#platonic fluff is how you kill me
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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞
❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞
✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader
✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,
✧ wc: 16,043
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!
“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”
You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.
You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.
“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”
“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”
“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”
You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”
“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”
“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”
“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”
Yup, you have a headache now.
“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”
Why were you considering this?
“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”
“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”
“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“
“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.
“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.
And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.
Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.
And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.
He said your name, “Well?”
He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.
It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.
“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.
Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.
His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.
“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.
“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.
You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”
“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”
“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.
“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”
“Gojo, this is—“
“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”
Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”
“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”
You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“
“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.
“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.
“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.
Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.
“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.
And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.
“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.
“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”
His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”
You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.
And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.
“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“
“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.
“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”
The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”
“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.
“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”
You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”
He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”
“No one can see us,”
“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”
Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.
“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”
You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.
“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”
“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.
“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.
“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”
You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“
He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.
“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.
You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”
Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.
“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.
So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”
But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”
You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”
Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”
“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“
“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”
“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”
You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”
“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”
It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.
And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.
You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.
And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.
“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“
“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”
But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.
“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“
“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”
You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”
His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”
“You don’t have to—“
“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.
And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.
“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”
“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”
“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”
He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”
And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—
You were already there.
You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.
But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.
how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?
You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.
Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad
You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds
It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.
This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.
This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—
“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”
“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”
“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”
He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.
“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”
“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”
“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.
“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”
“Gojo—“
“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.
All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.
He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?
You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.
Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen
You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.
You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.
You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.
You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”
“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”
“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”
“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”
You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.
“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”
“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”
He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”
Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”
“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.
“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”
But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”
You glanced at the time, he’s late.
Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.
Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.
Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.
It was probably the latter.
You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.
“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”
You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”
“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.
“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.
“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”
“A bad rom com,”
He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”
“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”
He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”
“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”
“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.
“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”
“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”
“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”
“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”
You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”
And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”
“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.
It was unspoken.
Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.
You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.
Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.
Your neck hurts.
The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.
Or what you thought was your bed.
Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.
Gojo.
Gojo???
Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?
You really should have fucking known better.
Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.
And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.
Fuck. Your. Life.
He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.
Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.
And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”
“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”
And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.
“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.
“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.
“What is it?”
“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”
You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”
Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.
Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.
“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”
“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”
He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”
“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.
“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.
Fuck. You were so screwed.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.
You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.
Another knock.
“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”
You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”
Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.
“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”
You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”
“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.
“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”
“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”
“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”
“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”
“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.
“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”
“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”
You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.
A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.
And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.
“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.
“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”
“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.
“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”
Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.
Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”
“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”
Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”
Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.
“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”
And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.
“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”
Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”
“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.
“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”
“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”
His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“
Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?
Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.
And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.
Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.
Like it always never was.
The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”
You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.
And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”
“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”
“My apartment isn’t—”
“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.
“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.
“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”
He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“
The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“
“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.
“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“
“But what you said—“
“I said what I had to—“
“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.
“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“
“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”
“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“
“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”
“You don’t have to—“
“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”
“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.
“Give you what?”
And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“
“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.
No, it was. It was, right?
“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“
“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“
“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.
“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”
Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”
He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”
“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“
And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”
“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.
“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”
“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”
His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.
His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.
“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.
“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”
“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.
“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”
“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.
“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”
Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”
“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”
“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.
And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”
“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.
He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”
Slap. It’s definitely a slap.
“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.
“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”
“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.
“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.
“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”
“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.
“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.
“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”
~~~~
Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.
“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.
Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.
And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.
But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.
And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-
And he realized it was you.
“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“
“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”
“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.
Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.
“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”
Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.
“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.
“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”
“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”
“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.
He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.
His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.
You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”
And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.
“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.
You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.
“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”
And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.
“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.
“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”
And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”
Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“
“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.
Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.
“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.
He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.
“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.
“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”
“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.
“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”
“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”
“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.
“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.
“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.
“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.
“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.
He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”
Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.
Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.
Fuck, it was real.
You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.
But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.
“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.
“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”
“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.
“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.
“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”
You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”
And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.
“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”
“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.
“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.
“How about we make breakfast together?”
“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.
“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.
“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.
“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”
And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”
He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”
You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”
And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”
He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”
“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.
“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”
“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.
“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”
And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”
“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.
And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”
“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”
You didn’t know what to do with yourself.
Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.
And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.
You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.
You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?
You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.
And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.
You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.
Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.
A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?
There’s only one person who’d text like that.
Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?
He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.
Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.
You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.
Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.
You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.
But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.
“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.
“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.
“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.
“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”
“I was expecting to meet
I suppose we’re on the same page,”
He tilts his head, “Really?”
“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”
He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”
She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.
“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.
“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”
She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“
He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.
Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.
“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.
Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.
You needed to talk to him in person.
And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.
You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.
“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”
“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”
“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.
And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”
“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”
And he’s blinking, “Why?”
“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”
“But you didn’t—”
“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”
“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”
“No I don’t—”
“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”
“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”
He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”
You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”
“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”
“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“
“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”
“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”
He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“
“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“
“But—“
“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”
And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”
“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”
And this time he doesn’t stop you.
It’s for the best.
That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.
It was for the best.
Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.
And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.
Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.
Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.
And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.
Fuck. You were home.
You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.
Gojo?
You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.
You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.
Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.
Satoru was…getting married?
It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.
You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.
You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.
Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.
You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.
You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.
Even if it wasn’t with you.
So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.
So you wait.
And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.
That wasn’t Satoru.
He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?
And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.
“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.
“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.
“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.
“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”
He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”
You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”
His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.
“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”
And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.
“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.
“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”
And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”
“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.
“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,
“Well, you don’t know until you try.”
✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).
✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo fluff
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i can fix him (no really i can) // mattheo riddle x fem reader
playlist : i can fix him (no really i can) - taylor swift
summary : mattheo riddle is cold as ice , he always has been , so who are you to think you can fix him?
gryffindor reader , friends with golden trio , makes a bet , fluff , harry x reader platonic , swearing , honestly cringe but wtv
masterlist tppd series masterlist another mattheo fic!
you sat in the great hall staring ahead of you at a certain brown haired boy , eating his food silently surrounded by his chatty friends he didnt seem to pay any mind to. mattheo riddle. he had always intriuged you , you werent sure your curiousity was requited but you knew you liked him. a lot.
"you best not be looking at him again y/n" hermione sighed , sat opposite to you and in front of the slytherin table.
"hermione , ive liked him since first year are we still seriously asking this question every day." you pulled your eyes away from him , and looked at the girl with a teasing smile , knowing you were guilty of staring.
"gosh you really need to get over it , i mean what about dean he seems to really like you?" you both turned your heads to look at hermiones suggested replacement for mattheo , who was currently trying to turn his pumkin juice into water just with his eyes.
you scoffed and turned back to hermione , who looked defeated , "im sure the conversation would be great."
hermione ingorned your sarcasm and continued to argue , "mattheo isnt a good guy we both know this,"
"i can fix him," you winked at her teasingly as she scoffed , containing a laugh.
"arent you just our brave little bob the builder," harry joked , you and hermione being completely startled by his and rons prescence next to you both , eventhough theyd been there the whole time.
you laughed at him , attempting to defend your claim, "no really i can! ill fix him so hard that he gets mistaken for golden boy cedric!"
"this is starting to sound oddly sexua-" ron stated blandly before hermione slapped his arm , making him stop talking abruptly and clutch it.
"i dont believe you," hermione stated simply as you smirked at her.
"end of the week and he'll like me back or atleast talk to me," you stuck your hand out as she hesitated before shaking it muttering a disapproving , 'deal'.
looking at her smugly you let your eyes quickly wander to mattheo , only to see him staring right at you. this caused you to gasp and turn you whole body to face harry next to you , who looked at you in confusion.
holding a hand to harrys ear and whispering , "is he still staring at me" timidly.
harry looked , only to see a very threatening mattheo riddle stare back at him like he started the wizarding war.
"oh merlin no not at you , hes looking at me , not in a .... very nice way," harry whispered back as you refused to turn , nervous by your crush of years staring in your direction.
grabbing harrys arm with your two hands and shaking it with a small cry of terror harry turned back to you, "hes so hot even when he looks like he wants to kill you! id let him as long as he never changed that gorgeous face"
"wow great to know you value my life," harry muttered sarcastically as you laughed at him before slowly turning bcak to face hermione , avoiding looking in mattheos direction.
"well hermione its great to do business with you," you smiled at her as she grimaced at you.
"he is a person you know," she said sternly.
"i know , thats the problem! hes good looking hes smart AND hes a good person!" you sighed.
"well i dont know about one of those things-" ron started in disinterested grumble.
"thats why im doing this hermione! hes so perfect that a little bet is the motivation i need to actually talk to him!" you ranted to her.
she just looked back a you blankly , nodding along to what you said , too bored to argue back.
"anyways , did anyone do their herbology homework?" hermione asked all three of us.
ron let out a defeated sigh , "how many times hermione , not all of us have that little time turning watch thing , we cant do herbology because its at the same time as history of magic!"
"well , ronald , i apolagise that i forgot!...." hermiones arguing back faded into the background as your sudden realisation that you had just made an impossible bet sunk in.
no one can melt mattheo riddle , it is literally impossible.
what have you gotten yourself into.
-----
maybe it is possible! oh the Gods of luck had blessed you today.
Dumbledore just announced the triwizard tournament and from your oh so knowledgable friend hermione , you knew that a ball was involved in the triwizard tournament. maybe the fact harrys name came out the goblet wasnt so good but you had a plan! now this may seem ridiculous , the ball isnt until christmas! but...throughout the term youre doing practices , the first one on friday! two days from now!
and your great plan was to dance with mattheo in this practice, gain his interest , ask him to hogsmeade over the weekend and then BOOM , hes in love!! all by the end of the week!
as you recited your plan to your three friends they looked back at you , horrified.
"right and... you expect mattheo riddle to fall in love with you , in three days?" ron asked in pure confusion.
"well yeah thats what i just said," you said with a shrug.
"y/n you're really not that charismatic i dont think youve ever flirted with anyeone nevermind asked a boy to hogsmeade," hermione said , almost with sympathy for your pure delusion.
"you guys are cruel i think i can ..... i cant do it." you dropped your act of confidence.
your shoulder slouched as you lost all hopes of catching the boy of your dreams , the plan drifting into the forgotten corner of your mind.
the trio watched you lose all happiness and life and let out sighs , harry deciding to speak up , "y/n i think your plan could work. i mean your flirting will be ... raw and.... new". he spoke with uncertainty as he tried to speak in a way that was reassuring , eventhough he didnt believe a word he said.
"really?" you said with hope , looking up at him.
"sure!" he smiled .
"let me practice on you harry!" as you turned to him with an excited smile drowning out his words of declining your request.
you looked at him with your prettiest smile , shuffling closer than before and playing with your hair , "hey boy , want me to be your chosen one?"
you winked at him as he blushed a deep red and looked anywhere but at you.
ron laughed loudly at harrys panic , "that really made you flustered?!, fucking hell!"
ron howled with laughter as harry rubbed his neck , until you turned to ron with the same flirtatious smile , "i really like your hair , i heard gingers are rare - wanna be my one in a million?"
ron paused his laughter and looked at you with horror , "there is literally like 5 other gingers in this room right now-"
"and out of all of them , i chose you" you winked at him as he was left speechless.
"yeah shes kinda good," ron laughed.
"all i can say is good luck, " hermione stated as you smiled in victory.
meanwhile an extremely angered mattheo riddle stood up from the slytherin table and stormed out the hall , having seen your whole encouter with harry.
----
the next thing you knew , you were sat on a bench with all of your year group present , boys on one side , girls on the other. you clenched your shaking hands onto the bench on either side of you , staring directly forward and avoiding mattheo who was stood a few metres away from where you stared.
"you were so confident a few days ago why are you shaking?" hermione asked teasingly.
you snapped your head towards her with a hard glare , "im in no mood for teasing mione im gonna throw up."
she sighed , "just ask him to dance its not that bad y/n dont worry!"
"and if he says no?" you asked in panic.
"then he says no and you lose the bet , " she smiled.
"its...its not really about the bet mione i really like him , if he rejects me i dont think ill recover." you look down at your lap as your leg bounces.
"oh give over! theres about 5 people i can see right now , staring at you , itching to dance with you," she nodded her head in the direction of a group of ravenclaws staring at you as you cringed internally , "and... ha it looks like mattheos seen them too!" she teasingly whsipered in a sing-song voice.
you gave her a confused look before turning to see mattheo , who was actually throwing a deathly glare at the boys who were staring at you.
"theyre probably looking at you mione," you sulked as she went to argue back , interrupted by Mcgonagall walking into the room.
"silence!" she started as you drowned out her words for the next 5 minutes , only tuning back in when she made ron dance with her , laughing hysterically at him.
after a few minutes of rons awkward dancing she urged everyone to join in , everyone hesitated and stayed seated until - to everyones -suprise mattheo was the first person to walk forward with a confident stride to our side of the room , coming straight towards......you?!!
you made eye contact with him and held a hopeful smile until daphne stood infront of him, blocking your view of him and stopping him in his tracks . he tried to get past her until she whispered something to him , making him stop and put his hand on her waist , beginning to dance as everyone else seemed to do the same.
but you remained in your seat , motified by the sight of the boy you liked dancing with one of the prettiest girls in your year , right infront of you.
hermione rested her hand on your shoulder sympathetically before being dragged away by a guy shes friends with in ravenclaw.
you sat in silence until a hand came into your view , held out to you. following up the arm the hand was attached to you finally reached harrys smiling face.
"he sucks anyway , dance with me instead?" he smiled as you allow you sadness to fade slightly , nodding and grabbing harrys hand allowing yourself to be pulled into the middle of the floor , about two metres from where mattheo and daphne danced.
"thanks harry," you said softly as you rested your arms around his neck , his hands resting on your waist.
"no worries, theres no other girl id rather dance with in this room."
"asides from cho chang but ill let you have it because she isnt technically in the room," as you laughed at his flustered face.
"hows ron after dancing with-" you started.
"oh hes horrified , dont worry ill make sure to bring that up for the rest of his life. im sure fred and george will too when i tell them," you both laughed together , letting yourself feel the meloncholia leave.
"i-" you began before being cut off by a sudden presence stood next to you and harry.
turning to look at who had created the shadow inbetween you , you were just as horrified as ron was to see mattheo stood there looking at you.
"can we dance?" he said sternly , not sparing a single glance at harry who had let go of your waist.
"but you were dancing with daphne-"
"i just danced with her whilst draco mustered up the courage to ask her himself , she didnt want to have no one to dance with. i wanted to dance with you." he said with zero hesitation , only breaking eye contact to glance at your arms still behind harrys neck , making you drop them quickly.
"s-...sure" he didnt wait to grab your hand and bring you towards him , resting his hands on your hips and shoving harry out the way with his side.
you felt the blood rush up to your cheeks , hesitantly bringing your arms around his neck and swaying to the music with him , falling into step with everyone else.
he pulled you in closer , his expression becoming softer as harry was gone and it was just you.
"why did you want to dance with me?" you asked so softly it was almost a whisper , a low exchange between two unknowingly requited lovers.
"why wouldnt i?" he paused , a so small - it was almost not visible -smile gracing his lips , "youre interesting."
"how so?" you laughed.
he laughed too before replying , "i dont know im..drawn to you. i have been since first year , i guess i just never acted on it till now."
"why?..."
he paused , "well you like potter dont you? and i dont know if you realise this but every guy here wants to be with you , theyre just too scared and i guess i was too."
you looked at him with pure confusion , "i dont not like harry , hes my best friend!"
he laughed , "well considering you left him to dance with me i think i know that now."
you smiled up at him , admiring every feature you hadnt seen before from your distant pining. from his deep brown eyes to how perfect his curls layed on his head , the small scar across his eyebrow and the so faint freckles that you can only see them at this close proximity.
"i think youre interesting too," he smiled at your words as you left the first sign of your requited feelings , "i dont know you well but ive always liked you. at first it was just because youre hot - but now its much more! youre cold to everyone but i can tell youre probably really nice, and youre so passionate during quidditch matches , and youre so smart which is really suprising considering you only show up to the lessons we share- oh. oh!" you rambled as you realised how obvious his signs were this whole time.
he laughed at you a very light pink painting itself across his cheeks , "yeah , oh."
you looked down sheepishly until his soft voice caught your attention again, "well i guess a trip to hogsmeade has been due for quite a while then?"
you grinned at him nodding your head in excitement , "definetly!"
as you and mattheo continued to sway and talk about everything you could think of - harry , ron and hermione stood in the corner of the room.
"fuck off she actually did it!!" ron said in pure suprise.
"ive never seen mattheo riddle smile before," harry commented before turning to a happy hermione , "you owe her five chocolate bars."
#harry potter x reader#harry potter#hp fanfic#hp fandom#hp#x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo x reader#riddle#mattheo x you#slytherin#slytherin boys#harry#harry potter imagine#harry potter characters as taylor swift albums#ron weasley#hermione granger#taylor swift#i can fix him (no#ttpd#imagine#x y/n#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#lorenzo berkshire x reader#draco#draco malfoy x reader
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summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made
pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)
word count: 6.3k+
warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”
“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch.
“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-”
“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation.
“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you.
It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together.
“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients.
“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”
“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”
“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”
He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back.
With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t.
You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying.
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension.
“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-”
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands?
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body?
“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.
“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”
“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around.
“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself.
“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode.
“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!”
He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room.
“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?”
“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind.
“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare.
“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you.
“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on.
Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.”
“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat.
Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now.
“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling.
“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily.
Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time.
“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.
Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”
“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?”
“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be.
“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him.
“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!”
“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation.
“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return.
“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean.
“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”
“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again.
“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”
“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face.
“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.”
“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room.
You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes.
“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression.
“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you.
“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug.
“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!”
“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.”
“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.”
“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.”
“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish.
With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen.
“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”
“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?”
“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”
“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!”
“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!”
“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”
“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.”
“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!”
“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen.
“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table.
Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.”
Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort.
Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze.
“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head.
Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite.
“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food.
The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere.
“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin.
You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?”
“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?”
“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.
After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t.
“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly.
You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier.
“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.
“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”
“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving.
You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle.
“You alright?” you asked tentatively.
“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one.
“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.”
“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better.
He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation.
He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.”
“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word.
You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.
“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table.
“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration.
“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”
“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.”
“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return.
You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.”
Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”
“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation.
“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.”
You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk.
“What does that mean?” you asked curiously.
“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.”
“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.
Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”
You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.
“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you.
“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively.
You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.”
“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically.
“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.”
“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.”
“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.”
“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off.
“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.”
“Promise?” you asked meekly.
“I promise,” he said firmly.
“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further.
“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears.
“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly.
“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.
The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.
You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on.
“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously.
“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question.
You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this.
“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter.
The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you.
Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake.
The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.
You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there.
You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam.
You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything.
The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore.
Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out.
You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either.
“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs.
“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat.
Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.”
“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.
“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?”
“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.
“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?”
“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”
You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave.
“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you.
“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards.
“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?”
“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.”
Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”
“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.”
“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”
“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words.
“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward.
“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response.
“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.”
“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.
“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.”
You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name.
“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.”
You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you?
“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.”
“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps.
“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker.
“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.
“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.
“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently.
“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly.
It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated.
“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.”
“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation.
“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?”
“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her.
“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly.
“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.
It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.
“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?”
“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around.
“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!”
Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room.
“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief.
“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar.
You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying.
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.
“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-”
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.
“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.
“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room.
“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by.
“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car.
The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him.
If he ever decided to open the goddamn door.
“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time.
You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?”
You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward.
He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly.
“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.”
He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.”
“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you.
“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.
“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet.
“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work.
“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.”
“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him.
“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-”
“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”
“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.
“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more.
“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.”
“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat.
“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.”
“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked.
“We didn’t lie, we just-”
“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”
“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly.
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?”
“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?”
“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.”
“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess.
You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?”
He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.
“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down.
“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him.
“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?”
“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more.
“You said-”
“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”
“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin.
“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”
You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low.
“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.
As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks.
When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips.
You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.”
“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”
tagging: @winharry
dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean winchester x y/n#sam winchester x reader#dean x female!reader#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fluff#dean fluff#dean fic#dean winchester angst#dean angst#sam winchester fluff#supernatural fandom#supernatural fic#dean winchester x plus size reader#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#best friend!sam winchester
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Hi, I wanted to request something platonic with Percy, with him meeting his older half-sister after he finds out he's the son of Poseidon.
Sorry for my English, I'm using the translator to write, and sorry if you don't understand my request
Pictures On The Wall
Percy jackson x older!sister (platonic)
-£ this was the first thing that came to mind and it’s such a cute idea! thank you.
-£ words: 700
-£ warnings: short, nervous percy, cool reader, sassy and kinda grunge reader, siblings bonding, fluff.
the wall across from his bed was covered with many things. pictures of people he didn’t know along with a bed half made and clothes piled up. “that’s y/n’s” a name he never heard but yet was family. his half sister was somewhere on a quest and didn’t know that he was snooping round her things.
he looked at the pictures all the time, liking the smile you had. he knew that smile, a distinct memory in his mind but you wore it with pride. you looked so cool and by all the stories he heard you were one of the most awesome person at camp.
every cabin knew you, it was like he needed to fill some sort of shoe now that you walked in but he didn’t know the first thing.
“percy,” grover peaked into the cabin and looked around for his best friend, when he found him he looked nervous. “I think you should come.” percy jumped up at the sound of his voice that sounded like something horrible had happened.
percy walked along his friend while his heart raced, “what happened?” had another monster attacked the camp, what could have happened that he had to come.
“she’s back.” Grover muttered while sighing, “And we thought you should meet her.” oh,- oh gods. you were back so soon? he didn’t have a clue on what he would say or do. would you like him, would you hate him and somehow kick him out of the cabin? he’s never had a sibling before.
“she’s getting patched up and I’ll warn you,” Grover patted his shoulder with a kind smile, “she’s unpredictable at times.” Yeah, that makes me feel much better Percy thought.
as soon as the walked into the infirmary all they could hear was yelling and arguing making the young boys look at each other. they walked to the door and saw the girl on the bed glare at the other around her age.
he knew you. the picture he looked at every day you seemed to be exactly like that, but you didn’t look happy like all of them. the shirt you wore had rips in it and a bloody bandage wrapped around your arm. the redhead girl in front of you held a spoon up to your mouth but you kept fighter her off.
“I’m fine! It’s just a few scratches, I’m not a child!” it was ironic that you looked like a bratty child that wanted to stomp their feet. your lips pouted slightly. percy didn’t know what to think at the scene.
“take it. you’re just keeping yourself from leaving, so do it so I can leave!” the other girl seemed to knock some sense into you as you huffed and took the spoon in your mouth. if looks could kill then she would be on the ground by now, you looked so angry.
humming the redhead walked out of the door and looked at the boys before rolling her eyes and kept going down the hallway. you didn’t seemed to notice them as you started to take off the dirty bandages.
Grover was the first to speak, “excuse me,” you looked at him quickly but your eyes were now soft and no longer sharp. “Grover, come in!” you invited him over but your eyes soon fell on the boy next to him. and immediately the connection between the two of you went off in your head.
“you must be percy?”
he shifted closer and awkwardly not knowing want to do, “yeah. how do you know?”
“I received letters telling me of the idiot brother I seemed to have,” you chuckle and throw the dirty cloths in your hands on the bed. The cut was gone but dry blood still stayed on your skin, “you have dads eyes.” You pointed to your own.
“really?” he asked quietly as you hopped on the floor and stretched. “Oh yeah, less disappointment in them but I’ll give it time.”
you yawned and picked up the black jacket and your backpack, “I’m starving,” you stood between the two of them and then swung your arms around the two of them.
“Now, tell me what you did to Clarisse!” You smirk at the brother you just met, “my favorite sibling already.”
#pjo x reader#percy jackson x you#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson x reader#platonic percy jackson#platonic percy jackson x reader#platonic x reader#fluff#brother!percy jackson
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the problem with arguing
a/n: Hi, this is my first story, any constructive criticism is welcomed. This had not been properly edited nor read through because icba lmao :) also I wrote it for a fem!reader but I don't think there's much mention other than Jack calling reader 'mom' so... yeah :)
pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, platonic BAUteam x reader, motherly(If that's a word?)reader x teen!jack hotchner
summary: aaron and you are in a fight, but what happens when a meeting with a witness goes south?
warnings: criminal minds levels of violence, angst, fluff, couple fighting, reader in distress, reader getting injured, mentions of knives, mentions of being stabbed, mentions of being tied up, mentions of hospitals, mentions of killing, mentions of general injury, mentions of guns/shooting, minimal use of y/n.
1.6k + words.
“We’re here, we’ll update you if anything comes of it,” Morgan promises Hotch over the phone as we walk to the front porch of one of our witnesses. Something about his story is messed up and we were the unlucky ones who had to go talk to him. It’s a pretty house I guess, a little expensive for what a 26 year old man could afford, and what he would want to buy. It’s all fifties style, the entire estate is. Big-enough bungalows with pastel walls and inviting doors with a small porch, just enough for the entry-way and a chair. I knock on the door, exhausted from the past 72 hours. Aaron and I got in a fight before we got to Ohio, it was unnecessary, but we fought all the same. He was mad at me for giving Jack advice that led to a fight between them. I just wanted to kiss and make up 3 days ago but he won’t budge. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to confront it or maybe it’s because I took it too far and overstepped. Jack calls me ‘mom’, I live with him, and Jack came to me for support, he wanted guidance and I gave him it. He was mad at his dad because he missed meeting his girlfriend. His girlfriend, Ava, was a lovely girl, I had been the one there when Jack brought her over for dinner, I was the one trying to suss out if they actually liked each other, and I was the one Jack sat down with for 2 hours after and told everything about her to. All because Aaron was too busy with paperwork in his study. Jack was hurt, which is difficult to do because he’s such an understanding 16 year-old boy. It was also hard because I saw both sides. I’ll be the first to admit that what Aaron did was wrong, but our job is hard and demanding, especially his since he’s the leader of our team… But Jack just wanted 2 hours of his time, not even, just a dinner. A dinner to meet his girlfriend, and Aaron still couldn’t make it.
I knock again as I huff.
“Everything alright?” Morgan asks, the regular playful glint in his eye.
“Tired, mad, over this job. You?” I sigh.
“Sounds about right,” He chuckles. “How’s Jack doing?”
A smile spreads across my face. “He has a girlfriend,” Morgan’s face lights up in a smile.
“My man,” He smirks and I chuckle. “You two met her yet?”
My face drops again. “I have, Aaron… couldn’t make it to the dinner though. She’s lovely, perfect for Jack. It's so funny, it’s just opposites attract. Jack is so sporty and outspoken and she’s one of the quieter, more into her studies kind of person.”
The door swings open and we’re met with David, our witness.
“You two know what time it is?” He yawns.
“Oh trust us, we know,” Morgan sighs. “Can we ask you a few more questions?”
“It’s 10pm at night? Can’t this wait ‘till the morning?”
“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I reassure.
He looks between us for a moment, then sighs. “Quickly.”
We walk inside and are immediately hit with an awful smell. I know that smell. That’s when I see it, a body.
And that’s when it all goes black.
I wake up in a new room, tied to a chair. I don’t see Derrick anywhere. I don’t see David anywhere. I’m all alone in this grey room. I don’t see a door but I notice a camera, and a screen in front of me. I see Penelope on the screen, then a sign above it with “Don’t make noise” scribbled. I look to my left and see a plastic window, I see Morgan through it, tied up too. He sees me.
“Y/n? Y/n?! Where are you?” Penelope squeals. I shake my head and she picks up her phone and tries calling mine, it rings and I feel something go into my side. I scream out in pain as I see the blood start trickling out of me. Penelope drops her phone, then picks it up, dialling someone else’s number.
I get switched to a joint call with Penelope, and the rest of the team, excluding Aaron.
“Y/n?” Spencer asks and I nod, sobbing in pain. Spencer runs off-screen, leaving Jj and Emily to stare in horror at me.
Spencer comes back with Aaron and we make eye-contact through the screen, and he starts breaking. He’s shouting orders at the policemen in the precinct, he’s shouting orders at the team, and he’s trying not to cry. I know that. I also know I’m the only one who knows that. He hides it pretty well but not from me, not after all of our years together. His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow more than usual, he starts biting at the skin around his nails.
“We’re coming to find you. We will find you,” he promises me. I nod slowly as the pain in my side becomes unbearable as the knife is pulled out.
“Is Morgan with you?” Emily asks and I nod as I bite my lip until it bleeds to stop myself from making too much noise.
“Is he in the room with you?” Spencer asks.
I shake my head no. After what feels like an eternity of yes or no questions, they think they’ve located us.I hear banging on the door and then it opens. Spencer is standing there with an entire Swat team behind him. I shake my head to tell them to not make noise but they talk anyway and another knife is put into my leg, I don’t have the strength to stay quiet this time and another finds its way into my arm. I pass out.
I wake up in a hospital bed, an IV in my arm, Aaron on one side and Jack on the other. Aaron’s asleep in a chair on my left, I grimace, knowing his back will hurt.
“Mom?!” Jack exclaims as he sees me open my eyes. “Mom!” His eyes fill with tears as he gets up and wraps his arms around me on the bed.
“Jack,” I sigh in relief.
“You’re okay! You’re awake!” He smiles brightly, happy that I’m alive.
Aaron wakes up from the commotion and rushes to my side. “Honey?” He takes my hand and squeezes. “You’re okay.”
I smile at both of them.
“I’ll go get the doctor,” Jack smiles and he rushes off to find a doctor.
“Honey I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” He starts but I cut him off.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” he sighs, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Don’t go all soft now Aaron,” I joke.
“You make me soft,” He smiles and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
Jack comes back in with a doctor. She tells me that I lost a lot of blood and that I will be out of the field for a few months, with 2 weeks of mandatory bedrest, then 4 weeks of physical therapy.
The next day, the team come in to visit.
“Hey,” Spencer smiles, walking in first. I’ve always been close to Spencer, he’s always felt like a little brother to me.
“Hey,” I smile and wince when I hug him, but I know it’s worth it. The rest of the team filter in, smiles on their faces.“So what happened after I went out?”
“Well, they got me, no injuries apart from a concussion,” Morgan says.
“We got the guy-” Emily starts.
“Aaron got the guy,” Spencer interrupts. “He saw him and just shot him-”
“And then he beat the crap out of him,” Jj says. “It was pretty intense.”
I nod along as they tell me the story, and then we just talk about whatever until Aaron comes in and says visiting hours are over. Spencer leaves me a few more books to read and Jj brings Jack to Ava’s house for the night. Aaron walks in with my dinner on a tray.
“Hungry?” He smiles.
“You shot someone for me?” I ask as he places my tray down.
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes and smile at him. “Is he alive?”
“No.”
My face drops. “Oh.”
“It was the combined bleeding and head trauma that killed him.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I did.”
I look at my food. “I understand you wanted to protect me-”
“I did that because he doesn’t get to live after doing this to you. Honey, you and Jack are the most important people in my life and I would do anything if it meant that you were safe and sound. Do you want to know how it felt to have what could’ve been my last words to you be ‘stop bothering me’? I was an asshole to you over the Jack situation because I knew you were right. I knew it wasn’t fair to not go to dinner when I was in the house. I knew it was important and it just felt too real. It felt like he was growing up and I just couldn’t take it because I missed so much of his childhood! So I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry that I said everything I said and did what I did, but I am not sorry about hurting that fucking monster,” He takes a deep breath. “Now eat up, it’ll go cold.”
“I love you Aaron, it’s ok. It wasn’t your fault, being a parents is hard.”
His eyes fill with tears and he looks at me like an injured puppy.
“Come here,” I smile and move over, allowing room for him to sit with me. He climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me, being careful of my wounds.
“I love you,” he whispers as I slowly eat my food.
“I love you too.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#bau team#bau x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#bau imagine#penelope garcia#spencer reid#aaron hotch hotchner#criminal minds x you
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The Importance Of Secret Keeping | Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader
Summary: When Rick brought in the former Woodbury residents, Daryl tried to stay away from them. However, a little girl had made him her unofficial best friend, and she revealed some pretty interesting things to him about you.
Genre: Fluff.
Era: Prison, pre season 4.
Warnings: Swearing.
Word count: 1.3k.
A/n: This isn't the best because I couldn't really focus while writing this, but I wanted to get this done. I hope you like this nonetheless!
“Daryl, are you a tree?” Hazel asked innocently, skipping alongside the archer who had just returned from his run.
Daryl raised his eyebrows in surprise at the six year old's question. He sent a nod in Rick's direction, before extending his hand to the little girl to help her bound up the stairs that lead to the cell blocks.
“No, I ain't a tree,” Daryl replied to Hazel's question, pushing open the door that lead into the cell blocks.
“I didn't think so,” Hazel responded instantly, using her hand that held Daryl's to swing their arms in a childlike manner.
Daryl's lips twitched up into a small smile at the girl's antics, allowing her to swing his arm as they walked. “Then why'd ya ask, kiddo?”
“Because Mama said you have arms like tree trunks,” Hazel replied, before giggling and shaking her head. “Silly Mama. She thinks you're a tree. You should tell her you're not.”
Daryl's eyes widened in shock at Hazel's confession. He stopped in his tracks and withdrew his hand from the small girl's grip, making her turn around and look at Daryl in confusion.
“Daryl?”
“Yer mama really said tha'?” the archer questioned in surprise.
“Yeah! Mama says a lot of things about you. She talks about you with Michonne all the time,” Hazel happily told him. “Her thinking you're a tree is silly, though.”
Daryl hummed in acknowledgement, willing the blush spreading across his face to go away. He started walking again and Hazel bounded next to him. “Wha' else does yer mama say 'bout me?”
“She says you have a cute butt,” Hazel began, before making an over exaggerated disgusted face. “Butts are gross.”
“Yeah, butts are gross,” Daryl chuckled, leading the six year old into the cellblock and up into his own cell. “Dun' know why yer mama would think mine s'cute.” He allowed Hazel to rush into his cell, her attention instantly going to the boardgame they had been playing the day before.
“Are you going to be my new daddy, Daryl?” Hazel asked suddenly, eliciting a confused scoff from the man.
“Why ya askin' tha'?” he inquired, sitting down on his bed. He toed off his boots and grabbed some jerky he had made, before flopping down onto his back, the thin mattress offering some form of relief for the tired archer. He began chewing on the dry meat, turning his attention back to the young girl.
Hazel climbed onto the bed, making herself comfortable by his feet. “Because Mama said that you have daddy vibes.”
That caught Daryl off guard. He choked on the jerky, his airway cut off. He sat up and hit himself against his chest, soon successfully ridding his airway of the thing that almost killed him. He looked at Hazel in shock, the little girl looking back at him in confusion.
Catching his breath, Daryl shook his head at Hazel. “Nah, I ain't gon' be yer new daddy. Yer mama must've been talkin' 'bout someone else.”
Hazel shook her head in disagreement. “No, Mama was talking about you, Daryl. She said your name when she said that.”
Daryl looked at Hazel in shock and slowly nodded. He had a hard time believing that you, the no-nonsense lady who was one of the very few Woodbury residents who actually knew how to handle herself against the dead, had taken an interest like that in him. There was no way that the woman he had taken an unexpected liking to, a liking that had soon morphed into something that wasn't platonic, liked him like that. He just couldn't believe it.
“Mama also said she'd look better in your shirt,” Hazel said, interrupting his train of thought.
Daryl inhaled sharply. He thought about her words for a moment before nodding to himself, picturing you in his shirt. “Yeah, she would,” he mumbled to himself.
“What?” Hazel asked, tilting her head in confusion.
Daryl quickly shook his head. “Nothin'. S'nothin'.”
As if appearing out of thin air, you showed up at his cell, quietly knocking on the doorframe. Hazel's attention shifted towards the door and she quickly clambered off the bed. She excitedly sprinted towards you and you caught her in a big hug, placing a small kiss on top of her head.
“Hey, Baby,” you greeted her, looking up at Daryl and sending him a shy smile. “Hey, Daryl.”
Daryl, now cursed with knowledge about what you thought of him, could feel his cheeks heating up. He sent you a small nod. “Hey.”
You looked down at your daughter again, about to usher her out of the cell with you, but she saw someone walking outside, and she wiggled herself out of your arms to run to that person. “Michonne!”
“Hazel!” you called out to her, peeping out of the cell just in time to see Michonne embrace the girl in a hug.
Michonne looked up at you and waved you off. “I got her. I'll get her settled down for the night. You say goodnight to your crush.”
You ducked your head in embarrassment and sent her a crude gesture with your middle finger, eliciting a laugh from her. “Fuck you, Michonne,” you mouthed to her, watching her leave with Hazel.
Shaking your head, you turned back around and almost ran into the archer. Daryl steadied you, and you could feel the heat seeping from his hands to your arms.
“Ya alrigh'?” he asked you, his blue eyes gazing deeply into yours.
You nodded, your breath leaving you due to the close proximity you had with the man. “I'm good,” you whispered in confirmation, your heart speeding up.
Daryl, overcome by a rare sense of confidence, hummed and smirked slightly. “Ya sure? My tree trunk arms didn't chaffe yer shirt or anythin'?”
Your eyes widened in surprise, and you took a step back. “What?”
“Ya need my shirt instead? I bet ya will look better in it than any of yer own shirts.”
Realization dawned on you. “Hazel—”
“Yeah,” Daryl cut you off, smiling slightly at the way your eyes widened. “Said ya think my butt looks real cute, too. She said other things too, but m'not gon' embarrass ya any more.”
“God, she really exposed me, huh?” you laughed shyly, ducking your head to avoid the archer's eyes.
Daryl moved forward and cupped your chin, lifting your head to look at him. The air between the two of you shifted, an unexplainable electricity forming. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission.
However, before anything could happen, Hazel came bounding into Daryl's cell again, Michonne hot on her tail. Daryl quickly pulled away and took a step back, and you straightened yourself.
Michonne looked between you and Daryl with a knowing smirk. Daryl blushed and ducked his head, while you pursed your lips and sent her a warning glare. “Don't even think about it,” you mouthed to her, moving away from Daryl to pick up your daughter. “What are you doing here, Baby? I thought auntie Michonne was putting you to bed.”
“I want you to do it, Mama,” Hazel explained, lowering her head to rest on your shoulder. She waved at Daryl, giggling into your shoulder. “Goodnight, Daryl.”
“Nigh',” Daryl greeted her, sharing a shy nod with you. “I'll, uh, see ya tomorrow, righ'?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, casting your eyes away from him. “Goodnight, Daryl.”
With that, you turned and walked out of the cell with Michonne, leaving Daryl alone in his cell. The archer, confused by everything that happened, sat himself down on the bed. However, he chuckled to himself when he heard your voice from down the hall.
“Hazel, how about for tonight's bedtime story, I teach you about the importance of keeping secrets?”
Yeah, Daryl thought, Hazel definitely wasn't lying. And he took that as an invitation to finally confess to you.
Which he did, that very next day, while you were on watch duty.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl x reader#twd daryl#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl#twd daryl x reader#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon fic#daryl fluff
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Headcanons
Father!Alastor & Child!GN!Reader
PURELY PLATONIC
TW:NONE!
A/N: I just have ideas for Papa Alastor and his little fawn gremlin child. To that Anon who came up with it! If you have any input don’t be afraid to reblog or shoot me an ask with your own (even if my askbox is closed just let me know it’s you). I was listening to ‘No More Birthdays by Sophie May’.
Domestic fluff with Papa Alastor and his little fawn.
Second Part
So- I don’t know if sinners “age” or grow up in hell but let’s say for the sake of this little post that they do but it's really really slow or you're just a little child forever..WHO KNOWS.
Anyways…you’re like a carbon copy of Alastor only smaller and maybe brighter colors (Where as he has dark red hair you have maybe lighter red hair or a different light color) and little white spots in your hair or fur, maybe some freckles too.
You are the only soul that is allowed to touch his cane without his permission or guidance, especially because he knows you like to wander off at times, not too far but when you both are walking down the street and he’s not feeling into physical contact he holds his cane out to you and that’s your cue to hold on. If he’s fine with physical contact? He’ll be holding your tiny hand into his, it’s something he got used to doing when he walked you to school those early mornings before he had to go to his radio station.
When he introduces you to Niffty and Husk? He’s not worried about Niffty, but he is glaring Husk down as you walk around the ex-overlord. You’re just curious. But once you get used to him you walk back over to your Papa and hold onto his cane, that’s his signal that you’re ready to go.
I’m a firm believer that sinners still feel the pain of whatever killed them in life when they get into hell as a reminder of why they are there. So speaking of that, Alastor gets hella bad migraines which he got used to easily but when he hears you coughing? He’s immediately by your side and holding a handkerchief to your mouth. He pulls you closer to him if it’s one of those bad coughs that make you wheeze really bad, he’s just a scared Papa and doesn’t know modern medicine well enough to get you the right treatment.
He dresses you in the fashion he’s used to, which is either a button down shirt with slacks or a dress. You’d wear a small little bowtie either around your neck or in your hair.
Now when he arrives at the Hotel with you? You’re automatically being held because he knows you as his child and how curious you are but also he’s a paranoid deer dad. But after a while? He’s letting you down and gently patting your back to let you wander around, just please stay in his line of sight for now. He walks around the hotel with you so you can see all the sights as Charlie and Vaggie are with him explaining everything.
Speaking of Charlie and Vaggie, they both terrified you and it almost sent Alastor into a frenzy. He doesn’t care if Vaggie points a spear at him but not at his little fawn. Charlie was just loud and that frightened you.
Angel Dust wasn’t allowed around you for a while, but once he was, he was very sober and didn’t utter a word about anything your ears shouldn’t know lest he faces the wrath of your Papa. He also gets you treats and gives you head pats.
You do have your own room next to Alastor’s and he makes sure it looks like it did when you were alive, filled with your favorite toys and books lining the shelves. He got Rosie to make you a new teddy bear that resembled him once more and you absolutely adore that thing.
You and Niffty are gremlins together but she keeps her eye on you the whole time and makes sure you don’t get hurt or in trouble. She’s also very helpful when you start having a coughing fit but if it gets really bad? She gets Charlie or Husk to help.
Alastor pulls Charlie aside one day whilst you are playing, “Charlie, you know I don’t believe in this silly little redemption thing as a whole but..if this does end up working, I want my little fawn to be up there. They don’t deserve to be down here with these disgusting and vile creatures. That’s all I care about.” He whispered glancing back at you as Charlie followed his gaze before smiling and nodding, “Of course, Alastor. How did..” She stopped herself as Alastor stood up tall. “They were sick ever since they were just a little baby..” He whispered out before clearing his throat and cleaning his monocle. He was done talking..reminiscing on his past mistakes.
When Mimzy comes around? He doesn’t let her near you, he knows what trouble she brings and he won’t stand for it if she dares harm a hair on your head. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, it’s just he’d rather not feel the heartbreak he did all those years ago when he first lost you.
Some nights when you're fast asleep he holds you in his arms and sits on the floor. It grounds him when he feels you breathing, especially when memories of that night plague him and he can’t seem to catch a break. Even if he’s at his breaking point with physical affection, he will force himself to hold you just because those thoughts are plaguing him and he has to make sure you're breathing. His hands will rub circles on your back and he’ll let himself cry but it will be drowned out by soft jazz playing just in case someone walks by your bedroom door.
He also finds it soothing when he brushes and does your hair, even if you don’t have long hair he’ll brush it out for you in the mornings while he enjoys his coffee. He’s very careful around your tiny deer ears too. If you have trouble tying your bowtie or bow? Don’t worry, He is getting down on one knee and tying it for you while talking you through the steps.
100% you are his little sous chef/ taste tester. His love for spicy food is passed down to you and if it’s not spicy enough for you it’s definitely not spicy for him. While he himself doesn’t like to indulge in sweets, he’ll learn to make your favorite treat and surprise you with it.
Omg when Lucifer comes to the hotel? Alastor gets protective because now the King of Hell is talking to you and not him but he’s not being mean about it…kinda. He’ll make an off joke about Alastor and you’ll stomp your hoof and puff your chest out and headbutting Lucifer. It’s even better if you have little nubs where your antlers (if you have them) are growing in. That’s what the King of Hell gets for bad talking your Papa in front of you! It doesn’t hurt Lucifer but he gets the gist (he doesn’t)
A/N: Once again if anyone has any headcannons of their own go wild. These are just I thought of!
Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord (figured since you drew those masterpieces, I'd tag you in some more little headcanons)
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel imagine#gn reader#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x you#platonic#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor
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Let me put my Lips to Something
Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader
Summary: After learning about his aversion to touch, you tone down the physical affection. Spencer finds himself missing your touch, and after weeks of yearning, he’s had enough. He decides it’s time to fix this.
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: Fluff, it gets pretty steamy towards the end but nothing graphic so I don't think this needs age restricting lmao
A/N: Part 2 to “I’m Starvin’, Darlin’”. The feedback on the last part motivated me to finish this in like, a single sitting lmao. Hope y’all enjoy! :)
P.S. My requests are open so if you wanna send something in for Spence, I'll do my best to get to it quickly!
Part 1 - Current - Part 3
Spencer hadn’t realised how much he wanted — how much he needed — your touch until you stopped. Where there was once that warm, tingly anticipation whenever he made you laugh, there‘s now a strange absence left in its wake. Where there used to have been a bump or a squeeze, there are awkward smiles and nervous glances. Like a line of dialogue without end quotations, left to hang in the balance while the author considers what should be said next.
It’s killing him.
He’s come to realise that this want extends beyond the bounds of anything that could ever be considered platonic. He wants more than your touch. He wants you.
He craves you, finds himself remembering the way your arms felt around him the last time you hugged him. Finds himself fantasising about how it would feel to be the one to take you in his arms. How it would feel to be the one to hold you; to cradle your face between his palms and lose himself in your kiss; to let go of his inhibitions and drown himself in the depths of your affections.
He wants your time and energy. He wants your attention and praise. He wants to be the one to make you smile and laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He wants to be yours, and he wants everyone to know it.
It’s only been three weeks since that night at the bar, but even so, he feels like if he doesn’t figure out how to tell you how he feels, he might very well lose his mind. You’re right across from him all day, five days a week. It’s torture. Perhaps he’s being dramatic, but at this point, he’s well beyond caring.
The problem is, how on earth is he supposed to go about confessing to you? He’s never been suave or charismatic. He’s awkward and dorky and breaks a sweat every time anyone even remotely attractive looks his way. He’s never felt this intensely about anyone before, never desired anyone this way before. Sometimes, late at night when he’s finally tucked himself into bed, he attempts to calculate the probability of you ever wanting him in the way he wants you.
In his pessimistic mind, that number is despairingly low.
“Spence?” He startles at the sound of your voice, snapping his head up to look at you.
You’ve worn a different lipstick today. It’s a little darker than your usual colour, a rather glossy, rosier shade of mauve. He thinks he’s seen it somewhere before, and the name pops up from somewhere in his memory.
“Rum raisin.” He mumbles, staring intently at your lips and wondering briefly if it would transfer if he kissed you.
“What?” You cock your head at him with an amused sort of confusion.
He blinks once before clearly his throat, “Oh, um, your lipstick.”
You raise your hand so your fingertips hover over your bottom lip as you smile at him, “How’d you know?”
“I saw it in a drugstore once.”
You chuckle and shake your head, “Your memory never ceases to amaze me, Spence.”
His heart swells as he smiles sheepishly, “Thanks.”
You hum before gesturing to two big boxes of files that are sitting on your desk, “Could you help me run these down to records?”
“Oh, yeah.” He’s quick to cross the short distance to your desk and purposely picks the heavier of the two boxes.
The trip down to records is a rather tedious one as of today. The elevator is out of order so you have to take the stairs from the sixth floor to the third.
“Do you like rain?” You ask, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking out water speckled windows at the stormy street below.
“Yeah.” He leaves out the part that the possibility of power outages and the darkness that accompanies them unnerves him greatly.
You turn your head to smile at him as you reach the records room, “Me too.”
He opens the door for you before you have the chance and lets you go in first, letting the door shut behind him. He follows you into the room, weaving between shelves and stepping over boxes that have yet to find their places. He watches you skim over the yellowed labels, your lips twitching as you read them off in your head.
You find the spot you’re looking for and make a sound of satisfaction before bending at the waist to slide the box into place, your skirt sliding a little further up to press against the plush flesh of the backs of your thighs. His gaze wanders up the length of your body and stops at your chest. From this angle, he’s able to see the curve of your breast and he swallows hard. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, feeling ashamed for ogling you like that.
Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he sees the lights flicker and when he opens them, he finds he’s not able to see much more than when he had them closed.
Shit.
“Damnit, the power’s out.” You curse, taking the box from him and slotting it in next to the other.
He takes a deep breath. The dark isn’t as frightening with you there in front of him, but that familiar anxiety pricks his chest and settles heavy in his gut.
“Spence?”
He wonders when the emergency lights will come on. Maybe they’re already on in the hall. He feels along the wall and shuffles back over to the door. When he tries the knob, he finds it locked. Now he’s panicking a little.
Well, maybe a lot.
There’s a clap of thunder outside that’s so powerful that he feels it in his chest and he jumps, breath catching in his chest as he screws his eyes shut as if it’ll make a difference.
“Spence?” You call again softly, “Are you okay?
“Y-Yeah.” He stutters.
“You don’t like storms?”
He shakes his head before realising you can’t see him, “No, not really.”
“Me neither.” You whisper, and he hears the shuffling of your clothes as you shift your weight between your feet and huff a breathy puff of nervous laughter, “I don’t like the dark either.”
“Me neither.” He echoes, wetting his lips briefly as he considers how to comfort you despite how anxious he is himself.
Carefully, tentatively, he reaches for you in the dark and takes your hand, just barely brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Your skin is soft and warm, and he attempts to find your face in the dark as he murmurs ever so softly, “Is this okay?”
“Yeah.” You reply just as softly, squeezing his hand.
It’s a little unsettling not being able to see you. He can hear you breathing, and having your hand in his feels so nice, but he wants you closer.
“Can I…” He trails off, but tugs at your hand so you’ll step a little closer. He swallows his nerves, “Can I distract you?”
It’s a lame excuse, but it’s all he can come up with on the spot.
“Distract me how?” He can hear the smile in your voice and it encourages his steadily growing confidence.
He pulls you closer, and you step further into his space. He places a hand on your waist, and you don’t recoil. In fact, you come a little closer and set a hand on his chest. You slide it along the length of his shoulder and up the back of his neck to thread your fingers in the hairs at the base of his skull and he shudders, lips parting to sigh softly. Your thumb settles just behind his ear and strokes the skin there tenderly and he can’t stop himself from leaning down to gently bump your nose with his, giving you plenty of time to pull away, to tell him you don’t want this.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask so innocently, breath fanning over his lips in a steady rhythm as his eyelids flutter shut.
“Please.” He breathes, leaning in to meet you halfway.
Your lips meet his timidly and his heart stutters in his chest. There’s a second where you pull back to let him breathe, let him get used to the feeling. His eyes open a sliver, just enough to make out the edges of you in the dark as his brain catches up with his body. And then the shock passes.
And he devours you.
The hand that was on your waist comes up to cradle your cheek as he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip in a silent request. You grant it, opening up to him to let him roll his tongue against yours. You stand on your tiptoes and lean further into him, returning the kiss with a fervour he wasn’t expecting but welcomes happily. He can taste your lipstick and is pleasantly surprised to find it tastes a little like vanilla.
There’s a push and pull of tongues and teeth and soft little sighs as he dares to slip his hands down and pull you flush against him by your hips, revelling in the breathy moan that slips from your throat and meets his mouth. He pulls away only to kiss sloppily at the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, smiling against your skin when you gasp and tug at his hair. Mouthing at your skin, he searches until you whine and shudder after he drags his teeth over a particular spot and focuses his attention there.
He sucks a nice bruise into the spot, some primal part of him driving him to mark you up and claim you as his while he has you here. He bites a little too hard and you hiss, making him pull back and search for your face in the dark.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“Mm-mm.” You hum before immediately capturing his lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing the moan that escapes him.
He guides you by your hips until he has you pressed against the door, sliding a hand down the length of your thigh before slipping it up past the hem of your skirt to grab greedily at your flesh. He hikes your leg up by his hip and you hook your knee around it to pull him impossibly close.
His touch is tender even as he practically swallows you whole, thumb stroking the side of your thigh where your skirt has ridden up. He rolls his hips up against your experimentally and you whine, urging him to do it again. This is what he’s wanted — craved — for so long. You’re warm and soft in ways that his imagination could have never replicated. He’s dizzy, drunk on your kiss, on your touch, on you.
He’s attached himself to your neck again — the other side this time — when the lights flicker on, startling you both into looking up at the ceiling.
The room is filled with nothing but the sound of your combined laboured breathing, and when he looks back at you, he finds your face flushed and your lipstick smudged. You look back at him and he notices your pupils are blown wide as you suddenly smile and start giggling.
“What?” He chuckles, letting go of your thigh so that you can stand on your own two feet again.
“Rum raisin looks good on you, doctor.” You laugh, thumbing the remnants of your kisses off of his bottom lip.
He kisses you once again, smiling against your lips.
You tug him back and laugh again, “You’re making it worse!”
He does it again, and again, and then peppers kisses over the side of your neck until you’re giggling something awful and have to scrunch your shoulder to your ear to keep him from tickling you.
“Spencer!” You squeak as quietly as you can and he pulls away laughing.
Your giggles die down, and then you’re both left in a silence that isn’t awkward, but isn’t quite comfortable either. He has to say something, but what?
“Hey, would you, um,” You start, glancing down at his lips and biting at yours nervously, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Just us?”
He blinks, wanting to pinch himself to make sure this is actually happening, “Like, a date?”
You nod. He blinks again before practically beaming at you.
“Yeah.” He nods, attempting to correct the smudged edge of your lipstick with his thumb, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”
“Saturday? Five o’ clock? We can do whatever you want.”
He nods again, “Sounds good.”
“Good.” You smile, leaning up to kiss him, your touch so saccharine and gentle that his legs feel like jello beneath him.
The doorknob jiggles suddenly and he instinctively reaches to help you button up your blouse a little more while you fiddle with the collar until it covers the rather obvious hickey on your neck.
“Hey, are you two still in there?” Derek calls from the other side as you attempt to help Spencer fix his hair to no avail.
“Uh, yeah!” He calls, clearing his throat after his voice cracks up an octave, “We accidentally locked ourselves in.”
“Here.” You bend to slide the key under the door, and this time, he stares unabashedly, “That’s the key.”
The knob jiggles a little more before the door opens, and when it does, Derek eyes the two of you suspiciously, “You guys okay?” He locks eyes with Spencer and smirks, “You seem a little winded.”
“Yeah, we’re okay.” You smile, hastily walking out, “The boxes were just heavy. Plus, we had to walk all the way down here.”
“Yeah, okay.” Derek says, though it’s clear he isn't convinced. When you get a little further ahead of them, he claps Spencer on the back with a bright grin, “About time, loverboy!”
“Shut up.” Spencer shoots back, though he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face.
This is not how he expected his confession to go, but — as he watches you walk down the hall a little ways ahead of him with a renewed pep in your step and your hair a little dishevelled — he is so glad it went the way it did.
———————————————————————
Edit: I had a couple people request a part 3 (Possibly smutty, but we shall see), and I'm curious about whether or not y'all would want that? Just let me know in the replies/reblogs. :)
Update: Part 3 is posted and linked at the top of this post :)
Taglist:
@louderfortheback @theblaxkbird @marimorena06 @special-forces7 @lolilkkk
#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds
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Hi! Can i ask for a self aware twst when the reader surprises adopted Silver as their son. Like just pointing at him and saying 'you are my child now' with Silver, Lilia and Sebek. Hope you have a good day!
Hehe. Anon, you know what you are doing. In fact, I would say you even want the chaos. And for that I love you come here so I can hug you.
Self-aware au
I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!
WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Diasomnia chapter spoilers (Lilias part, maybe Sebek), religion, violence, isolation, kidnapping, obsessive behavior
Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Silver/Sebek Zigvolt-Adopting Silver
Oh ok. Cool cool coolcoolcoolcoolcool
Well, at least that one room dedicated to you in the form of an altar can now be used for more practical uses (finally)
When Lilia heard you say those words and point at his son, he fell from the chandelier he was dangling from
Not only did he have to navigate through not accidentally telling his son that he was the blood related son of an enemy general and that exactly this general killed Malleus mom
But also that he had now a second parent that also happened to be god
Mhm totally normal
Conversations to strangers about his family were already playing out like this in his head:
Hi, I am Lilia Vanrouge, yes the one in your history book, this is my son Silver, yes he looks like a certain knight, and my lovely partner and also parent of this lovely human, yes, FU**ING GOD THEMSELVES
Ah yes, sitting in church will totally not be awkward after this
Bro legit sits you down with a pen and paper, asking you to sign the marriage certificate
Asks you what flowers you want to have on your wedding. Doesn't matter if you are a woman, man or identify as something else, he is planning that
Also has already planned out how to get you into the Valley of Thorns without anyone noticing
Because no matter how devoted he is to you, he will always be too greedy to share your attention with someone else
You could have said this as a joke or some other protective instinct towards the silver-haired male but all that man's father hears is a marriage proposal
Lilia is just happy that you feel some sort of positive way to his family member (makes things easier when you are stuck in that cabin)
I mean, he did see Silver as a present from you, a child meant to bring him back to the light after being so long in the shadow of war
And now the three of you were together! How lovely!
Which would mean that you planned this all along. Dear Overseer, if you liked the idea of you being a family you could have just told him so
He will be the best partner to raise a child together you could dream of
And should someone dare to interrupt the perfect, peaceful life you three (plus two more) had, he wouldn't mind swinging that sword again
Wait what?
What do you mean with that?
Are you sure you want him to be your son? Really?
Apparently he was not the only one surprised since he could hear the thud of his father falling to the ground behind him and Seek screaming somewhere behind him
Be prepared for a silver haired knight to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes and ask "Do you really want me as you son?"
Critical hit! Someone call a doctor. I think the Valley of Thorns god can be killed by cuteness
After that he is glued to your side (even though you have to part sooner or later since he is not living in Ramshackle)
One morning you woke up to the guy standing there with some food being like "I made some food."
Like where the Heck did he even get the keys for the dorm? (He broke in through a hole in the ceiling)
Silver always comes running to you whenever he does something and wants praises
Once he was best in one of his classes and he stood there with the report like he could turn into a dog and get headpats from you any second
But, as I am sure you are aware of, this is a blog with yandere themes and we have to say goodbye to the fluff at some point
That sword training comes in handy is all I'm saying
I mean, he has probably enough strength to break someone's leg with his bare hands by simply applying some pressure
And that one Diasomnia student that tried to take his son-status away from him was found again in a not-so-compatible-state-with-life kind of situation
I'm letting you imagine what happened
Like Lilia he is ready to burn everyone who dares to interfere with your little family
The forests of his homeland are pretty though so no need to worry about the appearance of your surroundings once they bring you to your new home (who needs social interaction anyways?)
A second of silence
And then the screaming started
“OH HOW KIND OF OUR OVERSEER! TO SHOW A MORTAL THEIR KINDNESS AND CARING SIDE!”
Seek would be lying if he said that he wasn't surprised
You, aka the Overseer, aka some higher being, AKA GOD, were known in the Valley of Thorns to be kind and caring, yet also distant and never approaching others directly
But then you literally adopt someone, making that person someone in your inner cycle?
Well, if Sebek knew one thing then that those Priests were going to have a crisis as soon as they learned about this
Totally not jealous
He would try to get closer to you since, apparently, you did allow others to get close to you
But he was happy as long as you were
After all, he was now the (not-so-official appointed) shield of the Valley of Thorns, something he got passed on by his grandfather
So of course he couldn't be family with you
That didn't mean he couldn't “help” you
Someone intruded on that dinner you had with Lilia and Silver?
Ouch… that punch must have hurt
Whenever Silver or his Father had to interfere because someone else came too close then they were some incredibly slick (looking at you Rook) or lucky person
Don't let his loud mouth fool you
This crocodile has done unmentionables in your name in order to make things easier for your new found family
For what? Oh you know, becoming his neighbor back home… forever
#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twst x reader#self aware au#twst#twst headcanons#twst lilia x reader#yandere lilia x reader#yandere lilia vanrouge#lilia vanrouge x reader#yandere lilia#lilia x reader#yandere silver x reader#twst silver x reader#platonic silver#twst silver#yandere sebek x reader#yandere sebek zigvolt#sebek zigvolt x reader#twst sebek#yandere sebek#sebek x reader#tw: violence#tw: isolation#tw: yandere#tw: obsessive behavior#tw: religion
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Obey Me Brothers React
To you having an period accident
(All those posts I see on the internet of kids not being allowed to use the bathroom at school and having bathroom accidents has my blood boiling so here I am with a comfort rant. Didn’t do all of them as I ran out of ideas, but feel free to input your own for a possible part 2!)
Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Platonic/Romantic
You felt like you could burst into tears any moment. The teacher had denied you access to the bathroom, even with your pitiful pleas. And you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape an accident by the time class was over.
~~~~~~
Lucifer
Had come to your classroom to see why you weren’t in your next class already to hear an enraging argument between you and the teacher.
“Why didn’t you just say you had to go?”
“But I did! You said I couldn’t go, and that I’d be disrupting the class!”
The smell of blood told Lucifer all he had to know.
“I don’t need to hear any more to know what’s happened here.” Lucifer spoke lowly, and you both turned to see him with horns and wings on full display, with that very specific disappointed look on his face.
“Lucifer!” The teacher piped up, sweat dripping down his brow. “What brings—”
“Go to Lord Diavolo’s office. Immediately.”
The teacher paled at Lucifer’s aura, and with head dropped slipped past the avatar of pride and down the hall.
Lucifer was immediately at your side, wiping away your tears. He frowned at your embarrassed, flushed face, heart aching at the sound of your quiet cries.
“I’m so sorry this happened.” He murmured, reaching down to wrap you in his arms and wings. “I’ll make sure that teacher is dealt with. Wait here, I’ll go get something to help you.”
“Okay…”
In barely any time at all, Lucifer had brought a towel, clean clothes, and anything else you could need. He hid you with his wings as he walked you to the bathroom, waited patiently while you freshened up, and then walked you hand in hand to your next class.
“Next time just go ahead and go. We’ll deal with the teacher afterwards.”
“Thank you Lucifer.”
“Anything for you, (Y/n).”
Mammon
Mammon glanced over at you confused when he realized you hadn’t gotten up from your seat. Class was over, why weren’t you getting up?
“Oi, (Y/n), what’s the deal?” He called as the teacher slipped past him out the doorway. You glanced back, on the verge of tears and looking practically mortified.
“(Y/n)?”
You broke then, tears falling down your face with a broken sob. Mammon was by your side in an instant, and then the smell of blood hit him.
A glance towards him showed visceral anger on his face, as he looked from you to the doorway.
You doubt he was even aware his demon form was out.
“That damn bastard didn’t let ya go to the bathroom, and now ya can’t…” he was at a loss for words now, so angry and upset for you.
He took a breath, reaching down to brush away your tears. “Stay here, don’t move, I’ll get you some help.”
He was out the door then, and in just a few minutes a few female demons you recognized came in. They had a change of clothes for you, paper towels for the stained seat, and all without a word or remark had hurried you to the closest bathroom for you to freshen up.
By the time you were done, Mammon was waiting outside the bathroom with your books in hand. He was no longer in his demon form, and gently took your hand and began leading you to your next class.
“Lucifer and Lord Diavolo are gonna take care of that teacher. You told him what was goin’ on and he ignored you, that ain’t okay.”
“Thank you, Mammon.” You spoke quietly, earning a side hug in response.
“I-It’s nothin’! I wouldn’t be The Great Mammon if I left ya hangin’.”
Satan
Had received a flurry of texts from you as soon as the bell rang, explaining how you needed to go, how you weren’t allowed, and how you were now unable to stand up without a mortifying accident happening.
Cue Satan bursting into the room three minutes later in full demon form, looking ready to kill a man.
“YOU!” Satan roared, probably loud enough for the whole school to hear, “Take your ass the Lord Diavolo’s office before I rip you a new one!”
Needless to say the teacher wasted no time.
The next instant Satan has pulled up a chair and sat in it, reaching out to check you over. You had been crying, left red faced from embarrassment.
“I don’t wanna stand up.” You spoke so pitifully, it made Satan’s heart clench.
“We gotta get you to the bathroom though, c’mon.”
You sniffled and hiccuped, thankful for Satan’s jacket now being carefully tied around your waist to hide the stain.
“You get to the bathroom, I’ll find you new clothes.”
You were ushered to the bathroom swiftly, left to clean up while Satan went to get you new clothing. He came back in record time, and you were thankful for the extra pair of underwear you kept in your bag.
When you emerged, clean and brushing away any lasting tears, Satan linked his arm with yours, guiding you through the hall.
“Thank you, Satan.”
He was quiet, still teeming with anger, as shown by his tight fists at his side and dark eyes, but the hand linked with yours was rubbing gentle shapes into the back of your hand, to reassure you that he was there.
#obey me mammon#obey me#obey me satan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#satan x reader#lucifer x reader#obey me shall we date
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Hello! I saw you wanted requests for Lucifer, and I would love any sort of angst where Lucifer ends up comforting the reader, like maybe something happened to the reader, or the reader is just really stressed and just breaks down
Ease My Mind
(Lucifer Morningstar x reader)
AN: To this request: yes yes yes yes YES I just KNOW that he gives the best hugs and is so ready to comfort the people he loves. For this fic, I decided the angst is a little of everything, job struggles, moral dilemmas, and some self-doubt, so I hope I delivered. This isn’t proofread so please alert me to any errors! Thank you for your request! <333
Summary: You have a bad day at work and it triggers a breakdown. Luckily, your big bad boyfriend is here to help.
Tags: Gender neutral reader, could be read as platonic if you reeeeally squint but it’s implied romantic, heavy on the angst, a dash of fluff, Lucifer is trying his best, you guys are precious.
Warnings: Reader is afraid they’re being used by the people around them and they have lots of thoughts about being useless and others not liking them.
Also, the title is inspired by the song “Ease My Mind” by Ben Platt, go listen to it! Enjoy ya heathens!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’ve been used by others for your entire life.
And now you were stuck in that same cycle in death.
As a young, naive, alive-person, you were desperate for some one to love you. Growing up in an environment where compassion was scare, you decided that the only way to get people to notice you was by offering to help them in some way. A favor, a ride, somewhere to crash, and, for one specific person, a place to hide the bodies. In life, you had gotten so deep into your desire to please others that you had latched onto the first person to give you the time of day. Unfortunately for you, that individual happened to have a thing for serial killing.
Looking back on it now as you miserably walked back to the hotel, tears threatening to fall down your face, you couldn’t think about anything other than how stupid and useless you were. It was your fault that they were found out, your fault that the innocents were dead in the first place, your fault you were stuck in hell and that fucker was still out there.
How much time had passed on Earth? How many more had they killed?
On most days, you could compartmentalize, putting the bad thoughts in a little box and shoving it in the back of your brain, but work had broken you today. You worked for the Vees, specifically Velvette, and it was no secret how they overworked and abused their staff. You were stuck picking up Velvette’s leftover energy drinks for as long as she had control of your soul.
And yet. You thought maybe someday, someday you might make a connection. You might impress her, or surprise her, or something, and maybe she would give you a break.
But no. Today you had been an hour late for the first time and Velvette had screeched at you, calling out all of your flaws and insecurities and bringing all of the horrible memories that you had oh-so-carefully stowed away to light. But you held back tears and did your fucking job, the emotions boiling all day and the hectic office space doing nothing to calm it.
You had needed this cry for a long time, and now there was no stopping it.
Walking along the brimstone pathways, you finally made your way to the rickety Hazbin Hotel. Its incomprehensible height only worsened your now growing headache as you walked up to the doors, grabbing the handles and swinging the heavy iron frame and red-stained glass open.
You immediately started towards your room, but you were blocked by the obnoxiously cheery Princess of Hell herself, Charlie.
Charlie’s not obnoxious, you’re so vile for thinking that.
Shit, the thoughts were getting worse and you could not do this right now.
Charlie, oblivious to your mood, smiled brightly. “There you are! How was work? I’ve got someone here who’s been waiting-“
You shoved past her, bumping her harshly.
“Not in the mood.”
Charlie frowned in confusion behind you.
“But, wait, hey-“ You ignored her pleas and- ah shit, now Angel’s in front of you.
“Hey, babe, you might wanna hang around for a sec-“
You shut your eyes tightly and moved your hands towards his chest, your fight or flight kicking in as you pushed him.
“ANGEL, leave me alone.”
Why would you yell at Angel like that? He’s just being nice.
Shut up shut up SHUT UP
Everything was only getting worse. You bolted to the grand staircase and raced up the steps. As you sped down the seemingly infinite hallways, the tears you had been fighting back for the last millennia finally fell. With a choked sob, you finally spotted your bedroom and lurched for the doorknob, swinging the door open and slamming it behind you as you bursted into your room. You ran to your bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as you loudly cried.
Charlie only keeps you here because she needs the guests, you know. She hates you. They all hate you. They wish you weren’t here. You’re just lying there, crying, why would they want you?
The hateful thoughts were all you could hear in your mind. As you pulled your knees to your arms holding your pillow, you wanted nothing more than to disappear. To just pop out of existence and finally be free of the burden of yourself.
Then, suddenly, three knocks at the door.
“GO AWAY.” You screamed, throat on fire from your sobbing.
A voice came from outside. A smooth, relaxed, kind male voice.
“It’s me, hon.”
You froze, terrified. Quickly you climbed to the floor on the left side of your bed, blocking your body from the view of the door. You took several deep breaths, trying to steady your nerves.
“Come in.” You said shakily.
You heard the door creek open, then footsteps.
“Where ya hiding these days?” He awkwardly chuckled, clearly trying to lighten up the mood you were in.
“Just- stay over there.” You were still holding your pillow, and you gave it an extra squeeze.
“I’m a mess right now.” You sniffled.
He paused, like he was thinking. “Well, if that’s what you want, but I hope you know by now that I’m always happy to see you. Even when you’re a mess.”
You felt the bed shift. He was sitting on the opposite side.
Like a child looking for a secret, you turned around to look at the back of his head. His hat was gone, probably left downstairs, and all you saw was his sweep of blond hair.
He made a ‘hm’ sound. “Bad day?”
You nodded. Then, realizing he couldn’t see you. “Y-yeah.”
You watched him nod. “I’m sorry about that.” He fiddled with his cane, his hands tightening and loosening around it. “Would you… like to talk about it?”
You paused.
Lucifer had been a confidant of yours since you first arrived in Hell. He was the one to tell you what was going on right after you died, calming you down and offering you a place to stay. Sure, you didn’t know that he was literally the Devil, but everything about him made you feel at peace. Like you could deal with the hand you were dealt.
Secretly, though, you were waiting.
Waiting for the moment when he would reveal that he only kept you around because he needed you to do something for him.
No one was that kind, or caring, or wonderful.
He wants something from you. Why else would he keep coming back?
You had yet to answer his question. Lucifer sighed.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay?”
The voices were still wringing in your head, you were still crying, and you felt pathetic.
“I- I don’t- fuck, would you please stop acting like you care?” You knew your words were harsh but they were begging to be said.
His posture straightened in surprise.
“I do care! What makes you think I don’t care?” He sounded hurt.
Nice going, you hurt his feelings.
You bent forward, hands covering your face in frustration. A fresh wave of tears rises through your body and you loudly cried out, too scared and angry and sad to hide it anymore.
“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay, hon.” Lucifer’s voice was nearing your form on the ground, and he was quickly at your side. You could feel his presence beside you.
He sighed in exhaustion. “Listen, I’m not- I’m not the greatest at this, but I’m gonna ask so I don’t upset you. Do you want a hug? Or a hand on your shoulder-“
Your arms were wrapped around him before he could finish his question, clinging to his waist and biting your face in his neck.
“WOAH there- well hey, sweetheart, there you are.” You could hear him smiling as he gently brought his hand to rub your back.
“I’m sorry. I- I’ve just had a shitty day at work and I’m worried about a lot of things and- I don’t want to take it out on you.” You were shaking, but he held you steadily.
“What kinda things are worrying you?” He asked.
And so you told him. In the comfort of his embrace you were able to somewhat coherently explain all the things that had been freaking you out. Velvette’s torture at work, your own moral dilemmas about your life on Earth, and you were just getting into your feelings about others using you when you felt Lucifer’s breath hitch.
He leaned away from you to look you in the eyes and gently put a finger to your chin.
“Honey, I want you to know that I know for a fact that the people here really care about you. Not because you’re an extra pair of hands, but because you’re you. You’re wonderful to be around. People like you.”
He looked at you with a warm smile and leaned towards you, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.
“I like you. I care about you because you’re worth caring about.”
You stared at him in awe, your mind finally at ease after such a chaotic day. Smiling, you leaned back into him to rest your head on his chest.
“Thank you, Luci.” You reached out and took one of his hands, holding it tightly in an effort to show him how grateful you truly were for his words of assurance.
He tightened his fingers around yours and grinned down at you.
“Always, love. Now, let’s get you on the bed, okay?”
You nodded and he gracefully picked you up, gently placing you on the bed. With a snap, you were in comfortable clothing with a warm blanket around you and plenty of soft pillows.
“You want me to hang out for a bit?” He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, clearly sleepy.
“If you don’t have anything else going on…” You offered, already half dozing off.
“Even if I did, I would love nothing more.” With an affectionate grin he curled up beside you, and you immediately went to lay your head back on his chest. As you drifted away, listening to the King of Hell’s heartbeat, you took a deep breath.
He was right. Things were gonna be okay.
You had friends.
You were loved.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer magne#lucifer magne x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer Morningstar my beloved
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it's nice to have a friend
pairing: stucky x curvy!reader
warnings: fluff. tinge of angst. longing. mutual pining. no smut but all my works are considered 18+ only regardless.
words: 1.7k
notes: loosely based off this prompt: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. i'm currently pmsing and work killed me so i was only able to get to this drabble done today. hoping to do the bucky request tomorrow! <3
thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. comments and feedback are always welcome and so appreciated!
“I’m fine, Steve,” you laugh as you try to swat his hand away.
You still as he catches it in his instead, pulling it down and holding it as he runs his thumb over your hand. You watch him as he keeps his gaze down, tracking his own movements and appearing deep in thought.
It’s soft and silent in the dim light of the kitchen, a little past midnight, seemingly only you and him awake at this hour.
You’d gotten back from your mission just a few hours ago and Steve had been your shadow from the tarmac up until you were cleared by Dr. Cho and could head to living quarters.
You had a small gash on your forehead and some bruised knuckles but really you felt fine. Kate and Peter weren’t as unscathed as you and Clint but all in all, the mission was a success. And truly, there was nothing for anyone, especially not Steve, to be worried about.
You and Steve were close, close enough that you considered him to be one of your best friends here at the tower, but despite that, you still had no idea why he was so concerned about you tonight.
He’d been worrying over you since you’d stepped foot off the jet. Not outright, but you could tell he was following you because he wanted to keep an eye on you. You finally convinced him you were good, or so you’d thought, and had some time to yourself as you showered and got ready for bed. When you came out to grab something to eat before letting sleep finally take you for the night, that was when you’d found him sitting in the kitchen.
Only the dimmer was on as he sat at the counter sketching something in his notebook. He noticed your presence right away and got up from his seat to meet you at the cabinet you were at.
He’d instantly went for the mug he knew you were going to reach for and handed it to you as you watched him, having relaxed with your backside against the counter when he came over.
You’d caught yourself admiring him as he got you your mug but you tried to quickly shut those thoughts down and instead focused on just how lucky you were to call Steve a friend. His concern wasn’t necessary, but it was nice to know he cared.
You took the mug from him and when you set it down on the counter, he once again tried to fuss over the small gash that would likely leave a little physical memory of the mission. Not that you minded all that much.
You tried to brush his hand away but he caught yours and kept hold of it as you let him.
As Steve continued to stroke his thumb over your soft, sensitive skin, you couldn’t help but notice the crease in his brows and the tightness of his jaw as he rubbed gently at the bruises.
You couldn’t imagine this was all because of you, but something was obviously up.
“Steve,” you spoke softly, waiting for him to look at you once more.
His bright blue eyes met yours and the worry you found in them had you sighing.
“What’s wrong?” You asked as you gently squeezed his hand. “And don’t say nothing. I think I know you well enough to know that something is, so spill.”
He smiled halfheartedly at you, an almost pained look in his eye before he shook his head.
He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles before he let go. You thought your heart might just stop beating entirely at the action as your breathing stilled unbidden.
You watched him as he took a small step back from you. The look in his eye wasn’t one you could name now but it had your stomach twisting..in a good way.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said as he took you in with his eyes.
Your brows furrowed lightly before you gave a small smile. That was far from the whole answer and you knew it, but you wouldn’t press him on it right now.
“I hadn’t realized how late it was,” he continued when he glanced over at the time on the stove. “I should probably get some sleep. And you should, too,” he said turning his head back to face you and fixing you with a look you could only laugh at.
“Will do, Captain,” you chuckled lightly with a nod. “Soon as I find something to eat.”
“I think Bucky has leftover pizza in the fridge if you want,” he offered.
You scoffed and your eyes narrowed at him, “Do you want me dead?” you asked in faux incredulity, earning a soft laugh in return.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he smirked. “Besides, if he knows it was you, I don’t think he’d mind.”
“Thanks,” you smiled as you pushed off the counter to head to the fridge.
Before you got there, though, you were stopped as Steve’s arms wrapped around you in a hug. You found yourself pressed right against his chest and though it took you a second to register what was happening, you soon returned his embrace and relaxed into him. God, he was so warm. And he smelled so nice. You had to stop yourself from nuzzling into him and making a complete fool of yourself. His hold was so comforting, you quickly found yourself lost in it.
So much so, you almost didn’t register when Steve placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Almost.
Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact as your arms reactively squeezed him tighter and you pressed yourself closer to him.
It wasn’t the first time he’d given you a forehead kiss but this time felt different. It made you feel different. Like you were in a dream. It was soft and comforting but it also had butterflies coming to life in your stomach and had your body alight in delight.
But it was over before you knew it and Steve pulled away from you with a soft, “Goodnight.”
His touch lingered on your arm though before he dropped his hand completely and smiled at you once more.
“Night,” you whispered back before you watched him go, grabbing his notebook on his way back to his room.
You absentmindedly wrapped your arms around yourself as you were already missing the feeling of his touch.
That was different. That was very different.
The light flicked on behind you and you spun around coming face to face with the only other person you'd really looked forward to seeing upon your return.
His boyish grin only added to the butterflies already causing ruckus in your tummy.
"There you are," he smiled, "I was looking for you."
Not another word was said before you found yourself wrapped up in Bucky's arms.
God, he was so warm. And he smelled so good.
Thankfully he pulled away before you could embarrass yourself by unleashing the purr that threatened to tumble past your lips as his hands rubbed at the knots in your back soothingly.
"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone as he studied your face, eyes fixating on the cut blemishing your forehead once he assured himself the rest of you was alright.
"Fine," you smiled.
He nodded, "Good."
You got lost in his gaze as you stared at one another for a long while, just your quiet breaths could be heard in the otherwise silence of the kitchen.
You didn't even realize you were holding his hands until he squeezed yours ever so slightly.
"'M glad you're back," he simpered.
"Me too," you returned.
"You hungry?" he asked. "I have some pizza in the fridge if you want," he offered.
You almost laughed remembering Steve's words earlier. "That sounds really good, actually," you nodded, smiling, "thanks."
You watched as Bucky got out the cold pizza and warmed it up for you as you admired his form. When you caught yourself, you wondered how he hadn't felt your gaze heavy on his back. You were mesmerized by his muscles as they flexed with his movements.
God, you fretted to yourself.
You didn't know what to do.. You didn't know how much longer you could keep telling yourself these feelings you were feeling for Steve and Bucky were nothing.. how much longer you could deny that with each day that passed you found yourself falling harder and harder for the two supersoldiers.
Little did you know, they were both already head over heels for you.
They promised each other they'd wait as long as they had to until you brought it up yourself, they didn't want you to feel any pressure whatsoever, even if that meant you never brought it up. They'd keep their distance, not crossing the line of friendship until they were sure you wanted to. But nights like this, when you've been gone for as long as you had been, or worse when you'd come back hurt, no matter how trivial the injury was, they couldn't stay only arm's length.
To avoid overcrowding you upon your return, they'd agreed to come to you one on one. Had Bucky seen the glint of disappointment in your eyes when Steve told you he was preoccupied upon your return, he would've been a total loss. Would've come right up to you and sworn to make his absence up to you, whatever it'd take.
Hell, they'd both been waiting impatiently all day to see you and Bucky only begrudgingly sat out from greeting you on the tarmac because Steve won the coin toss.
As he plated your pizza, the pizza he had secretly saved for you, he smiled to himself as he felt your eyes glued to him.
He liked the feeling.
Steve wasn't so sure you'd ever see them as anything more than friends to you, but Bucky thought otherwise. He knew otherwise. He felt it in your gaze, in your playful hits and nudges when you’d joke together, in the warmth of your hugs... He knew it was gonna happen. And each day that passed, he only grew more sure.
He couldn't wait until the day you were all on the same page, all your cards on the table, finally the three of you together. No more coin tosses, no more taking turns checking on you after missions, no more three second hugs (though he never really stuck to that rule all too much), no more lingering forehead kisses that he desperately wished would turn into more...
He couldn't wait. But he would. For you, they'd wait forever.
#stucky x curvy!reader#stucky x reader#stucky x plus size reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x plus size!reader#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes#steve rogers x curvy!reader#steve rogers x plus size reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers#bucky drabble#steve rogers drabble#stucky x reader drabble
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Hey can I request headcanons for overwatch characters and if their gf was drunk and asked them "would you still love me if I was a worm" with the overwatch men please (you don't have to do all of them but PLEASE include McCree and Reaper)
“Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Worm?” - Overwatch Boys
Includes: Cassidy, Reaper, Genji, Zenyatta, Ramattra, Hanzo, Lucio + Baptiste (w gn! reader)
Genre: fluff/kinda crack?
CW: general crack, kinda dumb tbh, suggestive in Genji and Baps, Ram is Ram (lmk if I missed anything)
been in a little bit of a writing slump but this was too good to pass up lol. I want to get a bit more writing done this week so who knows how that will go. anyway, enjoy <3 hope you like it anon!
————
Cassidy:
“what kinda question is that??”
looks at you in flabbergastation
you pout and bat your eyes at him and of course, he breaks
“you’re really not gonna let this go, huh? alright—of course I’d still love you, darlin’. I’d keep you in a lil jar and you could accompany me on my missions”
a jar????
now you’re the flabbergasted one
jars don’t have air—he’s gonna let you suffocate??
what are you?? rainbow dash (sorry)??
somehow leads to him going out into the yard despite it being the middle of the night to try and find a worm
somehow finds one??
keeps it in a jar as a pet just to prove he would love you as a worm
even names it after you and pets it’s head and calls it “my wriggly little y/n”
weirdly wholesome experience would try again
Reaper
“of all the stupid shit you could have asked me…”
he says that but he’s already considering it after the question leaves your mouth
would he love you as a worm?
“what kind of worm”
what do you mean what kind of worm?? does it matter??
obviously the pink wriggly kind
he has to ponder this
sits in his chair stroking his chin trying to think of how you would be as a worm
“would you still be able to talk and think or would you be an actual worm”
????
“it would be me if I was a worm, Gabe”
more pondering
“I’d love you platonically but you would probably have a short life span. I’d throw you a worm funeral.”
better than any response you could have expected but would not try again
Genji
“would we still have sex”
please hit this man
he’s joking of course—he’s not that weird
“why would you be a worm tho”
just answer the question, Genji
green cyborg ninja dude has no idea what to answer
will you be mad if he loves your worm self more than your current self?? would you be weird if he said he would love a wormy version of you??
“I would get myself turned into a worm too and then we could have a wormy life together and a wormy wedding and little wormy kids”
“you just want to have wormy sex” >~>
“that too”
at least he’s honest?
exactly as you expected, would not try again
Zenyatta
“a worm? like the insect?”
“yes? what other worms are there”
considers this
“is everything okay?”
poor omnic boy is so confused. are you planning on turning into a worm???
please reassure him it’s just a hypothetical and you’re not turning into a worm
goes on a ten minute tangent about how we are all the same in the Iris, and that he will love you no matter what form you take
honestly so wholesome + cute
“i will care for you in this life, and the next, and all of the ones after that. even the ones where you are a worm.”
good enough would try again
Ramattra
“No”
way to sugarcoat it, babe
it’s only when you get upset that he sighs and pulls you into his lap
“why would you ever become a worm? is someone trying to harm you? you know I would never let anyone bring harm to you.”
you try to explain that it’s just a hypothetical but he’s already going on a tangent on what he would do if you got turned into a worm
talks for five minutes alone on how he would defeat your enemies and defend your honour
says he would “put you out of your misery”????
“you would KILL ME?!”
“as an act of honour”
babe….
0/10 would not try again
Hanzo
“why”
idk bro just answer the question
lots of sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose
“would I also be a worm or am i still human”
only gets more confused when you say he’d be a human and you’d be a worm
probably looks up worm life expectancy and if worms are capable of love
“would you even know who I am if you were a worm”
has to ask a million questions before he can give his final verdict
lets out a long sigh before looking you dead in the eyes
“…yes”
cute in the end but would not try again
Lucio:
“would you still love me if I turned into a frog?”
that’s not the question
somehow it turns into a discussion on if he would eat your worm self if he was his frog self?
he insists he wouldn’t and would let you ride on his back but you insist his frog instincts would be too strong
“babe I’ve once seen you almost eat your own finger while eating chips”
“ok and??”
says you guys could live in a swamp together and he would protect you from evil
“I could be like your own frog superhero. I could even sing you little froggy songs”
makes up this entire life of you guys living together as a frog and a worm and him serenading you by croaking songs at night
honestly it’s the best reaction you could have gotten, would try again
Baptiste:
“i would find you a cure and turn you back into a human”
honestly he’s very amused by this whole situation
“but what if I want to be a worm”
“if I cure you and you want to turn back into a worm, that’s on you”
fair enough
insists he needs to ‘examine’ you so he knows you’re not turning into a worm
makes a lot of jokes at your expense too
finally sighs and admits he would keep you in a little terrarium with all the food and nutrients you need
“ha, so you would love me if I was a worm”
“love is a strong word”
good enough, would not try again
#overwatch 2#overwatch#ow2#overwatch x reader#overwatch x you#ow#overwatch fic#xreader#overwatch headcanons#x you#hanzo shimada x reader#genji shimada x reader#zenyatta x reader#ramattra x reader#cole cassidy x reader#reaper x reader#lucio x reader#baptiste augustin x reader#lucio ow#overwatch hcs
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I'm not sure what I want to write about but I have this very overwhelmingly strong urge to write about Platonic Yandere Gojo Saturo x teen/adult reader. And not like just light fluff, I'm talking about unhinged yandere Gojo- the one from the latest panels where he was fighting with Sukuna- that Gojo.
Like that Gojo just radiates "buffed up cool dad finally puts his foot down and is now actually low key scary".
Hmm, I mean I could see unhinged Shibuya arc Gojo just going absolutely feral as he drags you away from Toji (your dad) and begins to actively kill him, no matter how much you beg and grovel to spare your father's life. How you can't bare to see your dad taken from you again.
But Gojo? Nah, he doesn't care. He was serious when he took you in (kidnapped u from Naoya/Zenin Clan) and told u that he'll be the father you need.
And he doesn't even have any qualms about knocking you out either, he doesn't need u interfering mid battle and getting injured in the process. He might even hand u over to Yuta and others and cheerfully threaten them to keep you safe while he obliterates Toji, because yes Gojo is 100000% jealous of Toji and you bonding/being closer to each other than u are with Gojo. How fucing dare you??? Does he need to do the speech again?
"Through heavens and earth, I alone am tge honored one" or whatever 🙄🙄🙄
OR OR OR
Listen to me- Romantic yandere UNHINGED Gojo with reader who'd been selected by his clan, trained and raised by them for you to be Gojo's bride. Obviously, growing up Gojo was like "yeahhh, you're not good enough for me" and well treated her like absolute trash (he insulted her) which them lead the clan to be even more harsh on you because why the hell are you still not able to seduce Gojo????? So, basically poor reader is just being absolutely miserable throughout her life until one day the Gojo Clan is finally like "Alright, we gave it our best and Saturo still doesn't like u, so you can work as a maid in our house" and like instantaneously her life turns much better now that she doesn't have the pressure to be the trophy wife/heir producer for Gojo, and reader now can even leave the house to run errands.
But then Gojo notices that there is one less person who was constantly fawning over him, vying for his attention, and he's trying to figure it out who it is when he realises its you! And when he asks his clan about you, they tell him that they demoted u to a servant instead of future Mrs Gojo and Saturo is like "hm. Okay." And it doesn't exactly hit him how much this affected him until he saw you giggling away with some man.
He doesn't react immeadiately, still treating you like you're just nonexistent to him, but deep down, it eats him up the way you were touching that man's arm, the way you looked at him like he hung the stars for you.
Why tf weren't you like this with him?
Whatever. You're just... so beneath him. Why even bother thinking about you?
And then Shibuya arc happens. This man gets trapped in the prison realm and most of his thoughts are occupied by you, and how after be defeats Sukuna and the gang, he's gonna date you and you'll be touching his arm, looking at him with goo goo eyes.
Except when he comes out, for whatever fucking reason, you're fucking clinging onto some guys shoulders, acting like you're a damsel in distress, and if things weren't worse before, they certainly were when you kissed the man in front of him (okay but like u didn't know Gojo was watching u two. Like you were with your man in alley, kissing and hugging each ither lovingly after just barely escaping death from curses and then mf Gojo is just hovering in the sky above you)
Of course, now it's instantaneous death for your man, and then Gojo is just dragging you screaming and crying, and you're like "WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??" And Gojo very cheerfully tells you, as if he still wasn't covered in blood from your man-
"I don't want my wife-to-be cheating on me."
Like whoa! Where tf did that came from???? And you're all like "What are u talking about??? Your clan ended our relationship- if you could even call it that?? Besides, you're the one who always said that we're not compatible because I'm beneath you."
And Gojo doesn't even bat an eye, as he goes "doesn't matter. You were born for me. You were made for me to marry, play with, discard, do as I please. So don't you ever even look at another man again, or I will be the one to rip your eyes out." And you know that he's capable of doing that after u just witnessed the live demonstration of your man being murdered.
Anyways, jealous Gojo, be it romantic or platonic, is dangerous unhinged Gojo.
Look at him, the tiny waist, the Toji Fushiguro fit.
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Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort
Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon.
Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"
Pairing: Dean x reader
Word Count: 902
Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff
A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy.
_____
“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!”
Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door.
You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed.
The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse.
You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again.
You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt.
First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home.
Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest.
It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture.
Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.
You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left.
Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow.
Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been.
"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features.
His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled."
"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door."
You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you.
He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to.
You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax.
"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little.
You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest.
"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours.
Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon.
There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy.
Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark.
He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together.
And maybe you could both finally get some sleep.
_________________________
Dean:
@akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy
SPN:
@hobby27
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester fanfiction#spn reader insert#spn fanfiction#dean winchester x#dean x#spn#supernatural imagine#dean supernatural#supernatural#dean fluff#spn imagine#supernatural fanfiction
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Feelings (with Aaron Hotchner)
[ the lead up of you and neighbor, Aaron, revealing you have feelings for each other ]
* fluff 🩶 (+ light angst)
** have never watched the show, have never wrote for him and will probably never write for him again but I’ve read a ton of his fics and had this idea and just really wanted to write it out and share it!(pls be nice)
…………….
Aaron is your divorcee neighbor; has been for about a year. Within that year, you’d say you’d become pretty good friends with him as well as with his son who he had with him most weekends. To anyone, it was all seemingly platonic from both ends. You’d bake and gift them batches of sweets and he’d take down any packages you may need sent out on his way to work in the morning…etc.
Any unspoken feelings either of you harbored unfortunately only began to come to light when his ex wife, Hayley, was horrifically killed.
Aaron came to your door as soon as he could the night of the tragedy and with glossy eyes said, “Is this a bad time? I need someone to talk to.”
“No, of course not. Come in,” your voice shook, instantly thinking the worst. “What happened Aaron, where’s Jack? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, he’s with..with Hayley’s family,” he said, struggling to keep up his stoic demeanor before completely breaking down in sobs. “Oh Y/N.. it’s awful, it’s — … you have- you have no idea.”
That was the first night you ever spent together. He had fallen asleep on your shoulder with teary eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him. When you both woke up in the morning, Aaron apologized for burdening you with his troubles and said he had to get going to see what was going on with the funeral preparations. Although neither of you mentioned it, there was a shift in your friendship from that day forward.
After giving him some space to tend to what he needed to do, you went over to his place.
“Hi. I was going to come over yesterday but who wants to see anyone after a funeral..” you said lightly, walking in after he gestured you inside his apartment.
“I would have loved if you did.”
You nodded and tried not to blush as he closed the door. “Is Jack here?”
“No. I’m letting him spend one last day with Hayley’s parents while they’re still in town.”
He then went on to explain how the plan was for his sister-in-law, Jess, to start coming around to help out with Jack when he couldn’t be with him but that in the meantime, he’d be looking after him while he took some time off from work while Jack took some time off from school too.
“Well I hope you know you can also count on me helping out too.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but you’re more than welcome to. I know Jack loves having you around...”
You ordered takeout that night so he wouldn’t have to make dinner or be alone and before you left, promised you’d be back in the morning.
“Y/N, when you said you could help I thought you meant after I went back to work. You don’t have to start rearranging your schedule yet, I’m still going to be around for a couple of days.”
“I know…but I know you and I know you’ve been putting up a brave front for me tonight and you don’t have to do that with me. I want to be here for you to lean on these coming days.”
“I don’t-”
“I’ll be here tomorrow, and don’t forget to drink that cup of tea I made you before bed, ” you said with a quick, parting hug, leaving him no time to protest as you were already back inside your own place.
You ended up helping the following days more than he ever expected. Since you were an assistant to an event planner, you worked mostly from home making and getting calls; the hours were very flexible so it gave you the ability to do all you could for the Hotchner boys.
Meals and household chores, like laundry and dishes, were all easier for Aaron to accomplish with you around; you were such a positive encouragement for both of them as you made sure Jack stayed on top of his tasks too, like making his bed, brushing his teeth and cleaning up after himself.
Of course with being over everyday, Jack began clinging to you more than he ever used to and while you loved the little boy to pieces, you were worried if you being around so much would affect him negatively. When you expressed your worries to Aaron one night after Jack went to sleep, he immediately put them to an end.
“I don’t know if you knew this but Hayley knew about you. Jack would talk to her about you … and she enjoyed it— listening to how much you cared for her little boy,” Aaron told you as you both stood leaning against the island in his dimly lit kitchen before you left for the night.
“I didn’t know that,” you answered, eyes beginning to gloss.
So what if he left out the small detail of Hayley telling him he should ask out his pretty neighbor Jack always talked about; that wasn’t the important part of the memory, well, important for the matter at hand anyway.
“And almost every night before bed, Jack tells me that he’s happy you’ve been coming everyday. That you make him feel ‘okay-er’. Y/N, he loves you and he knows you’re not here to replace anyone.”
Mind at ease then, with a small smile and a stray tear or two, you pushed yourself off the kitchen island and hugged yourself into his chest, which he more than happily accepted and embraced you tightly into for a minute.
“Thanks for making me feel ‘okay-er’ about all this,” you said, looking up at him from where your head rested against him.
He smiled down at you and wiped a tear from your cheek. “Thank you for being here for us.”
All was well as the days went on until it was time for Aaron to return to work. Jack had returned to school the day before and since everything went smoothly, Aaron could then confidently go back to work too knowing Jack had readjusted just fine.
But that morning, Aaron took longer than usual to come out dressed for the day after breakfast, and the time frame he could use to take Jack to school before work was starting to get dangerously close to closing.
“Hey Jack, I’m going to go check on your dad. If he doesn’t come out soon you just might be late for school. Stay put while I get him, finish watching your show,” you said, tickling his side a little making him giggle as you walked off to Aarons room.
You knocked twice at his door and when he didn’t answer either time, you took a little bit of a risk and went in uninvited. What you saw was him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor pensively, dress shirt untucked and tie undone around his collar.
“Aaron?” you spoke quietly.
“I can’t do this,” he said, still looking down.
You closed the door behind you and slowly walked towards him.
“You can’t do what?”
“Return to the real world.”
Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you sat down next to him and waited for him to continue.
“It’s been- it’s been so great being here in the apartment with just Jack and you… in our own little private world but I’m afraid— it just all feels so different. I feel different. I don’t think I’m going back mentally the same way I left.”
“Well of course you’re not going back the same. You went through something incredibly traumatizing..”
You grabbed one of the bottom edges of his tie and looked down at your fingers as you delicately ran them back and forth over the smooth silk.
“Aaron, I know you’re a little nervous of stepping back into everyday life and I’m.. a little nervous for you too but you got this. I believe in you. You’re the best at what you do and nobody can take that away from you,” you said, letting go of the tie. When you looked up at him, his eyes were on you and seemed to be full of fondness; it made you blush.
“N-now finish getting ready so you can go drop off that adorable little boy out there in time,” you smiled, nervously standing from where you sat next to him.
As you turned to walk away, he stood too and stretched his hand out to gently grab one of your wrists. You turned back completely and both just looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds; millions of unspoken words and emotions passing between you.
He then finally spoke.
“I really hope I’m not ruining anything but more than ever, I think it’s important to tell you I’ve had feelings for you for pretty much as long as I’ve known you.”
“I’ve had those feelings too, for you,” you admitted.
Relieved, he smiled and you did the same. Slipping his hand down from your wrist, he then took your hand into his properly and interlocked his fingers with yours.
Towering over you like always, he stepped closer and closer and slowly craned his head down as he gently placed the hand that wasn’t holding yours, behind your head. You both closed your eyes and you could feel his lips right in front of yours but could tell he was hesitant to go further.
“Kiss me Aaron,” you told him with a little tremble in your voice. And although you couldn’t see him, you felt him smile before he softly pushed his lips against yours.
Your first kiss was a tender one but after the initial pull away, both his hands landed on your waist and yours around his neck as you leaned back into each other for a more heated and passionate kiss. It was an internal struggle, but eventually you managed to pull yourself away from his lips completely.
“Jack needs to get to school,” you giggled.
Aaron rested his forehead against yours. “And I need to get to work. This beautiful neighbor of mine believes in me and I don’t want to let her down.”
“Hm, sounds like a smart girl,” you teased.
He stood tall and interlocked his hands with each of yours. “Incredibly smart, incredibly caring, incredibly attractive.. the list could go on,” he concluded, embracing you with a warm hug and a kiss to the top of your head. <3
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic#neighbors to lovers#neighbor aaron hotchner
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