#i don't want to be taken hostage again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daisy-milk · 2 months

Text

MAROONED.pdf

➠ office_crush!Han x reader

➠ wc: 3.7k

➠ summary: your workplace becomes target to an unfortunate hostage situation. fortunately the assaliants don't seem violent, however unfortunately, you get shoved into a trunk with your office crush.

➠ warnings: smut, fingering, overstimulation, piv, mentions of a hostage situation, bondage

➠ masterlist

➠ a/n: had this for a while haha

“mmmff!!”

you tried to at least sound assertive, but it was a bit hard with duct tape sealing your lips shut. however, that didn’t stop you from spewing muffled curses at the man who was currently dragging you to his car. you couldn’t do much but flail your zip-tie bound hands and growl unknown obscenities through your closed mouth, but somehow it seemed to have kept your assailant nervous. or maybe he was just like that from the start.

“i-i’m sorry ma’am,” the masked person stuttered quietly.

poor kid, you thought. he couldn’t have been older than 19 and it didn’t seem like he wanted to even be here, “w-watch your head…” the kid’s hand gently pushed your head down to try and shove you into the trunk of a small black sedan, but you resisted, easily shoving out of his grasp. you gave the assailant an incredulous look and his shoulders visibly slumped. suddenly, the kid’s eyes widened from under his mask and before you could even tilt your head in question, you felt large hands snatch your body, nearly folding you in half to shove into the trunk. you didn’t have any time to even react before another body was forced into the trunk with you.

“you can’t do one simple thing, idiot?” you heard a new voice from outside the trunk. you couldn’t see who it was who threw you into the car, but you did hear a loud slap from where the two criminals stood, “get in the damn car and meet me at the location. and you better not fuck up again, hear me?”

the trunk was cramped, various tools and suspiciously full duffel bags crammed into your back and not to mention the body of another unfortunate hostage that was just shoved in blocking your view of your kidnappers. you writhed a bit, trying to shimmy over the person, but to no avail when the hood of the trunk was slammed shut leaving you in pitch darkness.

you rolled your eyes and slumped back. there was a small sliver of light that peeked through the thin opening of the trunk, but the dim light was enough to finally realize who you were taken with. han jisung. to be trapped with anyone and it just so happened to be your work crush. the two of you had a little back and forth thing going on, one of you saying something mildly flirty and the other might respond with the same energy, but neither of you doubled down. it always ended how it started except for the fact that you both left with bright red blushes burning onto your cheeks. pretty juvenile for a pair of grown adults, many would say, but he was the reason you’d be excited to actually go to work. hell, today you even “unintentionally” brought that candy he had mentioned once, but it also just had to happen that your workplace becomes the target of a now hostage situation.

you glanced over at him and he was already looking at you. neither of you had much fear or anxiety written on your faces, despite the situation, but there weren’t any signs of a weapon on the robbers and they didn’t seem the type to kill anyone. you were just hostages. clearly, it was quiet between the two of you with the duct tape over your lips, but the sound of the engine starting had immediately alerted the two of you. you let out a loud sigh through the tape as you felt the car start to move.

the both of you endured the drive. it seemed to be a getaway chase by the way the car was recklessly steering, throwing your bodies around with every bump and turn. one bump and you flipped onto your other side. another turn and you heard a loud thump followed by a groan, Han must have hit his head. a third and fourth and the two of you are flying every which way inside the crowded trunk space. the fifth time came around and you felt the car halt to a harsh stop. the momentum sent your body flying forward, groaning as you slammed against the wall of the trunk. not only you were affected of course, but Han’s body followed suit, his front being smashed into your back. it seemed that after the car had slammed on the brakes, the police had finally caught up. blaring sirens were heard from outside the vehicle and the loudspeaker from the cop car spoke,

“PULL YOUR VEHICLE OVER IMMEDIATELY. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST,” you let out a breath of relief, but the second you did you realized how close Han was as you were able to feel his breath as well, pressed up tightly behind you. you couldn’t move away either, “STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

moments passed and you vaguely heard the commotions of the arrest being made. though, you couldn’t focus on much that was going on outside due to your mind racing. how could you focus when you felt Han’s toned chest rising shallowly up and down against your back. the warmth from his body radiating through that thin button up shirt he always wore that may be a size too small. you always noticed that. if you were a normal person you could tell him that he might have outgrown his shirt when he started working out, his pecs giving the buttons that kept his shirt together a run for their money. but you never said a thing, drooling over the way the seams would fight for their life every time he would stretch at his desk. he was so close. your bare legs brushed against his slacks and your imagination ran wild. you tried to shuffle in your restraints, there was a dampness to your panties that you realized made you quite uncomfortable and awkward, especially with the man causing it right behind you. unfortunately for you, instead of successfully concealing anything, your pencil skirt began to scrunch up at the waist. right. it comes back to you, the fact that you chose to wear your shortest office skirt today to impress Han now biting you in the ass. you curse to yourself as your choice in outfit now backfires on you, and you were certain, with how close he was pressed up against you, that you were now staining his formerly clean trousers with your shameful arousal. at least you were lucky he couldn’t see the intense blush making your face grow redder than a tomato. for a moment, you had forgotten that your mouth was taped shut as you attempted to offer a quick ‘sorry’ for your tragic situation, but all that came out was a muffle. a muffle that sounded too close to a moan. and to think you didn’t think it could get worse. here you are, struggling against his frontside, dripping wet, and moaning with no way of explaining yourself. to say you were embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how you felt. maybe you could use this whole hostage situation as an excuse to quit and move far, far away because there was no way you could face him ever again after this. speaking of the hostage situation, it had been way too long for the police to be making this arrest. was there more than just that one teen that was driving? you swear you heard several cops too… what could possibly be taking so long? snapping out of your moment, you tried to listen for anything outside the vehicle. nothing. had they not realized that you two were in the trunk? you listened in again. dead silence. just the sounds of cars driving by.

‘theres no way,’ you thought, ‘did they seriously leave us here..?’

you tried to turn around, but as you moved it was Han’s turn to let out a loud groan. your eyes widened, worried that you might have unintentionally hurt him, you instinctively shuffled again to check up on him to no avail. however, this time you moved, he let out more of a whine. following that, his head dropped into the crevice of your neck and you could feel the beads of sweat that decorated his forehead. it soaked into your hair. you could smell him now. you could feel his heavy breaths through his nose on your skin. the whine, the groan as well, they weren’t noises in response to pain. you felt it now that he’s shuffling in discomfort. you felt him, rock hard, hidden behind the fabric of his pants. he was just as affected as you. yet again, forgetting you couldn’t move, you squirmed again, this time your back arching a little more to test the waters. your hypothesis had been right as his head that was buried in your neck now craned backwards, hips lightly meeting yours as he let out another muffled groan.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that the cops had forgotten about you.

spurred on by your hornyness and newfound confidence, you started to grind against him. his head that he threw back now shot back into where it was tucked into the place where your neck and shoulder met, and if his lips weren’t taped, you might have felt his soft lips press against your skin. his warm breath tickled your skin as you continued to move against his body, his hips now mirroring your actions. as you both desperately grinded against each other, you felt and heard his breaths grow more erratic. you could tell he wanted more the way his hips began to thrust at your backside as if he was in you. and how badly you wanted him to be. as time went on, he only grew more greedy and impatient with the way he humped against you. there was a dull thump every time his hips met yours causing you to let out an almost too dramatic whine. you weren’t quite sure what happened, but in that moment you heard a snap from behind you. somehow Han had managed to break the zip-ties that held his hands together and you knew that the way his hands immediately flew to your hips. next came the sound of him ripping the tape from his mouth. it almost sounded painful, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on that fact as you heard his deep voice purr against your ear,

“you… dirty little thing,” his hands squeezed the flesh of your hips as he pressed his crotch sharply against your butt, “we were taken hostage and you still have it in you to tease me like a slut?” the lange hands that help you started scrunching up the material of your skirt even further, practically making it a belt as it rested around you waist, “look at you… should have known when you came to work in this tiny little thing,” and you were happy that he noticed, “if we hadn’t been taken, maybe i would have had my way with you in the storage closed. god knows how long i’ve wanted to.” he sucks in a breath against the shell of your ear, “sucks that this is how it finally happens, but i’m not complaining. gotta admit it's awfully cute seeing you all tied up like this. was thinking about being a gentleman and helping you out of these, but i think i really like seeing you struggle,” he murmurs, playing with the zip-ties on you.

his hands wrap around your torso to hold you close, and for a moment, he pauses, “gotta know if you really want this though…,” you couldn’t see him, but you could hear the sincerity in his words, “if you want to keep going nod, but if you want me to stop kick me… or something. we can pretend this never happened if that's the case.”

you barely gave him the time to finish speaking and you were frantically nodding your head, whining desperately at the same time. he chuckled, “i figured. just had to ask, but with how wet you are,” he reaches down to feel your soaking panties, he groans, “i could have easily assumed. felt it through my pants ya know?”

you let out an embarrassed whine, squirming a little in his hold, “aw, don’t be shy. do you not feel how hard you make me? heh, i got pretty embarrassed too. couldn’t help it though… the way your cute little butt felt against me, i was losing my mind. i always lose my mind around you if i’m being honest…" Han didn’t give you much time to process what he just said as his slender fingers peeled the fabric of your panties to the side and plunged two digits into your sopping hole. you moaned out loudly through your nose. you arched against him as han continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you could feel the dull ache due to your hands being tied, but the pleasure from han’s fingers made you forget any other sensation.

“you like that?” he practically moaned into your ear. his hips moved in synchronization with his fingers, every time his rock hard bulge pressed into you, he shoved his fingers deep into you. maybe he was possibly more desperate than you based on the way it seemed he was nearly cumming in his pants just by fingering you. because he was the only one not restrained by tape over his mouth, his throaty whines were loud and clear. and of course he was reaching places deeper in your hole that you have never discovered before, you should have known from all the times you have stared at his long fingers at work, imagining them inside you the way they are now. juices gushed down not just his fingers, but his hand as he sped up his ministrations. the warm, musky smell of it now suffocating the both of you.

“god i want to taste you so bad. eat out all of that cream you’re soaking my hand with,” you moan in response, “always wondered how good you taste. i’ll save it for next time. maybe in the breakroom? eat you instead of that gnarly cafeteria food?”

the thin layer of moisture that coated your skin was not forming little beads of sweat as it began to drip down you. your body jerked against him and he could tell you were getting close. his fingers curled and you let out an impossibly high pitched sound.

“almost there baby?” he urged. he was now slightly propped up on his elbow as he dug somehow deeper into you. you could see his shoulder flex as he pumped brutally into you. your head craned back into his chest as more sounds released from you, “yeah? yeah? c’mon little thing, wanna see you drench me.” that was about all it took, his filthy yet delicious words, and you jolted. you came almost silently, you couldn’t even warn him as you pulsed around his hand. he held you body tightly to him as you jerked through your orgasm, “mmm there it is… yeah. fuck- god y-you’re so tight…” you sucked in a gasp as he worked you through your release, his fingers now overstimulating you and there was no way of telling him to slow down. you whine, as a way of telling him it was becoming too much, but he didn’t relent.

“is to too much baby? mmh one more please? we got time,” han coaxed in your ear, “one more and i’ll fuck you. please, please baby? wanna feel that little pussy clench one more time around my fingers.”

it wasn’t as if you had much of a choice anyways, but the way his words cooed into your ear and his undeniable skill, you weren’t really complaining much. you melted into him, trying your best to let him have his way with you. you couldn’t help the little jolts from overstimulation every now and then, but han was too blind with lust to even acknowledge it. he simply held you tight and continued to fuck you with his fingers. the way he moaned into your hair was as if he could feel what you were feeling himself.

“f-fuck… c’mon baby, give it to me before i cream my pants… mmm please…” he was begging you now. his voice drenched in lust and desperation. if you weren’t close already, the way he twisted his hand and pressed against your mound added just the right amount of pressure to clit, to make you see white once again.

“yes… oh yes baby give it to me,” he let out. your combined breath was shaky as he retracted his hand to lick his fingers clean. once again he moaned loudly as if he just orgasmed just by tasting you, “just as delicious as i imagined,” he chuckled, pulling you close to him and turning you over on your side to face him, “i’ll try not to be greedy and ask for another one.” he smiles at you, his little heart shaped grin melting your heart. to emphasize his statement, he gives you a little tease by pinching your clit, making you jump. your eyes squeeze shut, “heh… sorry, you’re just… so cute.” the last words coming out breathy, “god i just have to-”

with that he begins to peel off the tape covering your lips. it should have been more painful, but it could matter less with the way you were yearning for his mouth. it seemed as if he felt the same way with the way your lips smashed together after not even a moment to breathe. han’s tongue shoved into your throat as he devoured you, hands idly crawling up your body to hold you jaw, large thumbs resting on your cheeks as he maneuvered your head to match his kisses. you wanted to mirror him but you were still restrained behind your back. han looked down at where your hands were struggling and pulled away from the kiss.

“oh.. heh,” he chuckled, “i uhm… don’t have scissors or anything. guess you gotta stay like that it seems.”

“oh for sure, han,” you spoke your first words to him since being trapped in this car, “is that how you got out of yours too?” you questioned, incredulously.

“guess he didn’t tie me well,” he grinned, clearly lying between his teeth.

there was no response. instead, han pulled you back into him as he lifted your leg to wrap over his waist. all you could do was watch and lick your lips as he unzipped his fly. you wanted to be the one to free his hard cock, finally feel it for yourself, but yet again you were reminded about the stupid zip-ties holding you back. perhaps you’ll get him back for this someday.

barely pulling his pants down, han finally pulled his cock out. his hands pulled your face again and once more continued to make out with you. your tongues fought hard against each other inside your warm mouths, and without warning you felt han line himself up with your hole. you felt him start to slowly inch in as he pressed his lips on you harder, as if to try to distract you. it felt as if he was never ending as he slowly slid in, already hitting your limit when you look down to see he’s only halfway in. he scoffs, “you can fit the rest in right?” han teases. you both knew you were going to. it was how long he would give you to adjust. you knew he was an impatient man though, so it was no surprise when he pushed the remainder of him a little too quickly. you felt filled to the brim, moaning out a stifled, slightly pained sound.

“alright baby? sorry… i couldn’t wait… had to be inside you,” his stilled, letting you adjust as his hands petting the back of your head as if to sooth you. his lips found your neck and began to bite and suck in the meanwhile, “you’ve been so good to me, baby. take your time, lemme know when you’re ready, yeah?”

after only a few moments you felt ready. or at least that was what you convinced yourself, growing too impatient as well, the need for him growing too strong.

“please move,” you sighed into the top of his head as he buried himself into creating dark hickeys across your neck. he smiled at you again. you could never get enough of his little grin. such a sweet smile he had, you couldn’t imagine it was worn by the same man who now started to pound your brains out in the back of a musty sedan after a botched hostage situation.

han was all over you, his hands and lips roaming all over your body as he fucked you, and you would have reciprocated if you could, but you simple took it, everything he poured out to you through his actions. at this point you were drenched in each other’s sweat, the heat from the tiny space now catching up with you, but you could care less. you couldn’t care less in the same way you began to hear sounds right outside the car in the back of your mind. neither of you paid much attention to it, simply too caught up in each other to hear the loud clank and jolt of the car. han’s moans blocked out all the sounds from the outside world as his hips non-stop thrusted against you. you could deal with whatever was happening outside after you both came.

“close, han” you mewled

“me too… come with me?” it was almost too easy for you to let go, already far gone from han’s prep barely an hour ago. the two of you hit your highs simultaneously. but in that moment, you felt the vehicle you were in tip upwards. right as han’s load shot into you, the both of you began to slide all the way to the back of the trunk. you landed on him, bodies smushed against each other from the momentum, but at least you both managed to come before it happened. it took you a moment, but you both regained your breathing and returned to normal. you looked at each other, your pupils dilated as you stared into him.

“did they just…” he blinked, “tow the car with us in it?”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung hard thoughts #kpop smut

552 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 3 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐄𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗 | Teaser

When second chances are wasted, there's only one thing left to do.

Tags/Warnings: Dystopian AU, Werewolf AU, Alpha!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Angst, Some fluff, romance but he's a bit weird about it pls let him cook he's awkward okay, Violence, crime and.. bad stuff.

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: oh look another werewolf fic oops. BTW if you do not like any of the tags or the trailer doesnt vibe with you, don't read the story. I literally have tons of other content for you instead. Thanks.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Do you think that people can change?”

No. Jungkook does not believe that people have the ability to shed their dark desires once they've shown their ugly faces to the world. Once someone has lost control over themselves and their inner demons even just once, it’s over. A wolf's inner beast set free won’t be tamed again, by anyone. There is no coming back from that- and a crime committed has to be punished, especially when there’s not even any effort put into areas trying to redeem one’s self. second chances should always be valued highly if given-

Because everyone has to face judgement for their actions, and if those second chances are wasted, he is the man who will execute the fitting punishment.

Jungkook doesn't believe in second chances.

A man who’s laid his hand on his wife will never truly change his mind and put the shackles onto himself after the line has been crossed. A cheating spouse will not suddenly become loyal as a dog again just because they realize the hurt they’ve caused. A murderer can’t give back the life they’ve taken even if they desperately want to. A young wolf lost to a frenzy can’t gain back their sanity with the snap of a finger.

He is part of the new world’s law.

Violence is the punishment put on people who can’t seem to keep themselves in check even after second chances. Violence is the final answer to the worst of the worst, the people who will never change.

Violence is the thing that changes people- from being alive to no longer being a threat to anyone ever again.

To Jungkook, these people are like maggots, infesting the cities and homes of families who just want to exist and live. Jungkook is the pest control, he removes those insects, cleans out the infestations.

Saves potential victims.

“I didn’t do anything!” the man slurs a little, alcohol in his veins causing him to visibly struggle with his bodily functions, even if he wants to desperately be sober in this moment. You’re sitting in the corner still, watching, well aware not to interfere with a man sent by the people in charge of the wolf’s law to carry out the final judgement.

“Evasion. Armed robbery, twice. Domestic abuse, twice. Attempted kidnap of a child while intoxicated.” Jungkook lists, having memorized what this person is being accused of- or rather yet, has already been judged for in the past. “You’ve shown that you do not aim to change.” He says, not even looking at you once. Instead, he just walks closer, like a predator, staring down his prey. “And now, keeping an omega hostage? Not exactly the actions of a man innocent.”

“I-“ the man tries, but he doesn’t get far with his words. “-There’s- nothing happened- Tell him! Nothing happened, right-?” He asks you, who’s staring him down.

Jungkook looks at you as well now, awaiting your answer.

You’ve got a life in your hands.

Your lips part, but you can’t speak- when suddenly, the man moves again, lifts his hand as he steps towards you, ready to intimidate you into answering if needed- but Jungkook is faster, having seen enough. Even if nothing happened- yet- surely if he was to leave, you’d be another body found. “Where- where are you taking me?” the man begs to know, unable to really go against the hand that holds the back of his head by the hair, fingers tightly dug into the locks to have a secure hold on him as he drags him into a corner or the small, run down house.

In this moment, Jungkook looks like a different person to you. There’s no trace of the man who just wants to help others. The hands that force this stranger to his knees aren’t the same that helped you stand earlier that day, hold gentle and without any intention to hurt. Those eyes are dark as coal, like two black voids swallowing any reflection whole.

“I'll take you straight to hell, where you belong.” Jungkook simply answers the man, before he lets go-

And takes out his gun, to fire the first shot of many.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

421 notes · View notes

confused-pyramid · 2 years

Text

While I breathe, I hope

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Aaron doesn't let people in, but when you burrow your way into his life, he finds that even the worst moments don't hurt as much...

word count: 10.1k (omg)

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, slow burn, age gap, canon!typical violence, mentions of death, drinking, angst, so much yearning, hotch is a dilf

a/n: this covers events from the beginning of season five through the end of season seven, and includes mentions to specific episodes and cases

You can't go inside. The whole team is in Hotch's hospital room, looking at his motionless body, and your feet just won't move.

It would be one thing if he was awake and talking, but the idea of seeing him just lying there, hooked up to countless tubes and a heart monitor, makes you want to throw up.

You weren't the one who went to his empty apartment. You didn't see the bloodstained carpet or the bullet hole in his drywall. If you had, you definitely wouldn't be as outwardly calm as the team thinks you are right now.

When you got the call from Emily that his things were still in his apartment, his car still outside, you thought the worst. You’re ashamed that your mind went there immediately, but it's almost like your brain was trying to prepare you, just in case.

Your back is pressed against the wall next to his room when Derek finally emerges, an impassive expression on his face.

"How is he?" you ask, your voice reverberating around your skull like an echo chamber. "Will he be okay?"

Derek looks at you for a long moment, and you can tell he's profiling you, but you don't have the energy to gripe at him today. "Yeah, he'll be okay. We briefed him on the situation. You should go in. He's awake."

He's awake. That means he's okay.

The rest of the team files out a moment later, and JJ squeezes your arm as you finally take a step into the linoleum room.

He looks better than you would have expected, considering he's been stabbed nine times.

Fuck, was it really that many?

"Hi," you croak, your voice breaking embarrassingly as you flash him a tight smile. "You look terrible."

Hotch lets out a small laugh before wincing slightly. "You wouldn't look any better after being stabbed a dozen times."

"Look who's exaggerating now. I heard it was only nine."

Only nine. You can hardly get the word out.

"You missed Haley and Jack," he says simply, but you can tell what he's really trying to say.

Where were you when I woke up?

You swallow, knowing that the truth might be more than you can bear to disclose...because he's your boss. "I had to wrap up some things with a case."

Hotch nods slowly, but he doesn't press you further. You both know you're lying, but this isn't the time for torrid confessions. His face returns to its resting stoic expression and for a moment, he looks just like he did when you saw him for the first time.

"This lecture was supposed to start 20 minutes ago," you complain, checking your watch again. "You'll forgive me if I find it hard to believe that an agent on the Behavioral Analysis Unit has better things to do than guest lecture at Quantico."

Your friend rolls her eyes before turning to you, an exasperated expression on her face. "I actually heard they're being called onto some pretty big cases these days. Did you hear about that train that got taken hostage last month? That was theirs."

You scoff, already too haughty for your own good. Getting the highest test scores in your class has filled your head with hot air. "I'll believe it when I see it."

When Aaron Hotchner eventually walked up to the podium in front of the large lecture hall, everyone was either on their phone or talking to their peers.

He taps the microphone once and leans forward, his tall stature making him tower over the stand. "Good afternoon."

Whether it was the timbre of his voice or his self-assured nature, you couldn't be sure. But within a few moments, the entire auditorium was silent.

He starts speaking again, and his voice is the only sound filling the room. "Today I'll be discussing some the recent cases my unit has worked on, and how profiling helped us solve all of them..."

Your first thought as he begins his lecture is, 'He's handsome.' The next is a bit more professional: 'I want to have that kind of effect on a room.'

You graduate from the Academy a month later, and within the week, your application to be assigned to the BAU is on his desk.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask, suddenly eager to get out of this sterile, fluorescent-lit room. "Coffee? Jello? Tequila?"

He laughs again, but this time he manages to move less, so as not to shift his bandages. "Just water would be great."

You nod and dip your head down before leaving the room, the tension leaving your shoulders when you walk into the hall.

"He seems good," you tell the team when you find them around the corner by the nurse's station. "Really good."

"Yeah, kid," Rossi smiles, patting your shoulder. "He's a tough one."

You fill a paper cup with water from the fountain and are about to take it back to Hotch, when Emily catches your arm, taking the cup from you.

"I got it," she assures you, before shooting a nearly imperceptible glance at JJ that you wouldn't have noticed before joining the unit.

Rossi, Morgan, and Reid start walking back to the waiting area, and you move to follow them, but JJ catches your arm, holding you back firmly.

She cocks her head to the side, her eyes serious, but not unkind. "Come with me."

"Look," you say as JJ leads you to the opposite side of the waiting room. "I know I'm the youngest, but I really don't need a babysitter."

She shakes her head, motioning for you to sit down next to her. You sigh, sinking down onto the vinyl covered cushion, even though every muscle in your body wants to avoid what is coming.

"We all know you and Hotch are close," she says softly, her tone diplomatic. "We just want you to know that you're not alone, and that we're all here for you."

Close. You're not sure if that’s an overstatement or an understatement. He has definitely opened up to you a lot more since you joined the team, but you don't know if you can classify your relationship as anything more than professional.

A small voice in the back of your mind scoffs. You can't even convince yourself.

***

Aaron can't help but feel slightly disappointed when Emily enters his room with his water, instead of you.

"Surprised to see me?" she asks conspiratorially, and he isn't sure what he's supposed to be hiding.

"No," he frowns, trying in vain to sit up a bit straighter, "I thought- well, never mind now. Thank you for bringing the water."

"We're all really glad you're okay," she tells him, leaving a soft pat on his covers. "We'll find this son of a bitch before he can hurt anyone else."

He appreciates her sentiment, but the fear he feels for Haley and Jack - his family - still burrows deep in his bones.

Emily doesn't stay long, and soon the familiar silence envelopes him once again. Ever since Haley left him, his apartment hasn't felt like home. Not really.

He started staying at work later and later, coming home only to shower and get a few hours of sleep. It certainly wasn't healthy, but after getting stabbed in the place he was supposed to feel the safest, it is all he can do to keep going.

The silences had felt safe at first, but then you started coming over, dropping by randomly when you knew he would be home, and he finally began to understand what being safe was really supposed to feel like.

You are so young, barely 27, but you are one of the best agents he has hired straight from Quantico. When your application arrived on his desk, after a thorough review from Strauss and the director, he had been certain that you wouldn't be a good fit for the BAU. But then he met you.

"You were the top of your class," he observes, his eyes trained on your file that he has laid open on his desk.

He hasn't looked up since you sat down, but he has clocked everything about you. The way your hair is pulled back from your face, as if to present yourself fully and openly. The firm set of your shoulders as you sit forward in the chair. Even the small, loose thread on your blazer that you must have missed when you were likely inspecting your clothes that morning.

You nod, clearly proud of your academic accomplishments. Aaron is the last person who would fault someone for taking pride in their achievements, but he also can't shake the feeling that you may just be another one of the 'rich girls' he knew in law school. The trust fund kids and Senators' daughters who knew just how smart they were...and knew exactly how to use it to their advantage.

"Your academic record is quite impressive, and you scored well in physical fitness," he continues, quickly realizing that he doesn't exactly have any concrete grounds on which to reject you.

"Thank you," you smile, your hands folded in your lap. "I would love to work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. One of my favorite classes at the Academy was in behavioral science, and I know how important the work you all do here is. I also got a chance to talk to some of the team before this interview, since I got here a bit early..." You let out a small laugh, and he can tell that it's mostly for your benefit, to lighten the tension. "...and everyone seems really nice. Agent Morgan is clearly a natural leader, especially with how he carries himself in front of the team, and Doctor Reid gave me some statistics about the rate of Academy grads who get into various fields across the agency."

You trail off as your rambling winds to a close, and suddenly Aaron isn't sure what to make of you anymore.

"Doctor Reid is a genius," Hotch agrees, before cracking the faintest smile, "but he can take some getting used to."

You shake your head, possibly misinterpreting his comment, but trying to clear the air nonetheless. "Not at all! It was incredible speaking to him. I think I learned more just this morning than I have since I graduated."

A slight flush colors the top of your chest as you gush about your experiences and Aaron finds that your curiosity and keen senses (and warmth) are the exact characteristics that will serve you well here. He is pleased that you got along with the team, and that's when he realizes there is no point in trying to find a reason to reject you.

You're already in.

***

It still hurts when he breathes in too quickly, but after three weeks of recovering in his empty apartment, Aaron is ready to return to work.

You've been keeping him up to date with the cases that the team has been working on, but it's not the same as being in the thick of it. After years of constant motion and always being on his toes, this last month of medical leave has made him feel like he's decomposing.

He only gets up to eat, shower, or, you know, and he misses being around people every day. He misses being around you.

As if his thoughts conjured you into being, a knock sounds at his door, and he gets up with a grunt when he hears your voice announcing your presence.

It takes him ages to get to the door, but once he gets it open, he sees you standing in front of him with a plastic bag in one hand and a bottle in the other. He's surprised to see you, but he's also very very pleased.

"I brought takeout," you smile, your eyes glinting in the dim light of the hallway, "and sparkling cider."

His eyebrows raise at the latter, and you roll your eyes dramatically, following him inside. "Considering all the medications you're probably hopped up on right now, I made the tactical choice not to bring alcohol over here."

He chuckles, watching as you remove containers of steaming Thai food from the bag. "A sound decision."

"How are you feeling?" you ask once you're both settled on the couch, a plate of uneaten noodles resting on your lap. "Do you think you'll be ready to come back soon?"

"It's not up to me," he sighs, his eyes following the movement of your fork across your plate. Why aren't you eating?

"Well, you can tell those doctors at St. Sebastian's that I said you look great."

His heart rate jumps before the meaning of your words sinks in. But the warm shade of mauve that flushes across your chest says otherwise.

"I just mean that you look fine," you correct, clearing your throat. "Healthy."

He nods, not wanting to embarrass you, but a fire courses through his veins as he watches the telltale signs of attraction wash over you. Darkening of the eyes, flushing of the skin, eye contact.

Aaron would be lying if he said that he never noticed the way your eyes lingered on him across the conference room. He had chalked it up to a schoolgirl crush, but could a temporary infatuation really explain the relationship that had developed between the two of you?

You were the first person he looked for when he walked into work in the mornings, the first opinion he sought out when testing a new theory. How much longer could he pretend that what he felt for you was strictly professional?

"How are Haley and Jack doing?" you ask, jerking him from his thoughts.

"About as well as you can imagine," he says sincerely, his expression falling as he thinks about how long it has been since he has seen his son. "It's tough being under constant watch."

Ever since Foyet practically called them out by name, they've been assigned a protection detail and kept away from anything to do with the case...which includes him.

"We'll find him, Aaron," you whisper, your eyes glowing with genuine earnestness. "We have to."

He nods, and only then do you finally take a bite of your food.

"I'm sorry, I just don't like red wine," you laugh, taking a sip from your chilled glass of white. "I'd much rather just have a beer."

Rossi scoffs, his "Kiss the Cook" apron lending him very little authority. "That's because you've never had real, good wine. Your $7 grocery store wines don't count either, kid."

Leaning your forearms on the island counter in the center of Rossi's kitchen, you shoot Hotch a look that says 'help me out here', but he just shakes his head, smiling at you from over the rim of his glass.

"Okay," Emily nods, taking a seat next to you. "I'll bite. Let's see this fancy red wine you've been raving about."

"Not yet," Rossi says, waving his hand at you both as he carefully stirs marinara sauce into his handmade pappardelle. "Red wine cannot be truly enjoyed unless it is taken with authentic Italiano."

It takes everything in you not to snort, but you bite your tongue and take another sip of your white wine.

"I hope you're prepared to finish what you started here," a deep voice rumbles from behind you.

Hotch comes up next to you, his hip resting against the counter as he turns to face you. "David won't give up until he gets you to concede."

"I can handle myself," you smirk, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Besides, when have you ever known me to turn away from a challenge."

He's about to say something witty, but then the edge of your lips curves up and you wink at him, and suddenly every thought he has ever had has mysteriously disappeared.

You can't stop laughing, even though it really isn't that funny. "Kevin asked you for advice on how to ask Penelope out on a date?"

Aaron nods, his lips twitching as he tries not to laugh. "He was very earnest, but I didn't think his prospective relationship with our tech analyst was more pertinent than finding a missing girl."

"He asked you in the middle of a case?!" you squeak, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you shake with laughter.

He lets himself go a bit and a bright grin spreads across his face. Your laugh is like music and he finds that his wounds don't hurt as much anymore.

The drinks don't have any alcohol in them, but he still feels lighter than he has in months, and he feels himself wishing that you could be here with him all the time.

"Yup," he confirms, shaking his head. "Reid was with me as well, and I thought his jaw would fall off with how far open his mouth was."

"Oh my goodness," you gasp, trying to control the giggles bubbling up inside of you. "Speaking of Reid...he really needs a haircut."

This finally breaks him and Hotch lets out a loud hoot of laughter. You almost forget to worry about whether his scar tissue is hurting him, because he looks so happy for the first time in what feels like forever.

Your heart warms in your chest and as you lean back on his new couch, you realize that you would come over to his place with takeout and cider every night until the end of time if it meant he would keep smiling at you like that.

***

Your ears are still ringing even in the eerie silence. Three gunshots and a choked sob and then nothing.

Your SUV feels like it's barely moving, even though the speedometer is hovering around 90, but somehow when you skid to a stop in front of the Hotchner family home, there's only one other SUV parked out front.

You throw yourself out of the car, running as fast as you can into the house, your gun at the ready in front of you. It takes a long time - too long - to make it up the stairs, but the moment you hear the forlorn mix of thuds and sobs, you're running again.

Please let him be okay. Please let them all be okay.

You burst into the room as Hotch pounds into Foyet, his bloody face practically unrecognizable as he gets shredded to a pulp.

"Aaron," you gasp, sinking to your knees and throwing your arms around him from behind. "He's dead. You have to stop."

It takes a few more moments, but eventually his hands stop throwing punches. His knuckles are covered in blood and his hands shake violently as he leans into you, his body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs.

Tears prick your eyes as you hold him tightly, working off the futile hope that if you squeeze hard enough, all of the pain and horror will go away.

Loud footsteps reverberate around the house and you relax when you hear Emily and Derek's voices behind you. They fall silent when they see the two of you, but you're unable to focus on anything other than keeping the man in front of you in one piece for as long as possible.

"Wait," you mutter suddenly, the team's arrival bringing you back to reality. "Jack?"

Aaron's body stiffens against yours and he practically springs off the ground, pushing through all the officers and agents that have entered the house since you arrived. You race after him, following as he runs into his home office and opens a small compartment under his window seat.

When Jack's small face peers back at you, the entire house lets out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, buddy," Aaron whispers, pulling Jack into a lumbering hug.

Jack looks at all of us over his shoulder, his eyes full of a youthful innocence that tugs at your heartstrings. "I worked the case, Dad, just like you said."

"Yes," Hotch nods, the tension in his body slowly seeping away, "you did a great job, buddy."

***

The funeral is somber and beautiful, even before the snow starts falling. JJ and Will nod at you from across the lawn as you make your way along the sidewalk, a few steps behind Derek, Emily, Reid, and Rossi.

You feel a light pat on your hand and you look down to see Jack looking back at you. You press your lips into a thin smile and take his hand, trying to warm up his chilly fingers with your glove.

"Let's find your Aunt Jess," you tell him as you wade between the crowd, all dressed in black.

When Jack is safely tucked under his aunt's arms, you trudge back over to where the team is all standing together. Rossi holds his arm out and you latch onto him with a grateful nod.

"Will this ever end?" you whisper, unable to keep the pain festering inside of you for a moment longer. "The pain can't go on forever, can it?"

He brings his other hand up and lays it on top of yours, holding you to him for a small, comforting moment.

"It will feel like forever," he sighs, his usually reassuring voice suddenly low and anguished, "but it won't be...and that's the important thing."

Haley's casket is carried up the snow-blanketed hill and when the proceedings begin, you watch as Aaron clasps his hands together, his head permanently dipped down.

You can feel his sadness from here, and you would give anything to be able to take it away, but this isn't the time. This is the time for remembrance and appreciation of the life Haley lived. The loyal friend, the loving wife, the devoted mother.

Jessica squeezes your hand as she passes by you, and when she makes her way up to the front, Aaron begins his eulogy.

"Haley was my best friend since we were in high school..."

***

Even when it seems like nothing will ever be the same, things eventually manage to return to normal. Jessica has been helping out with Jack when Hotch is at work, but you can see the strain being a single father is putting on him.

When the team is called to a small fishing town in rural Alaska, you can feel the stress emanating off of him from being so far from Jack for so long, but he doesn't let it get in the way of the work. He never does.

"I've got four of the upstairs rooms available," Rhodes, the police chief, explains when you all arrive at the singular lodge in town.

Uh, four?

"Uh, four?" Derek asks, echoing your thoughts.

Rhodes sighs, clearly starting to regret calling us at all. "Your team is double the size of my department."

When we don't say anything, he shakes his head and bids us goodbye. "I'll see you in the morning."

When he leaves, Hotch turns to us. "Looks like we'll have to double up."

"I'm not sleeping with Reid," Derek points, shaking his head.

You stifle a laugh when Garcia immediately latches onto Derek, piping up with a "Dibs!"

By the time night falls, you end up bunking with Garcia, which works just fine for you, except for the fact that you can't sleep.

Penelope has been out like a light since everyone called it a night an hour ago, but you've been staring at the ceiling, unable to catch a wink.

A half hour later, you finally give up, grabbing your files and shutting the door quietly behind you. You tiptoe down the stairs, hoping that the small seating area in the lobby will be empty, but when it comes into view, you spot someone sitting in front of the crackling fireplace.

"I want to dance!" JJ announces, clapping her hands together as she bounces on her toes. "I love this song."

"You go right on ahead, darlin'," Will says, pressing a kiss to her temple.

JJ shoots him a knowing look that feels so familiar it makes your chest hurt. You would give anything to have that sweet domesticity with someone you loved.

"If you won't join me, then my girls will," she fires back, reaching out to grab at your hands.

Emily and Penelope start to shake their heads, but JJ looks so excited that you can't help but mirror her enthusiasm.

"Okay," you nod, taking her hand. "I'm in."

She grins back at you and shoots Will and the guys a proud look, before pulling you into the crowd with her. It's clear that she's had a couple more drinks than she should have, but as long as she's having fun, who were you to stop her?

With the bustling throng of bodies filling the bar, you can hardly believe that Rossi's favorite joint is about to close for good.

The bar is pumping a bright Abba song through the rickety speakers and you sway your hips to the melodic beat as JJ gyrates in front of you. Your eyes fall closed as you lift your hands above your head, trying to find the rhythm over the loud buzz of conversation around you.

Your eyes snap open when JJ squeals again, signaling the arrival of Derek and Penelope to the dance floor, and you grin at them as he holds her hands and twirls her around deftly.

You turn around, scanning the crowd for a familiar face - well, one in particular - when you land on Rossi, who smiles at you. You grin brightly, waving at him, but he heads to the bar to get another drink, shrewdly managing to avoid your call for him to come join you all.

Your line of sight wanders again, this time landing on the person you were looking for. Aaron doesn't smile back immediately, his gaze slightly hazy, but then he lifts his glass in a pseudo-salute, his eyes never leaving yours.

You know this isn't his usual scene, so you don't try to get him to join you on the dance floor, but when he reaches up to unbutton his collar, you feel a breathlessness you haven't experienced since your first kiss.

The rest of the bar fades away and the loud voices around you quiet to a murmur. Hands grab at your shoulders, but your body feels far away as your eyes stay locked on his, diving deeper and deeper, trying to see every inch of him.

You love him, you know you do. You can try to ignore it for as long as you want, but that won't change the truth.

You're in love with him.

You snap back to reality when Penelope yells your name, and you shake your head, trying to clear the feelings that are rising inside of you.

Your brain feels warm and fuzzy as you return to your friends, and you're not sure if you can blame it on the alcohol anymore.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask rhetorically as you take a seat on the well worn couch, next to Hotch. He's still in his clothes from earlier, but his sleeves are pushed back and his tie is hanging loosely around his neck.

He looks hauntingly beautiful with the firelight gleaming against his skin. You want to lean in and press your lips against his —

He shakes his head. "You too?"

You don't respond, instead reaching forward to lay your case file on the wooden coffee table.

"There's something off about this place," you eventually say, trying to describe what you've been feeling since you arrived. "I feel like something bad is going to happen."

He nods, setting down the files he was working on. "I think I understand what you mean. The kills have been so horrific, I'm shocked that the town hasn't already imploded just from trying to find the killer on their own."

"That's not- I don't mean..." you struggle to find the right words. "I'm scared for the team. I feel like we're all so strung out that one bad case, one bad outcome, could break us."

You don't know where this is coming from, and you can tell he doesn't know what to make of it either, but you're glad it's out there. Anything is better than the pit you feel in your stomach every time he - any of them - gets too close to a place they can never come back from.

Before he can react, you lean your cheek on his shoulder, a sigh of relief leaving your body as his fire-warmed skin burns into you through the thin fabric of his button-down.

This is the closest he has ever been to you, and the warmth of your smooth skin against his makes his breath catch in his throat.

He whispers your name and it comes out more like a gasp than a warning.

"Please," you breathe, turning your face so that you are looking at the fire. "Please, just...can we just sit here for a moment."

He knows what this will mean for your relationship going forward, knows that nothing can be the same if he lets this continue, but he can't bring himself to move.

The words flash in his mind before he can shut them off, and he closes his eyes, savoring them for as long as he can before reality is sure to set in.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Eventually, the fire will die out and the morning light will filter through the windows, and the world will come rushing back. But for now, it's just you two. So instead of doing what he would've done not six months ago...instead of standing up and telling you to go to bed, he stays still. Instead of stopping this at the root, before it can blossom into something he can't control, he sits there, with you at his side, for more than just a moment.

***

When Aaron pulls you aside in the hospital to explain the plan to fake Emily's death, you can barely breathe.

"You mentioned in your department file that you have contacts in Paris," Hotch is saying as you struggle to quiet the buzzing noise in your skull, "and we need them to help her lay low for a while as we figure out the Ian Doyle situation."

You remember nodding and giving him the information he needs, but everything else that happens that night is a blur. You can't remember who broke the news that Emily was gone, or where you went when you couldn't stand to be in that hospital anymore, or even how you got home.

All you know is that it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to tell the team the truth. Their gaunt faces stare back at you every morning for weeks, and somehow, at the same time, you have all the power in the world to help them, but also none at all.

You swear you can hear the crack of your heart when Spencer comes to your apartment every other night, tears spilling onto his cheeks, and at first, Aaron is the only person you can be yourself around.

But then he leaves too, and that's when the ground truly starts to cave in around you.

***

"Hey," you say softly, pressing the satellite phone to your ear. "How are you?"

Derek had handed you the phone after debriefing Hotch on the Doyle investigation, and now he was downstairs with rest of the team.

"It's getting harder to find leads over here, but we're still working," Aaron tells you, a quiet static coloring his voice. "How are...how is Jack?"

You press your lips together, trying to hold in the anger that has been bubbling up inside of you for months. "He's really good. Jessica is great with him."

Since Aaron left for his assignment in Pakistan, you have been spending more and more time with Jack. He's a sweet kid, and since you can't be there for any of your work family, the absolute least you can do is be there for a boy who doesn't have his mother or his father right now.

"Will you be home soon?" Your voice sounds different to your own ears. Tinny. Distant.

"I don't know," he says truthfully, his voice giving away nothing.

There's a pause on his end of the line and when he starts speaking again, his voice is clearer than before. "I know how hard all of this has been on you...I'm sorry."

Anger flares in your veins and you bite your lip as you hear quiet laughter filter up from the bullpen. "Hard? Yeah, it's been really damn hard to come in to work every day and lie to the people I care about most in this world."

You can hear the slight catch in his breath, but it only spurs you on. "I'm sure it's much easier to hide from the team when you're all the way across the freaking world."

He says your name, his tone not so much warning as it is fervent. Your finger moves to the 'off' button and you don't wait for his response before you mutter a quick "I have to go" and press down.

When you go back to your quiet apartment that night, the solitude feels almost overwhelming. You set your bag on your coffee table and pull your shoes off on the way to the master bathroom, where you strip off your clothes in one go.

Your shower is set so hot that steam fills the bathroom within minutes of you stepping inside. The scalding water burns away the pain and loneliness of the day, and for a few moments, you can just stand there and not think.

When you close your eyes, you can almost imagine that he's still here. That the searing rivulets that glide down your body are his fingers and that the hands that are holding you and comforting you with their warmth aren't just falling water.

It takes you a few minutes to realize that the tracks running down your face aren't coming from the cascade above you. The sobs you've learned to hold in and keep quiet start gurgling in your chest, and before you can tamp them down, they burst out in full force.

Your knees give out and you crumble to the floor of your shower. The salt of your tears mixes with the water around you and for the first time ever, you hate him almost as much as you love him.

***

Everyone looks just as confused as you do when they are called into the office extra early for seemingly no reason. You all meet in the conference room, trying to figure out what kind of case could be so secretive that none of you were briefed, when a figure appears in the doorway.

"Welcome back," Derek mutters from across the room, but you can't take your eyes off of Aaron (and his beard?).

"You're back," you exhale, equal amounts of joy and fury flooding your system.

"Everyone," he nods, motioning to you all, "take a seat."

Everyone sits down obediently, and then he dives into the speech that you have both dreaded and looked forward to for months.

"Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team."

The lying is finally over.

"As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

They look so confused. God, why can't he get to the point.

"But the doctors were able to stabilize her."

There it is. She's okay. Emily is alive, and she's okay.

"Her identity was strictly need-to-know."

They look so betrayed. You've been lying to them for months, of course they feel betrayed.

"She's alive?" Penelope asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer gapes. "...But we buried her."

Aaron closes his eyes for a moment, and you can see the emotions swirling inside of his head. Pain, anger, self-hatred.

"If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me."

"Who else knew?" Derek yells, his eyes brimming with hurt.

Aaron's eyes flash to you for barely a moment, but it's enough. They all turn to you, disbelief coloring their features.

"This whole time?" Reid mutters, his eyes not fully meeting yours. "You knew this whole time?"

You are spared from answering when Emily steps into the doorway, a shawl thrown over her shoulders. You know you don't deserve the reunion as much as they all do, but seeing her is still a shock.

Even though you were privy to the details of her re-assignment, you haven't seen her since that day at the hospital either. Penelope and Spencer rush forward, pulling her into desperate hugs that burn your throat with tears.

Morgan is standing still, his hands motionless on the back of one of the conference room chairs.

"Derek," you plead, trying to catch his eye. "I'm so sorr-"

He doesn't let you finish, his hand coming up in an evasive gesture. "Save it."

A sob catches in your throat and you walk out of the room.

***

Aaron's apartment building looks exactly the same as it did seven months ago, when you came to say goodbye before he left for Pakistan.

You sit in your car for what feels like hours, but when you finally step out onto the street, it's only been ten minutes.

After Hotch broke the news to the team, you went home in a haze, unsure of how you were even able to drive. Hours of sitting by yourself in the dark didn't do anything to change your mental state, and you were already in the car when you realized what was eating at you.

Now you are in front of his door and you can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. When the door opens, you push past him, swiveling your head as you look around the apartment.

"Is Jack here?" you ask, searching for his telltale head of blonde hair.

Hotch shakes his head, clearly confused. "He's with Jess until tomorrow."

You nod, trying to formulate what you want to say in your head. There are so many words swirling around your brain, but nothing feels just right.

"What's going on?" he asks, taking a step towards you. "Are you doing okay?"

That's what breaks you.

"Am I doing okay?" you cry, your hands coming up to rake your hair back. "Emily's finally back, and I can't even enjoy it, because the whole team hates me."

"I'm sorry," he says, his brow furrowing. He takes another step toward you. "They're going to hate me too, if that makes you feel any better."

You scoff, turning away from him as you pace across his living room. "They'll never hate you as much as they hate me, because you weren't here. You weren't the one lying to their faces everyday for seven months. I was!"

He deflates, and suddenly he looks smaller than you've ever seen him before. "I'm so sorry for putting you in that position. I can't imagine how painful it would have been to lie to the team for so long."

He's saying all the right things and that only makes you angrier.

"You don't get it," you grit out, your fingers pressing into the back of your neck. "They had each other. All those months they were grieving, at least they were together. For a second, I had you, but then you left me and I was all alone."

Your voice breaks on the last word and he reaches forward as you fall into his arms, sobs wracking your body. "I missed you. When you left, I hated you, but I still missed you every day you were gone."

Your face burrows into the crook of his neck as he holds you tightly in his arms, his strong body holding you up as your legs threaten to give out. He smells different, like pepper and smoke, and you resist the urge to breathe him in now that he's finally here.

When you pull back, you stay in the circle of his arms, relishing the way his hands feel resting against your lower back. It's almost comforting to know that your body still reacts to him the same way it did seven months ago.

He's so close to you that you can feel his breath on your nose. If you tilted your head back your lips would brush his, and it takes everything in you not to give in.

But then the familiar warning bells go off in your brain and you take a step back. You aren't completely in the dark. You know that he feels something for you that isn't strictly professional, but you also know that if you lost him the way he lost Haley, you wouldn't be able to handle it. At least not with the grace that he has.

Your expression falls and his eyes fill with pain. "I shouldn't have left. I was wrong. Please forgive me."

"That's the problem," you sigh, resisting the disturbing urge to laugh at how deep inside of you he has burrowed himself. "I forgave you the moment you walked through the door."

***

Emily's return softens the blow of what you and Aaron had done, so by the time Ian Doyle is killed and the case is finished, the whole team is mostly working together cohesively again.

Spencer and Derek didn't speak more than a few words to you for weeks afterward, but when Emily made it clear that it was her life that hung in the balance, they eventually came around.

With the Senate hearings and Congressional oversight starting to take a backseat, the team was finally getting a chance to loosen up, and after investigating a serial killer in Atlanta, you all decided to make a day out of cheering on Aaron at the FBI triathlon.

Jack holds your hand as you lead him through the small crowd that has gathered by the finish line. The rest of the team is already there, leaning against the barricade, and Derek props Jack up on his shoulders when he gets to the front. He waves his big sign in the air and you grin as he cheers loudly, even though nobody has made it to the finish line yet.

"Do you see him, Uncle Dave?" Jack asks as he starts to get bored.

Rossi peers out across the trail. "Yeah, buddy, I think I do!"

You all turn to see Aaron jogging across the grassy expanse, his running form impeccable (of course). Everyone starts cheering and when he sees you all, a smile crosses his face, his eyes glinting with joy and amusement.

"Running should be illegal," you complain as Aaron pads along a few feet ahead of you, his skin barely starting to glisten while yours is covered in sweat. "How far are we now? We've definitely done at least a half-marathon."

He snorts, checking his fitness tracker. "We're halfway through the second mile."

You groan, slowing to a stop and putting your hands on your knees. "I have no idea how I scored so well on my academy physical. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"How old does that make me?" he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up.

You shake your head, lifting up a finger as you ask for another minute. "If we're talking in terms of physical fitness, you may just be younger than me, Hotchner."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly before patting your back and nodding. "Come on, let's keep going."

You groan again, this time more dramatically, but you start jogging alongside him, making a genuine effort to keep up. "Okay, so you can run. Well, need I remind you that a triathlon has three events...my money's on the swim taking you out."

His eyes twinkle like bright stars and you have to look away, pretending that the sun's in your eyes. "I think I can handle myself. Besides, I have a much better chance of completing the swim than the bike ride at this point."

"Well," you grin, speeding up a bit to run a few steps ahead, "you know what they say about riding a bicycle!"

"Thank you guys for coming," he says sincerely after hanging his medal around Jack's neck.

"Oh, we wouldn't miss it," Derek grins, smacking him on the back playfully.

"How do you feel?" Rossi asks.

Aaron sighs, a small grin appearing on his face. "I'll survive."

Jack patters around the group and reaches forward to grab your hand again, and you don't miss the look in Aaron's eyes when you take it.

The sweet domesticity you wanted. This is it.

Your chest burns with tears and you clear your throat, squeezing Jack's hand and helping him roll up his poster.

"Okay, drinks tonight," Rossi announces suddenly, clapping his hands together. "On me!"

That gives you all another reason to cheer, and you lead Jack to Hotch's car as JJ loops her arm through yours.

Penelope and Derek walk a few paces behind you, arms linked, and Emily, David, and Spencer are deep in conversation about something you probably wouldn't understand.

The team feels like a family again.

Happy tears sting your eyes and you blink them away, hoping no one noticed. But when you look up to find Aaron's car, he's already watching you, and you could have sworn his eyes were glinting too.

***

The whole team is crowded around one booth in the back of the fancy bar that Rossi selected for tonight's celebration. You are squished between Aaron and Penelope, and the conversation has gone from the average running speed of adult males (Reid's idea) to how many shots would you need before you'd be willing to go and dance in front of the whole team (Emily's).

Your empty vodka tonic is sitting on the table in front of you, condensation dripping onto the dark wood as the ice melts.

"I'm going to get another drink," you announce, before pushing past Hotch and Rossi and slinking up to the bar.

"Can I get a cosmopolitan?" you ask the bartender, who nods at you before turning around to make your drink.

You drum your fingers against the counter as you wait, but it doesn't take long before a tall, blonde man who looks to be about your age sidles up next to you.

"What are you having?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in a way that you're sure he thinks is seductive.

"I'm already set," you tell him, turning your body away slightly, "but thanks."

"I saw you with your group earlier," he continues as you flash your eyes at the bartender in a signal you hope conveys that you need him to hurry up. "Unless you're with the nerdy one, I'm not sure what the problem is."

"The problem," you explain, your jaw clenching as your drink finally lands on the counter, "is that I'm not interested."

You grab your drink and immediately turn around, but thankfully Emily and JJ have come up to order new drinks too. Clearly outnumbered, the man shakes his head and leaves you alone.

Aaron hasn't taken his eyes off you since you got up from the booth. When a man approached you at the bar, he felt the first inkling of jealousy scrape through his bones, but your body language quickly made it clear that you weren't interested, and that you could handle yourself.

He probably should be a bit more careful with how much he watches you, especially when surrounded by a band of profilers, but sometimes, when the day comes to a close, and he's had a drink or two, his shields fall down and he allows himself a moment to just...pretend.

Pretend that what you feel for each other is something he can act on. Pretend that you are someone he can look for in a bar. Someone he can call his.

He's lost in his thoughts when David mutters something from next to him.

"What was that?" he asks, turning his head to hear him better.

Dave repeats himself. "It's okay, you know."

Aaron frowns. "What are you talking about."

"What you feel for her...it's okay."

His brow furrows and a pained look crosses his face. They were bound to notice eventually, and he would have had to tell them at some point. If not now, when? "It doesn't feel okay all the time."

Dave sighs, his fingers running over the side of his whiskey glass. "When you're with her...does it make everything else hurt less?"

Aaron shoots him a look that's a mix between confusion and exasperation, but when he thinks about the question, all he can hear in his head is yes, yes, a resounding yes.

Dave must see it on his face, because he smiles and shrugs. "Then how can it be wrong?"

He turns to look at you again, but this time the lights in the bar feel brighter than before. The music sounds clearer and the smile on your face sets his whole chest ablaze.

When you return to the table, you finish your drink, but you don't go back for another. You've noticed Aaron looking at you here and there throughout the night, but you're not sure if it's just your imagination or if you're tipsier than you thought.

The team is laughing around you, and Aaron's thigh feels warm pressed against yours. You haven't been this happy in ages.

***

After what has easily been the most taxing case of your life, the weekend comes to a close with an evening you have all been waiting for almost as long as JJ and Will have.

"You clean up well," you joke as Aaron walks into Rossi's backyard, where the rest of you are scattered around, talking to the wedding guests.

He's wearing a clean, black tux that fits him perfectly.

"You think so?" he asks, the ghost of a smirk in his eyes. "You look beautiful."

You smile in response, letting him lead you to the back of the patio, where rows of folding chairs have been set up. He looks better, lighter, than you've seen him in a while. It suits him.

JJ and Will get married in an elegant ceremony that leaves no more than a few dry eyes in the audience, and when they take to the floor for their first dance, you sip your champagne from a table off to the side.

Aaron is watching Spencer do magic tricks in front of the children, and he's wearing one of his secret, dazzling smiles that he only brings out when he thinks no one is watching.

"This seat taken?"

You turn to see Emily's hand on the chair next to you, and you shake your head, smiling as she takes a seat.

"You look wonderful," you tell her, patting her hand on the table. "I'm so glad you're here. You were amazing this weekend. This wedding wouldn't be happening without you."

She laughs, taking a sip of champagne. "I'll be sure to tell Will you said that."

You chuckle, settling into a comfortable silence that is only really possible with people you know as well as you know this team.

Emily adjusts her dress and you think she's going to get up and re-join the group, but then she takes you completely by surprise. "You should go for it."

You look at her, confused. "Huh?"

Deep down, you know what she's referring to, but if you can play dumb for a few more moments, you won't miss out on the opportunity.

"You and Hotch. You should go for it."

You open your mouth to respond, but she gets up and leaves you to mull over her words.

When Rossi asks everyone to join the newly married couple on the dance floor, you assume that you'll just hang off to the side with Reid, but then you get your second surprise of the night.

"Care to dance?"

Aaron holds his hand out, only mostly certain that you will accept. When you take his hand, he's as much relieved as he is pleased, and he leads you out into the center of the clearing.

Your hand finds his shoulder as his slips onto your waist, and you fall into an easy rhythm as you look up at him, a smile on your face. You look radiant under the twinkling fairy lights, and he has to tear his eyes away from you when you lean in closer to rest your chin on his shoulder.

His arms envelope you as your chests press together, your breaths going in and out in unison.

You peer over his shoulder, watching as Derek and Penelope laugh in the corner, and Emily tries to teach Spencer how not to step on her feet.

"Jack looks happy," you whisper as your eyes land on the children playing off to the side.

"He is," Aaron agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. After a pause, his head dips down and his cheek presses against your temple. "We are."

***

When the night comes to a close, you are looking for Emily, since she drove you to Rossi's house, but a pat on your shoulder stops you in your tracks.

"I can take you home," Aaron says, his eyes filled with an earnest look that has you nodding before you can even process the offer.

The car ride is nearly silent during the short trip back to your apartment, but when he pulls up in front of your building, you can't bring yourself to open the door.

You can feel a tension in the air, the same one that has been building for years, and for some reason, tonight, you're not scared of it anymore.

"Aaron..." you whisper, turning to look at him, but he cuts you off.

"I love you."

Your breath leaves your lungs and you open your mouth to say it back, but he keeps going.

"I'm not some young player anymore," he says, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth as he speaks. "I think you know what I feel for you. I think you've known for some time."

You've forgotten how to speak. "I didn't know for sure."

"I know why you never brought it up," he whispers, his voice tight with emotion, "but even though she's gone, I know she wouldn't have wanted me to be alone forever."

None of the words floating around your brain seem good enough, and you can't think, so you just lean forward and kiss him.

His lips are softer than you imagined, and after a moment of indecision, he reaches up and threads his fingers through your hair, holding you against him. The kiss is sweet and it feels like the perfect start to something new and fresh, but then his tongue slips along the seam of your lips, and you gasp, heat shooting down to your core.

"Aaron," you gasp against his mouth, your hands gliding up his chest and over his shoulders. "Let's go inside."

He pulls back momentarily, and there's a small smudge on his lips from your lip gloss.

You throw open the car door and practically speed-walk to the elevators as he follows closely behind you. It takes years to get up to your apartment, but when you finally get the door open, you're on him again, your lips pressing against his and your hands tangled in his thick hair.

A groan rumbles in his throat when you tug slightly, and he grips your waist, moving you back and lifting you onto the couch.

"You'll tell me if it's too much," he says frantically, his voice low and strained. "If you want me to stop and take it slower, you just have to say it."

You shake your head, pulling him down on top of you. "I've waited for this for years. I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles against your skin, peppering slow kisses down your jaw as your eyes fall closed and pleasure melts down your spine. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you tightly as though he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

Aaron's ministrations are slow and careful, and you quickly become impatient, your body squirming as you implicitly beg for more. You're practically vibrating under him when he lifts his knee and presses into you, his lips moving in unison with his body as he applies a glorious pressure that has you gasping into his mouth.

Where did he learn to do that?

Heat swells in your abdomen and you pull back, your eyes wild and your chest heaving.

"What is it?" he asks, his forehead furrowing. "Are you okay?"

"I need more," you exhale, reaching down to grab at the hem of his shirt.

You yank open the buttons and slip it over his shoulders, reveling at how beautiful he looks on top of you. When his mouth returns to your chest, you keen against him, your legs pressing together as you try to ward off the pleasure rising inside of you.

Aaron reaches down and tugs the bottom of your dress up, yanking upward until it's over your head. Your hair cascades down, splayed out around your face like a halo, and he can't imagine that any angel would look prettier than you do right now.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and along your stomach.

The sensation is not enough, but the sheer anticipation of where he's heading has your whole body tingling.

He takes his time, kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs and working his up around your core until he finally dives in. His hands takes your calves and lift them onto his shoulders as he licks a thick stripe up the center of your cunt.

You writhe against the smooth couch, your hands grabbing onto his hair for some semblance of support as he thrusts his tongue inside of you, his nose bumping against your clit with an infuriating rhythm.

Aaron moves his tongue with the movements of your body as he painstakingly avoids the one place you are begging for him to go. Your hand tightens in his hair and he groans, creating satisfying vibrations that make you shudder.

Just when it seems like it may never be enough, he laves over you, sucking at your clit with a lewd, wet sound that makes you moan so loudly, you shock even yourself.

He hums with pride and your hips fly off the couch, trying to get closer and closer as you near the precipice of all the pleasure that's been building up. He sucks you into his mouth one more time and you fall over the edge with a strangled cry.

His hands press into your abdomen, trying to keep you still so that he can keep working at you, but pleasure rolls over you as your body spasms below him. You lift your head slightly as you come down from the high, and you see him pushing himself into the couch, his eyebrows pinched in a strained expression.

When the shudders finally abate, Aaron crawls back up your body, a big grin eating at his face. He plants another kiss on your mouth and the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you whimper.

"I want to feel you," you gasp between clashes of teeth, "inside me."

He freezes and you're afraid you may have gone too far, but then he's tugging off his pants and you can't help the small smirk that flashes across your face.

When he's fully bare, your mind goes blank and you move to reach down and take him in your hand, but he just shakes his head, pushing your shoulder back gently to lay you down again.

The apartment is silent except for low grunts and harsh breathing as Aaron enters you slowly, pushing forward until he is seated fully inside of you. His size is impressive and it takes a few moments for the initial sting to dissolve into white, hot pleasure.

He takes his time to let you get adjusted, but when you grit out a "please, move" he doesn't wait another second. His thrusts start slow, because he wants to work you up until you're writhing beneath him, but when he peers down at you, his breath leaves his body.

You are everything he imagined, and he can feel you everywhere, from the flush of his cheeks to the tingling of his toes. You look like a dream below him, one he never wants to wake up from.

Aaron pushes into you, harder this time, and a barely constrained bliss fills your eyes, a cocktail of desire and hunger mixing to create the greatest possible pleasure he can imagine.

You squeeze around him like a vice grip, and a deep, low sound rumbles in his chest, stuttering his movements.

Your legs shake as he runs his hand up your thigh, before lifting it up and around his waist. The new angle hits a deeper spot inside of you and you let out a moan so beautiful that he can't resist dipping down to press his lips to yours.

You tighten around him once more and he can tell how close you are, so he speeds up his thrusts, creating a rhythm that has you shuddering against him. You reach your climax a moment later and with you falling apart below him, he thinks that he finally understands what it means to have everything you could ever want.

After a few more thrusts, he spills into you, his arms the only thing holding his body up as all energy flows out of him. He rests his forehead against yours and his breath stutters as he falls onto the couch beside you.

You may be completely spent, but you're not ready to be away from him yet, so you tuck yourself into his arms, practically on top of him as he wraps himself around you.

"I love you too," you whisper, ghosting your lips over his pulse.

Aaron sighs out a breath of contentment and he pulls you closer to him, unable to let go just yet. Emotions that he finally understands rise up inside his body and for the first time in a long time, he lets them wash over him.

This is it. This is what home feels like.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner fic

5K notes · View notes

ageingfangirl2 · 7 months

Note

Hello👋😊 I would like to know if it was possible to do a story in which Buggy(still a "prisoner" of the Straw Hats ) started to feel strange(in a good way of course) with Y/N. After a day, the Reader, who had the task of repairing any damage of the ship, but it was a very hot day and Y/N, in order to stay cooler while working, decided to take off her top, leaving just the bikini top and the shorts. But without realizing that she was being watched by a head👀🤭Buggy began to observe the drops of sweat running down to her back, chest and forehead, leaving him with a strange feeling about Y/N👀🤭❤️‍🔥

Sorry if the recommendation is too long😅😅

I Finally See You! Buggy (OPLA) *REQUEST* - Female Reader

Part 2

BUGGY

This was something I'd never live down, being held hostage, well my head being held hostage by a bunch of young adult pirates calling themselves The Straw Hat Pirates. When I first met them there were only three of them but now that number had doubled and I didn't like being outnumbered. They took it in turns looking after my head, but I hardly got taken out of that stinky bag they kept me in. Once I got my body back I'd bounce, and the next time they crossed me I would come out on top.

The only member of this stupid crew I could stand was y/n. I wasn't sure what they did, but they were quiet and kept to themselves making them an easy target. They had some past trauma and hardly any real-world experience so I could be a flirt and perverted and they took it on the chin. Until Zoro nearly threw me into the sea and told me to watch my tongue or lose it. y/n made an innocent remark asking if my tongue could also detach, and after a wink and a 'shall we find out together kitten' comment Zoro sent my head flying across the deck.

Y/N

It was a hot day and you'd told Luffy you'd fix the damage done by Garp, but working under the hot sun was intense. You were in a pair of shorts and a loose blouse now drenched in sweat which clung to your body. Thinking you are alone you take off the blouse revealing the skimpy blue bikini stop Nami had convinced you to buy and the matching bottoms under your shorts. Little did you know someone was watching you.

BUGGY

The dumb swordsman was sleeping again, this time finding himself shade while leaving me exposed in the sweltering sun. I was about to unload a range of colourful insults when the sound of hammering caught my attention. I hop a little on my barrel and gulp, my eyes fixated on y/n of all people. They were inches away from me bent over fixing the side of the ship unaware of my presence.

I assumed y/n was a prude only having seen them in trousers and long sleeves, but I licked my dry lips and raised my eyebrows seeing them in shorts that left little to the imagination and long legs that would be perfectly wrapped around my waist as they rode me.

I shake my head, what was I thinking? y/n was fun to mess with and nothing more.

Next thing I know y/n is taking off the blouse, and if I was attached to my body I might have just got a hard-on. Why did y/n choose to hide such a magnificent body? The blue bikini top is the same shade as my hair, and I vaguely remember y/n saying their favourite colour was blue. As y/n picks up a glass of water I allow my eyes to wander, like a moth to a flame. Noticing how small their hands were as they reached up to wipe sweat from their brow, but could probably easily wrap around my dick, and how when they arched their back their chest jutted out and little droplets of sweat run down them. Fuck, they would look good arching beneath me.

I curse and y/n gasps loudly hearing me, 'Oh my god--'

I smirk, 'Not god kitten, but I can be whoever you want me to be.'

I'm surprised they don't immediately cover up, instead leaning down to my height giving me a very nice view of their chest, 'Did Zoro leave you in the sun?'

I pout, playing the sympathy card, y/n was too nice and I loved attention, 'wouldn't even give me any water, I'm parched kitten.'

y/n liked cats so my nickname was appropriate, even if they didn't understand the real meaning behind it.

'You can share my glass Buggy, I'll scold Zoro later,' y/n huffs, clearly annoyed at the swordsman as they bring the water to my lips and I start drinking, 'I'll give them a right tongue lashing...I think I overheard Sanji say that once.'

I spit out the water and it lands on y/n's chest, soaking into the material, 'you're one of a kind y/n. if you need any advice I'm sure I could offer some lip service. Maybe when the others are sleeping.'

y/n blushes and I'm not quite sure if they understand me, 'I think we've both had too much sun Buggy, let's get us both inside and you can stay with me for the rest of the day.'

Before I can protest y/n picks me up, and for a split second I'm pressed between their breasts before they turn my head. y/n was going to be the death of me, and I wasn't going to look at them the same way ever again.

461 notes · View notes

anormalkidingotham · 9 months

Text

another day, another mass-breakout from arkham

#how and why does this keep happening #isn't it supposed to be max security?#but i guess that doesn't matter #lets just hope they catch the more dangerous ones soon #i don't want to be taken hostage again #i already don't have nearly enough free time #arkham #just gotham city things #only in gotham #unreality

24 notes · View notes

noproofread · 2 months

Text

Contagious

"I don't care if you're sick, I don't care if you're contagious. I would kiss you even if you were dead"

Inspired by I Don't Care If You're Contagious :)

Caretaker Sanji, taking care of sick reader, Sanji gets sick, fluff.

word count: 1,190

masterlist here

tag list: @dakingsu-blog @vangowithit @fanaticsnail

You rolled over in your bed, going into fetal position as you clutched your comforter close to your neck. You felt cold still, shivers running down your body. You didn't have the energy or strength to move further than your bed. You kept your eyes closed, begging for sleep only for it to never come. You sighed, exasperated. You felt like absolute death. A knock at the door made you open your eyes, exposing your sensitive pupils to the bright sun that entered through the small gap between the curtains. “go away” you croaked as you covered your face with the comforter. You heard the door open slowly, followed by the sound of footsteps coming from the dress shoes worn by the blond chef.

You listened as he shuffled closer to your ill ridden bed, carefully setting down what sounded like a bowl with a spoon. “Tsk tsk, if I don't feed you you’ll never get better. Eat some soup.” Sanji cooed, gently lifting the comforter from you. You looked up at him through squinted eyes as you groggily sat up. “Sanji you have to leave. I don't want to get you sick… Please?” He chuckled, taking a seat on your bed next to you. He picked up the bowl of soup he had set down on your bedside table and grabbed some of the hot soup with the spoon. You watched as he blew on the hot contents softly before putting it to your face. “Eat up” He smiled. “Sanji-” you tried to speak but were interrupted by him shoving the metal spoon into your mouth, forcing you to eat the soup. The savory taste of the broth mixed with a little sweetness from the carrots and the citrusy flavor of the lime juice swirled around in your mouth.

Sanji smiled at you, watching you enjoy his food. “No illness is gonna keep me from you. I don't care if I get sick as long as you get better.” He said as he picked up another spoonful. “You know I can feed myself.” You teased, his company was making you feel better already. He laughed lightly, holding the spoon out allowing you to eat more of his food. “I know, but when am I going to get another excuse to feed you myself?” Sanji said as he stirred the soup slowly. You smiled, hitting him softly. Much to your surprise Sanji grabbed your hand before you retracted it from his shoulder. He looked into your eyes as he massaged your hand with his. “All you have to do is let me take care of you.” He spoke as he moved closer to your face. “Sanji, I’m sick-” “I know. That's why I’m here to make you feel better.” You didn't know if the heat you felt on your face was due to his words or a fever. Sanji smiled, seeing you visibly flustered and he leaned back.

He chuckled under his breath, offering you another spoonful of soup. You focused on simply complying and allowing him to feed you. You were worried he would catch whatever disease had taken you hostage and you didn't want to see him like that. You figured you’d just kick him out once you finished eating. But that wasn't the case. As you swallowed your last spoonful of soup you tapped Sanji’s shoulder, asking for his attention. “Sanji, I don't want to get you sick. Please just go.” Sanji looked at you, taking a hold of your hands. “I love that you're worried about me.” He spoke in a hushed tone, low in timbre. The kind of tone that made your heart flutter for a second. He stood up, letting go of your hands and grabbing the now empty bowl. “As you wish. I will go and let you get some rest. I have to wash this bowl anyway.” He was facing you, looking into your eyes. He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Get better quick.” He whispered. You bit your lip as you watched him leave your room.

After a couple of days you were beginning to feel like yourself again. The color had returned to your face and you no longer felt weak and frail. The same could not be said for your beloved chef as he seemed to be depleted in energy. His lips were chapped and he had lost his appetite. Sanji spent the day tucked away in his room. Much to the dismay of the crew, he had no energy to cook. Nami had taken over the cooking for the day and you helped where you could. You had made some soup to take to Sanji. It was your turn to take care of him now, you wanted to repay him for taking care of you.

You entered his room, the air was thick. Sanji was completely covered under a mountain of blankets. He turned around to see who had entered, making eye contact with you. “Good morning, sleeping beauty! Time to eat!” You exclaimed, hopping over to his bed with the bowl in your hand. Sanji groaned in response, sitting up and allowing you to get close to him. “I told you to leave me alone and you didn't. Now look, you're sick.” You pouted. “I miss my cute little blond chef.” Sanji smiled at your words. “I had to take care of you. I’m happy you feel good enough to tend to the sick.” He smiled, opening his mouth to let you feed him. “You just wanted me to feed you like this huh?” You teased, continuing to feed him spoonfuls of soup.

“Yeah. When am I going to get another excuse to ask you to feed me?” He laughed. “And what a delicious soup you made for me. I’m afraid you’ll take my job.” Sanji joked, eating the last bit of soup. “Yeah~ Be careful.” You set the bowl down, using your now free hands to fix his messy hair. Your fingers softly brushed against his face with every movement. Sanji had made it a habit to grab onto your hand or wrist whenever he wanted. This was one of those moments. He looked into your eyes as you felt his hand wrap around yours. “How did I get so lucky to have such a cute caretaker?” He flirted, the words rolling off his tongue so effortlessly you almost wondered if he was really sick or if he was pretending just to get you in this position. You blushed. Sanji smiled, his eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips. He let them linger there for a moment before meeting your gaze again.

“I’ll leave you to get some sleep.” You got up to leave. Sanji let go of your hand and let out a small whine. You laughed at his childish behavior, slowly leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. His skin felt warm on your lips. “Get better quickly.” You whispered, straightening up and turning to walk out of his room. “Yes nurse!” He called out behind you, laughing breathlessly as he laid down and covered himself with the mountain of blankets.

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece fluff #opla #x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader

263 notes · View notes

notspidergoth · 1 year

Text

HOBIE BROWN X BURNT OUT READER

Summary: Reader is overworking themselves, Hobie helps them out! (romantically implied)

Warnings: Forgetting to eat, almost fainting, my sleep-deprived grammar, oh and cursing

A/N: (totally not projecting right now how am I still in school. fucking finals... UGH!!)

Wordcount: 928 words

You continued to type on your laptop, vigorously working the paper your English teacher thought would be a good idea to assign a week before final exams.

There was still some homework to catch up on, pages of mindless busywork to jot out. Even yet there were still study guides to fill out and memorize, and did you end up finishing that project on-

Your train of thought was broken off by the sound of your bedroom window being slid open. The culprit looked up at you before closing the window behind him.

"Hey," Hobie greeted, walking over and leaning against your desk.

You moved some of the papers scattered on your desk out of his way, before continuing to type down your thesis statement.

"No 'hey' back today?" he smirked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, no, yeah, hey Hobie." you muttered, bowed over your laptop.

"When'd this all happen?" he gesturing to the stacks of papers on your desk.

"When all my teachers simultaneously decided to be fucking cunts."

He chuckled, sitting down on your bed. For the past while Hobie had been coming over to visit you, the both of you keeping each other company from time to time.

It was like he could sense when you were neglecting yourself at this point, always coming at the most opportune times.

"You seem pretty stressed, when's the last time you've taken a break?"

"A break? Sorry, but have you seen what I have left to do here?" you gestured, exasperated.

"I take that as a no for break-taking."

"Nope." you sighed, flipping through your notes.

"You at least eat something earlier?" he asked questioningly.

"Yeah, sure, yeah." you waved him away, reading through highlighted bullet points.

"Alright then." he shrugged, holding his hands up in surrender.

A couple hours past, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence with one another. You could faintly hear heavy guitar emitting from his phone, and the sound of him chuckling at whatever he was scrolling through. You could just imagine how his face looked when he smiled, the way the corners of his mouth would slant upwards into that arrogantly smug grin that just fit him so well, his lip piercing shifting ever so slightly when he-

"Doin alright?" Hobie looked over at you, "Ya kinda spaced out for a bit."

You looked up at Hobie, and then back down at the blinking cursor on your screen, the last edit made 11 minutes ago.

"Shit."

"Think its bout time you took a break." Hobie sat up, looking at you with concern.

Your brain finally caught up to the conversation. "Huh? No, I'm good, I'm good, sorry."

"Don't apologize." He said, getting up and leaning against your desk once again. "Its been awhile, lets go grab something to eat."

You looked back down at your paper, not nearly as close to done as you had wanted. "I can't, not right now... I'm almost finished it though!" You smiled tiredly, trying to hype yourself up for the remainder of the work left.

Hobie looked over at you, the piles of homework on your desk, and then back at you, before closing your laptop shut.

"Hey!-"

"Nope. C'mon, you're takin a break." he deadpanned, serious.

You were about to retaliate once more before he shot you a glare. You knew if you didn't stop now, he'd end up dragging you away from your desk. Or even worse, keep your laptop hostage. You shuddered at the thought, before you saw movement beside you.

Hobie held out a hand for you to grab, looking down at you from where he stood. The light in your room bounced off him, his metal studs and pins shining in the light.

You grabbed his hand, allowing him to help pull you up. Spots dotted their way into your vision as you stood, feeling the world spin around you. When was the last time you ate? You gripped onto his hand tighter, waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

"You good?" He looked down at you, faux uncaringness hiding the worry across his face.

"Mhm, yup, all good, perfect, just feel like fainting, gimmie a sec."

He continued to hold you up as you supported your weight against him. It was warm, comforting almost if you could ignore the sickly feeling in your stomach.

You were glad your body granted you the ability to see once more, blinking at your surroundings, only to be met with Hobie, having leaned down to look at you. His sharp dark eyes were laced with concern as they looked into yours.

"Shit, have you not eaten yet today?"

Thinking about it now, you couldn't quite recall when you last ate, but you couldn't quite remember much of anything staring into his eyes. You saw them soften before you, before he stood up straight again.

"Fucks sake, c'mon, lets go." Hobie rolled his eyes, putting one of your arms around his shoulders, holding you upright.

"Where we going?" You asked, feeling confident enough to stand on your own, but not wanting to pull away from his warm touch.

"Food joint. Someone smart as you'd think eating's a bright idea, no?" He chuckled, leading you through your bedroom door.

"Not taking the window this time?" you joked, giggling. He had always entered and exited your apartment through the windows, no matter how many times you've asked him to use the front door.

A smile pulled across his face, "Yeah, yeah, shuddup."

The two of you laughed, holding onto him as you left behind your homework.

A/N: (lets see if i have the mental capacity to keep posting!!! remember to eat and drink water!)

#hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie my beloved

777 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 1 month

Text

Chapter 47 of human Bill Cipher thinking that being imprisoned in the Mystery Shack is looking pretty good right now:

The Eclipse: Part 5

Bill and Ford are just... so energized and enthusiastic after their near death experience. Not to mention fashionable.

But they've got nothing on Dipper.

And, at long last, Ford and Dipper badger Bill—who's just too tired to lie—into explaining what kind of an "eclipse" involves a giant flying axolotl making gravity disappear.

####

When they reached the cave, Ford discovered that his antique lantern was too waterlogged to light.

"I'm not sure how we're getting to the top now," Ford said. The cavern directly behind the waterfall had some ambient lighting, but it wouldn't carry very far. "I know you can see, but I don't trust you to lead me through a cave system in the dark, no offense." He was surprised at himself for saying no offense.

"If I was planning to let you fall off a cliff, I could've saved myself a swim in the lake." Bill had taken off his backpack and was rummaging through it. "Didn't your lantern go out when you took four-eyes hiking through here? You should have learned your lesson."

Bill must have meant Fiddleford, though it was strange to hear him single out Fiddleford as "four-eyes" when Ford wore glasses too. "I did learn my lesson. I brought three flashlights as backup," Ford said. "Which are in Dipper's backpack."

Bill laughed weakly.

"Did you bring a flashlight?"

"Better." Bill pulled out a kazoo. He blew a stream of water from it, shook it, and then took a deep breath and played a long high note that wavered up and down.

Ford cringed at the noise. "Bill, what—?"

Bill held up a finger to silence Ford. Okay, fine. He was curious now.

It took a few moments of increasingly irritating kazoo playing, but Ford heard a soft clinking sound coming from the deeper caverns; and then several geodites—small creatures that looked like stone orbs with crystal limbs and teeth and glowing eyes—curiously emerged into the main cavern. Ford hadn't seen these creatures since he'd documented them in the eighties. He hadn't known they could be summoned via kazoo. They began making a high pitched humming along with Bill's kazooing.

"There you are." Bill stuffed the kazoo into his backpack and crouched down, holding out a hand until a couple of geodites crept closer to inspect it; and then he scooped up the closest one. The others startled into breaking off singing, but hovered nearby, chirping and clicking. "Okay, grab a flashlight." The light the geodites' eyes gave off wasn't very bright; but it was enough for Ford to see Bill's smug smirk. They proceeded into the caves, and a dozen-odd more geodites—perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps out of concern for the two hostages—followed along behind them.

The climb went much slower than it had just a few hours earlier. Unsurprisingly, without low gravity on his side, Bill was the holdup this time. Not only was he not as experienced in spelunking as Ford, but between his waterlogged dress shoes and his borrowed trout slippers he didn't have any appropriate footwear, and he'd elected to carefully climb barefoot again. When Ford had climbed up this path with Fiddleford in the 80s, it had been a six hour climb. He had no idea how long it would take with Bill.

But even at that, Ford hadn't expected Bill to need to pause so often to get his energy back. It seemed like the more Ford recovered from their fall in the lake, the weaker Bill got. In any other situation, he'd suspect Bill of slowing them down on purpose, but after... well, even that aside, Ford couldn't think of any reason Bill would want to delay getting home.

"It's just this body that's dizzy," Bill said, the fourth time they had to stop for him to sit. "Probably one of those... counterproductive stress reactions human bodies get." He wiped a film of sweat off his forehead, then stopped to examine how his hand trembled when his geodite's spotlight eyes fixed on it. "That or it's because I've only had a handful of cereal for the past two days."

Ford stared at him. "You what? Why?"

Bill shrugged. "Body wouldn't let me get more down. Wasn't my idea."

"Well, for goodness's sake, eat something now."

Bill took off his backpack, pulled out a cereal box, and opened it. He grimaced. He poured out a puddle of sugary lake water and dissolved cereal.

Of course. "Here." Ford pulled a tube of astronaut meat out of his backpack and offered it over. "It's not the most nutritionally complete meal supplement, but it's something. It'll have protein."

Bill took the tube with a grimace, but squeezed out a dollop of meat paste and licked it; and then he gagged so hard he doubled over. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from retching and offered the tube back. "Mmmf." The geodite hopped out of his lap in alarm and retreated to the group of hangers-on traveling with them.

The meat paste wasn't great, but that was a disproportionate reaction out of the alien who liked to mix chocolate sauce and mustard. This was a bigger problem than Ford had anticipated. "Keep it. If you can get down even a tiny bit every few minutes, that's better than nothing."

Bill nodded jerkily.

"I think it's better if we reach Dipper and get out of here as soon as possible."

Bill nodded more enthusiastically.

What would they do if Bill couldn't make it the whole way? Would Ford have to leave him in the cave and come back for him later? Ford hadn't tied the infinity belt's cable to Bill like he'd meant to, he just realized. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to try now; but it might be useful if he did have to leave Bill behind. He didn't know that they had any better option, he couldn't carry Bill all the way up and down. Especially since Bill had let go of his geodite, and Ford suspected the rest might abandon them if he put down his own...

They'd have to figure that out if it came to it. For now, they kept walking—Ford glancing back regularly to check on Bill, and Bill pretending he didn't notice.

####

After another half hour and another two increasingly frequent breaks, Ford saw a faint light in the tunnels ahead—yellow-white, not like the geodites' natural blues and purples. "Bill, is that...?"

"Hm?" Bill looked in the direction Ford was pointing. His right eye twitched, and then he had to squeeze his eyes shut in pain. "Yep. Boy child at 12 o'clock."

Ford called out, "Dipper?"

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper's voice echoed through the caves. There was a sound of clattering rocks as Dipper scrabbled down the tunnel to join them. The geodites scattered in fear, peering out from behind stalagmites as Dipper's flashlight swept over the scene. "Grunkle Ford! Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Are you—?"

Dipper collided with Ford to hug him. (Ford held his geodite out to the side so he could return a one-armed hug.) "I'm so sorry I saw you go over the cliff but I couldn't do anything I was in the mindscape the whole time something sucked my soul out of my body—"

"Not it, I'm innocent," Bill said unnecessarily, "nobody look at me." He'd taken advantage of the break to immediately sit on the ground. His abandoned geodite crept back over to check on him.

"—and—and wow, that was the Axolotl you were talking about, right?" Dipper let go of Ford to gesture like a fisherman demonstrating the size of an enormous catch, "It was huge, it had to be—I don't know, as long as the county? The whole state? How did it get so big? Is the Axolotl an alien or some kind of mutant Earth axolotl? Are all axolotls aliens—?"

"Now, hold on," Ford said, putting a hand on Dipper's shoulder, "what huge axolotl? What are you talking about?"

"You didn't see it?" Dipper paused, looked Ford up and down, and said, "What are you wearing?"

Ford grimaced, tugged his bandanna up a little higher, and turned his geodite away when it tried to aim its spotlight eyes at his neck to see what he was doing. "We had to borrow some dry clothes."

"He couldn't see the Axolotl," Bill said. "You shouldn't have, either."

"Sor-ry. Getting sucked out of my body wasn't my idea—"

"Hold on," Ford said again. "What do you mean, sucked out of your body?"

As they headed back down toward the waterfall, Dipper and Ford exchanged their versions of events. It didn't take long for them to realize Bill had saved both their lives with a swift efficiency that, had it been applied to any less altruistic a task, could have been called "ruthless." They didn't say anything, but neither one could stop from glancing back toward Bill.

"What?" he snapped, clinging to his geodite a little tighter like he thought they were planning to take it. "I don't owe you an explanation. You're not dead! Be grateful. Stop looking at me."

They stopped looking at him. Bill should be gloating about them owing him their lives. He should be convincing them they had to pay back their debt. Silence alone would have been worrying; but bristling like he wanted them to forget what he'd done was baffling.

As Dipper finished explaining his version of events, he said, "I think I remember meeting the Axolotl before—like you said." He directed this last comment back over his shoulder toward Bill.

Bill—whose entire attention had been focused for the last ten minutes on walking without collapsing, tripping, or dropping his geodite—simply muttered, "My condolences."

"Wait," Ford said, "You've... met a giant invisible axolotl before?"

"Mabel and I both did."

"When?"

Dipper opened his mouth, paused, and glanced back again at Bill for help.

It took a few seconds for Bill to register the question. "Oh—they've never met before. Not in this reality."

Exasperated, Dipper asked, "Then why do I remember it?"

"I told you—echoes," Bill said. When Dipper continued giving him an expectant look, Bill sighed deeply and said, "This is an embarrassing oversimplification, but you're at least familiar with the concept of branching timelines, right?"

"Of course I am. Every time you make a decision, the timeline splits into two paths—"

"Cute that you think it caps out at two," Bill said. "And a decision doesn't always split the timeline, sometimes the branches collapse back together depending on the gravity of the decision you made. I don't literally mean a decision 'you' made—you've never made a decision that important—but sure, you've got the basic idea."

"Fine," Dipper snapped. "So I met it on another branch, right? When?"

"Never," Bill said.

"Okay. Yes. But there is a branch where... some version of me met it. Right?"

"It depends on how you define 'is.'"

Dipper puffed out his cheeks with the effort of restraining a yell. He looked at Ford for either help or sympathy.

Ford winked surreptitiously at Dipper and said, "It's probably some complicated chronological issue. I doubt Bill can explain it in a way humans can understand." Under his breath, he loudly muttered, "Some 'teacher.'"

Bill straight-armed Ford aside to walk beside Dipper. "You humans have no sense of humor," he said. "I said you met him never because it's literally true. You had an accident that landed you in a time and space outside time and space—the meeting happened never and nowhere. It's where he prefers to take visitors. That timeline terminated after your meeting—and I don't mean you died, I mean he terminated that entire timeline."

"Really?" Dipper shivered. "With... With everyone in it? Why did he do that? Did something dangerous happen in that timeline, or was it unstable, or...?"

"That's how he usually ends casual meet-and-greets," Bill said. "Higher dimensional beings. He sees your reality from a perspective unimaginable to you. Remember when I told you you're just a movie projecting on a wall to him; he's got no problem with pulling the film out of the reel to inspect a few frames and then turning the entire projector off when he's done. What does he care if that's somebody's entire reality?" He paused to think that over. "Maybe the projector metaphor's getting strained. Imagine flipping through a book with all the pages out of order, and meeting him is like somehow flipping to a page outside the book... No, that's a little too contrived. I'll stick with the projector."

"When did we... when would we have met him?" Dipper asked. "And—when I say 'when' I mean—you know what I mean."

"You mean, when would you have made the decisions that could have led to you meeting him? Depending on your perspective, either last August or 207̃05. Time travel was involved."

"Last August..." Dipper thought back. "Was that when we were—?"

"Treasure hunting, yeah. By the by, I never asked—" Bill gestured vaguely around them at everything in general, "—which dimension did I end up in? Is this the one where you went hunting in the 1400s or 1800s?"

"Uh—1800s."

"Hm. Knew this wasn't a 207̃05 treasure hunt timeline, Questiony doesn't have a pet enslaved time pirate."

"A what?"

"So you never had a chance of meeting the Axolotl anyway," Bill said. "Hey, fun fact! Did you know there's a time pocket where twelve million alternate versions of you, your sister, and the puppet with the goggles failed at your quest and plummeted out of time? I wonder how long the last of them survived! I meant to check in after Weirdmageddon. Human flesh isn't that nutritious and doesn't have much water, but with millions of bodies and a little determination— Hey, wanna know how long you all were there before you started resorting to cannibalism—?"

"No," Ford said before Dipper had to. "And I'll thank you not to get off topic to try to give my gnephew more nightmares."

Bill shot him a sideways glance. "Remind me to tell you about the time pocket formed by all the timelines where you and Specs did your first portal test without checking your math."

"So if I wasn't even supposed to meet him—how did I see him today?" Dipper asked. "Did he pull me out of my body into the mindscape so we could talk, or...? But he didn't even tell me anything, was he just trying to get me to remember meeting him in the terminated timeline—?"

"He wasn't trying to do anything," Bill said. "He wasn't here for you, he didn't care. Shadow on the wall."

"Then what was he here for? You?"

It took Bill too long to answer. He just shrugged vaguely. "Probably not."

"Huh." Instead of questioning Bill, Dipper briefly turned introspective himself, gaze far away and thoughtful. "I think I remember a little more about meeting the Axolotl now. The first time, I mean."

"Oh, do you?" Bill asked. "Ha! Poor kid."

"Mabel and I were in some kind of rocket car?" Dipper's brows furrowed in concentration. "And the Axolotl had a... bean bag chair?"

Bill scoffed. "He still has that old thing?! Wow."

"It was really comfortable."

"It's also really tacky."

"You talked about him like he was some kind of... of big... eldritch cosmic horror thing," Dipper said. "What kind of a cosmic horror has bean bag chairs?"

"What, do you think being a vast multidimensional amphibious monstrosity with an incomprehensible mind and a body that can only been seen in lower dimensions as grotesque shapeshifting cross-sections protects you from having bad taste? He'll flay your sanity straight out of your gray matter—and you won't even have the comfort of knowing your mind-shredder had nice interior decor sensibilities!"

"I can sympathize with the experience," Ford muttered. "I was driven to the brink of paranoid madness by a nightmare demon who thinks Doric columns go with checkerboard flooring."

Bill let out a shrill "Ha!" and smacked Ford's shoulder.

"But he remembered me when we met," Dipper went on. "He told me to say hi to Mabel. And—the last time we met, we—talked. I don't remember it all yet, but... you were wrong about him. There was nothing insanity-inducing about him. He was just... nice."

"You don't think the madness sets in all at once, do you?" Bill turned back to Dipper, with an air of what Ford uncomfortably felt like was ill intent. "Go on then—what did you talk about? You can't remember it, can you? Why not? Just a harmless little conversation, right?"

Dipper frowned in thought. "There was something important, but—I can't remember what it was. What was it?" He muttered, "I know it was something important—"

"And there we go!" Bill gestured at Dipper with a flourish, triumphant. "Now you're digging for the significance of the whole thing. You're trying to comprehend the motives of something that has a state of existence your mind wasn't built to understand! You'll either go mad trying to understand his motives—or you'll go mad because you do understand. You're doomed now, kid—this is gonna haunt you for the rest of your days." He laughed. "Try to stop thinking about it now while you're ahead!"

"I'm not going insane," Dipper said. "Just shut up, I'm trying to remember."

"'I'm not obsessed, I swear! I can stop thinking about it any time I want!' Sure."

"Shut up," Dipper repeated. "It had to have been something important! Otherwise why would he dragged me out of my body and—and shown me the fourth dimension just so I could meet him?"

"Don't sound so self-important! You never saw the fourth dimension; if you had, you wouldn't think he looks like an axolotl. He visited this dimension's mindscape," Bill said. "And he didn't even mean to drag you into the mindscape! It was just a side-effect of his gravitational pull. He tugged you toward him just like everything else in town; but Earth'sgravity doesn't extend through planes like the mindscape, and his does. Yanked your spirit right out of your body."

"Then why was I the only one?" Dipper demanded. "Why didn't you or Grunkle Ford leave your bodies?"

"Your spirit's more loosely attached to your body than ours."

"Why?!"

For a moment, Bill's face twisted with displeasure; and then he sighed in resignation. "Ah, heck with it. You've been astral projecting."

Dipper's mouth worked uselessly. He croaked, "What?"

"It's when you—"

"I know what it is! I mean—what? How? When?"

"At least as long as I've been here. How long have you been having those out-of-body dreams?"

"Y—!" Dipper socked Bill's arm. Bill didn't even flinch. "You said those were nightmares!"

"And I lied," Bill said tiredly.

"Why?!"

"Thought you'd be annoying about it."

"I've been dealing with this all year, you—!" Dipper groaned in aggravation. "Why am I astral projecting! I wasn't trying to learn or anything!"

"How should I know, I wasn't around. Best guess, I think I ripped up the Velcro sticking your soul to your body when I yanked you out to puppet it," Bill said. "Oops."

Dipper gaped at him in outrage. "'Oops'?! That's all you can— I've been terrified and I thought it was a nightmare and it was real all along and it was all your fault and you won't even—"

"I knew you'd be annoying."

"I'm annoying?! How would you like it if you'd spent a year getting dragged out of your body in your sleep—!"

Bill abruptly stopped walking, turned toward Dipper, and said with an intensity that startled Dipper into silence, "You don't have the slightest idea how much I'd like it. How would you like it if you'd been trying for weeks t—" Bill cut himself off before he could get more heated; and instead, only said, "If you. Wanted to get out of your body. And couldn't. And some brat down the hall is doing it without even trying."

Dipper remained frozen, jaw locked tight in a grimace, until Bill turned away and trudged on. Dipper snapped, "But I don't want to do it. And it's your fault I am."

"Great. Nobody's satisfied." Bill sighed. "Make the most of it. Watch late night TV. Learn to meditate or something, I don't care. You've got nothing to worry about, it's harmless." He paused. "As long as nothing else crawls in your body while you're outside of it."

"WHAT?!"

"It's fine. Nothing'll get you in the shack through the unicorn hair barri... hm. Well—you're safe in the shack."

"But I have to go home at the end of summer! Will something be able to get me then?!"

Bill shrugged. "Hypothetically."

"Am I gonna die?!"

"Given my understanding of human mortality? Sure, sooner or later. Wanna hear your top five most likely causes of death?"

"No! Is it possible to—to stop? Can I control the astral projecting?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Ask me next time you're out of your body. I'll show you"

"Can't you show me n—"

"No. Not while you're in your body."

Dipper scowled. "Fine! Next time I'm projecting, I'm kicking you awake until you help me." He turned away from Bill; and, after a moment of fuming, mumbled to himself, "If I've been astral projecting... then that time I visited the neighbors... oh, man..." He trailed off, getting lost in his own thoughts.

Keeping silent during that discussion had been agony for Ford.

Every few seconds, he'd wanted to butt in either to eagerly ask for more information about the Axolotl or astral projection, or—far more often—to express his rage on Dipper's behalf, that Bill (of course!) had put him through this, and then not even had the decency (of course!) to try to rectify it.

But it was Dipper's conversation. It was about Dipper's problem, and anyway Dipper had been trying so long to pry some sort of useful information out of Bill—it would be cruel of Ford to snatch the conversation away from him when he was finally getting somewhere. He'd have a lot to discuss with Dipper once they were home and could get away from Bill.

But staying outside the conversation had let him observe three points he might have otherwise missed.

One: Bill really wasn't himself. Back when he'd been playing as Ford's muse, whenever he got to answer questions, he'd always done it with an air of theatricality and barely-suppressed glee; and after he'd given up that act, he'd answered questions with smug arrogance, the glee turned to sadistic delight at the bad news he could deliver. Now, he simply answered them. Even his attempts to be condescending gradually got less enthusiastic until they petered out completely.

Two: Bill was answering questions he never would have answered that morning. After telling them as little as he could about the thing coming to Gravity Falls, even trying to avoid admitting it was the Axolotl, now he was freely talking about the Axolotl's taste in furniture as though he knew the beast personally. After hiding that Dipper was astral projecting for over a month, he simply told him. Heck with it. He'd admitted it was probably his fault. He'd said the last two words Ford had ever thought he'd hear come out of Bill's mouth: I lied.

Three: this was the longest Bill had walked without needing a break all day. His voice was stronger. His steps were more steady. Ford had even seen him squeeze out a few dollops of astronaut paste between comments—and he struggled to make himself swallow, but he didn't gag.

And now that Dipper had stopped asking him about the Axolotl and about astral projection, Bill's footing was growing less certain again. He wove unsteadily on the path and had to pause to lean a hand on a stalactite, taking deep breaths. "Gimme a second."

Bill was distracting himself. He was keeping himself going through conversation, the simple ritual of receiving and answering questions. Ford understood: sometimes, in desperate circumstances, you had to burn yourself out to get somewhere safe enough to collapse and recover. When you had no choice but to push yourself, the best thing you could do was think about anything but your exhausted, failing body. It made it easier to keep moving and burn through what energy you had left.

Ford had once wondered if his "muse" was some manner of creature that was compelled to answer the questions his protégés asked him. This was perhaps the closest Bill had ever gotten to actually being such an entity: answering questions because he had to to go on, and willing to give away almost anything as long as it kept him moving.

Ford stopped next to Bill. "So. The Axolotl was the source of your 'gravitational eclipse,' I suppose."

"Astute observation," Bill said flatly.

"I take it that it isn't 'eclipsing' gravity so much as canceling it out. The Axolotl must have a mass similar to Earth's, if the force it exerts flying by above us is nearly identical to the force of Earth below us."

"More or less."

"But according to Dipper's observations, this Axolotl is only the size of Oregon at most. Did he underestimate its size? Or perhaps it's incredibly dense...?"

Bill gave Ford a sharp sideways glance. Were this any other conversation on any other day, this would be when the gloating started. Well, well, well, look who finally believes I was telling the truth, finally crawling back to me to give you all the answers you can't find yourself— But Bill only looked away again, pushed himself back upright, and kept walking. "You're the square looking at the sphere and thinking it's a circle," Bill said. "The majority of the Axolotl's mass is in dimensions you can't see. The little bit of him that's visible in the mindscape is just a... a feeler. Or an anglerfish's lure. The rest of him is close enough to exert a gravitational pull—but not in a dimension you can see."

"Which dimensions does he exist in?"

"I can't tell you because your species knows so little about them that the answer wouldn't mean anything. You haven't even decided whether or not you want to officially call the dimension that time shines from the 'fourth' dimension—I could tell you he comes from the seventeenth dimension and it wouldn't mean anything but an impressively high number to you."

Dubiously, Ford asked, "Does he come from the seventeenth?"

Bill waved a hand vaguely. "Heck if I know. The most I've ever seen at once is nine, and I was on a lot of psychedelics at the time. My eyeball popped."

"Eugh."

"Worth it, though. If you ever wanna feel cosmically insignificant in the most breathtakingly beautiful way possible, and you don't mind going blind, let me know. I think I can remember most of what I was on."

"Pass," Ford said. "If the Axolotl is so enormous, then why was only Gravity Falls affected by its gravity? At a minimum, shouldn't have the rest of the Pacific Northwest been impacted—if not the whole planet?"

"He wasn't near the rest of the Pacific Northwest. In the third dimension, Gravity Falls is obviously connected to Oregon; but in higher dimensions, it's..." He tried unsuccessfully to pantomime something mountainlike. "Imagine if the second dimension were a flat sheet of stretchy fabric. If somebody plucked the fabric up in the middle and made a peak, a creature living on the surface of the fabric would still be able to travel across its slope like it was flat, right?"

Ford tried to visualize Bill's description. "Right."

"And so if a fly flew past the peak of the fabric, it'd cross near whatever town's at that peak without getting near the towns at the bottom of the slope."

"Rrright."

"That's what Gravity Falls looks like from the fourth dimension," Bill said. "In the third dimension you can't see anything, but to fourth dimensional beings it sticks out of the fabric of spacetime like a thousand mile high pillar in the middle of a desert. That's why Time Baby put his capitol here."

Now, Ford wasn't sure that sounded right, but he didn't know enough about the seventeenth-or-whatever dimension to dispute it. "And why you kept trying to punch through to our dimension from here?" he guessed. "I imagine stretching the fabric of spacetime that far might make it easier to tear."

Bill shot him a sour look, but didn't deny it.

"Why did the gravity go down slowly for two days and then come back all at once? Did the Axolotl just leave faster than it came?"

"You know how the Doppler effect works?"

Ford hesitated. "Yes. Obviously."

"Well, in higher dimensions, gravity works like a reverse Doppler effect. It spreads out in front of a moving object—"

"Oh, come on."

"—and compresses behind the object—"

"Now you're just making up scientific-sounding nonsense because you know I can't disprove it."

"I'm not, and as soon as you get me a pen and paper I can prove it." Loftily, Bill said, "There's a simple equation that can explain higher dimensional gravity."

Ford was pretty sure he was being made fun of. He didn't mean to laugh, but he did. Dipper looked at him like he'd lost his mind; but trying to explain what was so funny would probably just make him look more insane.

Bill looked nearly as surprised.

####

"... And the smaller axolotls, what are they—heralds, worshipers? Children?"

Bill scoffed in disgust, "I don't know, I've never asked him. I see them like the flies orbiting a cow's tail. They migrate with him, that's all I know."

"Then the Axolotl really was just 'migrating'?"

"Well. Migrating in the sense that a mayfly watching a human walk back and forth to the office thinks it must be 'migrating.' He has..." Bill gestured vaguely, "duties, that mandate he travel fixed routes through the multiverse. He just happens to have a years-long workday. His commute doesn't usually take him past 46'\."

"'Duties' as in... divine duties?"

"It depends on if you worship him for doing them. I don't."

The cavern was growing light again, and the distant waterfall was audible. Ford quietly sighed in relief. Even as oddly forthcoming as Bill had been, Ford doubted that even two-thirds of the information he'd shared was true. But it was hard to tell. It had always been hard to tell.

Dipper helped Ford deflate the raft and pack it up. As he did, he said, voice low, "Is it just me, or is Bill kinda...?"

Ford cast a sideways glance across the cavern. Bill was crouched in front of the geodite he'd carried all up and down the tunnel, backpack in his lap, pouring a pile of soggy cereal onto the ground for the geodite to eat. Ford was surprised he'd gotten so attached to the creature. "I think he's been in some state of mental shock since the fall in the lake," Ford said. "And it seems he hasn't been able to keep down a full meal since we left yesterday. I suspect he's barely on his feet. The sooner we can get him back to the shack, the better."

"Oh." Dipper frowned toward Bill. (He was now pouring cold medicine on the cereal. Ford would have to ask him about geodite diets.)

"What are you thinking?"

Dipper shook his head. "I just thought... He seems like he's thinking about something. And he's giving so much away... I don't know. I wanted him to talk, but now it makes me wonder if he's scheming something."

From what Ford had seen, at the moment he doubted Bill could so much as scheme a way to ruin a picnic. But now he was second-guessing his perception. Ford knew Bill better than anyone; but that also meant Bill knew how to manipulate Ford better than anyone. What was Dipper seeing that he didn't? "Really? Do you think so?"

Dipper hesitated. "I—thought so? Maybe not." (Well, now they were both second-guessing themselves.) "I just don't know why he'd tell us so much if he isn't up to something. It feels like a distraction."

"Ah." Ford nodded. "I think the distraction is for himself."

"Mm." (Ford wasn't sure if Dipper had heard him.) "I just feel like there's—something. I can feel it in the back of my head." He stared at Bill a moment longer; then shook his head and turned away. "Maybe it's not him, maybe it's the Axolotl. He said something I can't remember. Something about degrees."

"Degrees?"

But Dipper didn't reply. He'd returned to his work, lost in his own head, mumbling under his breath the way he did whenever he was trying to work something out. Something else for Ford to ask about later.

When they got in Tate's loaned motorboat to head back out, Dipper got a look at the rainbow trout slippers Bill had put back on, and let out a choked laugh of surprise; and then that was the last sound any of them made as they crossed the lake. Ford steered, Dipper remained lost in his own thoughts, and Bill stared at his friendship bracelet, thumb running around the glass evil eyes.

####

(Finally a few mysteries solved! I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing what you think. Next week is another emotionally wrenching chapter!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

173 notes · View notes

btsgotjams27 · 9 months

Text

things you don't know (2) | jjk

summary: the aftermath of jimin's party is weighing on your mind and you wonder if you have the courage to face jeon jungkook again.

✨ title: things you don't know (part 2) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: PG-13 ✨ genre/au: angst | ex best friends!au | ✨ word count: 3.8k ✨ warnings: pov switch, we get to find out what happened to reader's panties, jimin's a menace, but overall a good friend :'), minor language, reader loves to threaten her friends (in a loving way ofc), jk & reader talk (properly), not really a warning but a mint mojito is a iced coffee drink not alcohol lol ✨ a/n: hi??? we're back with these two :') I didn't think anyone would like the first part that I wrote bc it was so angsty! lol but I'm so happy it was well received. i hope this gives everyone some closure. also, i'm scared of this flopping bc so many people asked for another part. i was so close to not writing it, but alas here it is. as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts. don't be afraid to drop any questions or comments. gonna go hide now, byeeee!

✨ mini-series masterlist ✨

~ JK POV ~

A haze of darkness loomed in the early hours of the morning. The night sky should've been clear according to the weather icons on Jungkook's phone. Could it be that his eyes are deceiving him? Were they hazy and cloudy? If he rubbed them, would the sky finally be clear? Or maybe you have blurred his vision, distorted his mind.

As if you weren’t already on his mind 24/7, 365 days for the last seven years. Your prodigal return has made him want to be close to you again, see how you were doing, and see if you had somehow found a way to forgive him. Your appearance at tonight’s party confirmed you must’ve hated him and could never find it in your heart to forgive him. At least, that’s what he thought.

On his late-night drive after dropping off Josie, he went the long way home through the city streets. He ended up at the park where you used to stargaze when you needed to clear your mind, and it was one of those nights for him.

You had taken over every fiber of his being, capturing his heart and holding him hostage. You’ve haunted him every day of his life since you left. At least when the two of you were in school, he could see you in class and the hallways, but once you left, there was no way to keep track of you, that is, until you started posting your college adventures on Instagram. He’d see your stories and how you’d come home to visit your parents and old friends, but of course, you wouldn’t see him. Why would you? He hurt you.

He replays tonight’s events—studying every word, every facial expression, your body language. He’s looking for a way to make it right, a way back into your heart. He doesn’t like it when you’re hurting, doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him, and especially doesn’t like it when you hate him.

He wished he could redo the last seven years and the moment when he decided to kiss Josie. He should've just left Jimin’s and come to yours, confessed his feelings, said how much he’d missed you, maybe even been brave enough to ask if he should go with you to college. Maybe he could’ve saved a lot of heartache for you, himself, and even Josie.

He took a deep breath, exhaling the unease lingering throughout his body. Opening his eyes, he realized the sky finally cleared out. He tucked one hand behind his head, and with the other, his finger traced constellations into the shape of animals—a little game you used to play together.

Thoughts raced through his mind: Do you still have a love for stargazing? Did you find a new spot? Did you have someone to accompany you? Or did you go by yourself? He guessed he’d never find out the answers to his questions.

“You’re coming in late. Or early. Were you with Josie?” Jimin’s sitting at the dining table, sipping on his coffee.

Jungkook shook his head. “Just out.”

“Man, it was good to see ____, right? I haven’t seen her since we graduated. Did you catch up with her?” He shifted in his seat, his foot pushing against the table’s leg, causing his chair to lean back. He licked his lips, suppressing a smile.

“Kind of.” Jungkook shrugged.

The chair made a loud thump when Jimin leaned forward. He set his coffee aside, his eyes narrowed, hands folded. “What happened between you guys, anyway? You were so close in high school, and whenever I ask you, you always change the topic.”

Jungkook looked at his friend, hoping he’d get the drift and move on from this conversation. He wasn’t keen on being bombarded with questions this early in the morning. He pulled out a chair, the legs screeching against the floor as he buried his face in his arms on the table.

“Or you quiet down whenever I bring her up. Well, whatever happened, you should just make out—I mean makeup with her since she’s back,” Jimin suggested, grinning at his mistake.

Jungkook looked up. “I don’t think she wants to see me.”

“See her anyway.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

“What? You’ll either sit here and keep wondering what could’ve been, or you can talk to her like an adult and hash things out—get everything out in the open.”

“I hurt her, Jimin.”

“So? Go and apologize.”

“I don’t think she’ll accept it.”

“It’ll be up to her to decide, but at least she’ll hear it from you.” Jimin sipped his coffee again. “And don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking on her Instagram throughout these years.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Your Instagram handle is the alphabet without ‘JK’ in it—so obvious.”

Jungkook's eyes widened. He thought he was careful all these years, hardly posting anything but random food dishes he’s cooked.

Jimin let out a hearty laugh. “Oh—you thought you were slick, huh? I’m quite the detective myself, Jeon.” Jimin pushed his chair out to stand, massaging his friend’s shoulder, shaking his head at him. “It’s time, my friend. Don’t let the past continue to haunt you.”

He lightly tapped his fingers on the table, debating his next move. He knew he had to break things off with Josie once and for all. No more letting her hover, giving into her, or letting her manipulate him. He let her have too many years of him–it was finally time to cut off the head of the snake.

~ reader pov ~

The early morning sun peeked through your curtains, beaming rays of light reflecting off of your mirror, making you sneak a glimpse of the time on your phone.

7:30 AM. It’s too early for anyone to function like an average person.

Propping yourself against your pillows, you begin scrolling through Instagram. You were tagged in one of Jimin’s photos.

The caption read: Look who’s back.

You were tipsy when the photo was taken. You had let Jimin wrap his arm around you, kissing your cheek, as you made a kissy face at Lana, who snapped the picture.

You looked at the amount of likes and comments. Jimin was still popular after high school. Your finger tapped on ‘view all 90 comments’, and then you realized it was just Jimin and Josie arguing back and forth in the comments about you.

Rolling your eyes, you were ready to exit the app, but then you couldn’t help but notice the username of ‘abcdefghi_lmnopqrstuvwxyz’ in the comment section, also telling Josie to ‘stop.’ You recognized the username because they liked a few of your posts and had seen your stories but never interacted.

You never bothered to look at everyone who followed you, but this username was too creative not to have a look.

When you clicked on the username, their profile picture was a sunset; their bio only had an emoji of a cookie and photos of food dishes. You guessed this person was an aspiring chef. Everything they posted looked scrumptious.

A series of knocks on your door interrupted your train of thought. It’s so early. Who could be here at this hour?

You peered through the peephole, your hand ready to unlock it, until you saw it was none other than Lana. There was a burning feeling in your chest, and your jaw clenched as you debated whether you wanted to let her in. She claimed not to know who Jimin’s roommates were, and you so happened to come to the party where Jeon Jungkook lived? Coincidence? Yeah, right.

“I can hear you breathing on the other side of the door,” she said, moving back to show you she had brought coffee from one of your favorite places.

You unlocked the door knob but left the chain lock intact. Opening the door, you peeked through, staring at the coffee in her hand.

“Leave the coffee, and I shall let you live to see another day.”

Lana rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking–I set you up, but I swear on my mother’s grave that I did not know Jimin and Jungkook were living together.”

You tilted your head and crossed your arms. “You are correct. I believe you set me up, and I won’t be forgiving you.”

Lana sighed, digging through her bag. “I have something else for you too.” She pulled out the very thing you were looking for last night–your blush-pink panties.

You reach out to grab them, but she withdraws, clutching them in her hand. “I did you a favor by swiping them, washing them, and getting your favorite coffee. You’re still not going to open the door for me?”

You huffed, closing the door and unlocking the chain. Crossing your arms, you stood in the way, unwilling to let her in.

She showed off her biggest grin, holding up the tray of coffee and your panties.

You grabbed the coffee before grabbing your panties, leaving the door open if she willingly wanted this to be her last day on earth.

Lana follows you, closing the door and plopping beside you on the couch.

“Anything else you need to get off your chest before you breathe your last breath?” you ask before sipping the mint mojito iced coffee. You forgot how much you loved this drink.

“Yeah. How did the conversation with Jungkook go?”

“I swear to god, you’re addicted to drama.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve me, then I’m all ears,” she beamed from ear to ear, sipping her coffee. “And I also want to make sure you’re okay.” She elbows you before laying her head on your shoulder.

You couldn’t be upset with Lana. You knew she just wanted you to heal from what happened with Jungkook.

Last night felt like a fever dream, bumping into Jungkook. He sprang up on you with no warning. You had no time to prepare yourself—your heart, for what you’d say.

It’s like you had traveled back to that 18-year-old girl watching her best friend repeatedly hurt her. The scene replayed in your mind like an endless film reel–Jungkook and Josie holding hands, finding a letter in your locker, tearfully reading it in your room, and realizing you didn’t have a friend anymore after that day.

“So?”

“He blames me for everything that happened.”

Lana’s eyes widened, and jaw dropped. She put down her coffee, got up, and pulled her hair back. “You better hold me down before I beat his ass.”

You dragged her back beside you. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“How was it your fault?”

“He said he was upset that I was leaving for college and didn’t care to include him in the conversation. Then he went to one of Jimin's parties and kissed Josie, and they started dating.”

Lana’s upper lip raised in annoyance, glancing up at the ceiling. “I'm gonna punch him and his little girlfriend in the face the next time I see them.”

“And apparently, he says they’re not together or whatever.”

She gasped in disbelief. “Not together? She was practically all over him! And he was letting her do it!”

“That’s what I said, but he says it's complicated.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“What am I going to do? Nothing? Absolutely nothing. Avoid them like the plague. What else am I supposed to do?”

“What if he comes looking for you?”

The thought crossed your mind, but you had nothing to say to him. What more did he want from you? Since he blamed you, it’s not like he’d come asking for forgiveness.

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved back.”

“Stop. I'm so happy you’re back. This place is so fucking lame without you.” Lana curled herself into your couch, hooking her arm in yours.

“Yeah, I didn’t think I had to endure all this drama with Jungkook the week I returned.”

“Maybe you should just talk to him and clear the air once and for all,” Lana suggested.

“I don’t know if I can do that without strangling him.”

“I’ll bail you out of jail, don’t worry, or I can help you. We can be cellmates.”

You loved how at least one of your best friends would go to such lengths for you. “God–I don’t wanna be an adult. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“I know, but I bet you’ll feel a million times better if you do.”

You didn’t want to hear the truth but you knew it was what you needed to do. You and Jungkook had unfinished business. Maybe it’s better to just talk to him and close that chapter of your life and finally be able to move on.

You Jiminie 🦗

JAMAN Oh, are you sliding into my DMs?

You 🙄 In your dreams

JAMAN 😂 I’m kidding. What’s up?

You Can I ask you for a favor?

JAMAN Anything for you

You Can I get Jungkook’s number?

JAMAN Huhuhu…the plot thickens

You Oh, stop it. Will you give it to me or not?

JAMAN Idk it depends.

You On?

JAMAN If I get to see more of you

You Jiminie…

JAMAN 😞😞

You You saw me once, that’s not good enough?

JAMAN Let me take you out to dinner. I want to catch up with you.

You Then I’ll never have to see you again? 🙂

JAMAN Sure…

You Fine fine fine Give me his number

You waited a few days to call Jungkook in case Jimin told him he gave you his number. You didn’t want to seem desperate; at least, it would be at your discretion. You’d be more prepared with your heart and your mind.

You sat there, staring at his name, tapping on the screen, and before you knew it, the line began ringing. Ah, fuck.

There’s no going back now.

Hello?

“Hey, Kook. It’s ___.” You can hear him shifting through the line.

Oh, hey. Jungkook cleared his throat. What’s up?

“I wanted to see if you’d be up for coffee or something. If you’re not busy, that is.”

Like today?

You hummed.

Just tell me where and what time.

“Philz Coffee at 2?”

Yeah! I’ll see you then.

You quickly ended the call. Well, the easy part was done. Now, onto the rest.

Even for a Thursday afternoon, the street where the coffee shop was located was rather crowded. You blamed the increased remote jobs and everyone flocking to work from there instead of their homes.

Walking toward the shop, you looked up to see Jungkook sitting outside with two coffees on the table.

He gave a small wave and stood when you approached him. “Hey!” His voice was enthusiastic as he flashed a warm smile, dimple on display. Jungkook gestured for you to sit.

“Do you still like mint mojito iced coffees?”

You chuckled to yourself. You didn’t think he would still remember your coffee order. “Yeah, I do.”

“Cool, figured you still did.”

You gave a half-smile.

Jungkook leaned forward in his seat, eyes on you. “So, why did you want to meet up?”

Your lips thinned before you cleared your throat. “I guess we have some unfinished business.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

You sighed, pulling yourself together to turn to him, looking him in the eye finally. Never in a million years did you think you would be sitting here, talking. His doe eyes sparkled, his boyish charm lingered, and that sweet smile made you swoon.

“I’m gonna say my piece, and then if you have anything to add, go for it.”

He nodded, listening intently to your following words.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “When you stopped talking to me—it hurt, fucked me up for a long time. I convinced myself for years I was over it, but that wasn’t the case at Jimin’s.”

It felt weird to finally say everything that had been building up aloud in front of him.

“It was hard going through college without you. I couldn't talk to you when I wanted, come over when I was bored, and experience new things with you. It was like this big piece of my life was missing, and no one could fill it. Sometimes, a song would come on shuffle that reminded me of you; then I'd get sad because I didn't know your new favorite songs or if you had seen the new Marvel movie.”

Most of all, you missed his presence and how he’d light up when he was excited to show you something or how he’d put a smile on your face when you were down.

“You were my best friend, Kook. I shared everything with you. So it hurt when you felt like you couldn’t talk to me. I would’ve understood if you couldn’t be friends with me because of Josie—I mean, it would’ve sucked big time, but I would never want you to feel like you can’t be honest with me.”

Jungkook stayed quiet for a bit before responding. “I’m sorry about what happened. I was hurting too, and I guess I wanted you to hurt too.”

“Well, it worked.” You let out a sad chuckle; your hand began playing nervously with the coffee cup before you.

He looks at you, scanning your face. “This might not mean anything now, but I know you. I know what songs you like, movies you watched, what made you sad and happy.”

Your gaze slowly flicked to his, your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“I don’t want to sound like a creep or anything, but I’ve been following you on Instagram.”

“You have an Instagram account?”

“Uh, yeah. I just don’t post my face or anything.” He pulled out his phone to show you.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god. You’re alphabet boy?”

“Alphabet boy?” Jungkook’s forehead furrowed.

As soon as he said that, you began to piece everything together. So he was on social media. He was just good at hiding it.

“So, you’ve been keeping up with everything I’ve been doing?”

“You were my best friend. I missed you and wanted to know what your life was like.”

You didn’t know how to process this information. You had been lurking on Instagram, trying to get a glimpse of Jungkook, but after all these years, he was trying to keep a part of you with him.

“Just because you’ve liked my posts or watched my stories doesn’t mean you know me.”

He nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I don’t, but I would like to get to know you again.”

“What about Josie? What is she going to think?” You didn’t want to get in the way of whatever they had going on.

“I’ve tried breaking up with her multiple times, and she keeps on coming back, and I’m pretty dumb for letting her back in. I think we’ve just gotten into that rhythm where we’ve been comfortable with each other that it’s hard to let it go, you know?”

You chuckled to yourself. He was never really good at speaking up, was he?

He looks at you. “Do you think we can start over?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I—I don’t think I can lose you as a friend again.”

“You won’t,” he responded immediately.

You liked how sure he was of himself. That nothing or no one could get in the way of a new friendship again. But with Josie still in the picture, you didn’t think it would be as easy as he was making it seem.

A car drives by, music playing loudly from their speakers. It stopped the conversation, giving you time to think.

A part of you would love to be friends again, and the other part was ready to let go and start fresh. You weren’t the same person you were in high school. You had grown up, lived, and loved a little, and after finally getting to speak everything you’ve held onto—you were ready to close that chapter you had kept open for so long.

Jungkook waved his hand, calling out to you.

“Hmm?”

“What happens now?”

You shrugged, and your mouth twisted to the side. “I don’t know, Kook. How about we just take it one day at a time? And I don’t mean like we talk every day or something, but if we see each other, we’ll be able to say ‘hi.’”

Jungkook nodded. “Baby steps.”

“Right. Baby steps.”

“I can do that.”

JAMAN Dinner. Friday. 6 PM.

You Why, hello, Jimin.

JAMAN Right, hi. Dinner. Friday. 6 PM. Be there.

You You didn’t tell me where.

JAMAN My place.

You Is Jungkook going to be there?

JAMAN No, he’s outta town. Going somewhere with Josie.

You tut. Of course, he hasn’t broken it off with Josie. Why would he? No one changes within a week, right?

You Okay, fine. See you on Friday. Can I bring anything?

JAMAN Just yourself 😘

Friday.

JAMAN Hey, I’m running late from work. But make yourself at home! I’m going to grab some food on the way back, too.

You Am I supposed to break in?

JAMAN Oh, you silly girl. The code is 0613.

You ‘Kay, see you soon.

You couldn’t believe you agreed to come to Jimin’s place for dinner. Meeting up somewhere would’ve been safer if you bumped into Jungkook again. But you two did decide to take baby steps.

Keying in the code, you stepped in, eyes wandering around the house. Surprisingly, it was well-kept. No throw pillow or blanket is out of place. All the coasters were neatly lined up. Even the house plants were flourishing.

You closed the door, then heard a shatter of glass hitting the ground along with a ‘fuck’. You didn’t see any cars outside when you arrived. Maybe Jimin was dropped off.

“Hello? Jimin?”

You walked into the kitchen, peering around the corner, and saw someone’s head bobbing up and down.

“Kook?”

He looked up with doe eyes, and his jaw opened. “Oh—hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “I live here,” he said slowly, sweeping the glass in a dustpan.

“Yes, I know that. But where’s Jimin?”

“Jimin’s at work. He asked me to make dinner.”

You huffed, throwing your head back. “Did you plan this?”

“Plan what?”

“This. Us. Dinner.”

“What? No. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket.

JAMAN Oh, hey, friend. I can’t make it to dinner. Guess you’ll just have to eat with Kook. 😘😘

You I’M GONNA BLOCK YOU PARK JIMIN

JAMAN 😘 I love you.

“I’m—just going to go. See you later, Kook,” you said, turning around to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Bye, Kook.”

“Why don’t you stay? I already made dinner and don’t want it to go to waste.”

You stopped in your tracks. Whatever he made smelled good.

He set down the dustpan and walked over to you. “Come on. It’s just dinner.”

You turned back to him, scanning him from head to toe. Why did he have to look so boyfriend in his all-black outfit and matching baseball hat?

You pointed your chin to the ground, staring at him. “Just dinner.”

✨ read part three ✨

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x you

547 notes · View notes

kabie-whump · 3 months

Text

♡ Febuwhump Day 17: Hostage Situation ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Kidnapping, blood, bondage, neglectful team, ransom, whumper turned caretaker

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You might as well just let me go. They're not coming."

Whumper continues shuffling cards, not looking at Whumpee. "You keep saying that. How can you be so sure?"

"Your asking price is too high."

"Please. Don't try to tell me that your little team is broke. I know that's not true."

"They're not broke. But they won't pay all that just for me. They won't even pay half of that. You're wasting your time. And your chains." Whumpee looks down at their own body, at the way they're bound by miles of chains to the point where they can't move an inch. "Seriously, is all this really necessary?"

"I don't know what you're capable of, and I would rather not find out."

"Hm. Fair enough. Would you believe me if I promised that I'm harmless?"

"No."

"Worth a shot."

They go quiet for a while, the only sounds being Whumper's cards shuffling against the table and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor from Whumpee's injuries. An hour passes before Whumper speaks again.

"You really think they won't pay up?"

"Not for me. Maybe if you'd taken Leader..."

Whumper scoffs. "If I was powerful enough to capture Leader I wouldn't need to be taking hostages for cash in the first place."

"Yeah."

Whumpee's voice is getting softer and more slurred by the second. Whumper had noticed the change happening, but that last word was just pitiful. Whumper stands, going over to check on their hostage. They'd gone pale and the puddle of blood under their chair had grown significantly.

"You're not doing too hot, are you?" Whumper asks, squatting in front of Whumpee.

Whumpee shakes their head.

"At this rate you'll bleed out before anyone comes to save you."

"They're not coming," Whumpee says again, their voice still weak.

Whumper realizes with a start that Whumpee is tearing up. Not in the way that they did when Whumper had roughed them up for the camera. That had just been a pain response. This is genuine emotional distress.

"You're upset."

"Of course 'm upset, asshole," Whumpee slurs, the tears falling. "The fuck do you think I am?"

"Good to see you've still got your fire. But there's no reason to be upset. You're going to be fine."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it. Let's go over your options, hm? One: Your team comes for you and pays your ransom and you get to go home. Two: Your team comes for you, kills me, and you get to go home. Three: Your team doesn't come for you, and you get to stay here with me. You're going to survive no matter what."

"You told them you'd kill me if they don't come before tommorow."

"Yes, well, I was hoping to inspire a sense of urgency. Doesn't seem to have worked. I could kill you, I guess, but I'm starting to get the impression that you may be more useful then that. If your friends abandon you here, that may put you in a position where you're willing to give me some information about them. Saves me having to torture someone for it. Besides, one of my employees just kicked it so I'm in the market for new blood."

"You want me to... work for you?"

"Again, I could kill you instead if you're not going to be useful to me. I'm still deciding."

"I'd be a waste of resources. I'm not good for anything." Whumpee starts to shiver, the chains making soft clinking sounds.

"You believe that? Is that why you think they're not coming for you?"

Whumpee nods.

Something inside Whumper cracks just a little as they stare at Whumpee - pale and trembling with silent tears leaving tracks in the blood and dirt on their face.

"Alright. Let's get you stitched up. You're not bleeding out on my watch. I really don't have the energy to dispose of a body tonight."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next >

#whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday17 #febuwhump day 17 #hostage situation #tw kidnapping #tw blood #whump ideas #whump prompt #defiant whumpee #whumper turned caretaker

320 notes · View notes

skrunksthatwunk · 4 months

Text

the new (accidental) majima family mascot

discoveries + settling in

she won't sit still for the camera :(

headcanons + backstory + closeups below cut:

ok SO basically my idea's that nishida's got a niece or something and she can't keep her snake for whatever reason (i.e. moving in with fiance who's terrified of snakes), so he's taking care of her temporarily. and he's telling the other majima construction boys about this while they're on break and majima overhears and is like no way. ya Gotta let me meet the snake. because he's curious y'know.

he keeps trying to get her to like... do tricks or to feed her snacks and stuff. like c'mere girlie here i smuggled ya some crumbs ;) don't tell nishida okay ;)) but she is Not Interested because that doesn't even register as food to her. he's surprised by how cold she is and how content she is to just sit there most of the time but he kinda gets attached and long story short. majima family office pet.

kinda wonder if she'd be taken hostage at some point. feels like a substory plot.

anyway she's a corn snake so she's pretty low maintenance, and while majima's like >:/ woulda rather we'd gotten a big big fucker i mean look how small her head is >:// it's probably for the best, since most of the family hasn't had to care for a reptile before

some family members are scared of her. majima tells them to suck it up because he's scarier. if they get too fussy he starts sticking their hands in her enclosure just to fuck with them, until he realizes it scares the snake, and then he stops. he still threatens to take their pinkies and feed them to her, though. sometimes he leaves her shed skin at their desks and is like oooohhh she got out again whoooppss watch out she's a biter

he sticks to feeding her thawed frozen mice because that's what nishida and his niece did, but if he'd been on his own he'd probably have pit a live mouse against the snake to keep her strong and on her toes and bc he likes seeing her fight (don't do this btw)

he's very confused about snake anatomy (like. why doesn't she have eyelids?) and did some research and now knows like. wayyy too much about cloacas. which he tells nishida about because it makes him uncomfortable and he finds that funny

he gets really into enclosure decorating for a while, wanting to build her the biggest and coolest thing he can. it's kind of beautiful actually

given the life majima leads, such a low-maintenance animal actually kinda suits him. she needs him, but it's not for much and there's not that strong an emotional element to it on her end. there's a distance to it that lets him feel safer getting stuck on her, and which makes him feel a lot less guilty when he dips for a few days. (though he's sure to send someone around to check on her, he figures she can fend for herself outside of checking water levels and stuff)

also i feel like saejima would like her. mutual sitting there swag (she's not as energetic as majima and not as chill as saejima. in-betweener)

also majima leaves the gross stuff up to his boys, of course.

#anyway this is dedicated to/based on my snake my beautiful boy my lovely little baby carrot and the four-ish years we've had him <3 #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #like a dragon #majima goro #goro majima #nishida #kiryu kazuma #kazumaji #kinda...? ig #skrunkart #also go look up snake yawning just trust me. it's not just vertical they like stretch both halves of each jaw it's really cool #well ok. depends on the snake depends on the yawn #also i don't have a name for her yet so if anyone has suggestions i'd love to hear em

267 notes · View notes

waynewifey · 10 months

Text

aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

409 notes · View notes