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teatreeoilll · 4 months

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|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

Nobara sits beside you, her look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before."

"Kugisaki!" You plea, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?"

"Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?"

"Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

Dusk crept over the surrounding trees. You've been watching the students for hours now, noticing how through each change in their pairings they've gotten better and faster. Familiar feelings loomed over you. That's it. That has to be it. Another day of watching these kids surpass their own limits so simply will surely be the end of the line.

You marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat.

"We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers.

"You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard.

"Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute?

"Saturo, I've -"

"First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn.

"I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you.

"Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Good luck then," you mutter to yourself, walking back through the darkening corridors to your room, "Good luck then, huh?" It's been over five years now since you've first arrived in Jujutsu High, was good luck then all that he could say? What a fucking -"

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? You think, with your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision.

"Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms.

"It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it."

Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window.

"I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I wondered when you'll finally do that. You spoke to Satoru again, didn't you?" A sigh escaped her lips. She'd rarely admit to liking spending time with anyone, but the occasion seemed to call for it. "I'll miss you. That prick always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly.

Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

"You know she's really leaving, right?" Shoko's distant voice lectured. "That's on you for acting selfish, Gojo." As you thought, he said nothing. Quickly diverting the conversation to something relating to a mission, another one you weren't supposed to be a part of. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. You stepped away from the door to turn to the direction of your room. Finally, some good wallowing time.

With your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday.

"You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." He dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine.

"Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes."

"But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again.

"Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here."

"Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened.

"Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless.

"I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Aren't you happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there.

"I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on.

"I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses.

"You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice.

"Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe, "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

"Not a word, Shoko." You pleaded to her again.

"If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath.

"Shoko, I'm begging you!"

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo X reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo X you

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eternityracha · 17 days

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PROMISES ❀˖° han jisung.

~ fem! reader ༄ drabble

— reuniting with spiderman! jisung after his month long mission.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“mr. stark said that the mission should only be a few weeks.”

you were cuddling with your boyfriend, jisung on the couch of your apartment. you both decided to watch romantic comedy movies.

jisung was always out late, he is spiderman after all. so, you cherished this moment as much as you could.

with his arms wrapped around your waist and his head was laying on your shoulder, you played with jisung’s brown curly hair as he continued telling you about his upcoming mission, completely forgetting about the movie playing in the back.

his missions were never long, the most he’s been away was two days. knowing that this mission was more than just a few days, made you tear up.

as you were trying to hold back your tears, jisung looked up at you after hearing your sniffles.

“babe, what’s the matter?”

he sat up immediately, interlocking his hands with yours.

“i.. i’m sorry. i’m gonna miss you when you leave for your mission.”

he took your hand and held it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“i promise, i’ll be back as soon as possible. i’ll miss you too.”

he took his other hand and wiped the tears falling down your face. he showed you a warm smile.

“and when i return, i’ll take you to your favorite cafe, okay?”

you nodded and showed him a smile back, “sounds good.”

—

time-skip

—

as the time almost reached midnight, you wore jisung’s hoodie and drank a cup of hot chocolate as the cold weather took over your apartment.

it’s been a month since the last time you saw jisung. you both kept in contact with each other on a daily basis.

texts, but mostly facetimes.

all you wanted to do was hold jisung in your arms. you missed his voice, his presence.. you needed him.

delivered to ji ❤️

sent: goodnight, my love | 11:47PM

as you sat on your bed after texting jisung, you heard a tap on the window.

you gasped, as the sudden tapping scared you. walking carefully to your window, you see the one you’ve missed most.

you unlock the window, letting jisung into your apartment. he was still wearing his spiderman suit.

“jisung!” you hugged him as the familiar scent of blue cedar wrapped around you.

hugging you back, jisung held you close to him.

before he could, you take his mask off, revealing his handsome features on his face. oh, you were so in love with him.

jisung kissed you passionately after you put his spiderman mask on your bed. after pulling away from the kiss, han cupped your face with his hands.

while smiling, he looks at you. “my pretty love. i missed you.”

“i missed you so much more. how was your mission?”

jisung sat on your bed, patting the covers to show that he wants you to sit next to him.

so you did, and he told you everything about the mission. he explained everything between tony stark and steve rogers.

because of their differences, the mission was changed constantly and with the result of continuing longer than it should’ve.

“i’m so proud of you ji, thank you for protecting me and so many others.”

he kissed your forehead, “thank you for being by my side.”

you yawned, showing that you were sleepy. jisung noticed and pulled the covers back, tucking you both in.

you laid your head on his chest and held him closely to you.

“hey, ji?”

“hm?”

“you know you can use the front door, right?” you joked, as you heard his chuckle.

“i know, but i wanted to make a cool entrance.”

you chuckled with him, as you both closed your eyes and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

— ⋆⭒˚.⋆

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teatreeoill · 6 months

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|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

"He hates me. I swear, I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating..." You catch yourself muttering on the steps leading to the training field. The breeze tickles your skin, you cast your shoes aside to change them to trainers. "I didn't even have time to go back to my room and change. All day it's do this, go get that… I swear, Kyoto sounds like a great idea these days." Nobara's look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before." "Kugisaki!" You plea to her, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?" "Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?" "Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

It really does make no sense, you drowned your face in your palms. How are all these kids supposed to take you seriously when they see you humiliated daily? Rejected from missions. Stuck on the same Jujutsu-Grade as the second year students for so long you've lost all hopes of ever advancing anywhere. Forever a teaching assistant, a mere substitute teacher for the times when the truly powerful had more important things to do. Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

You've marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat. "We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers. "You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard. "Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute? "Saturo, I've -" "First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn. "I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you. "Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? With your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision. "Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms. "It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it." Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

You sat on the infermary bed, with Yuji already on his way back to his room you'd found the time to share your troubles. Shoko sighed, fumbling for a lighter through the things on the tray next to her. "Shoko, I'm going to Kyoto." She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window. "I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I hardly think it's right to deny promotions from anyone for so long. He made sure I was so busy that I could hardly find the time to go on missions." Shoko weighed her words carefully, tapping carefully on the ashtray, removing the ash residue from her cigarette. "It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly. Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

By the next morning, you've already made all the necessary calls. Wishing somehow it would be harder to convince the higher-ups of your sudden move, but it seemed that help was welcome anywhere, and work always needed to be done. Your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

You gathered your nerves, opening the door, just to watch the tall white haired man pace from side to side in the hallway. "Did I forget something?" Your hand held the door open. He jumped up a bit from the sudden voice. His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday. "You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." His dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine. "Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes." He puzzled over your answer. "But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again. "Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here." "Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened. "Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless. "I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"Well, now you wouldn't have to see me at all." Your nerves had gotten the best of you. You hardly meant to say it, but as the words were spat out of our mouth, it seemed inappropriate to back off this course of action. "You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Satoru, who's all of us?" In your voice a sense of shame, an empty pit has formed down at the bottom of your stomach, his eyes still fixed upon you. The same feeling of being scorned as a child, a tough love you'd thought would pass you by at this age. "Are you not happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there. "I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on. "I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses. "You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice. "Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe. "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

"Not a word, Shoko." you pleaded to her again. "If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath. "Shoko, I'm begging you!"

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru

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fatswaps · 4 months

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PLUMBER BODY SWAP

Minh was what many woukd refer to as, the perfect guy. He was smart, as shown by his exceptionally high grades. He had the looks of a supermodel, always the subject of awe for every girl and even some of the guys on campus. And, perhaps most important to the unfortunate events that would unfold, He was just a few months into his 18th age. The young man had everything he could ever ask for, and with such great traits, came perhaps the only aspect of Minh most couldn't stand- his disrespectful attitude. Minh really didn't shy away from treating those he seemed as unattractive in comparison to himself with the same resoect he'd show to an insect. But his pretty looks and large circle of acquaintances were enough to keep him surrounded by friends.

Though Minh would have his comeuppance one faithful night at a dorm party. The boys Minh was friends with were doing their usual activities such as drinking, making an overall mess and damaging dorm property. Markably, that night- it was the dormroom toilet which had been broken by the rowdy college boys. One of the pipes had been broken apart by one of the boys hitting it with a golf club in a not-so hilarious prank.

After the boys setttled down a bit, they soon realized they'd be forced to call the college plumber, an older guy called Steve. It was common for students to make fun of Steve for his big gut and in their eyes, "lowly" job of fixing their shitters. Once called over, the boys snickered and pushed one another to talk to the exhausted old guy at which point, Minh heroicly stepped forward and said "Hey... so, our pipes got broken. Guess you didn't do a very good job last time" he smirked, which Steve could only reply with an irritated sigh "You'll have to wait for tomorrow for me to fix it" he made his stance and was about to leave when the irritated younger man scoffed "What? Going home to eat some slob piggy?" He insulted the poor man, which was when he stopped in his tracks. "You know what, show me the way."

Smirking victoriously, Minh lead Steve to the bathroom but the moment he stepped inside- he blacked out and time itself seemed to become hard to decipher from space.

When he came to, Minh saw a familiar sight sitting on the stairway he'd led the fat plumber up to reach the bathroom where he heard his own voice say "Yeah, thanks for the job bro. Now piss off, this party is for young people". He didn't understand what was happening until he was pushed out the door- by himself!

Minh was confused as he fell to the floor outside his door room in the corridor. Taking a moment to recall what had happened- he soon realized everything got weird after he went into the bathroom with the plumber guy... speaking of, where was he?

It was at that moment Sing caught a reflection of himself in the mirror at the end of the hallway... that was not his body, that was NOT his pretty young face. That was the face of the 87 year old plumber he made fun of on a daily basis!

Having freaked out would be an understatement as the freshman-turned-old man screamed in pure fear and shock at the changes to his body. It was at this moment when he recieved a text... pulling his phone out of his now much tighter jeans' pockets- Minh read the texts in pur horror

"You probably noticed by now that I took your body kid. Well, tough shit. I was tired of being the fat plumber everyone shits on, now its your turn. Enjoy my 87 year old body, cause I'm gonna enjoy yours"

He saw a text being uploaded right after

"Oh and, don't even try to tell anyone what happened. I took some pictures of 'you' doing some pretty messed up shit to my poor college boy body and they could make you lose your job in less than a day, if not go to jail. Heh, good luck dickhead".

It had been around 6 months after the swap, and Minh had to adjust to his new life whether he liked it or not. The new Minh had already blocked his number and would give him the most humiliating smirk whenever the two saw eachother.

What took the most to get used to however was the disadvantages of obesity and old age. The old man suffered a great deal trying to get from anywhere to anywhere else. Even the most mundane tasks had him gasping for air due to years of smoking.

Showering was still so humiliating, seeing the fat rolls, his fatpad, the hairy body and ridiculously large moobs and belly. His balding head and old man beard- they all felt so wrong. Minh cried for quite a long time until his shower sessions turned into silent moments of pure shame

Another aspect of his body Minh could never come to terms with was his ridiculously small, constantly soft penis. With the horniness of an 18 year old freshman snuffed out, replaced by the body of a 87 year old man- Minh longed for his old vitality.... something he would never have again.

It was about 5 years into the swap when Minh's suffering came to an end due to a sudden heart attack due to his morbid obesity. The news spread around campus, and Steve- now fully in Minh's shoes, seemed quite unsympathetic, his statement about the old guy being "The fat fuck deserved it."

#bad ending #identity theft #male body swap #male weight gain #young to old #bodyswap

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thewulf · 8 months

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The Last Time || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hotch x reader fic based on the last time by taylor swift and gary lightbody

A/N: I just love a good angst to comfort. Thanks so much for the request anon! I had a good time writing this :) Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 2.6k+

“Hey A.” You grinned leaning up on your tip toes to kiss your husband on the cheek. You noticed the small breath he let out before putting on a façade, a smile on his face.

“Hi sweetheart.” He pulled you in without much thought. Smelling the top of your head you instinctually melted into him. You knew how hard his job was. The horror of the cases he saw on a daily basis. Choosing which serial killers, he and his team went after and which ones they had to ignore, for now. You knew how he felt like he played God with people’s lives. How heavy those decisions weighed on him.

When you pulled away you studied his face. He looked utterly exhausted. When was the last time he’d taken even a day away from the office? You knew it usually didn’t lead to anything good, so you’d shut up about it, “How was your day babe? Jack aced his math test, took him out for some ice cream.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, “He had a math test?”

You nodded hiding the disappointment of his increasing absence over the last few months. The BAU seemingly taking over his entire life, “Pre-algebra. He’s been studying all week.” You didn’t want to make him feel worse, but you didn’t want to lie either. Jack had been studying. Vying for his father’s attention which seemed to be entirely elsewhere.

A curt nod. One you were sure was reserved usually for the team, “Thanks for letting me know.”

You sighed, tired of his absence, “Yeah, sure.” Breaking from his embrace you walked over to the fridge not having a plan in mind but not really wanting to be around him.

“You’re mad.” He stated sitting down at the barstool underneath the kitchen island.

Closing the refrigerator door, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, “You’re good at your job Aaron.” Placing an emphasis on the word job you crossed your arms over your chest careful to keep your voice down. You’d just gotten Rosie, your toddler, down for sleep and God forbid Jack here a nasty spat between his parents.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stood from the barstool making his way toward your slowly.

You shrugged, not really wanting to pick a fight right now. He was home now, you wanted his time not an argument when he was home, “You’re a profiler, figure it out. I’m tired A. Can we just watch a show and order some takeout?” You tried to change the conversation away from the looming fight and into a calmer one.

His eyebrows scrunched together further. Something was wrong. You were acting weird. When was the last time he’d even talked to his you, his wife he adored more than the world? Sure, he knew he’d gotten caught up at work over the last few months, but he might not have realized just how severely he’d been absent from your lives.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. But for now, that sounds perfect honey.” He smiled letting you lead the way.

But of course, his fucking work phone had to ring. You shuddered hearing the infamous, “This is Hotchner.” After two damn rings. It was like his body was on autopilot.

You sat down on the couch praying that he wouldn’t be leaving. You didn’t even get a night anymore?

“That was Strauss. Emergency case in New York…” He trailed off seeing your distant gaze. One that wasn’t even sad. Wasn’t anything, neutral. Terrifyingly neutral.

Blinking a few times, you looked back up to him, “Do you have to go?” It was a long shot, but one, nonetheless.

He nodded, “I’m sorry honey… I should be back soon.” Even he cringed hearing how indecisive that was.

“When’s soon? Jack has that soccer game on Sunday. You promised you’d be there. This was your weekend off.” You knew how badly you were hurting him, but you just couldn’t find it in you to really give a damn any further. Jack had begged his dad to be there. He’d made the seventh-grade soccer team and wanted his dad at the first game. The odds were slipping away rapidly.

He sighed looking away, “I’ll try honey. Really, I will. But I can’t make any promises, you know that that.”

You gave him a dry laugh, tired. So tired of him choosing the job over you guys. Did you even matter anymore?

“Be sure to make it home, case solved or not Aaron. It’s not that fucking hard.” You rarely cussed in front of him knowing it set a bad tone for the kids, but they weren’t here, and you were at your wits end. He wasn’t listening to you. So, you had to pull out the big boy words. Words that caught his attention.

He cocked his head to the side in surprise. He was looking at you curiously, profiling you surely, “Now sweetheart, you know that

You squinted your eyes feeling the frustration bubble up on over, “Don’t patronize me right now Aaron. We’re tired of you never fucking being here.”

He frowned taking a step forward, “Just let me get through this case and we can talk about it. Yeah?” He tried reasoning. But you weren’t having it, not anymore.

You shook your head, “What happens when Strauss calls again Aaron? Are you going to keep picking her over your wife and fucking kids? Does your daughter even know what her dad even looks like anymore? I don’t think she does.” You spit out with venom in your voice knowing that was an extremely low blow

“Y/N.” He bit back before stopping himself, “You know this is important…”

You cut him off, “More important than me? Rosie? Jack?” You knew a tear had slipped down your cheek, how dramatic.

“Honey, I have to go.”

You couldn’t believe he was going, running, “This is the last time Aaron. I swear to God if you walk through that door…”

He cut you off this time, “I have to. We’ll talk when I’m back.”

You watched in horror as he grabbed that damn bag and walked out the door murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ before vanishing. You had to do something to get his attention because this wasn’t doing it anymore. You texted your mom, asking her to take the kids for the weekend as you needed to go see Allie, your best friend who lived a few hours downstate. She’d agreed no questions asked. Then you were off. You’d dropped the two kids off the next morning at your parents place before hightailing it down to Allie’s.

When you got there she helped you craft a message to your husband. She and her husband had gone through a similar rough patch not that long ago and you could use her help. So why not use it?

‘Hey, A. Kids, are at my mom’s. I’m at Allie’s for the next few days. I’ll be back in time for Jack’s game on Sunday. Need some time away to think about things.’

You’d sent out before waiting for a response. But Allie wouldn’t let you wallow. She took you out making you leave that damn phone at home. You knew you’d be getting chewed out for that later, something about how unsafe that decision could be.

When you’d gotten back to Allie’s home tipsier than you’d care to admit you went straight for your phone. 13 missed calls and five texts. You cringed before opening your phone and reading the string he sent.

‘Please answer the phone.’

‘Why are you at Allie’s? Please just answer the phone.’

‘I’m on my way home. Please call me back, are you alright?’

‘Dammit, please Y/N. You can’t do this to me. I messed up alright. Please just call me. Or text me. Something. I love you.’

‘I love you.’

You shook your head letting a few tears fall freely reading through them. You’d begged him to stay, and he left. Now that you wanted space he was coming to talk? You felt your hands shaking thinking of something to say back to him, your husband. You felt so detached from him, why were you so nervous?

‘I’m fine. Just went out and the phone died. Please don’t come. I need space. Please.’

You wanted to set your phone down, but he replied almost instantly.

‘I’m almost there.’

He wasn’t giving you an option.

‘How? I’m downstate. Go back with your team. They need you or something.’

You were picking a fight and you knew it. You were tipsy and tired and pissed off at your absent husband. The love was always there it was just laying low right now. A caged animal crying to be let out.

‘Flew into another airport. I’ll be there in five.’

You groaned deciding to call him instead. You didn’t want to see him. Afraid you might say something you may regret. You’d gotten exactly what you wanted, his attention. You’d never done something so drastic. But then again, you never had to do anything so drastic before.

Before he could speak when he answered you started talking, “Please don’t come Aaron. I just want to be with my best friend right now.” You knew how little your voice sounded. So distant from the person you always were.

A still silence and his driving vehicle is all you could here before he responded, “I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry. Please Y/N. We can talk. I need to talk to you. I can’t lose you.” He spit out. You knew that was a big fear of his, after what happened to Haley. Jack now only realized what happened to his biological mom who loved him more than life itself. You couldn’t fathom carrying that around with you.

You had to give in. That soft voice let you know he was actually going through it, “You could never lose me Aaron. I just needed advice and some comfort. My mom didn’t have a problem watching the kids, you know it’s a treat for her.”

“I know.” Aaron sighed as he pulled into the driveway right next to your car. He knew exactly where she lived, he’d visited a fair share of times with you, “I’m here honey.”

You felt your heart rate quicken, “I’ll be right out.” You called out to Allie letting her know what the hell was happening. The one thing you loved and hated about the man. He was relentless. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Walking out a few steps far enough away from the house so that Allie and her husband couldn’t here you watched as Aaron spotted you and made his way right towards you. Gently, he placed his calloused hands on your shoulders pulling you into himself tightly. He brushed the back of your head with his hand while he held your body tightly into his.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. I don’t…” he paused collecting his thoughts, “I don’t know what I was thinking, I can’t lose you.” At that he gripped you just a little tighter. Calming his nerves you squeezed him back, not nearly as aggressively but a reassurance for his racing mind you knew so well.

When you pulled away you looked up to him with teary eyes, “You stopped listening. Jack’s been all but begging you on his knees for you to pay attention. Rosie asked where you were yesterday Aaron. We miss you. We need you back. I can’t do this alone either. It feels like I have been for the last few months.” You let the tears fall and the damn burst open. You let yourself feel every pent-up emotion, every frustration as you cried.

He pulled you back into his embrace with a frown on his face, “I’m so sorry honey.” He squeezed you tightly while you let the tears flow free. It felt good to have let them out, let pent up emotions you’d been holding back go.

“Just listen.” You mumbled into his chest letting yourself have the breakdown you’d needed.

He squeezed you once more letting you know he’d heard you, loud and clear, “I will. I’m so sorry you had to do this. That I made you feel this way. I just want the promotion so bad that… that I feel like telling Strauss no will hinder it. But I’ll talk to her. I promise. For you. For Jack and Rosie.” He kissed the crown of your head feeling that overwhelming feeling of dread pool in his stomach. He’d done this. He was the reason for your tears. He’d neglected you., the kids.

“I can’t beg you anymore Aaron.” You whispered after the sobs had long since died down and the tears were slow to come, “This is the last time.”

He nodded seeing the seriousness in your eyes, the hurt you’d usually hidden so well, “I hear you.” He brushed a gentle finger over your forehead as he looked over you. He then ran his thumb beneath your eyes collecting the stray tears that were lingering on your skin, “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

The intensity of his gaze was hard to hold. He was everything and more to you. A sweet crush turned passionate romance that led to where you were today, ten years and a kid later. You knew what you signed up for when you got married but this was on another level. Being single when you’re married is one of the loneliest things you’d gone through. Especially when you’d practically begged for his attention for weeks now. You’d given him one last shot with a Hail Mary attempt, and he’d caught it. You’d never been so unsure of decision before, always being so sure with him. Nobody was perfect, you knew that. But you needed him to see. Thank goodness he did.

When you didn’t respond but instead hugged him he let you do as you needed. Whatever comfort you needed he was willing to provide. But after five minutes of holding each other he needed to break the silence. You certainly weren’t going to.

“Let’s go home? Kids can stay at your moms. Let’s have a day to ourselves tomorrow. Sleep in, make you breakfast and do something fun. How’s that sound?” He asked you softly, continuing to rock you in his arms.

“Yeah, that sounds lovely.” You yawned feeling the late night and the emotions of the day taking its toll on you.

“Then we can pick the kids up on Sunday, take them to breakfast and go to Jack’s soccer game. That sound okay sweetheart?”

You nodded in his chest feeling the warmth spread over you. He was listening. He was going to do what he said he was going to. This was Aaron Hotchner after all, “That sounds perfect A.” You felt okay, content. It was going to be alright. Just a little rough patch is all.

He smiled down at you, “Let’s get you home then, go grab your things and tell Allie I said I’m sorry too.”

You let go of his torso looking at both cars in the driveway, “We have two cars.” You sighed not feeling up for the drive home. It was already pushing eleven o’clock.

He shrugged, “It’s a rental. I’ll have the somebody from the FBI come get it tomorrow.” He pointed to the car he’d drove in on.

You shook your head, “There are some perks to that job of yours.”

He nodded leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, “That there is. Now, let’s get you home. I have some making up to do.” He shot you a wink before pushing you gently in the direction of your best friend’s house.

You turned around with a brilliant smile on your face nodding rapidly, “That you do Hotchner, that you do.” You rushed back inside careful not to let him get the last word in. It certainly was going to be alright.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds:

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icallhimjoey · 6 months

Note

everyone is talking about Tupperware joe or ciabatta roll joe but what about lost-the-bet (won the bet?) joe? We still never got our epilogue where her dream came true and she could ogle at him in peace 😆

okay well shit, all this fuckery about rumours has resulted in this bullshit, are you happy now?!

Wordcount: 3K

—-

Blind Bargain

(read Double or Nothing here)

"You look... um, windswept?"

Izzy passed you a drink she'd been holding onto you for, and she was right. There was a rosy tinge to your cheeks, your hair a bit messy and you looked rushed.

Because you had been rushing.

"Oh, is my, is my mascara running?"

Izzy leant closer and squinted, "Yea, a little. Wait, here," and with a finger wet from her beer glass, she carefully wiped under one of your eyes. "It's not that windy though, is it? Did you run over here?" she gave you a suspicious look and you instinctively went for a sip of your drink to evade her question. To hide half your face.

"Hey, did Joe say he was coming?" one of your friends asked the group, and before anyone could answer, someone spotted him walking in.

Too soon, Joe.

That was too quick after you had walked in, God, what an idiot. You'd gone over this!

Calmly smoke the rest of your cigarette. Don't rush it. Make no one suspect anything had just happened mere minutes ago.

Everyone greeted Joe like normal and for a moment you were convinced it was just you who was making things weird.

"Hi,"

Why were you blushing?

"Hey,"

You knew why. Saw Joe's little smirk and, fuck, it made you want to squish his cheeks together to make his lips go funny.

You exchanged polite smiles instead, pretended to not have seen each other in at least a week, and cheersed drinks once Joe got given one by another friend.

When you turned back to Izzy, she was still sort of squinting at you.

"What?"

"Nothing," Izzy immediately raised her eyebrows but then kept looking at you. "Did you work from home today?"

Now it was your turn to squint at Izzy, suspicious as to why she wanted to know. "Yea, why?"

Fuck. What if she was onto you?

She might be closer to the truth than she thought, but you were not sharing your secrets. Not today.

You and Joe were sneaking around.

No one needed to know.

Just like during the bet, no one needed to know what was really going on behind closed doors. Difference being that now, the frightening parts weren't there anymore. You didn't like lying to Izzy, but, it was no longer scary, which was good.

Before, you were scared that if someone, specifically Izzy, were to find out about what Joe was doing to you on a daily basis, you'd lose him as a friend.

You weren't quite sure how one and one made two there, but that's exactly what you'd thought.

Now, if someone were to find out about what you and Joe were doing to each other on an almost daily basis, then they'd just know and it wouldn't really change much.

You just didn't want to be the one to tell anyone. Use words to explain anything. And neither did Joe. So, it remained a secret.

So far, you'd been resourceful in your ways.

Avoided Izzy like she was the plague.

She'd nearly caught you that one time she came home in the middle of the day whilst you and Joe were in the shower.

"Showering on company time?" she'd shouted from the hallway, and you'd stammered, "I worked through lunch time," as an excuse before whispering, "Did you leave your shoes by the door?" to Joe who was pressed into the corner of the shower with his shoulders hunched up, eyes wide and both hands covering his penis as he nodded.

"Shit."

Izzy hadn't seen the shoes.

Or, if she had, she hadn't mentioned them.

She had also once so very nearly caught sight of your text chain.

It was just a continuous thread of times followed by places. The bet had ended just over a month ago, but if someone was to go just by your texts, you knew you'd be able to convince them it was an ongoing thing still.

You'd been able to throw your phone into your lap face down just before Izzy had passed you a mug of tea. Just in time.

"Can people not just know?" Joe had asked once when you were in the middle of throwing every last item of clothing his way whilst he got dressed in a hurry. Izzy texted she was on her way and if you needed anything from the corner shop.

"Sure they can," you said, hitting him in the head with a sock. "Will you tell her?"

Joe scoffed, gave a soft frustrated, "No," and made a face as if he was making fun of his mum when she asked him a ridiculous question.

"Yea, didn't think so, hurry up," you rushed out of your bedroom to find Joe's shoes, held his coat so he could slide in and be quick out the door.

But there Joe had paused, right on the threshold.

"What if she..." Joe stalked closer and pushed himself right up against you. "Just walked up, right now, and happened to catch me do this?"

Fingers curled around your neck and were used to pull you in just enough for your lips to collide. Joe felt how just for a second or two, you turned boneless in his hands.

"Saw me touch you here?"

His other hand found the hem of your shirt to slip under, and you so very wanted to get lost in all of it again. You did.

But then you heard the lift go, and it startled you enough to squeeze a laugh out of Joe.

"Stairs!" you hissed, "Go, go! Stairs, now. Quick!" you shoved him towards the stairs, chuckling man easily moved by your hands. First step down, he leant back and, you obliged, gave a last quick kiss before he scurried down. You'd closed the front door to your flat just in time.

Yea.

It was definitely still a secret. One you wouldn't mind leaking, not at all. But you weren't the one who was going to say anything. And neither was Joe.

So at the pub, you pretended and tried your best to act the way you acted before any of this started. Before the bet had even become a thing.

Joe would still be flirty, but just a little flirty. Flirty like he had been flirty before.

Like when he'd see a random guy trying to make conversation when you went to get drinks, he would afterwards pretend you had an eyelash stuck under your eye and lean in real close to get it. Would make you make a wish as you blew nothing from his finger tip.

Tonight felt extra risky though.

You had worked from home. Izzy was right.

What Izzy didn't know is that Joe had spent half the day on your sofa, and he'd decided that, just before you were heading off to meet everyone at the pub, his eyes had had enough of just looking at you all day. His fingers were jealous. Mouth envious.

As a joke he'd nearly walked you into Izzy's room. You'd shrieked and laughed and oh my God, could he please never even try to joke about that again?

All right, Joe thought. Instead he'd fucked you right up against her door.

Risky business.

You didn't know if Izzy was going to come home first, but when you walked in and saw her in her full office attire, you secretly sighed a small breath of relief.

You fell into easy conversation that night. Avoided Joe until you couldn't after a dance of people getting drinks and going to the toilet, you ended up next to him at a table.

Joe didn't waste any time getting a hand on your thigh.

Your brain only stuttered for a second.

You were good at this. Kept up the conversation you had with the friend opposite, and Joe joined in the casual chat as his fingers squeezed and inched closer to where it was warm.

You squeezed your legs together in warning.

It did nothing.

Joe's hand stayed in place, fingers playing where they wanted to play.

Suddenly, someone who thought they were being real funny, asked about your luck on the apps. You hadn't taken a guy over to Friday night drinks at the pub for a bit now.

"I'm off the apps, actually," you shared. "So far it's been really unsuccessful, so I decided to just delete everything—"

"Don't lie," Izzy spat, interrupting you.

You felt Joe squeeze tighter before he removed his hand. Too many eyes on you now.

"I'm not lying!" you scoffed. "I'm not on the apps anymo—"

"I hear you sneaking guys in all the fucking time,"

Shit.

This got everyone's attention quick enough. Good thing Joe got both his hands above the table just in time.

"You sneaking guys in?" another smiley friend asked, bumping you with his shoulder. "You little minx!"

You were at loss of what to say, scoffing with your mouth open, you didn't know if you were better off denying everything, or coming up with another weird lie to save yourself from this situation.

"It's erm," you played with your drink a second, slowly spun it 'round on the table in front of you. "It's recent, this being off the apps thing,"

Izzy frowned.

"So you deleted them yesterday?"

So she'd heard you and Joe two days ago. Neat.

"Yep. Deleted them yesterday."

You didn't like how Izzy was pushing this, but you didn't really have another choice but to just go with it.

Izzy seemed annoyed and hostile and, you got it, sort of. You were best friends. No need to lie. You'd never lied about bringing guys over to the flat ever before.

Some of your other friends fell into a conversation about dating apps. About how none of them really work, how they barely know any people who've been on them and who are still in successful relationships. You leant back a little to listen along, had a slow sip of your drink and tried to ignore Izzy staring at you from across the table.

When you did look her way and made eye-contact, her features instantly softened and she leant closer over the table as she mouthed, "Why?"

You frowned, unsure of what she meant.

"What do you mean, why?" you mouthed back, and in a crossfire of conversation, Izzy pushed another friend out of his seat to sit directly opposite you.

"Why are you off the apps?"

Joe tuned in. Couldn't not. The two of you were right there next to him, blocking him from joining the conversation on the other side of the table.

You repeated what you'd said earlier. Added, "They're a bit shit really, aren't they?" to which you knew she'd agree.

And Izzy did agree.

But you also saw her worry lines work.

"I don't— we're on different pages," Izzy started, a little louder now as she sat back. "Different books even."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, tried to make it sound like he wasn't incredibly invested in whatever this conversation was between you and your flat mate. Best friend. The one person who you'd been actively hiding from for over a month now.

"I know the difference between a fake orgasm and a real one," Izzy said, voice flat and loud enough for the whole table and then probably also the three closest to you to hear.

You choked on your drink before Izzy carried on. Coughed right into your glass and got beer all down your chin.

"These guys are—" Izzy shifted from talking to Joe to talking to you, "I don't know what they're doing to you, but they're good."

This got whoops - loud ones. Ones that made people across the pub turn their heads to see what the commotion was about.

"Okay!" you immediately tried to make everyone tone it down, one of your arms stretched over the table. "All right, I need some— some fresh air? A drink. I'm gonna get— does anyone else want to do a drink over a tenner? Gin tonic? Let me just—"

You stumbled through an excuse to escape everyone whilst simultaneously ignoring every question that was thrown at you by your friends.

"Guys? These are plural men?"

"Is that why you're off the apps? Found the right bloke who does it for you?"

"How often do you hear her, Izzy?"

"Give us a name!"

You awkwardly climbed from your seat and disappeared on your way to the bar.

Fuck.

You'd been so convinced Izzy didn't know, or hadn't heard. She never said anything.

She didn't know it was Joe though.

She'd said guys.

Thought you were bringing home guys from the apps to spend some spicy time with in your closed of bedroom. Snuck them in and snuck them out.

Sure.

Slut era.

You could pretend that this was the actual truth and go with it for however long you needed to.

"Hey,"

You thought maybe Izzy would follow you, but instead, Joe placed a hand on your shoulder as you waited for your turn at the bar.

"I um— I hear that someone is, um—" Joe couldn't help the smile he was sporting. "Being real nice to you."

You smiled through a scoff.

"Don't,"

"I'm not doing anything, I just..." you felt a warm hand spread its fingers over your bum. "It's not gone down, yet," Joe whispered right into your ear.

It made you lean back to scan his face a second as you frowned with confusion. His mouth made it back to your ear, "Here, it's been— I've been walking around with this since we left yours," below the bar, Joe's hand found yours and moved it over to his crotch.

"Jesus Christ, Joe," you hissed, panicked eyes darting around to see if anyone else had just witnessed that.

"I told her."

What?!

You couldn't fucking believe what you were hearing.

"You told Izzy about your semi?"

"Um, have a proper feel, this isn't a—"

"What can I get you?"

"A dirty bucket of gin, side of tonic," you huffed before Joe interjected, ordering three regular sized gin and tonics. One for you, one for Joe and presumably one for Izzy, for the traumatising.

"I told her it's me,"

You laughed. Bursted right into it, puffed out cheeks releasing air before it stuttered into giggles.

"No, you didn't— listen, I'm going to down my drink and leave, I'll text you when—"

His mouth found your ear again as he leant into you, spoke right into your ear again, voice low and husky, "I told her. Izzy knows now."

"What— what did you say?"

"I went," Joe started and made exaggerated facial expressions, raised eyebrows and big eyes. Then he smiled and pointed a finger at himself and nodded as his grin grew. "And then she went," Joe mimicked Izzy's reaction, surprise and frowned shock before adding, "And then she said she fucking knew it, that she'd known all along."

Oh.

Okay.

What now...

You didn't know what to do next.

Was Izzy mad?

You'd lied to her for ages.

Joe paid for the gin and you took a glass to immediately take large gulps of, stepping back just enough to catch sight of your table of friends.

They were all talking. Izzy included. Didn't seem bothered that you weren't there. Just a normal group of people talking about their week. All commotion from before gone, which, good. That was good.

You still didn't really want to go back over.

Then Izzy looked over and caught your eye. Your breath stopped for a second as you froze, afraid Izzy would let you see her anger and annoyance and frustration, because why had you lied for so long? Why had you not just told her?

But then, instead, Izzy smiled, pointed a finger at you with a scrunched up face and winked.

Izzy was a good friend.

"This is for Izzy," Joe pressed a second gin and tonic into your hands, already halfway through his own, just like you.

"Could you go— I don't, we have to— you know,"

You suppressed a smile.

"Ugh," you groaned with faux annoyance. "You're hard, we get it."

Before stepping away from him to bring Izzy your drink, Joe took hold of you by a bicep and pulled you close once more. "You say that like it isn't you fault."

It was weird and a little scary being out in the open, in public, with Joe like this, but you guessed that now, you could just... do that?

Wild.

You pulled back a little, smiled and raised your eyebrows at him.

"You say that like I'm not going to take care of it,"

You bumped your hip into him, and Joe had to close his eyes for a second. Bite down a groan and take deep breaths through flared nostrils for a second. You left him there as you quickly took Izzy's drink over to the table before turning around and beelining it back.

There was no way you were going to say anything. Invite comments or questions or even the odd facial expression.

You got them anyway.

"Bye,"

"Enjoy!"

"Have fun!"

"Hey, tell Joe to tuck it away already, we've been making jokes behind his back all night,"

"Bye babe,"

And with a laugh, you shook your head as you walked back over to Joe, both downed the rest of your drinks, drinks that Joe paid far too much for to down within a minute, interlaced fingers and left the pub together.

Joe got into a bet with you weeks ago, all for a week of fun he knew he was going to have with you, win or lose.

Had wanted to have with you, since, like, forever.

He'd never expected the outcome to be better than what he could've predicted.

He'd never even expected you to jump into this bet with him in the first place.

A sight-unseen transaction.

A true blind bargain.

One that panned out fucking perfect.

the end

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #icallhimjoey #double or nothing #blind bargain

186 notes · View notes

lovetei · 8 months

Note

Hello! If you aren't busy could you try writing about an mc that looks identical to Lilith and maybe even has a similar name example: lily, Lillian etc. (If you can maybe mc that has a similar personality with lilith) And Ofc its platonic. (sorry if you don't understand this is my first time requesting on tumblr(⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Wassuppp I'm back on the roll even though my internet is still not fixed.

And hey Anon! I hope you don't mind small angst :')

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

The demon brothers reaction to an MC that looks and acts like Lilith

Warnings: Implied suicide, toxic behavior, slight horror, Lilian is used as your other name, Lilian uses she and her pronouns, no proofreading, grammar errors, spelling errors

Parts: One, Two

Links: Masterlist

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It has been complete year ever since that human exchange student, MC, arrived and it has been three months after that same human died.

The government released a statement saying that the human suffered a heart attack and died but the note that human left says the other way around

"You all are the worst beings I've ever met... No wonder you all are demons and I'll say it again IF YOU ALL WILL NOT ADJUST, IF YOU ALL WILL STAY THE WAY YOU ARE AND REFUSE TO COOPERATE OR EVEN CHANGE YOUR ATTITUDE THEN THIS PROGRAM HAVE NO WAY OF SUCCEEDING!"

Maybe the student did die because of a heart attack... But maybe, just maybe, it's because the students heart aches so much not because of the illness but because of the disease like beings around them.

Them ignoring you on the daily basis and even refusing to give you food that will actually help you get nutrients.

Them comparing you to their dead sister saying, there will be no way you can replace her.

Remembering all the things they did...

"I swear it upon my name... I WILL COME BACK AND BRING EVERYTHING YOU BUILD UP FOR YEARS DOWN AND CAUSE YOUR DEMISE!"

They got scared...

Because maybe the hatred of a human is indeed enough to warp the time...

And enough to bring everyone that treated them wrong on their knees...

Begging for forgiveness.

LUCIFER

Finally

Months after that incident

A worthy exchange student!

Yeah, he hasn't seen this new exchange student yet

So what?

The fact that Lilian look exactly like her is enough affirmation that she'll be a good candidate

And when she arrive...

She look exactly like her...

She act exactly like her!

It's like Lilian brought his sister back to life

He truly is glad to have her in this program...

But whenever she smile...

It's like...

Someone else's figure appear behind her...

A figure

A figure similar to yours...

MAMMON

He must admit that your death bothered him a little

But seeing the new exchange student...

It's like all of his problems dissappeared

The moment he saw Lilian, actually, he ran up to her and hugged her.

But there's something wrong...

This Lilian smells familiar...

This Lilian smells metallic...

Like how your room is like the night they found your dead body.

LEVIATHAN

He doesn't care about you at all

You're just so annoying and you like getting yourself involved in someone else's business

But this exchange student is different!

This exchange student...

This exchange student is his sister...

When Lilian touched his back to comfort him after he broke down and cried after he saw this new exchange student.

He felt something is wrong

Like Lilian's touch is similar to someone else...

Similar to... MC..?

SATAN

So that's how Lilith looked like...

He doesn't know what to feel

Something inside him loved to have Lilian around but he's sure it's just because a part of Lucifer's emotion is inside him

But the way Lilian smirk whenever the others left after complementing her is different

Saying Lilian look like, act like, sound like their sister

If he was in Lilian's place he would have lost his mind

But Lilian...

Lilian seems to like it..?

No,

Lilian despised it because they like it.

ASMODEUS

He doesn't care about your death at all.

Why should he?

The fact that he, someone who can be friends with anyone, hates you just proves that you really is despisable

But now Lilian is here!

Why should he pay attention to that weird feeling in his chest after you died?!

The feeling of guilt... Why should he care about it..?

Waaa! This Lilian is like Lilith..!

So fragile...

So lovable...

So much like... MC...

BEELZEBUB

He doesn't care about you but that doesn't mean he needs to disrespect you

After you died

His rose is the only thing left for your grave

It seems that your death brought something better though... So he can't just help it...

He just can't help but be grateful that you died...

It's like the world brought you, the problem, in this world to see if they can handle it

And when they surpassed it they got the reward, Lilian.

But he feels uncomfortable somehow...

When you cooks he feel full...

But when she cooks he feels... You?

BELPHEGOR

He laughed

He laughed when you died

He laughed when you got buried

And he doesn't feel bad at all

And now she's here?

He's thinking like his twin

He thinks that you're just the antagonist in this story that when you die the reward comes

. . .

Why is Lilian acting like this..?

Why is Lilian acting like you..?

Could it be...

#obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me angst #obey me x reader #obey me crack #obey me leviathan #obey me au #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith

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callsign-rogueone · 1 month

Text

braids - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader (duchess!) ✉️: Duchess has her hair in traditional braids right? Do u think Bren would learn how to braid her hair? And do it on days that she's tired or exhausted. Or maybe he would help her get the braids out of her hair at night. words: ~1k 🏷: no book spoilers, no triggers. just my response to the above and my thoughts about Bren, Duchess, and her hair. I promise there’s sweet headcanons under all my rambling about how I picture her braids. and I tried to make this as inclusive as possible and discuss multiple hair types, but I’m not very knowledgeable about that so I apologize if something is wrong!

The short answer: yes, absolutely. Brennan is a caretaker and protector first and foremost. It’s why he became a mender; he’s the eldest of the family, takes responsibility for younger siblings, and he’s just that kind of guy. He’d take incredibly good care of you as his partner, and that extends to every aspect of your life, especially your daily routines and self care.

The (very) long answer: I’ve purposely left descriptions of her hair as “intricate traditional braids” both as a nod to the Tyrrish knots that Xaden has Violet learn in the books, and for inclusivity, because I think that description can apply to anyone. The exact styles, the care required, and the length of time that she would wear them (doing them up on a daily basis, or leaving them in for weeks/months) depends on her hair type, so I’ve been leaving it up for interpretation because I want to cater to everyone. But I think that regardless, Bren would absolutely be willing and eager to learn how to help you with it.

I’ve never watched Game of Thrones, but I’ve seen pictures and clips of Daenerys, and she was a major inspiration for Duchess -- powerful woman of noble status who commands (or in Duchess’s case, speaks for) a riot of dragons, shows femininity through her dress and hair, but isn’t afraid to fuck someone up if they wrong her or her family.

So I’d imagine something like her character wears, but a bit more practical for fighting and training (maybe ending in one braid going down her back instead of having a half-up, half-down thing). Some examples I found on pinterest:

Another thing I’ve been imagining is several tiny silver charms / clips woven into the braids, decorated with runes (this will come into play later on in their story 👀) like these.

Now for the headcanons:

As we saw in allies, Bren recognized the braids as something of traditional importance, and it was one of the things that drew him to her. He loves and admires her dedication to her culture, and he also thinks they're absolutely gorgeous -- the girl looked him in the eye and said his name and he folded. Man was smitten from day one.

He loves seeing you with them or without them: the first time he saw you with your hair down, completely out of the braids and messy, loose, it changed his brain chemistry forever (it didn’t help that you were half-dressed at the time, as well, but I digress)

I didn’t want to get too into deep this, because I do have a scene like this sketched out already, but I’m a weak weak woman so I’ll give it to you anyway:

One of the first few times y’all ~spent the night~, he was entranced watching you fix up your hair in the morning, at the ease and speed with which you redid the sections that had come undone / smoothed everything out, put the clips back in, and got it ready for the day.

He would have offered to help if he wasn’t so shy about it (still in disbelief that this actually happened, and she’s still here), and if you didn’t seem so capable yourself; after all, you’ve been doing this on your own for years now.

Braiding behind your own head takes some considerable upper body strength, so if your back or arms are injured, he won’t hesitate to help out, because he knows it’s important to you and he wants to help, wants to be close to you, and even after he mended you, he still doesn’t want you straining yourself.

You’re a little skeptical at first, but you quickly realize he knows what he’s doing. Think about it: this man is the older brother of two sisters, with parents who worked long hours at high-stress jobs. He absolutely knows how to properly detangle and brush (starting at the ends, being gentle with it) and can do basic braids, etc.

He’ll stand behind you and help you take them down, incredibly careful not to pull too hard. When they’re all out, he’ll work his fingertips into your scalp ever so gently, noting the way you sigh in relief. Gives the back of your neck some attention, too. Those hands… sorry, where were we?

He’ll also help you do them up again -- they may not be as fancy or as pristine as if you did it yourself, but they’re pretty good. He’s bashful about it as you look over your shoulder in the mirror to examine his work, but he practically glows when you thank him and tell him he did well.

He keeps a few of your hair bands in the pockets of his flight jacket in case one breaks. Not embarrassed to wear one around his wrist, either -- his hair isn’t long enough to use it himself, so it’s a clear sign that he’s holding it for someone else, that he’s spoken for.

I talked about this the other week in some Garrick headcanons I did, but I’m gonna say it again: hair washing.

It would take a while for y'all to get to a point where you can shower together because you're both shy nervous bbs for a while, who can’t hold hands without bursting into flames (no pun intended) but like, after you're married, for sure.

He really gets in there, gets all the dirt and blood out, washes the day off and leaves you nice and clean and relaxed. He does not miss a single spot. Helps you condition, rinse, and dry it after, too. Full service, complete with forehead kisses.

Another thought that I won’t get too far into, and am leaving as a strict hypothetical: IF you were to have a daughter, and IF she wanted to wear her hair like her mama does, Brennan would 100% be on the job. The Duke Consort of Lindell and the Colonel of the Tyrrish army has years of experience brushing and braiding and detangling, and he takes incredibly good care of his girls. They’re gonna be looking fresh at all times.

#brennan and duchess #brennan sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #mine

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

Am I the asshole for wanting to return an adopted dog?

(🐶🙃 so I can find this)

So, first, a bit of context about my family. It’s me (23F), my mom (56F), and my dad (58M) living together. We had two dogs, B (14M) and H (10F), that both had to be put down last fall for various health complications. Seeing as they were such a big part of our life, the months without them have felt a bit weird to some of us. But my mom especially has been handling it poorly - B followed her around a lot, and always slept right next to her, so I get why she’d be affected differently.

The problem is that she’s been insistent on getting another dog for months now. It felt like every week, she had a new rescue / adoption listing to show me. And last Friday, she showed me the most promising one yet. A beagle (same breed as B) named F (1M), already house trained and vaccinated/neutered, basically everything that would’ve been one of my immediate objections. We all work, so I was unsure if we’d have the time or energy for that. Once I saw the listing, I gave a solid “maybe” and said I wanted to think about it more.

She and my dad brought F home the very next day.

Since F got here, we’ve had to deal with a number of changes to our routine. Keeping doors closed more reliably, moving furniture to make space for a crate, and most importantly, teaching him everything else about living in a house (not jumping on counters, not eating shoes/blankets, not scratching at stuff). It’s been on and off, sometimes tolerable, sometimes a bit irritating. But we’ve ALSO had to make adjustments for things I never knew beforehand. Namely, he has heartworm, and he’s allegedly been scratching a lot lately - maybe a flea/tick thing, maybe something else. If I had heard these before he was already coming home, I might have reconsidered.

This morning, the whole situation already drove me to a breaking point. My dad woke me up way before schedule, saying he needed to take care of something and that he’d be “right back”. In the meantime, I needed to watch F while half asleep. This proved to be so draining that I’ve nearly passed out at work, where I’m currently writing this on my break. It doesn’t help that dad’s little “be right back” took an hour and a half, during which time F nearly broke a picture frame.

Now I’m feeling like I was robbed of any chance at free time on the basis of a single “maybe”. I’ve expressed my frustration to my mom, and she says we’ll talk about it later, but I still feel like a dick for wanting to return a rescue puppy. He’s adorable, but so are all dogs, and that shouldn’t mean uprooting my daily schedule to accommodate for something I didn’t agree to.

So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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euphorajeon · 1 year

Text

(i think) i'd have a heart attack | jjk

— pairing: roommate!jk x reader

— genre: fluff | college au, roommates au

— word count: 4.9k

— warnings: cheese everywhere like it's just cheese in written form, jk eats ssam like he hasn't eaten in months, they're both idiots, mostly oc though, angst on oc's part but eh what is new, (another) mention of iron man (sorry i love iron man (jk does too))

— summary: having feelings for your roommate is never not complicated, all awkward glances and (not-so) subtle avoidance. after weeks, you think you’ve buried them deep enough for your roommate not to notice. but jeongguk digs deeper.

— author's note: another shitty summary by yours truly but pls give it a chance ;-; also i wrote this back in 2019 and changed the pov so i hope it's not too weird or anything. of course inspired by jeongguk's twitter video when he was still actively sharing what he eats on a daily basis hahaha :D

masterlist

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with a sigh; you’ve been working on your assignment at the coffee shop near campus but was forced to come home when the battery of your laptop ran out and you conveniently forgot the charger in your rush to get out to class this morning. The assignment is due tomorrow morning, so you have no choice but to go home considering it’s nearing 10 PM already.

Stepping into the living room, you almost feel your blood boil upon seeing that the lights are on as well as the television, displaying your roommate’s Netflix home page, but there’s no one in sight. It’s not that big of a deal—at least he’s not leaving behind a used bowl or some unfinished pack of chips on the coffee table—but you figure it’s because he is the one behind it that makes your skin crawl in irritation.

You decide to leave the mess behind, let him deal with it however he pleases later. You intend to grab a glass of water from the kitchen but are stopped in the doorway to said room when you see your roommate sat on the bar stool, shoving a huge ssam into his mouth like he’s been starved for the past month. It doesn’t faze your more than his presence itself does.

“Oh, hey—where are you going?” Jeongguk calls out around a mouthful of lettuce, tone changing quickly from bright greeting to a confused one when you bolt out of there as if you saw a ghost instead of your roommate. You ignore him, opting for hastily going into your bedroom before locking the door to ensure your safety inside.

You almost jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on the door; no doubt that it’s Jeongguk. You know he would go after you, you know he would knock, heck, you know he’s home so why would you be so jumpy?

“Hey, are you okay?” Comes Jeongguk’s muffled voice from the other side of the door, concern clearly etched into his tone of voice. If this was months ago, you would be endeared by the way your roommate cares so much about you like this, but this is now and the sound of his open concern for you just makes you annoyed.

“I’m fine, go away, Jeongguk,” you try to let out in the most friendly tone you can muster right now, but you know your go away must make him upset despite the lack of bite in the way you let it out. You hope you just sound tired to him.

There’s a moment of silence as you just shuffle your feet around, restless in the way you worry you have upset Jeongguk in some way. You shouldn’t be acting like this, he’s just being his usual nice self and being a good roommate. If you keep this up he might find out and things will get messy.

“I bought extra in case you want some..” Jeongguk says, voice quiet with the barrier between you both, “uh, the food, I mean,” he continues when he realizes that he didn’t specify what it is that he bought extra of.

“Uh, thanks, but I ate earlier,” you reply with a lie, all you had today was that crappy sandwich from the coffee shop and you think you cannot have anything more what with the feelings nestled inside of you right now. You don’t know what to name it, but whatever it is makes you want to drop everything and just sit on your bed doing nothing.

Jeongguk’s okay from behind the door surface sounds slightly dejected, before you hear his footsteps, fading away along with his disappearance back into the kitchen. You let out a loud sigh, you can feel the beginning of a headache coming because you still have that assignment that needs to be done no later than 7 AM and you have to do it without the help of coffee nor food in your system. Going back out to fetch food doesn’t seem like an option because it would mean both seeing Jeongguk again and telling him that you lied about already having dinner.

As you change out of your clothes to a more comfortable one—pajama pants and a hoodie lying on your bed—you couldn’t help but think that this whole thing started because of you and your thoughts alone, Jeongguk having no business whatsoever in this newfound thing you recently discovered named feelings. Yes, laugh as you will, but liking your roommate seems inevitable because Jeongguk is just.. Jeongguk.

It isn’t clear when this thing actually started, because as far as you know, Jeongguk has done absolutely nothing different to show that he has some sort of attraction to you. He’s always been nice to everyone, laughs just as loud when he’s with you or any of his other friends, and that one time he had to stay a night at the hospital because Taehyung had a really bad fever proved that he’s always had that caring nature in him for those whom he cares about.

Still, you find yourself feeling funny inside whenever Jeongguk does something to you that should be normal for otherr people, like buying you food and asking you to eat it togetherr with him, letting you choose what to watch on movie nights, even lending his hoodie when it’s too cold without one in the apartment. Those things are mundane, friends do that, right? So why do you feel different?

To avoid any weird changes in your friendship, you decide to just bury these feelings deep inside of you until sometimes you even forget you have them. That only lasts until the next time you see Jeongguk and be reminded that this is the subject to your misery these days. You bemoan this fact only to your best friend Yojeong who somehow always has time to deal with your constant whining of he looks good today, what the fuck, I should’ve stayed in my room and not come out until the next century or something.

Maybe that’s why you unconsciously stays away from Jeongguk as much as you can these days. When you have a morning class, you’d make sure you go out of the apartment before Jeongguk even wakes up. If your class ends at noon, you would stay out as long as possible and would only come home when it’s nearing midnight to avoid bumping into him in the apartment. Thank God you’re both in completely different majors, so avoiding him in campus isn’t necessarily a hard thing to do. It’s a bit pathetic, but you choose to keep your sanity rather than losing it over your handsome and friendly roommate.

You do the rest of your assignment in peace, finally submitting it a few minutes past one in the morning. You stretche your arm above your head, suddenly feeling really tired after being hunched over your laptop for hours with your back leaning on the wall beside your bed. Yes, you do your assignments on your bed just because.

You really want to sleep right now, but your stomach rumbles in protest because that one crappy sandwich wasn’t enough to last you through the day, moreover with the assignment needed to be done. You know that it’s dangerous for your health if you forgo eating, so you open the door of your bedroom before stepping out to search for something to eat.

In your haste to reach the kitchen, you miss the fact that the lights in the living room are still on, along with the hum from the television that’s playing some anime with a low volume. You miss the movement from the couch, where Jeongguk quietly looks up from where he’s perched on it. You miss the way he follows you to the kitchen, and finds you rummaging through the fridge.

“The food is cold now, but I can heat it up for you,” Jeongguk says upon seeing you pull out the container from the fridge. You let out a gasp of surprise, accidentally knocking your hand against the top part of the fridge. You hiss while closing the fridge door, turning your head to shoot him a dirty look.

“Thanks, but I can do it myself.” You don’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it came out, and actually feel sorry that Jeongguk has to receive this kind of treatment from you when he does nothing wrong. Like you said, seeing Jeongguk just brings back the fact that you like him to the surface of your conscious and you hates being flustered when being around him.

You expect him to go away after that, but he does the exact opposite as he sits down on one of the bar stools, making himself comfortable. You curse in your mind, hands almost shaking with the sudden nerves that overcome you. If you’d known he was still awake, you wouldn’t have dared go outside of the safe haven you call your bedroom. Let you starve just until tomorrow morning if it means not seeing this guy’s face at one in the morning when your brain doesn’t work that well.

You feel numb as you robotically move the food from the container to a plate, putting the dish inside the microwave before punching the buttons to start heating it up. You lean a hip against the counter, fishing for your phone from the pocket of your hoodie just to give your something to do that doesn’t involve human interaction. Shaking, you open your chat room with Yojeong before typing furiously into the device.

im fucked

shit yojeong what do i do

i was tryig to get food

jeons still awake

he wont leave

you know how i get around him

im fucking shaking

shit

The microwave lets out a sound that signals it’s done heating up food, startling you because you were too focused on your phone to keep track of the minute on the device. Getting the food out, you place the plate on the counter, ignoring how Jeongguk is staring at your every movement like a hawk eyeing its prey. You’re just about to fetch a pair of chopsticks from the drawer when Yojeong’s replies come in.

yojeong: babe

yojeong: breathe first

yojeong: hes your roommate hes allowed to stay

yojeong: if you cant take it just stay with me

yojeong: okay?

you: fuck

you: he wont stop staring

you: at me

you: what if i accidentally blurt it out

You’re just in the middle of typing the word fuck when suddenly your phone is being taken out of your grip, before a pair of chopsticks is thrust into your hands to replace it. You’re too stunned to say anything, eyes looking up to meet Jeongguk’s dark ones. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you almost feel scared because it looks like he would snap at you the next time he opens his mouth.

“Stop playing with your phone and eat.”

See? He does snap.

Slowly, you sit yourself down on the stool while Jeongguk goes back to his previous spot; the stool opposite yours. You’re glad that there’s at least a kitchen counter to separate you both, because you don’t know how you would be able to breathe if he stays close to you for too long. His gaze stays on you though, and you curse this fact because apparently it’s still making it hard for you to breathe normally.

You quietly eat the food you heated up earlier, mentally crying and wailing when you realize that Jeongguk got your favorite from the restaurant. You don’t know how he manages to know, because you never really mention anything to him. Shit, can this boy stop doing things like this to you? It does things to your heart. Unhealthy ones.

You noticed that while Jeongguk plucked your phone out of your hands unceremoniously earlier, he didn’t do anything to it. He just locked it and put it face up on the counter, and you feel this sense of gratefulness toward him for still respecting your privacy.

“Why did you lie?”

The quietness in the room is broken by Jeongguk’s question, tone softer than you would like to admit you anticipated it would be. Though soft, it’s still got a tinge of assertiveness that makes you feel slightly guilty for blurting out that lie to him hours ago.

Your gaze stays on your food when you shrug, answering his question with vague gestures which you hope he doesn’t question further. But deep down, you know Jeongguk is not one to take unclear answers when he’s serious like this.

“Hey,” Jeongguk says sternly, fingers gripping your chin to force you to look at him instead of your food. Your eyes meet, and you have to force down the gasp of surprise that’s threatening to spill from your lips. Not because of the sudden skinship, but more because despite his firm tone, his expression is anything but. Instead, you see some worry in his eyes that only confuses you rather than scare you. “Answer me.”

You stop chewing to control the sudden spike in your heartbeat, taking a deep breath through your nose to give your brain a bit of oxygen supply it desperately needs. Jeongguk doesn’t let you break eye contact, and you swallow with great difficulty to give him what he wants.

“I don’t know..” you let out quiety, cringing inside when it comes out in a whisper, “sorry.”

Though he doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, he lets your chin go, making you break eye contact as soon as he does. You clear your throat while looking anywhere but him, and you just realize that he’s wearing a pastel yellow t-shirt tonight instead of his usual black or white. This fact is completely irrelevant and you curse in your mind for noticing even the smallest detail about him.

“You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” Jeongguk’s voice sounds again, this time with a tinge of sadness in his question. You look at him again just to discover that he has a small frown on his face, flawing his otherwise perfect face. You mentally tell yourself to get a grip.

You open your mouth to answer him despite not knowing what to say when Jeongguk stops you from doing so with a bitter chuckle.

“Yeah, I noticed. We’re roommates but I barely see you anymore. When I wake up you’re gone, when my class finishes early and I come home you’re not there, when I finish everything at night and come home you’re not home yet and no matter how late I stay up waiting for you, you always come home even later,” he says with a glum smile, and you are too stunned to reply.

“I end up just going to my room to lie restlessly, waiting for the sound of your footsteps to start appearing so that I can assure myself you’re home, you’re here, and the most important thing is; you’re okay and unharmed. Sometimes when I don’t hear you coming home past twelve, I ask Yojeong if you’re already home or not. It puts me at ease whenever I discover that you’ve been home all along, you just won’t come out of your room. It’s okay. At least I know you’re there.

We stop having movie nights, stop eating together after classes, stop telling each other about our days, we stop hanging out altogether. At first I was upset with you, but then I thought to myself, maybe I did something wrong to make you avoid me to that extent. I mean, you won’t push away someone without some reason, right? So I started listing in my head the things I’ve done that could’ve upset you. I even asked Yojeong about it, surely you’d tell her if somehow I made you upset, right? But she won’t tell me, I—“

“Jeongguk,” you call, voice strained with the way you’re holding your tears in, “it’s not.. you didn’t do anything to upset me,” you continue, letting out a breath. You feel really guilty now that Jeongguk has told you the past months in his point of view, you didn’t think that your lack of appearance in front of him would go noticed, let alone affect him this way.

“God, I’m really sorry if you think like that, but you didn’t do anything wrong, really..” you mumble out, hands covering your face because you can’t bear to look at his face in this state of guilt you’re in. Who knew that an attempt at sorting your heart out would cost you the exact person who’s the cause of all of this?

Jeongguk lets out a puff of breath, chuckling. “That’s good to know,” he says, “I figured, though, otherwise you won’t be wearing my hoodie right now.”

You have never whipped your head down so fast in your life, looking at the hoodie you’ve been wearing ever since you got home earlier. It’s his? No wonder it feels slightly bigger than your usual oversized hoodies, because if there’s something common about you both, it’s your love for oversized clothes, including hoodies. Now that you know it’s Jeongguk’s, you just realize that the hoodie smells like him, but because you’re so used to having his scent in the apartment, the thought that the hoodie is his didn’t even come to you. Stupid you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face again to hide your blushing face from Jeongguk’s eyes, “sorry, I didn’t notice it’s yours. I’ll give it back later.”

“No, it’s okay. You look cute in it.”

You drop your head on the counter because what the fuck, Jeon Jeongguk. You don’t just throw out words like that!!

It’s quiet for a while and your plate of food quickly becomes forgotten because you have a more serious issue to focus on; your racing heartbeat. You’re thinking of ways to shrink or disappear so you can flee Jeongguk’s presence in order to calm yourself down, preferably forever if it means escaping the flustered state you always seem to be in whenever he is around.

“Hm? You like someone?” What? Why would he—

You snap your head up to see Jeongguk looking at the lit up screen of your phone on the table. You snatch it to read the notifications that’s started to pile up on your lockscreen; it’s Yojeong, replying to your stressed messages earlier. A very late reply, considering you’re already a mess in front of Jeongguk.

yojeong: what, that you like him?

yojeong: i know you’re not stupid enough to do that

yojeong: but if you are

yojeong: dont forget me when youre happily kissing him

yojeong: hehe lub u babe

What the fuck.

You feel your face become hot at Yojeong’s messages, hoping to every deity that exists that Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to read beyond the first message. Yojeong might be your best friend and you might love her to death, but sometimes she can be a little shit that you just want to strangle her.

“Hey, are you okay? Your face is really red..” Jeongguk trails off, seemingly worried that his roommate’s face is like a ripe tomato.

“I’m fine, Yojeong just said some weird shit.” You put your phone face down on the table, fanning your face with your hands to get rid of the warm feeling still lingering on the apple of your cheeks. It’s already embarrassing that Jeongguk now knows the fact that you have a crush—though he doesn’t know that said crush is him—and now he sees you with a face so red you could rival that of an apple’s.

“About your crush?” Jeongguk inquiries, suddenly interested in this crush of yours, “Who is it? Do I know him?” he asks excitedly, but you are too busy being embarrassed to notice that there’s a slight downturn of his eyebrows, eyes losing their spark.

You let out a groan, hands stopping their movement of fanning your face because it doesn’t work in lessening the warmth. Now Jeongguk has decided to talk about this crush and you think your red face won’t leave tonight, so might as well leave it be.

“Come on, tell me,” Jeongguk prompts, fingers poking at your hoodie-covered arms, making you swat his hands away with a frown. He doesn’t stop though, instead pulling one arm toward him and continues poking it with his forefinger.

“Stop it, you don’t know him so it’s no use anyway,” you mumble, eyes going wide when suddenly Jeongguk lays his palm flat against yours, fingers eventually entwining with yours. Sure, you share hugs occasionally, but hand-holding is something entirely different, at least in your opinion. Maybe Jeongguk goes around holding his (girl) friends’ hands so this is normal occurence for him, you’ll never know.

“Would it be no use if I told you I like you?”

If your eyes were wide earlier, you don’t know what to call them now. As much as you want to believe him, Jeongguk is far more playful for you to just take his bait straight away like that. You thank your brain for still being able to be reasonable even when your heart is already beating out of control.

Controlling your expression from one of surprise to one of doubt, you pull your hand away from Jeongguk’s grip, heart clenching when his bright grin dims as soon as you do it. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“N—no! Why would I?” Jeongguk splutters the answer out, eyes going as wide as yours. “I thought it was obvious that I like you? I thought you avoided me because somehow you knew of my feelings and you don’t feel the same way?” He sounds as confused as he looks.

You don’t know who’s more stupid; you or Jeongguk.

“No it’s not obvious, Guk,” you let out a sigh. “You don’t treat me differently than you do any of your other friends—“

“Seriously?” Jeongguk scoffs, “babe, I don’t share food with anyone,” he continues matter-of-factly, but the thing you are focused on is the way the nickname rolled off his tongue smoothly, like he’s been calling you that all his life. It also makes your face heats up again, and you don’t know when the temperature would come back down to normal.

“I don’t share clothes either, and the fact that I let you wear my hoodies says a lot about my feelings,” he continues, lifting two of his fingers to list off the things he’s about to say, “I buy you food, I let you pick the movies on our movie nights—though the reason I do is because you also like Iron Man and the first person not making fun of me for that—heck, I stay up nearly every night just to wait for you to get home and I can only sleep after knowing you’re safe and sound in your bedroom.” He gives up lifting his fingers up, choosing to run said fingers through his hair instead. “I think Yojeong knows that I like you, what with the way I always message her asking about you.” Jeongguk lets out a chuckle, eyes going back to yours after running all over the room, “If that’s not obvious, I don’t know what is.”

You are left gaping at him, eyes blinking as you try to process everything that Jeongguk just said to you. It doesn’t help that it’s nearing two in the morning now, your brain functioning just a little slower than it does in daylight.

“But.. I thought those things you mentioned just.. I mean, friends do those, you don’t necessarily have to like someone to lend them your hoodies, right? And eating together, letting them choose the movies.. Guk, what the fuck?” As always, words fail you whenever you need them the most.

“Stop denying, babe, and just say it to my face if you don’t like me back.”

“Stop calling me babe,” you say around a pout that unconsciously formed on your lips.

“You called me Guk earlier and you usually call me Jeon or Jeongguk, it’s only fair that I give you another nickname as well,” Jeongguk retorts back, and after a thoughtful pause, he adds, “babe.”

You cover your face again for the hundredth time tonight, grunting in frustration because the nickname sounds really good coming out of Jeongguk’s mouth, you won’t mind being called that for the rest of your life. Reserved only for Yojeong and Jeongguk, though.

“Guess you already know that I like you back, huh?” you mumble out, face still covered by your hands, “I just.. never thought that you’d actually like me too.. like, I always thought it’s just me being too affected by the simple things you do, I thought it’s just simply me overthinking everything.. Why would you like me anyway? I’m not that pretty, I’m dumb, I say curse words all the time.. heck, Jeongguk, I never even buy you food.. what kind of friend am I? I’m really sorry..”

You are too busy rambling out that you don’t notice Jeongguk has risen up from his seat, going around the kitchen counter standing between you to stand directly in front of you, prying your hands from your face and replacing them with his warm hands cupping your cheeks. Your eyes are wide and your mouth opens and closes repeatedly like a fish out of water, your face is also still very, very red. Jeongguk thinks you’re adorable like this.

“Are you done?” he chuckles, thumbs stroking your cheekbones slowly.

You scrunche your nose, “not really, I’m still really sorry for being such a shitty fr—“

Jeongguk stops your sentence by slotting his lips over yours, pressing softly when he feels you freeze up. After a few seconds, you relax, and he lets out a breath through his nose before moving his lips against yours. You feel your head spin at the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips on yours, soft, so soft you could kiss him for hours.

After minutes just massaging each other’s lips, you pull away for breath and you have to push at Jeongguk’s shoulder to stop him from going forward, chasing your lips. You then smack said shoulder, making him wince before rubbing at the spot.

“What was that for?” He pouts, lips red and shiny. Shit, you shouldn’t be staring at his lips.

You glare, “that’s for cutting me off mid-sentence, with a kiss,” you smack his other shoulder, “and that’s for taking my first.” Now it’s your turn to pout. Despite that, you have to bite your lip to prevent a huge smile to spread across your face.

Jeongguk’s eyes are comically wide as he stares at you. “That was your first kiss?!”

You purse your lips in embarrassment, “don’t make fun of me now, you—“

Again, Jeongguk cuts you off with a peck. And another. And another until you’re almost giggling because it starts to feel funny but before you have the chance to, he’s kissing you so deep it takes your breath away. When he pulls away, it’s only from your lips but not from you because he trails his lips down, to your jaw, the column of your throat, until his fingers pull the material of his hoodie aside to allow him to mouth at your collarbone.

“Hey, hey, stop,” you hold both his cheeks in each hand, pulling him away from your clavicle only to see his pout right away. “Seriously, Jeon? I just told you that I just had my first kiss and you want to continue like that?” as if my face isn’t already red enough, you grumble under your breath.

Jeongguk’s pout turns into a grin, “Why not?”

You smack his chest for that, internally fawning over how hard his chest feels beneath your palm. You have to get used to this, don’t you? To Jeongguk being all over you, smiling that stupidly adorable grin of his, giving you kisses that take your breath away, doing things that just makes your stomach do that flip.

“I have a class at eight, that’s why,” you deadpan, reaching for your phone to glance at the time, “and it’s nearing three right now. We should go to sleep, Guk-ah,” you continue while grimacing, thinking of the lack of sleep you’re going to get tonight.

“Together?” Jeongguk says, excited. You give him a fourth smack of the night for that, holding back a smile when he laughs. “Come on, you cuddle up to me all the time when we watch movies together, why so shy now?”

You roll your eyes, “fine.”

You end up going to Jeongguk’s room, as per his insistence, where he tells you to change out of the hoodie and into one of his big t-shirts instead. It’s overwhelming, to be surrounded by his smell from both the t-shirt and the person himself, but you’re not complaining.

Cuddling on the couch with Jeongguk while watching a movie felt nice, but cuddling with Jeongguk on his bed feels even better because of the additional kisses he drops against your hair and temple. He gives you a kiss on the lips as a final good night kiss, before you both drift off to sleep in each other’s embrace.

a/n: sorry you had to go thru all that cheesiness, i didnt know where that came from either.. honestly. and its rushed toward the end alsjas i know it was nearing 3 am and i had a class in the morning SO. also fun fact: jeon placed his hoodie on oc’s bed lmao i wanted to include it in the story but didn’t seem to find the right time, heh. ok bye bye

secreto

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #bts college au #jungkook college au #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine

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matchibee · 11 months

Text

Sparks

part two of Enchanted, quite the long one so I hope everyone enjoys, by popular demand (someone asked and i caved).

life after your little encounter, and gets a tad bit suggestive at the end so go away if ur uncomfy

my brain is fried, barely proofread, i’m a simp possessed by a shakespearean poet?

"You look like hell." Miguel's voice startled you from your work, your eyes rolling as you registered it was nobody else but him.

"You give me hell, Mig."

Miguel pulled up a chair, placing it beside your own, looking down at the papers strewn across your desk.

"No, yeah. Take a seat."

“Still jotting down notes?”

“I’m not gonna experiment with anything in the lab unless I’m entirely confident in my logic.”

Miguel hummed, head in his hand as he looked to with with an expression of undying love — just subtly different from the typical contentment he wore on a daily basis, practically undetectable from eyes that weren’t tuned into his life.

And yet all you saw was peace.

Life following your interaction has returned to its typical rhythm, the both of you finding that your bond had only grown stronger in the midst of fear — terrified to lose one another, fearful of your lives apart.

Yet no labels to show for your efforts.

Much to the chagrin of everyone in the office.

That didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy your time together, far from it. Brushed fingertips, lingering gazes, they all remained — grew in ferocity, fervor.

Miguel was a man starved for your touch, yearning to feel your heartbeat fall into sync with his own. But he would sooner keel over and die before bringing you into a relationship where neither of you were prepared.

He still had his darling daughter to consider, even when she seemed to prefer you over her own father in the passing months.

The call of your name, wondering when you’d visit next. It filled Miguel with pride to know the two most important people in his were were practically inseparable.

And that’s where he found himself now, plucking you away from your mountain of work to redirect your attention. “Still coming to Gabri’s game?”

Your eyes widened, jaw going slack, sinking into the swivel chair where your bum had long-since gone numb. “Fuck.”

Miguel whispered for you to watch your mouth, a smirk playing on his lips.

“That’s today, isn’t it?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Well...”

Miguel bumped you with his elbow, that spark of electricity that flickered between your bodies something that could tie him over for days. “Its rhetorical.”

But it couldn’t tie him over forever.

Miguel seemed to pick up on the way your body deflated the second it occurred. “Is something the matter?”

“No!” Defense crept up your spine, then guilt. “Well, a bit. I just… I have relatives coming into town tonight.”

Miguel conceded, that undetectable disappointment lacing his voice, “I’ll let Gabri know—“

He knew Gabri would be disappointed, entirely. The young girl had made it a habit to look to you then her father whenever she scored a goal. She’d wrap her arms around your waist, squealing into your stomach, and Miguel would watch with hearts practically forming in his irises.

“I’ll go, Mig.” You smiled up at him, his heart hammering in his chest as you placed your palm against his shoulder — there was that spark again. “I’ll let them know I’m helping a friend.”

Friend.

That dreaded word, the word he despised hearing fall from your lips. The word he wished to change, improve, make reality.

How badly he wanted more, wanted to prove to you he could be more. But that wasn’t in the cards for either of you, he knew that.

Yet Miguel simply wanted to be selfish, tempt fate, rush the process.

“Good,” Miguel spoke to you as though he wasn’t just upset you wouldn’t be at his side, cheering for his daughter. He rose from his seat beside you, returning your chair to its rightful place, lingering in the doorway. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to return to his own office until the end of the work day — an early day, thankfully — not when he was conscious you were practically between his fingertips. Then, before he conceded to the length of the hallway, he continued, “Because you’re still helping me put together snacks before the game starts.”

“Can I change my mind?”

“Huh? You’re too far, Amor. Gotta speak up!”

But his frame had already retreated from the doorway before he could get another word in.

How you adored him.

A shame neither of you knew how to say it.

“Are you sure this is enough?” Miguel was walking along the island of his apartment’s kitchen. Double, triple checking the snacks the two of you had put together for the momentous event — the final game of the season, the championship. “It doesn’t seem like it’s enough.”

Miguel was excited, Gabri was ecstatic.

And although he hadn’t the faintest idea of your emotions, Miguel was glad you were apart of it.

“Mig, it’s honestly more than enough.” When you’d gone to the grocery store together you couldn’t believe how much he’d dropped in the cart for a team that hardly housed enough players to be considered such. “I think you’ll be able to feed the kids going against her — their parents, too.”

“They don’t deserve to be fed.”

“Miguel O’Hara!”

“Did I say that out loud?”

You bumped his side with your elbow — spark, the man bringing a hand to linger against your back, the mere proximity of his prospective touch enough to ground him for the time being.

He just knew if he were to start, he’d be unable to stop.

“Papá!” Gabri bounded out of her bedroom, dressed neatly in the uniform Miguel had had pressed at the cleaners. “How do I look?”

“Qué linda!” Miguel chuckled, scooping his daughter in his arms, pressing his forehead to her temple. “Perfect. Simply…” His voice trailed off, looking to the unruly head of hair a top her head. “Perfect.”

Gabri looked to you in the midst of their moment, a gasp playing on her lips, calling your name as she escaped Miguel’s hold as though she were liquid. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

You laughed, Miguel retreating to the other room, the two of you on your lonesome. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Gabri.”

“But I didn’t see you when papá came home with the snacks for my game.”

“I know,” You brought yourself down to look her in the eyes, “I have family visiting so I had to let them in, couldn’t make them sit outside.”

“Oh!” Gabri let out a giggle, “So that’s why papá didn’t look sad!”

Oblivious as ever, Gabri walked the length of the counter, just tall enough to see what littered across the counter. With a smile, you picked her up, placing her on top of the counter. “What do you think? Your dad picked out all your favorites.”

“It’s awesome!”

She was such a sprightly young girl, always a smile on her face, a light in your life you hadn’t the faintest idea was missing previously.

Now you couldn’t imagine being away from her for a prolonged period. Couldn’t imagine a life where Gabri wasn’t there running circles around you, Miguel not far behind.

Thoughts like that made your stomach turn, throat clenching with something, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Couldn’t allow yourself the vulnerability that opened up an entire realm of possibilities, one that gave you the opportunity to pursue a life you believed unobtainable.

You simply didn’t know how Miguel felt about you, and you couldn’t jeopardize a wonderful friendship based on unrequited adoration.

Now matter how badly you wished to give in.

Gabri called your name, a hum leaving your throat as you you snapped yourself away from your thoughts. “Yes mamás?”

“Are you and my dad gonna get married?”

You damn near passed out then and there, hands holding yourself up against the counter, a sound akin to a squished chihuahua leaving your throat. It was so abrupt, unwarranted, you had to ask her to repeat herself — Gabri doing so without missing a beat — only for your soul to make a daring escape.

You were practically trembling, “What uh… Why do you ask?”

“Papá said he like-likes you, and in the movies they always get married when they like-like each other!”

You hummed in understanding, Gabri pondering a quick second, pressing her fingertip to her chin, gasping before flailing to gather your attention — pulling you away from your imminent cardiac arrest.

“Wait! Do you like Papá?”

“Your dad and I are friends, of course I do.”

Gabri huffed in detest, seemingly annoyed you hadn’t understood. “No! Not like. Do you like-like him?”

You hadn’t the faintest idea how to answer, so many possibilities running rampant within you it was as though a pack of rodents spun the wheels within your brain.

Only two options rang true in your mind: Yes, he’s the moon to my sun, a perfect balance, a dance only the two of us know the steps to. And the other, though more vulgar: Fuck no, I’d rather die than admit it.

You felt your body wobbling, stance unsteady as you conceded to merely listening to Gabri’s words, coherent thoughts be damned. She rambled about fictional couples, how they met and the marriage that ensued — she expressed she wanted to wear a lavender dress to yours and Miguel’s wedding and insisted there be flowers decorating the bulk of the venue.

And you despised how you didn’t detest to the thought, to the decorations, to the individual in question.

Because, in all honesty, you couldn’t think of anything better.

“You still haven’t answered my question!”

“What are you two talking about?” Miguel questioned with the faintest smile, walking in with a brush to try and tame his daughter’s unruly strands.

“Your wedding!” Gabri kicked her feet as she said it, Miguel ceasing his steps towards the young girl, grip on the brush suddenly tighter than anything he’d ever squeezed before.

“Who am I marrying?” Miguel’s voice was subtle shaking, eyes flashing to you for the splittest of seconds, the thought crossing his mind, leaving it to his imagination— the finger Gabri extended in your direction only furthered the way his heart picked up speed, the way he saw flashes of your shared life in his eyes.

It was all he wanted, all he could ever think of as he lay restless in bed — a bed that craved to feel you beside him. What thought was more perfect than the three of you becoming a proper family? What thought was more exhilarating than the promise of making you his?

Perhaps, extending the family, if you chose to indulge him.

Miguel shook the thought from his head, incapable of believing he’d even thought of something so inconceivable, so vulgar. And within your proximity, no less.

He was truly smitten.

“Mig, we’re gonna be late.” Your voice drew him from deepest parts of his corrupt mind, and he could by the way you carried yourself you were just as flustered as himself. “We should get everything in the car.”

“Right,” He cleared his throat, the subtle crack just barely undetectable, “Would you mind fixing her hair? I’ll get everything in the car, I’ll—“ His fingertips brushed with yours as he moved to hand you the brush — spark — his hands recoiling from you as though he’d burn burned, your eyes wide with worry.

“Miguel, estás bien?”

“Huh? Sí, bien. I’m fine.”

He could see it in your eyes, the way your orbs squinted, lip pouting just the subtlest bit — he fucking loved when you did that.

You didn’t believe his words, not for a second.

But for the sake of time, for the sake of his daughter, you conceded to brushing her hair — Gabri still well-into her ramble of the wedding.

Something about flowers.

Miguel liked the idea.

The sun hung low in the sky, the promise of sundown imminent with every passing second, the light lingering for the length of the game.

You stood beside Miguel at the bleachers, cheering as Gabri scored yet another goal, the star of the team, Miguel’s training paying off exponentially.

“She’s a natural,” You spoke under your breath, not speaking to anyone in particular, simply content with the scene before you.

It was almost as though you yearned for it.

“She’s showing off cause you’re here,” Miguel whispered in your ear, a shiver running down your spine. It was as though he’d entered the deepest confines of your being, souls entwining into a single entity.

“I’m glad I showed up, then.”

“We both are.”

His words struck you deeply, unapologetically. He hadn’t faintest idea how his words, how his proximity, made you feel. And if he did, he performed his task with perfection, never faltered in steading the palpitations burning within your chest.

He yearned for you, you yearned for him.

More, so much more. If only one of you would cross that line long drawn, pillars of sand keeping your nerves contained tumbling with a gust of wind. It was too easy, so easy for someone to simply concede to their feelings, give into baseline animalistic urges stemming from need.

But for now you supposed you were content with the body heat he emitted from beside you.

Gabri’s eventual win came as no surprise, parents surround their children, entrapping them in hugs and kisses, extending their praises to anyone who would listen. In a blur of action lacking proper judgement, Miguel’s hand latched around your wrist — spark — tugging you alongside him to congratulate his darling daughter who stood on the field in anticipation of your arrival.

“Gabri!” Your squealed her name as you shuffled towards her, arms extending. In a profound leap — perhaps gymnastics was her calling should soccer fall through — she latched herself around you, legs held tightly around your waist, arms around your neck. “You did wonderful, mija!”

She giggled into the crook your neck, mumbling thanks, exhaustion taking over her senses.

Miguel watched from a few paces behind, slowing his approach when he saw how you damn near sprinted to embrace his daughter.

She could be yours too, if you just let him.

But regardless, the sight put him in a trance, Miguel approaching from behind, embracing Gabri through you. Large arms enveloped you, chest pressed against your back, arms shadowing your own.

Sparks, fireworks, a fire burning within your stomachs, breaths hitching, boundaries crossed. It felt as though you’d approached a point of no return, jumped off the edge and plunged into freezing waters.

“I’m so proud of you, mi niña chiquitita, you were amazing out there.”

Gabri reached out for her father, the man holding her to his shoulder without an ounce of effort being expelled. Taught muscles contorting, flexing as he held his daughter high for everyone to see, to witness.

She was his greatest achievement. You were his coveted aspiration.

He didn’t mind waiting, not when he looked to you and saw nothing but adoration — affection, as you looked to Gabri. You cheered for her, tickling at her stomach, rubbing her legs to ease the tension surely built up. Your eyes hadn’t met his, and he whispered a silent prayer of thanks to whoever received it, grateful you didn’t see how despite the celebration, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Gabri! Tell your parents to smile for the picture!”

Miguel blinked a few too many times, dazed by the innocent soccer-mom’s words, looking to you as you held the same expression. You attempted to remedy her assumption, but the sound of children and parents alike squealing overshadowed a voice laced in vine. “We’re not, I’m not—“

“Get close!” She held the camera to her eyes, squinting into the lense. Miguel wasn’t one to take many pictures. the ones in his phone shakily pictured, haphazard as he preferred to live in the moment. The ones he did have, camera roll flooded with any moments spent between yourself and Gabri, he held close to his chest.

And although he wasn’t fond of seeing his face in the camera, a stranger to his view, he wasn’t opposed to the idea, not one bit.

You stood off to the side, awkwardly holding yourself, smiling as wide a smile as you could muster — Gabri had other plans.

She was uncharacteristically strong for a child, easily taking after her father, no doubt. Pulling you close, palms splayed against Miguel’s bicep muscles exposed by the crop of his tee.

The image displayed your flustered expression, Gabri’s bright smile as she brought you closer. Miguel, in his looming glory looked to you with worry, adoration. A million emotions captured in a mere moment.

That image was one he cherished for eternity.

Sunset held prospect for relaxation, the beginning of the end, just as much as it did romance. Gabri, despite her exhaustion, simply refused to return home. She wished to explore the bulk of the park, your feet hurting as they crunched against sticks and stones.

“Tired?” Miguel questioned, looking down at you, the smallest smirk playing on his lips.

“A bit,” You didn’t shy away from the truth, eyes drooping, only to remember you had an entourage of unexpected family back at your apartment. “But I love being with y—“ You cut yourself off, catching it, remedying yours words in a split-second “But I love being with Gabri, she’s wonderful.”

Miguel felt his heart swell, fiddling with an overwhelming empty ring-finger. How he wished to change that, the prospect of glittering bands molding you into one unit leaving Miguel yearning for more. “We love having you around.” The words left his lips before he could spare a thought.

“I’m glad.”

Then a comfortable silence once more.

Gunfire somewhere down the ways, Miguel tensing impossibly, still as a statue. It wasn’t particularly close, but within proximity enough you picked up on it without a doubt.

In unison, “Gabri.” The call of the little girl’s name, beckoning her toward you.

“Hold my hand,” Miguel instructed, “We need to get going.”

The city could protect itself for one evening.

“I wanna hold you hand!” Gabri protested, arms crossing over her chest as she gestured to you. Stubborn, like her father. Such strong genetics he had.

Another gunshot, closer. Miguel’s hairs stood on the back of his neck.

“You need to listen to you dad, Gabri.” But she didn’t budge, refused. You looked to Miguel, the man shrugging, nerves clearly ravishing his decisions. “Are you alright, Mig?”

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react as sirens and gunfire drew so close it had him seeing red — you and his daughter couldn’t even explore the sights of the city without being drawn into a scuffle, put in harms way. He’d sooner put an end to reality than allow harm to befall you.

That’s why he was here, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry, I just…” Miguel was patting at the pockets of his jeans, producing his cell phone from within them. He was frantic, fighting to maintain composure, fighting to keep the flame of his anger at bay. “I forgot I had to make a call for work, I’ll be quick, only a few minutes.” Without another word he jogged away, leaving you to hang out with Gabri — just the two of you.

Because that had gone wonderfully previously.

You only prayed you wouldn’t choke again.

Miguel’s figure was present one second, dissipated the next. He seemed to always operate as such, practically an enigma. He came and went as though on a whim, the laws of physics bowing to their bender, the one who gave them purpose. Yet another thing that left you infatuated with his entirety, a man who obeyed nothing and bowed to nobody except himself.

That’s what he likely told himself, but every knew Gabri steered the direction of divinity in his eyes, an mere acolyte who obeyed her every necessity without fail — the most important thing he’d ever known.

Yet he couldn’t help it if you crept you way beside her, more than enough room in his heart, capable of loving unconditionally.

“Can we go to the playground?” Gabri questioned, tugging you along without heeding your permission.

Of course, you wouldn’t decline her such a juvenile request, sometimes wishing it were socially acceptable for you to rush down the twisty slide or hang from the monkey bars. So you allowed her to guide her, careful of any vehicles as you walked along the asphalt to the playground.

“Go ahead,” You ushered her to the sand-lain playground, Gabri jumping with joy as she departed. “Stay where I can see you, mija!”

She called out a one-worded confirmation, rushing to the group of children that had gathered along the swing-sets. A few moments your eyes lingered, watching, surveying. The park was empty as the sun threatened to fall from the sky, bidding adieu. It appeared you and the mother to your right were the only ones deranged enough to have the gall to remain.

“Hey, I know you!” The aforementioned woman with strawberry blonde locks and a mulberry tracksuit sat on the bench just left of you. “You’re the one that’s been coming with Miguel and Gabri lately, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Your thoughts were filled with Miguel and the call he was potentially taking, then to the girl who had already conjured up a group of children to play tag with. “Oh, yes.” Your response was short, curt.

“How long have the two of you been together?” Her question was innocent, unaware. She spoke with earnest and looked to you without a hint of malice.

“Together?”

“You and Miguel, hun.”

You laughed then. A burst of laughter that forced its way past your lips — nerves, humor — you weren’t sure why it happened, you simply knew you couldn’t control it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—“ You paused, wiping away a tear that had shed in the midst of your outburst, “Miguel and I are just coworkers, there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Hm?” The woman’s eyes showed nothing but genuine confusion. “Well you could’ve fooled me, darling!”

“Pardon?”

The woman looked to her child who now soared down one of the slides in an effort to catch Gabri, the small child just too quick to get her little fingers on. Confirming her child was safe she slipped over to your bench, gesturing for you to scoot as a means to make room, legs crossed as she turned to fully face you. “Can I level with you?”

“I suppose so—“

“Coworkers, friends — they don’t look at each other the way the two of you do.”

“I’m not following.”

The woman rolled her eyes, taking your hands in her french-tipped ones, “There’s love in your eyes — both of you. Miguel is a good father, a great man, but I haven’t seen him so content since you started tagging along.”

“You think Miguel…?”

“No, I know he does. And I know you do too.”

You released yourself from her hold, shaking your head, palms flying to press against your cheeks. “I don’t believe that, we’re just—“

“My husband and I were coworkers before we got married,” She flashed the ring for you to see, a beautifully shaped diamond faceted on a silver band. “And all I can say is you’re wasting time running from your feelings.”

You closed your eyes, heart hammering in your chest, doing your best to steady your breath.

“Besides, you two look great together, and that little girl agrees.”

The woman called out to her daughter, the two leaving the park with a wave of their hands in yours and Gabri’s direction, the girl out of breath when she returned to your side. “She’s a funny lady.” Gabri mumbled, watching as their figures retreated.

“Yeah… Hilarious.”

Gabri tore into the meal you’d purchased her, sun long foregone from the sky, finger tapping against the surface of the table impatiently as you awaited a single sign Miguel was alive and well.

Alive.

Texts and calls flooded his notifications, you were sure of it. So many attempts at contact, reassuring squeezes of Gabri’s small hands as she questioned where her father was — what he was doing.

You were worried. Gabri was worried.

This was simply unlike him.

Looking to your phone, not a sign in sight, you perused to the options at your disposal — not many, last-second and desperate. Miguel’s apartment was surely locked, you couldn’t enter.

There was still yours.

You shook the thought from your head, unable to bring yourself to return home to your family with a child in tow. You’d never hear the end of it, you already didn’t. You didn’t want to put Gabri through that, didn’t wanna defend your actions— they’re your actions — but they’re surely find a way to make them their own.

“I’m so sleepy.” Gabri’s head pressed flat against the table, eyes closed, voice mumbling for her father. She’d had a long day, long week, long life. The shit she’s gone through at her adolescent age just wasn’t fair, and perhaps a moment of comfort — a hand extended — was the one thing she needed in these trying times.

Oh for fucks sake.

You wouldn’t call yourself wealthy by traditional means. Comfortable, perhaps. A generously sized apartment in a decent area, the only place you’d been able to find at a moment’s notice, moving for work purposes.

“It’s so pretty!” Gabri was experiencing adolescent sleep delirium, slung over your shoulders as you struggled to keep her in your arms — across town, a taxi, up stairs — you were getting the workout of a lifetime. “Can I live here?”

She was speaking through exhaustion, you knew that.

But you weren’t entirely opposed, weren’t appalled by the inquiry.

It was a rather nice thought.

Fishing the keys to your apartment from your pocket you unlocked the door, bright lights flashing your eyes, jovial voices echoing from a little ways down the hall. You did your best to avoid them, striking to the shadows, being mindful of any creeks in the floorboards.

However, a family as relentlessly intrusive as yours wouldn’t concede to such shenanigans so simply.

They were beside you in an instant, arms open in greeting, only to find that there was a child filling up the space.

“You have a—!“

“Not mine!” You defended your stance with the entirety of your honor, shielding Gabri from their grubby hands, “A friend’s. I’m babysitting.”

“Babysitting for a friend?” Your cousin Miranda wasn’t convinced, sauntering towards you, eyes squinted in scrutiny. Then, without a moments notice, “They’re lying!” An announcement that left the entirety of your family to erupt into gasps, clutching metaphorical pearls.

“Miranda,” You groaned, “I do not have time for this.”

You walked away without another word, Gabri giving a weak wave from behind you. To your bedroom you traveled, plopping Gabri onto your covers as delicately as possible, breathing a sigh of relief as you watched her snuggle into the sheets, your brain foggy as you slipped in beside her, brushing stray strands of hair from her face as you worked to rid of her of her shoes, undoing the tie that — just barely — tied her hair in place.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Your phone erupted into a series of messages from your pocket — texts, calls, voicemails — all simultaneously occurring within mere moments. From squinted eyes you peered to the screen, Miguel’s contact on display, and you felt anger course through your veins.

How dare he think it was okay to do this? How dare he put the two of you in this situation when something could’ve gone horribly wrong?

Another notification popped up on your phone, the news app, detailing another victory of the friendly neighborhood vigilante Spider-Man. You hadn’t seen the figure in forever, everything seeming as though he’d been avoiding you.

You couldn’t care about that right now.

Your fingers tapped at the screen of your phone, producing the message app for you to see. Messages from Miguel flooding the screen, asking where you went, praying you were well.

You allowed yourself to send him a single text, informing him you were well, sending the details of your apartment so he could come pick up Gabri. Slamming your phone against the sheets, fisting your hair in hands.

And yet you knew in your heart you weren’t truly upset, simply terrified.

The knock at your door drew your attention away from the piles of dishes that built up at your sink, family making themselves a bit too comfortable in your home. Drying your hands you made a beeline for the door, various members of your family beating you to it.

“No!” You yelled, pushing them away, hands firmly holding the door closed. “It’s nothing, go gossip!”

“Oh, yeah, gossip sounds good. I heard the lady that does my hair is having an affair with her husband.”

“No me digas!”

They scurried off like a pack of animals, chatter slowly dying down as they entered the sitting room, your palm pressing to your chest as you breathed out a sigh of relief. Another knock had you yanking the door open with the force of a bear, entrance practically faltering from its hinges.

“Miguel O’Hara, where the fuck were you?”

His eyes were wide when he saw you in the doorway, full of love and remorse.

“I lost track of time, I didn’t realize—“

You ushered him inside, peering around for your family, thankful they were still at bay. Producing Miguel in the kitchen you worked on preparing some tea, something herbal to calm your nerves, clear your mind.

When all was said and done you plopped one mug in his hand, the other steaming between your palms. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You left me and Gabri at the park without any options. She was exhausted, hungry. If you intended on disappearing on us you could’ve at least—“

“I brought you, uh—“ Miguel looked to the flowers in his hands, stems snapped and petals foregone, and it was only then that you’d noticed they were there. “Well, they were flowers.”

And as your eyes flickered to the glorified stems then to his remorseful gaze, you simply knew you couldn’t stand to scold Miguel.

At least, not at the moment.

You giggled, giggled. Taking the flowers from Miguel, hands brushing, that ever-present spark erupting like fireworks at his fingertips. “They’re perfect.”

No, you’re perfect. The thought that ran rampant in his mind, clinging to his lips, begging to be set free.

But it wasn’t time, not yet.

“Oh! Is the man you were telling me about? The dad with the adorable daughter and nice a—“

“—ttention to detail! Yes, Mom! Now…” You pushed your mother away from the kitchen, throwing her into the living room and returning to Miguel with a flustered expression — cheeks hot, lip quivering.

“Sorry about her… She uh—“

Miranda had her gaze fixed onto Miguel, unrelenting. “So you’re single?” Your cousin was interrogating Miguel, hands crossed over her chest as she regarded him with a stern expression. “And you still haven’t asked my wonderful cousin to—“

“Miranda!” Your voice came out a shrill, body overwhelmingly warm, feeling as though you’d pass out any second. The masses were testing your patience, something you had very little to extend. If this continued for a moment longer you feared you might start taking heads — truly regal, in that right.

Miranda looked to you as though you were annoying her in the midst of her meddling, doing her best to hook you up. Couldn’t you just let her do this for you? “My mom is calling you,” You spoke through clenched teeth, “I think you should help her.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, walking away from Miguel, leaving him with a cold stare for parting. Then, just before she exited she leaned into you, whispering in your ear so it was only between the two of you. “He totally has a thing for you.”

Miguel was leaning against the counter, seemingly indifferent, though his cheeks held the slightest red tincture. “It’s… It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” You coughed into your hand, body aflame as you grabbed yourself a chilled glass of water.

“Your family is interesting.” Miguel was swirling the contents of his mug around, taking a long sip, sighing when the warm beverage found a home in his belly.

“Sorry the two of you had to be here with all this happening, I know it’s a bit much — you’re more than welcome to go home.” Then you remembered yourself, remembered why this situation was happening in the first place, “But don’t think you’re off the hook, Miguel O’Hara, i’ll deal with you when the time is right.

Miguel laughed, hand falling from his mug to rest opposite your hand that held you up against the counter. “Now why would we want to go home when the night is so young?”

Young for him, perhaps.

“They’re insufferable!”

“They’re…” Miguel searched his mind for what he wanted to say, the right thing falling from his lips as soon as his gaze fell upon you, “Perfect.”

Then under his breath, so silent you could hardly make it out. “Just like you.”

You closed your eyes, palm splayed across your face, “I’m going to murder them.”

“I’d rather you didn’t go to prison.”

You looked to Miguel with a smirk playing on your lips, “So you’d turn me over to the police?”

“I don’t recall ever saying that.”

The two of you stayed there for quite some time, quiet and content. Miguel the one to break the silence, something that didn’t typically happen, but you allowed it for the time being.

“It’s a wonder I’ve never been to your apartment.”

“And the first time you’ve come over ends up with you indirectly meeting my family.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Usually people wait a few months until—“ You cut yourself off, realizing what you were referring to, where your mind had wandered.

“People? What people?”

“Just… People.”

An engaging conversation without a doubt, the most educationally-steered one that had ever erupted between the two of you — geneticists? Nobody could’ve been expected to believe that the oblivion wafting about the likes of you.

“I never properly thanked you,” Miguel spoke, fiddling with that empty ring finger once more. “I know what I did was… awful. I should’ve communicated, let you know I got help up—“

“All that matters is that you’re safe. That Gabri is safe.” But your words didn’t meet your heart, not the way they always did when you spoke of the two of them.

“How do you feel… really feel?”

Miguel had become dangerously intuned to your emotions over the course of your time together, even further following when you showed up to his home that evening. Protective instincts prefaced his decisions, foregoing canon if it could only mean being here, being present.

He wasn’t even meant to be here.

But if he could just indulge himself, indulge the idea of you and his daughter being his, then perhaps canon had no say in his existence.

Poor Miguel, knowing it can’t work like that, knowing this won’t last forever.

So he had to make it last forever.

“Honestly,” You toed marble tiles speckled in flecks of gold, “I was terrified, Mig.”

His heart clenched, eyes widening.

“I was scared you’d gotten hurt, scared for Gabri, scared I’d—“ You cut yourself off, the syllable of another word well on your lips, retracting them and opting to take a ridiculously long sip from your mug — contents empty, nothing more than the taste of what once was.

Miguel, with great hesitance, brought his hands up to lower your mug. Fingertips brushing yours — spark — and faltering your hold on the ceramic until he could only see your face. That wonderful face, the one that made his stomach flip whenever he saw it, the one that was displayed neatly on his lock screen — the reason he never used his phone around you.

In eternity, in oblivion, you belonged to him.

But Miguel just couldn’t muster the courage to claim what rightfully belonged to him.

Not until…

“Tell me what you were going to say.” He was stern, a hint of something in his voice. Adoration, perhaps, but you hadn’t quite picked up on it.

“It’s nothing important, Mig. I’m just tired, I—“

“Amor,” Miguel chuckled, you still hadn’t the faintest idea if Miguel knew what that word meant, knew what it did to you or how to properly use it. “Everything you say — think, feel — it matters. So indulge me, yeah?”

“I just…” You cleared your throat, turning to look anywhere except him. “I was scared I was going to lose you, Mig. You’re important to me, maybe the most important person in my life.”

To say Miguel was left speechless was an understatement. All this time he’d spent pining, plotting, indulging in fantasies that weren’t his to hold. He’d spent months in this universe, months being it’s protector, months pining for your affections. Everything he’d done was because he wanted another chance at fatherhood, an additional opportunity to indulge his daughter in all the love he’d failed to deliver previously. And in his plotting his found you, an inconstant in his travels, entirely unique in your own right.

Your smile, your kindness, everything about you was overwhelming effortless. He went home with thoughts of you, navigated daily life with your voice ringing in his ears.

He knew he’d have to have you.

“You’ll never lose me,” He spoke it indignantly, a vow. Fingers moving under your chin, tilting your head to look him in the eyes. “I wouldn’t let anything tear us apart, Amor.”

Now it was your turn to become flustered, at a loss for words. Anger and anxiety was replaced by elation, an overwhelming relief. How long had it been since you’d developed these feelings? You hadn’t the faintest idea. Perhaps they’d always been there, divined by an unnamed energy, the world working in your favor. On the contrary, there was a possibility it had never been meant to be, an even better idea. To believe the both of you had transcended the prospects of space and time. Curated your own love, built a life unforeseen by forces unknown.

He was a constant in your life, though in his you might not have been.

Your inconsistency was a gateway to an indulgence he didn’t realize himself capable of experiencing.

And in everything, whether divined or not, there was love.

“Miguel…” You spoke his full name, not that adorable nickname that fell from your lips absentmindedly. “I—“

You couldn’t get another word in before his lips were on yours, chapped and with the tiniest hint of iron invading the forefront. His movement was gentle, adoring. Pushing you further into the counter as he moved his palms to rub the expanse of your shoulders, terrified of where to place them. Your hands were pressed against his chest, fighting every urge to flex your fingers.

Seconds, minutes, hours might have passed and you would’ve stayed indulged in this position, pressing each other against every piece of furniture in this apartment until your lips were bruised and bloody.

Two souls entwined, destinies becoming one.

But all you could think about was how wonderful he felt, how gently he handled you, how he made you crave more. So much more.

Miguel broke away a split moment, chests heaving, eyes half lidded. Without a word he brought your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling you impossibly closer, palms pressed under your thighs. “Is this alright?”

You nodded your head, mind spinning, unable to get a single word in.

“Use your words, cariño.”

“Yes.”

He continued as though he’d never faltered, lips entangled in a dangerously indulgent dance that teetered on seductive. The kiss was full of everything that had pent up in the passing months — love, loss, fear, domesticity — everything the both of you yearned for, begged for in the dark of the night.

You didn’t say I love you, but neither did he. A wordless understanding, an agreement paved through wandering hands and touched tongues. You understood the depth of his feelings, and Miguel knew he would move the heavens and the earth to keep you in his arms.

“I was thinking…” Miguel’s voice wandered, drunk on the feeling of your bodies so incredibly close, practically merged. “I could stay the night?”

You laughed then, rolling your eyes and returning your hands to their previous place against his chest, swatting the definition of his pectorals. “Trying to get in my bed?”

“I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t an honest attempt.”

“Right, right.” You giggled at the way his lips curved into a half smile, still holding onto the feeling of you in his arms. “And Miguel O’Hara simply isn’t a liar.”

His eyes flashed with a feeling you’d just barely missed, palms flying to your hips, leaning into your ear. “Is that a no?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It’s a reminder your family and mine family are under one roof, at the moment.”

“An invitation for the future, then?”

“I suppose I can find some time for you.”

Miguel liked the thought, craved the feeling of your body beneath his. He craved you in your entirety, wishing he could simply absorb you into his heart, keep you there alongside him until oblivion called your names.

“I’m not opposed to sharing a bed as long as Gabri is between us.”

“Maravilla.”

A thought that had him seeing stars more than any intimate act could ever. A thought that sparked a light within him, igniting a flame that had been extinguished in his grief. But with you, with Gabri, this newly acquired life, he knew he had another chance.

Another chance at love, another chance to be loved.

And not even the spiderverse could strip him of such a right.

Could it?

taglist (tagging ppl based on professed interest so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!): @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @beetlejuicesupremacy @arcticmonkeyshasmyheart @bozos-r-us @ghost-lantern @jesterglitch

here’s a little bonus I thought of while writing:

“Miguel you’re hogging the blanket.” You and Gabri were held up in each other’s arm, shivering from the lack of warmth, a vast majority of the blankets in the house taken up by your family who made camp in the living room.

The man was fast asleep, bundled up in the mass of blankets, a content smile brushing his sleepy face. “I’m gonna kick him.” Gabri pouted, your hands flying to your face to stifle a laugh.

“Let’s not resort to violence, not yet.”

Your bare feet pressed against the chilled hardwood, circling around your bed until you were beside Miguel’s sleeping form on the other side. “On my signal,” Gabri rose to her knees upon hearing your words, a mischvious grin writing all over her. “Yank the blanket off him. But make sure we leave him some, I guess.”

Gabri nodded her head excitedly, small hands already bunched up on some of the fabric, subtly bouncing up and down in anticipation.

You slapped your palm against the nightstand, feigning a noise of pain, Miguel shooting up from his position of sleep. “Vida, are you hurt?” He was beside you in an instant, looking you up and down, surveying your body for any potential abrasions. From the corner of your eye you watched as Gabri pawed at enough of the covers to allow the both of you some warmth, the girl seeming to fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

“I’m fine, Mig. Just hurt myself walking back from the restroom.” It took everything in your power to not concede then and there, fighting back tears as laughter racked through your form.

Miguel sighed a relieved noise, “Gracias a dios. You need to be more careful.” Miguel planted a subtle kiss on the top of your head, rubbing your back before allow you to slip back into bed. He returned to his previous sleeping position, as well, brushing some strands of Gabri’s hair before planting a kiss on her cheek.

Finally, you had some semblance of warmth, Gabri scooting into your arms which you opened up for her, a sigh of contentment falling from your lips.

“Oye,” Miguel called out into the darkness. “Quien agarró mi cobija?”

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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