of what that feels like.” 

His eyes bore into yours, but he of course missed the look of sorrow that’d taken over your eyes.  

He’d watch you paint all day if he had the time. 

He couldn’t understand how you could look at a blank sheet of paper and write something so poetically beautiful and paint a lovely picture to match 

It was all a part of his amazement of you. 

He could watch you for hours, humming to yourself while you played around with contrast colors for your watercolor pieces 

No other art had value quite like your own 

He encouraged you at every chance he got, “MC, you should go into the arts.” 

“That’s what I want to do! But, Dad says the arts aren’t a realistic job.”, you frowned. 

“That may have been true in some outdated decade, but in our world today people are always looking for something hand-made and authentic. When we research our products, we look for items that have a ‘signature’ to them. Trust me, people want your art not only because it is breath-taking.. but because you made it.” 

You smiled at that, Jumin was always one to put a rational thought forward for your consideration, something you’d cherished. 

“Besides, I think you’d be happy anywhere you can create.” 

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug, “Thank you, Ju Ju.”

Staying close friends became increasingly difficult, but Jumin wasn’t going to risk losing his friendship with you because of feelings. 

So you surprised him when you began randomly, “Jumin, I think I’m in love with you, okay?” 

You made eye contact, doing your best to show you were serious. 

As soon as he realized you were authentic in your confession, you turned around and began sprinting, flying open the door to his penthouse 

Jumin immediately chased after you, both in a full sprint 

You screamed when you heard his breathing and steps behind you and so increased your speed 

You had at last reached a dead end, but Jumin was a ways behind you. 

You reached for the elevator button, furiously clicking it – thankfully it came on the first ding. 

You rushed inside, repeatedly tapping the door-closing button. 

You sighed at last when you felt the elevator moving up, gasping for air. 

You attempted to continue going up to the highest story, which happened to be 320, grateful that this damn skyscraper had a ton of floors. 

You froze when the door came to a stop at floor 13. You panicked, trying to force the doors not to open. 

In front of you was a random businessmen, looked slightly peeved at the long wait he must’ve had for the elegant glass elevator. 

You apologized, allowing him into the elevator along with a crowd of impatient people, some gorgeous women with a smart suit and long hair, their phone resting on their cheek next to their ear, some more businessmen, glancing anxiously at their watches. 

As the elevator climbed to floor 21, a heap of people acknowledged their stop, pressing out of the elevator shaft and onto the busy hallways of what appeared to be the finance department. 

You sighed, pressing more buttons to go up higher. 

You screeched when you felt a hand on both of your wrists, slamming you into the wall behind you. 

Jumin’s eyes were glowing from the slight sweat that was beginning to form on his brow 

He looked pissed. 

“Don’t. Ever. Run. Away. From me. Again.” 

You gazed up at him, a guilty expression clouding your face 

“S-sorry..”, you quickly looked away, not bearing to look at the anger in his expression, the way he clenched his jaw and his eyes took on a darker hue… brows knit together. He was really mad. 

“You didn’t let me answer.” He said, his voice deep. 

He leaned in closer.. you closed your eyes in anticipation. 

He breathed a laugh through his nose, resting his forehead on your collarbone and shoulder. 

You blushed in embarrassment. 

Suddenly, Jumin hugged you tightly, “I love you too, MC.” 

Zen

As a fellow artist, Zen was overjoyed to say the least when he found out about your love for singing 

Your social media accounts were growing rapidly from your posts of music covers and original songs 

You also had a deep love to playing the harp. 

It had taken a lot of coaxing to convince your father to let you pay half and he pay the other of the expense of a 200,000 Won pedal harp 

But you loved it so much 

And so does Zen 

He’d definitely insist on doing a collaboration with you 

After the recording session and upload, both your following counts grew rapidly 

Comments of all types flooded your posts: 

OMG!!! ZEN!! BEAUTIFUL ZEN!!

who’s the b*tch next to him? 

omg, right? 

ew lol 

AHHHH I LOVE YOU ZEN!!! 

MC looks so cute…

fyp!! 

ZEN AND MC WOULD MAKE SUCH A CUTE COUPLE AWEEEE 

I agree!! 귀엽다   (cute) 

Over the course of your social media endeavor, you’d learned to ignore the ruthless comments of jealous fans 

Zen was worried you’d taken them personally so he validated you a lot over the period that the video was a hit 

Zen wrote a song about you (which he definitely serenaded you with): 

“your passion, my passion one in the same this song – our communicator of my love to you. your smile each day this serenade a simple translator the time we have means so much i wouldn’t spend it any other way.” - radio wave COMMUNICATION by Zen 

The song overtook the song charts, making it’s way to the #1 spot in half a day 

You’d asked him, “Zen, are you going to make that a single? You are, aren’t you? Right?” 

“No, this is something for you and you only” 

You smiled at that, but said, “Zen, love like this deserves to be shared. This song will mean something so special to someone else, just like it means something to me. Music, what we do.. it was made to be shared.” 

Zen looked at you with stars in his eyes, taking you in a big hug. 

You truly were the kindest person he’d ever met.. and he loved you so, so much. 

Even though you may not have realized yet what the truth of his feelings were in his serenade, he knew he’d wait for the day in anticipation when he’d finally ask you to be his. 

Saeran

Saeran wasn’t personally one for dramatics, but he loved watching you perform  

You’d sing for all kinds of musicals – you’d act for a series of plays 

He loved it when you’d act in classics like Macbeth or The Phantom of the Opera

It felt like a safe place to forget everything in his life and just watch you 

But he hadn’t fallen for you for who you pretended to be, but for who you really are. 

You were shy – something he found surprising (but unbelievably adorable) because you were a well-known actress 

When you’d first met him, you were walking outside the entrance way of the theater a few hours before your showtime. 

You had accidentally tripped and spilled coffee all over some tax forms you had to fill out

You let out a soft, “oh no!” 

Saeran had been early for a nice seat (hopefully away from other people) and noticed a woman in a cute over-sized sweater was muttering words under her breath, picking up what seemed to be endless amounts of papers 

He quietly walked over and just as softly said, “…need some help..?” 

You were surprised at the sudden presence of a stranger 

“o-oh! … yes please..” 

he smiled, leaning down and picking up stacks of coffee-stained paper

“would you like me to carry them for you?”, he said 

“are you– are you sure?” you looked up at him innocently in concern 

he answered by gently taking the stack of papers, “where to..?” 

“um… i’ll show you..” 

he nodded, following you to the backstage area where there was a mirror attached to a dresser, stage makeup covering the top of it. 

“you’re an actress?” 

you grinned shyly, “everyone’s surprised..” 

“n-no, i think it suits you. i was surprised because i’m watching the show tonight.” 

“r-really? you’ll watch me?” 

he nodded, blushing at your hopeful smile 

“i’ll do my best then, if you’ll watch me..” 

“good.” he looked away 

“i’ll be waiting” you said with a soft smile 

“so will i” 

yeah you two were literally so adorable.

- 

enjoy my beautifuls

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