#what does that mean? find out in like. three to four business years
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Petals of Affection - Part I
A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader
Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.
Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!
I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.
Word count: 4,284
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.
Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)
Hope you enjoy!
Part II | Part III | Masterlist
An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.
Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.
Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.
Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.
Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.
“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.
“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”
“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.
“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.
Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”
Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”
“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.
“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.
Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.
“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”
Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.
“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”
“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”
“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.
You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”
You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.
The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.
Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.
The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.
“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”
Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”
“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”
Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”
Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.
“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.
“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”
Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.
Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.
“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.
Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.
“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”
Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.
Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”
Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.
Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”
The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”
Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.
You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.
The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.
Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.
Did you even like this guy?
Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.
In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?
No, you guessed it really didn’t.
These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.
A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.
Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.
Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.
What did it mean?
Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.
Who in the world left this for you?
Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?
Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.
You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.
Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.
“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”
Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.
“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”
Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.
“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”
Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.
Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.
Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.
How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?
Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.
A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.
Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.
Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.
The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.
You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.
Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?
Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.
God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.
Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.
Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.
Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?
The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.
Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.
Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?
As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.
The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.
Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.
“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”
You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.
“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”
“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.
Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”
“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”
“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.
“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.
“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”
“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”
Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.
Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.
Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?
One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.
You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.
Lost in your scent, the answer is present.
“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”
Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.
“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”
“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”
“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.
“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”
“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”
Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.
Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”
“Right?”
“What do today’s flowers mean?”
“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.
Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”
Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”
Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”
tbc
#jettsflora&faunachallenge#writing challenge#joel miller#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel x female reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fandom#pedrostories
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As Foretold, So Below, chapter 1, Suenfield's Son, page 11.
[FIRST]•[PREVIOUS]•[NEXT]
[START FROM THE BEGINNING!]
#as foretold so below#afsb update#afsb#dnd 5e#comic#he sure does know the type#what does that mean? find out in like. three to four business years#teuh's worth the wait tho prommy#also god. i love love love the big pic of kalem here#he's so exhausted but there's something lurking that just! cannot be reconciled.
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buried alive | S.R.
in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team
who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader
category: angsty
content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.
word count: 2.9k
a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.
part two part three
You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”
“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.
It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.
“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.
Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”
You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”
Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.
“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.
“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.
There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.
“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.
You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”
Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.
The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”
You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”
The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.
“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.
Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.
Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.
“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.
You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.
They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.
You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.
Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.
“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.
Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”
Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”
“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.
Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”
“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.
After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”
“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.
Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”
It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.
The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.
Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.
Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.
Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.
Your team would find you. They had to find you.
They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.
Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”
“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.
He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.
Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”
But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.
They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”
Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.
You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.
It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.
The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.
“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”
Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”
“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.
What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.
Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.
Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.
He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.
“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.
What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.
Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.
It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.
Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.
The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.
“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”
Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.
Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”
He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.
Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”
To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.
You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.
According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.
Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”
A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”
He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.
You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.
“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.
In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”
Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?
You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”
His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.
Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.
He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.
Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.
“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.
Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”
part two
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#derek morgan#penelope garcia#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid angst#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer reid x you#h writes (hypothetically)
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omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore
its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖
ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3
arcade | p.js
“i’m out of control, full power up”
💿now playing: arcade by nct dream
❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.
❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader
❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.
❯ words: 3.5k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???
"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"
You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.
"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.
“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”
You may have lied to him about that.
When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.
So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.
But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.
And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.
"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.
“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Pretty please!”
You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.
"Fine."
He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.
There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.
Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.
“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”
He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.
“How about we play some pinball?
"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”
“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.
“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.
“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.
He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.
You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.
“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.
“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."
Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.
"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."
It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.
Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.
"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”
“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.
You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.
"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."
He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."
As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.
But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.
The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.
You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.
After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.
He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.
You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.
“Just look at the camera and smile."
Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.
"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”
You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.
Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.
You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."
Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.
“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.
But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"
Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.
Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.
But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.
"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."
The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.
When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.
He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.
“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”
“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.
“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"
If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.
You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.
Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.
"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.
You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"
He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.
"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"
“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”
He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."
"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.
"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.
And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.
“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”
Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.
"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.
"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"
You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.
"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.
"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.
Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.
"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.
As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.
"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."
You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."
Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.
A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.
"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.
You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.
For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.
"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,
You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."
He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.
He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.
When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.
"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”
Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.
You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.
He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.
That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.
"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.
He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.
"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”
All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.
The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.
As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.
The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.
Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.
Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.
“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."
Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.
"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.
"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”
"Later?" You ask.
Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”
He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.
"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"
Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”
He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.
"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."
You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."
"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.
#nct smut#park jisung smut#jisung smut#nct dream smut#nct dream x reader#nct x reader#park jisung x reader#jisung x reader#nct hard hours#kpop smut#nct scenarios#park jisung scenarios#nct imagines
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please love me, like the wave does the shore
aaron hotchner x female!reader
wc: 7.9k
warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime
an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)
summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.
Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.
Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.
"We have fucking nothing!"
Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.
"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.
Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.
"You know that's not enough."
Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.
The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.
Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.
"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."
Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.
Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.
"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."
The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.
Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.
"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.
The team leader's jaw was tight.
He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.
Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"
Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."
"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.
The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.
Hotch nodded stiffly.
"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."
There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.
"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"
"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."
Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"
Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.
"Like me."
Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.
It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.
Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."
You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."
It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.
You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.
It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.
Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.
Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.
What really made it difficult, was Hotch.
In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.
With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.
It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.
When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.
You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.
The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.
You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.
The only person who really knew anything was Emily.
It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"
And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"
His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.
You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."
He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"
Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."
The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.
You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.
"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.
Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.
Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."
It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.
Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.
"I suppose that means it’s me then."
Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.
"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."
You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.
Instead, he turned back to Spencer.
"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."
Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.
Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.
God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.
"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.
"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."
Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.
She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."
Your stomach churned.
-
Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.
At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.
It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.
The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.
With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.
Penelope was talking over the car speaker.
"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."
"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"
Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.
A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.
The last two days had been painful.
You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.
Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."
It was easy for her to say.
Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.
Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—
"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."
Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47
"Thank you Garcia."
"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."
"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.
Heat rushed over your face.
You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"
Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.
"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."
The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."
The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.
"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."
It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.
But you nodded anyways.
It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.
Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.
The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.
Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."
The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.
He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."
Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.
Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.
You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.
"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."
You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.
He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."
The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.
A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."
Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.
"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."
"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"
Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.
Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.
Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.
His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.
"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.
"Hm?"
You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."
Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.
"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.
"That sounds wonderful—"
Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."
The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.
"Y-Yes, of course sir."
You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.
Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.
His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.
Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.
You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.
"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"
He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."
The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.
A gasp escaped you.
The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.
It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.
There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.
"Hotch—"
Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.
You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.
His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.
This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.
Eight people were dead.
Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.
Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.
He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.
It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.
When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.
But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.
He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.
"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.
Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.
"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."
There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.
Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.
Behind him you were doing the same.
He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.
You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.
"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.
"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.
He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.
You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."
Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.
"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.
You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.
Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,
We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!
Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.
Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!
Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.
The page crinkled beneath his fingers.
"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."
The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.
David's voice still rung in his ears:
"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."
You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."
Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."
The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.
His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.
Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.
You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.
Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.
The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.
Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.
Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.
A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.
"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.
He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.
"It is." But his eyes never left you.
Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.
It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."
You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.
The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.
That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.
Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.
You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."
The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.
The room quietened.
"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.
He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.
Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."
You met Hotch's eye. Owners.
Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.
Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."
You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.
While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.
At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.
"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."
They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."
The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.
"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."
"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."
Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.
"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"
"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."
"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."
Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.
You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.
As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.
Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?
No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.
Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.
But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?
Eyes fell on you.
Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.
"We're the Thompsons. I'm James and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."
His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"
"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"
Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."
You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.
He turned to you, "Darling?"
You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"
"Screwing the professor, very classy."
The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.
It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.
The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.
You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.
He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.
The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."
You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.
"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."
It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.
He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."
It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.
By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.
You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.
Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.
It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.
He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.
You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.
You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?
He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?
"James ..." you whispered.
He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.
"What's wrong?"
The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."
You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.
Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.
Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."
You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.
Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.
His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."
Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.
"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"
"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,
"—and savor the rest of your week."
Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.
Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.
However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.
The men had done the same, converging near the bar.
Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.
He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."
Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."
Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.
"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."
Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.
It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.
You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.
"So, Eleanor was it?"
Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.
Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.
"Yes. Jenna, right?"
The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.
"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."
Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."
Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.
"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.
Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."
"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"
Her words dripped in condescension.
"Just got lucky, what can I say?"
Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.
"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"
"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."
Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.
"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."
You smiled kindly at her.
"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"
Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.
A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.
He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.
A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.
A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."
He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.
Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."
The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.
A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.
While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.
Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's energy was better placed elsewhere.
"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."
Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.
He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.
Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.
"I beg your pardon?"
Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"
The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.
One at Richard's side, "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."
The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."
Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."
Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.
"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."
Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.
His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.
Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.
A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.
He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.
Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"
You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.
The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.
On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.
"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.
Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."
You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."
Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.
The implication on your character made his blood boil.
"Let me guess, Atkins?"
You nodded, "How'd you know?"
"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."
Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.
"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"
"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."
The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.
You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.
It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.
Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.
Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.
The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—
The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.
You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.
The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.
The door clicked open.
"Put that away, you should get some sleep."
"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.
His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.
He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.
"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.
He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."
There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.
Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.
"I ... I think I'll take the couch."
Your heart sunk.
"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.
"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."
"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."
He hesitated.
"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.
But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.
The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.
His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.
There was quiet for a long moment.
The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.
It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.
You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.
"You did well today. I know you were nervous."
A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.
"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."
You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.
"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."
The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.
"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"
"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."
You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."
"Wasn't good?"
"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.
"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"
You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.
"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."
Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.
"I'm glad I amuse you."
"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"
He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.
"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"
Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"
"Because they're really good at it."
The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.
"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.
"Worse than the dead wife joke?"
"Okay, maybe not that bad."
Quiet fell again.
"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."
Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."
"Goodnight."
-
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@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444
#Aaron Hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotch x reader#criminal minds#fake dating#criminal minds fanfiction#Spencer Reid#emily prentiss#David Rossi#Derek Morgan#penelope garcia#only one bed#mutual pining
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⋆୨ chapter three ୧˚ for a while, you were all mine
⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way <> next: chapter four - behind a box of reasons why ୧˚
⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?
ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 6.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, yn and sae finally sharing one bed | notes: eeep this was long i’m sorry !! more of the other girl here heh ^_< also mwah thank you to all of you who’s reading ily !! <3
In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t right of you to go through your husband’s stuff. Maybe you should’ve just looked at that little black box and left it there and continue to be ignorant.
But no. In this world, you’re nosy and greedy and you wanted to know who exactly it is that Itoshi Sae of all people can’t get over and now you have exactly what you were looking for.
After extensive research—and by research you mean scrolling through your husband’s social media (all of them), you managed to find her tagged in a post buried way below on his Facebook wall. Silver lining is: there’s nothing recent. The bad part? Judging by the date, they’ve known each other for a long time.
Apparently her name is Mirin, and her family’s made up of a whole slew of top lawyers in the whole of Japan. There’s not a lot on her Facebook, but her Instagram is a whole other story. Her posts the last few years put her somewhere in Europe, and judging by the content, she’s been studying there for a while. But before that, back when the posts were all in Japan, you catch a few photos of Sae. Some of them have Oliver and Eita, and a couple of other guys you haven’t met before.
It’s really wrong of you to do this, only because you know you’re just setting yourself up for a world of paranoia, but you can’t stop. You move over to the pictures she’s tagged in, and there’s one from Oliver that catches your attention.
Because it’s dated a few weeks back.
The first of two photos show Oliver, Eita, Sae and the same guy you saw back in Mirin’s feed—the one with jet black spiky hair. They’re in a bar, you presume, sitting around a private booth with a ton of alcohol in the ice bucket on the table. You recognise his attire; it’s from the very first night Sae bothered to sit down at the dining table and eat with you.
The second makes your heart crash to the floor. In the photo, in Sae’s place is Mirin herself, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a skin-tight red dress that you wouldn’t ever think of wearing. (One, because it’s much too revealing for your own taste, and two, well, just because you’re more of an oversized t-shirt kind of girl.)
All you can take away from what you saw is that Mirin is now back in Japan. Coupled with the fact that Sae had been gone even though he was off from work for those first few days of your marriage, you deduce what you wish isn’t true—was he meeting up with her all this time? Even
Trying to avoid falling into utter madness, you grab your phone and text your ever-trusty best friend.
Reo, meet you at our usual. ASAP!!!
Just as you’re about to leave the house, Sae gets back from wherever he’s been (which now you can’t help but wonder whether he was meeting Mirin), and you run right into his chest.
“Careful, busy?” Sae asks, which is more than Sae usually does and you realise just how low the bar is set right now.
Still, you answer him like you always do. “Yeah I’m gonna meet Reo for a bit,” you tell him, biting back a snarky comment about Mirin.
Even with those doubts of Sae in your head, you can’t help but stop to appreciate how he hands you your keys from the key hanger before you forget, or how his other hand is gripping onto yours, warm and just slightly calloused. It’s the first time you’ve felt them since that day at your own wedding.
“Take your time, I’ll handle our dinner tonight,” he tells you, and you think that’s already a lot considering that he’s never really bothered with anything the past few weeks, but then you feel a soft sensation against your forehead—very brief, so unfamiliar, way too soft—and then it’s gone in just a second and it’s way too quick that it has you doubting its existence at all.
All you hear is a soft “see you” before the door shuts behind you, and then there’s only the erratic beating of your heart that fills your ears.
“Yikes.”
“Very helpful, thanks,” you sigh exasperatedly as you plop down onto the cushioned seat across from Reo.
Reo laughs, handing you your phone back, open to Oliver’s Instagram account. “Then ask for a divorce, I’m sure he’d happily oblige if all of that’s true.”
“You know why I can’t, Reo,” you remind him, close to giving up.
Reo nods, remembering about your parents and deciding not to make matters worse. “Did you ask him about it though?”
You frown, glaring up at your best friend who’s now happily sipping on his cold brew. “And let him guess that I was stalking his ex? Sure I did.”
Reo snorts at your sarcasm. He thinks it’s funny how you’re oddly meek in front of Sae, and yet you’re snappish around him. Comes with the many years of being best friends, he supposes. But on that note, “you think there’s something going on between them?”
For the first time, Reo sees you helpless, eyes staring into nothing, index finger idly tracing circles on the polished wooden surface. “I don’t know,” because all you know is that you’re already exhausted from overthinking all the things they could be doing behind your back. “But… he’s always away and he says it’s work when I know it’s not. And she’s back and they were at the same place and urgh, I don’t know what to do.”
By that last line, you’re already burying your head in your hands, slumped against the table, Reo watching on as you grumble in frustration. He chuckles, gently patting your head before you look up at him, “what if they’re just friends right now?”
“It’s still weird, isn’t it? I mean… from the looks of it, they were pretty serious at one point.” Your words are all muffled because you’re pretty sure this is you being jealous now—thanks to Sae considerably warming up to you (be it at his own sluggish pace), it’s hard not to feel anything for him. In a way, you’re learning to like a lot about him, but there’s this unshakeable doubt you can’t brush off in the form of his ex.
Reo leans back against his chair now, pondering out loud. “Hmm I wonder what that reminds me of.”
In a second, you know all too well what he’s referring to, and you find yourself unable to look him in the eye. “That��s… different. We didn’t act on it.”
He rests his elbow on the table, head resting against his fist, “yeah but… we were still each other’s first kiss, right?”
“But we didn’t amount to anything.”
“Except that we’re best friends now,” Reo tells you, and you know he’s trying to get a point across but you’re not sure you want to understand it.
“And that’s all we ever were, Reo.”
Smiling, Reo leans forward a little, cautious at keeping his voice down. It won’t do if people misunderstand and word gets around. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but you were all I wanted at one point. For more than just that one day under the cherry blossoms, more than that one time I stole your first kiss.”
It stuns you a little to hear it, because any romantic emotions between the two of you were never said or shared. Both you and Reo knew back then that your parents wouldn’t ever be in favour of him and his rebelliousness that you both just decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. At that time, when you were both foolish kids, having that something intangible was enough. Maybe it faded for you faster than it had for Reo, but he knew that it once existed. Even if only for a second.
“And?”
You’ve gone soft now, and Reo knows you understand. You’re just in denial.
“Are you sure Sae would feel the same if he knew about it? If he knew I used to love you too?” Reo asks you, genuinely wondering for himself.
You’re about to argue that Sae doesn’t even care, but putting yourself into his shoes, you get where Reo’s coming from. History is history. No matter how long ago it was or how short the relationship (or lack of one) was, the feelings still existed, once upon a time.
Still, you have a feeling that there’s more than meets the eye. Especially if Sae has to hide it all the time. He’s never even said her name to you, if they met at all.
“Anyway look, do you want me to try asking Oliver about it? I’ll be discreet, though I can’t really say the same for that knucklehead,” Reo warns you. It’s not like he knows Oliver much outside of any business dealings, but he can tell that much at least.
You shake your head anyway, knowing it’s a bad idea. For all you know, Sae would just lash out at you for prying into his business when you’re just his on-paper wife.
“Wonder why they broke up though,” you think out loud, watching the liquid in your cup swish around, close to spilling off the edge as you swirl it with your hand, almost completely lost in thought.
Reo answers you without missing a beat. “She went abroad to study and just called it off thinking it wouldn’t work.” His eyes go wide the moment your head shoots up, and he winces after letting it slip.
“You knew?”
“Yeah…”
“What the- how?” Because it’s incredulous how Reo happens to know that much more about the relationship.
He sighs, fessing up. “I was asking around about Sae remember? When I told you he’s just a tough nut to—”
“Yeah yeah,” you wave it off, wanting him to get to the point.
“Well, Oliver’s kinda a blabbermouth so…” Reo sighs, as if he senses there’s no point in keeping it in, not when you’re already halfway into that rabbit hole yourself.
And you’re all ears. Half because you really just want to learn more about it and the other half just wanting confirmation that you’re not crazy for overthinking about this. But then Reo tells you and you’re not sure anymore.
“He said Sae was never over her, loved her to bits.” Reo pauses, hesitating before he opens his mouth again. “He said Sae was waiting for her to get back before starting things up again.”
Oh.
SEVEN YEARS AGO.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Surely it wasn’t a stretch to be furious that distance would be enough of a reason for a breakup? Surely Sae didn’t have to think himself crazy for refuting such an idea?
Mirin’s hair flowed in the wind, pretty as it always was, and it would be even prettier in his memories. She looked unsure, and he knew it too. He knew her like the back of his hand, down to the injury on his ankle. She was only doing what she thought was right, and that was offering each of their own freedom, though Sae had no single doubt in his mind that that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Sae, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she told him, her eyes swimming with tears that she wouldn’t allow to overflow.
Always so stubborn, and forever thinking less of herself. That was how he knew her to be. And as much as he hated that stubbornness at that moment, he loved her just as much.
With a hand reaching out to her, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head in his chest, something that he savoured because it wouldn’t be long until she’ll be gone for who knows how long.
“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to break up with you?” Sae was asking her, genuinely. He didn’t know how to handle this—when life held different paths for two people in love, wasn’t it just common sense that they could still tread it and yet be together? Was long distance really the end of everything they had?
Mirin sniffled just a little before she pulled away and forced herself to smile, something that Sae hated. It was always the fake ones that irked him, even now.
“Is it selfish for me to think that we’re supposed to?”
Maybe he didn’t know the answer. But all he knew was that if she still felt like they should, then he’d concede. He was always weak when it came to her. It was always the same. He couldn’t imagine being weak to anyone else. It was her. Only her.
“Fine, we’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he told her, a tone so gentle that no one but her has ever heard. But he drew close, tipping her chin up so she would look at him, his teal eyes appreciating every inch of her beautiful face, the most beautiful one he had ever seen, and the most beautiful one he thought he would ever see. “But you know something?”
Mirin swallowed the lump in her throat, the amount of love she felt threatening to swallow her whole. “What?”
Sae let out a deep chuckle, a soft one before he pressed his lips against hers, a promise laid between their lips like it was a secret only they both would keep.
“Nothing would stop me from waiting for you to come back. So come back to me, okay? Come back, I’ll wait for you.”
That night when you get home, you feel just slightly numb. After hearing what you did, it’s no surprise. You’ve always been kind of weak when it comes to feelings. You’re more heart over mind and you’d choose your heart over and over again even if you had no more blood left to bleed.
You think you’re never getting over it until you walk in and realise that Sae’s in the kitchen, setting your dinner down on the table. It’s like your tears automatically dissipate once you look into his eyes.
“Oh, just nice,” is all he mumbles before he sits down at his place on the entirely too-big dining table for the two of you.
Across from him, you sit down as you look at the spread before you. A steak on each of your plates, potato puree at the side. In the middle there’s assorted sides of mushrooms, corn kernels and what you assume to be a tray of sauces for the meat.
“Did you cook all of these?” You ask, almost breathless. You’re about to say he’s a much better cook than you are, until Sae speaks up.
“No.” He seems nearly unwilling to answer you, a delicate frown on his face. “Accidentally burnt the pans when I tried to cook.”
“Huh?” You spin your head around to find the sink filled with all your pans, and from the looks of it, Sae had been trying to scrub the burnt portions off unsuccessfully.
“We need to buy new pans.”
Sae says this all too monotonously, like he’s half-robot and half completely embarrassed, that you can’t help but laugh out loud. Besides, it’s kind of cute that there’s a faint pink on his cheeks. You’ve never seen that before.
He looks at you incredulously, like he wasn’t expecting you to laugh at him like he’s a damn clown. Flinging a mushroom at you with his fork, he rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans.
Pouting at him mockingly, you decide to tease him a little more. “You didn’t touch anything else in the house and ruin them, did you?”
And you were joking, until you realise Sae’s averting his gaze, stuffing his mouth full with corn kernels.
“Sae!”
“We might need to get new stuff for the laundry room too,” he confesses, talking with his mouth full. (Spoiler: you find out later that he put the wrong detergents in the washer and accidentally flooded the laundry room.)
Still, you think it’s sort of endearing that he tried to do the chores while you were the one out for a change, so you stop yourself from making fun of him too much. It’s not like whatever you learned earlier isn’t still sitting in the back of your head (because a part of you wonders if he’s doing all this out of guilt), but some part of you wants to be selfish and let yourself feel special, even if it’s delusional, at least for a little bit.
You want to feel like the wife he misses when you’re not around, like the person he would think of when his mind strays. Is this all too much to ask?
Maybe you just can’t help yourself, so you bring yourself to ask: “Sae, why did you agree to this?”
There’s a pregnant pause in the room, the only sounds filling the silence being the stainless steel cutlery hitting the plates as Sae adjusts himself. “Why did you?”
You suppose that maybe it’ll be easier for him to share if you start first, so you bite the bait. “Long story but… if I don’t then it’ll fall to my sister and she’s happy with someone else.” You swallow the meat in your mouth, the fat rendered so well it makes you crave for more. “I don’t want her to have to sacrifice that. Our parents aren’t exactly the nicest people in the world.”
Sae listens to you, an understanding settling in his chest. He could laugh from the coincidence of it all. “Same, but for my brother,” he tells you, prodding at his steak. “And he’s happy with soccer, not some girl. Can’t get a girl to save his life.”
Somehow, you can hear the quiet fondness that he has for Rin that makes you believe he’s a good brother.
“Would a marriage affect his career all that much?”
There’s a certain complexity behind Sae’s expression when you ask that question, something that you can’t decipher. But he scoffs, “let’s just say, my parents aren’t the nicest people either. I would know.”
And something tells you that it’s not something you want to ask yet, so you let his answer sit with you.
“Oh, speaking of parents,” Sae brings up his phone, switching the subject and handing it over to you. It’s a string of texts between him and his mother, apparently. You hold it up to your face, reading through and it appears they’d gotten you both tickets. “Mine got us both tickets, so.”
As you scroll, a grin appears on your face as you look at him. “Honeymoon tickets to Korea?” You’re almost squealing. It’s been a long while since you’ve last had a vacation, and ten days of distraction sounds really nice after all the information you’d just learned today.
Sae rolls his eyes, though you don’t miss the slight tug upwards at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, so get packing, we leave in two days.”
And as excited as you are, you feel a vibration and the brief flash of ‘dummy’ messaging him, the only part of the preview that you can see being: no, take me with you :(
You’re pretty sure it vibrates some more but by then, you’re already handing the phone back and Sae just locks his phone without bothering. Shaking your head, you try to stuff that image back to the deepest crevices of your mind, determined to not let it ruin your mood for your getaway.
Ex lover or not, Sae is still your husband and it’s not like he hates this (by the looks of things, it’s only been getting better and better), so you’re still hell bent on making things work.
Two days fly by way too quickly.
The day after Sae tells you about the trip, you immediately get to work at packing. Ten days is not a short trip and you plan to make full use of it, and for that, you have to be ready.
You had spent the whole day buying anything you would need—travel-friendly items and whatnot—while commuting back home to your parents’ house (at a timing you know they’re at work, of course!) to take anything you might’ve left there that you needed. Just as you left the house, nostalgia took over as you looked around at the place where you grew up.
It’s strange. People say to cherish what time you have with your parents, that one day you’re going to move out and you’re going to miss it.
You don’t feel like that’s necessarily true, because you’re living proof. The only thing you’d miss is your sister and you still talk to her everyday. Meanwhile, the only times your mother or father ever talks to you is to ask you about your marriage and warning you not to annoy Sae too much, as though it was a given and that it shouldn’t be the other way around.
Maybe it doesn’t make much sense; you and Sae (or maybe just you) trying to be a family when you both have no idea what a proper family is like. Even if it is just on paper.
Now you’re on a town car to the airport and you’re fiddling with your passport in your hands, staring out the window like a little child that’s going overseas for the first time. (Next to you, Sae’s thinking the exact same thing—you do look so much like an excited child. Or maybe a puppy.)
Of course, Sae’s parents waste no expenses in gifting you two first-class seats. Not that you’ve never been in first class, but it’s nice to be next to Sae, and you catch yourself, realising just how quickly you’re catching feelings.
“What?” Sae’s just getting ready to turn his phone to flight-safe mode when he catches you staring, a hint of smugness forming inside of him.
Even with a small partition separating your seats, you can see his teal eyes staring at you, long lashes fluttering in all its glory. Instead of offering an answer, you just shake your head and lean back, busying yourself by adjusting the screen in front of you.
Being in a state of denial is easy; it’s actually fun to sit in first class next to Sae, on a three-hour flight to your honeymoon, annoying him each chance you get, earning yourself a death stare every instant before laughing yourself silly when he flips off at you. It’s been a few weeks, but you think you’ve grown accustomed to what Sae is like that you know his middle fingers to you are never meant to be taken seriously and his silence is just how he is when he isn’t fully opened up. It nearly makes you think you’re crazy for doubting him and yet you don’t have the balls to question him about any of that. Not yet, because you’re not ready for this to end (if it will).
The itinerary had already been planned out by Sae’s mother, but it wasn’t like either of you wanted to follow it. One, Sae likes to do things spontaneously anyway and two, well, you have a feeling that he might want to treat this like a solo trip. It’s not like either of you have properly been husband and wife much to have a proper honeymoon together.
So count you surprised when you suggested that you both try to do solo trips around the city and just meet up for dinner, only to have Sae agree and yet follow you wherever you decide to go that first day.
At first, you were just wondering whether he had the same plans, but after he followed you into a Sephora looking absolutely clueless and then getting all flustered and sticking to you the moment the staff there asked him if he wanted to do a skin test, you allow yourself to think that he’s actually tagging along with you.
“What are you doing?” You decide to ask after exiting another store, carrying no less than five bags thanks to your anxiety of asking Sae what he’s up to.
On his part, he merely shrugs and looks away, hands in his coat pocket, looking absolutely like a model out of a magazine. Sometimes you wonder if he’s really yours. On paper, at least.
“This is our honeymoon, right? Makes sense that we’re together.” That’s all the explanation Sae offers, his gaze hovering over the bags you’re carrying, before he leans closer. “Besides, you’re my wife,” he says, gently grabbing your bags and carrying it for you.
He doesn’t say that it’s just on paper this time. And you can’t help but read into it. It’s perplexing how easily his words can affect you. It has your heart doing somersaults and your lips nervously pursing together.
“So, where next?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly.
And maybe you’re a little too excited for this pleasant turn of events that you’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at him. “Wait, really?”
You can’t even hide the glee in your voice and Sae, for the first time, smiles—even if he’s doing it as he rolls his eyes at you.
“Yes, stupid,” he tells you, chuckling as you hop slightly in excited. “Are we going or are you just gonna stand here like a little puppy?”
With excited nods and a little squeal, you clap your hands together before daring to put your fingers around his wrist, dragging him with you.
Sae follows quietly behind you, staring at you as you happily tread ahead, your hands warm and guarding his against the slightly chilly air, hair flowing in the wind and he suddenly thinks you’re even prettier than he first thought you were. And then he starts thinking that maybe this part of his life that’s planned by his parents isn’t so bad after all.
Though, when you get back to the hotel, you find out that Sae has already specially asked for two separate beds, to the surprise of all the hotel staff, because of course, Mrs Itoshi had booked the honeymoon suite for the both of you. Special requests for that room usually mean flowers on the bed, or breakfast just the way they like it—not for the groom of all people to be asking for a separate bed altogether, especially when he insists there is no additional person.
“I’ll sleep out here,” Sae tells you the moment you get back to the hotel that night, gesturing to the bed set up by the television, much to your bummer. But you suppose you can’t expect too much—hand holding was already a miracle in itself.
“Oh yeah, sure,” you shrug it off, like it doesn’t even matter. Deep down you feel like a rock was dropped from your throat to the bottom of your stomach, forming a gaping hole in your heart along the way that you tried to will into non-existence.
Still, somehow, despite this little obstacle, you find yourself optimistic after being witness to Sae’s change in demeanour.
“Hey, Y/N?”
When you turn around, you see a hint of hesitation flicker across his teal eyes before he shakes his head, brushing it off.
“It’s nothing, goodnight.”
Although you’re curious, you decide not to press him about it. Offering a small smile, you nod.
“Goodnight, Sae.”
Over the course of your entire honeymoon, you find that you shouldn’t be chiding yourself for being delusional in the first place.
For once in this one-sided love affair, you feel like perhaps it’s not so one-sided at all. Because from what you’ve learned about Sae in your close-to-minimal time together, he isn’t someone that you can force into doing anything he doesn’t want to. At least when it comes to mundane activities which includes trips. (Unless you’re his parents who you have no doubt in your mind probably mirrors your own and have their ways of controlling him, per se.)
But it’s hard to think he doesn’t want to do any of this with you when he’s so compliant. He follows your bucket list of things to do and doesn’t complain once. He lets you drag him to the palace and looks only slightly concerned when you tell him you want to “do the thing where we can dress up like royalty and take pictures” but he only sighs and concedes within seconds.
When he comes out of the room looking like the most handsome prince you’d ever met, you’re too shy to meet his gaze but he tilts your head up to look at him for most of the shots anyway. With his face so close to yours, with these kinds of small gestures which he willingly initiates, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to make him happy in this possibly loveless marriage.
Spending ten days together, surrounded by just each other and doing things that couples do; it nearly makes you feel as if this is real. Like Sae really loves you and that he had asked you to marry him one day out of the blue because of it. Nothing like how you felt that first time you met him, in your dressing room minutes before you were about to become husband and wife, being talked down to and told that this was a facade and could be nothing more.
Now he’s here with you, sticking close and following you around, entertaining your requests for activities, falling asleep on your shoulder when you were on the plane to Jeju, and sometimes he absentmindedly holds your hand like he’s used to it. He helps you with your luggage always, and he makes sure you get food whenever your stomach starts growling, and he’s more observant than you give him credit for because he starts picking the radish off your plate without you asking.
Your album’s suddenly filled with pictures of you and Sae and you were hesitant at first but dragging him to the amusement park when he wasn’t for it at first was a good decision; for a while, you get to see what he’s like when all the downturned lines on his face reverse, when he looks the most like an actual guy in his mid-twenties, enjoying life instead of brooding all the time. Thanks to that, your pictures are more both of you smiling or being goofy together instead of faceless pictures because neither of you feel like showing your faces at all.
By the time your honeymoon is about to come to an end, you find that maybe there’s hope for this after all. That maybe you’d just been overthinking everything prior to this and it shouldn’t be worth worrying over after the trip ends.
But you find that hope can be flimsy sometimes.
On the seventh night there, you and Sae are both on your bed, in the actual bedroom, fighting (not literally) over a multiplayer game. Just two adults hunched over one phone playing frustrating games meant for kids. (Somehow it makes you feel like perhaps neither of you ever had a normal childhood and this is something to make up for it.) It’s all fun and games until you see a throng of message notifications from dummy mixed in with several from what you presume to be Sae’s group chat with the guys.
And you can keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, except Sae immediately stops after the current round and tells you he has to take a call. And you already know more or less who he’s going to talk to. And just like that, you feel like you’re back to square one all over again.
The subsequent nights (and days) aren’t easy for you either. After just giving up on thinking and forcing yourself to sleep that night, you’d been stuck with paranoia everyday. Especially when you realise that he’s starting to take calls every night outside on the balcony where he’s sure you’re out of earshot.
You wonder if he’s being lovey dovey with her outside when he talks to her. You wonder if he imagines you as her when you’re out together. You wonder if he wishes you were her. You wonder if all this is just a gimmick; a test run for when he does the actual things with the actual girl he wants to do them with.
Safe to say, by your last night there, you’re a mess. The moment you get back from trying to be happy all day (which was a disaster because you wouldn’t stop trying to minimise contact with Sae), you tell him you’re too tired and that you’ll just go ahead and go to bed.
Which, of course, is code for ‘you just want to lie in bed and cry all night’.
Sae couldn’t even get a word out before you shut the door on him, plopping down onto the bed and crying into your pillow. Maybe holding everything in was a bad idea. Now you’re bursting with emotions and you try to call Reo a few minutes later but you can’t even get him because he’s busy somehow and you’re positive that the gods hate you right now.
There is one thing about being on rock bottom that you like, though; at least you know how you feel. You’re exhausted and upset and envious because you wish you could be that person for your husband. But you keep getting reminded that you’re not. That somehow you’re just a mere stand-in until he marries his real wife next time. The one he promised to love forever. (Technically, he vowed that to you on your wedding day too, but that’s not the same and you know it.)
Deciding to shut off your phone and have this time to yourself to cry your eyes out, you miss the sudden swarm of notifications that come in. And thanks to you stuffing your head into the pillow, you don’t notice Sae opening the door and peeking inside, an unfamiliar feeling settling inside him at the sound of you sobbing.
He gently closes the door behind him as he walks to you, your back turned to him, your hands and feet hanging onto the bolster like a koala to a branch. Slowly, he saunters over to you, almost like he’s afraid to. When his hand rests on your shoulder and he sinks into the mattress beside you, you stiffen up for just a moment before spinning around and sobbing into his chest instead.
You didn’t expect him to even enter your room at all, much less let you stain his shirt or hold you close when you’re being emotional like this, but he stays there, hand gently rubbing your arm, up and down, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. It makes you wonder what kind of games he’s playing. Is this Sae not being able to make up his mind and that’s why he’s still so nice to you even when he has his old flame in the back of his head?
“Do you… want me to leave you alone?” He asks, though you can argue it’s kind of a stupid question but then you realise he probably doesn’t know much about actual relationships so you let it slide.
You shake your head in response, deciding that as stupid as it all sounds, you want to throw your hat in the ring. You’ve fallen for him, and you want him for yourself.
And maybe it’s wrong of you to project this on him, but your absence of a normal family where a home is not just a house and where parents shower their children with actual love and concern makes you yearn for one yourself. And maybe it’s not a great idea to want that from a man you married from being forced to, but thanks to this honeymoon you can see that there’s a flicker of spark there.
That Sae’s not emotionless and he’s definitely not cold to you. Not anymore. That if you guys had been given more time instead of being rushed into things by your parents then maybe the whole wedding could’ve gone without any of the hitches you experienced. That every single radish he picked off your plate, every picture he took with you, every time he held your hand, every time he pulled you close—none of that was manufactured, was it?
So isn’t it possible for you to be happy with him? So is it still foolish or selfish of you to want to be with him?
Is it too much if you ask him about it?
“Hey, Sae?” Your voice is soft and timid and more vulnerable than you’ve ever shown, but he hears you loud and clear, his “hm?” resounding against his chest, right next to your ear. “Can you stay?”
A few seconds of pause, and he replies, “of course.”
You shake your head slightly. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you know, what we said on our wedding day.” Your voice is entirely muffled, still Sae understands.
There’s an even longer pause this time, and you think that Sae’s just thinking of a way to get out of this until you hear him speak up again.
“Idiot,” he chides, but you can hear the soft affection in his voice. Suddenly, you feel his pinky wrapping around your own, and he holds it near your face. “I promise you,” he whispers, and you wish you could see the expression on his face, “I’ll stay.”
It might be wishful thinking but you think he really means it.
taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog *bolded: can’t tag you due to your settings >_<
#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#itoshi sae x reader#sae x reader#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#sae x you#itoshi sae x you#sae x y/n#itoshi sae x y/n#itoshi sae#blue lock#૪ aeri’s fics !
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Jaded - Charlie Weasley
A/N: so, I know that the last thing I should be doing right now is start another series… and yet… here we are xD also, I’m sorry, I know She Is Love won, but I think we have established by now that my mind kind of does whatever it wants and I have no control whatsoever xD it’s all chaos here… anyways, I hope you like it :)
Request - Anonymous asked: Hello, I hope you’re doing okay my lovely. I was wondering if you could possibly wite maybe a enemies/rivals to lovers with Charlie Weasley and the reader? (Lots of sarcastic banta back and forth maybe they both work on the dragon reserve and are entrusted with transporting a very dangerous dragon to a new reserve, but something happens on the journey and just them to are trapped (either with the dragon or not) and then an argument that leads to some form of confession? This is so long I’m so bloody sorry, and I hope your writers block subsides [full request here]
Warnings: Charlie’s a bit of an asshole [but not really] for now, I think that’s it but please let me know if I’m missing something, also reader is from the Nott family
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D
Your name: submit What is this?
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Jaded
Hey…j-j-jaded… you got your mama’s style, But you’re yesterday’s child to me. So jaded, you think that’s where it’s at, But is that where it’s supposed to be?You’re gettin’ it all over me… X-rated
Charlie fucking Weasley.
That stupid name had haunted you for more than ten years now. There were very few people you hated in your life but his name was definitely on that list.
After enduring seven years of him at Hogwarts, you thought you’d finally be free when he was being drafted to play Quidditch professionally and you would move to Romania to fulfill your dreams of studying dragons. But no, for some stupid twist of fate, he decided not to become a Quidditch player and all of the sudden there was another opening at the exact Romanian Dragon Sanctuary that you had applied to so, again, here he was. And it seemed that no matter what you did, you were never able to escape Charlie fucking—
“WEASLEY!” you yelled when you finally spotted him, not far from your hut.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite princess” you heard his voice as you approached him. “How can I help you, love?” he asked, brushing his hair away from his face, showing off his stupid tattoos on his stupid strong arms.
“I have asked you many times, to stop calling me that!” you glared at him. “I need to speak with you” you said, before you went back into your hut and he only raised his eyebrow before following you.
“Is this how you treat your guests, love?” he said, walking in and leaning on your desk as he started going through your stuff.
“I didn’t invite you” you smirked.
“You just did” he glared a little at you.
“Don’t be confused, Weasley, this is strictly business” you glared at him.
“Of course it is” he chuckled. “Are you working on the Sleeping Draught for the dragons? Weren’t we supposed to work on this together?”
“Yes, that is correct, Weasley. Excuse me for not wanting to wait 45 minutes to see you flirting with the group of girls casually visiting the reserve today” you told him.
“Oh, so you did notice that” he smiled. “Sorry, love, you must remember how it is” he said, brushing a hand through his curls and flashing his smile at you as you rolled your eyes. “I mean, I had a complete section cheering for me back at school” he shrugged.
“Oh, yes. How could I forget?” you asked, sarcastically.
“You don’t have to be so mean about it” he pouted. “Why are you making so much of it?” he asked, grabbing one of the phials.
“Why did I just find out that you are coming with me to Hogwarts, Weasley?”
“I asked first, Nott” he smirked, winking at you.
“Could you please not mess up my things?” you said glaring at him, knowing he did it just to anger you. “I am making more because we are bringing four dragons, not three” you explained.
“What? That doesn’t make sense, why? Isn’t it just three champions?”
“Well, obviously something happened, and now there’s four” you explained. “Now tell me why Steven just informed me that you are coming. Evan was supposed to bring them with me” you insisted.
“Tah-dah!” he smiled. “Surprise, darling! Looks like something came up and you got an upgrade so I’m coming with you instead” he smiled.
“Feels like a downgrade” you muttered.
“Hey!” he said, placing his hand on his chest and looking at you pretending to be hurt. “How can you say that? This is going to be so much fun. You, me, back at Hogwarts, like the good old days” he smiled flirtily at you. “Remember?”
“I’m not sure what days you’re remembering, Weasley” you said pushing him away. “But good is not what I would use to describe them” you told him.
“Of course not” he rolled his eyes, grabbing another bottle on your desk and throwing it in the air before grabbing it again.
“Give me that!” you said, grabbing it from him.
“Okay, so, since we’re getting four-” he said, as he grabbed one of your notepads.
“Stop saying we. You’re not coming with me” you glared at him.
“Oh, I beg to differ, love, see here?” he said, pointing at the paper you had earlier. “That’s my name, right next to yours” he smiled. “It’s official” he added. “So, let’s see what you’re bringing” he said, looking through your notes. “Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout, Common Welsh Green” he muttered. “Oh, I know, we should take the Hungarian Horntail we got last week” he smiled.
“What? Absolutely not!”
“Why not? That would be perfect” he said, grabbing a quill and adding it to the list.
“Weasley, that is one of the most dangerous dragon breeds and you want to take her to a school full of young students, do you have any idea how irresponsible that is?”
“Relax, it’s for the first task, I doubt it’ll be anything dangerous. Plus that’s why we’re going.
“No! We should take an Antipodean Opaleye” you said, trying to grab the notepad from him but he placed it out of your reach.
“Oh, come on, love. Live a little, I would have killed to see a Hungarian Horntail at that age” he smirked. “Nothing bad is gonna happen. We won’t let it” he insisted.
“You haven’t even spent time with her, Weasley, I have. I am telling you this isn’t a good idea!”
“What isn’t a good idea?” you both stopped when your boss, Steven stepped inside your hut.
“Well, we were just talking about how the fourth dragon should be the Hungarian Horntail” Charlie quickly said. “It was actually (Y/N)’s idea” he smiled.
“No, it wasn’t! I was saying that we should take the Antipodean Opaleye!”
“Come on, love, we are already taking a Common Welsh Green, we should bring something more exciting” Charlie insisted as he passed the notepad to Steven.
“I just don’t think that this-”
“I’m with Weasley” Steven said, before you could even finish. Of course, he was. Not because Steven was a jerk. He was actually a good boss. But this was the story of your life. Charlie would get away with anything he wanted. “I think the Hungarian Horntail would be an interesting choice. Plus, you’re going and if anyone can handle her, it’s you, (Y/N)” he smiled. “I’ll go make the arrangements while you finish the potion” he said, leaving your hut before you could argue.
“See? Lovely idea” Charlie smirked.
“Why did you do that? I’m telling you is not a good idea to bring her. She’s still settling in the idea of being around people-”
“You worry to much, love” he said, grabbing your phial and throwing it in the air again, but this time, he accidentally dropped it. “Uh-oh” he said, before smiling innocently at you as you took a deep breath. “That wasn’t… part of the Sleeping Draught potion, was it?”
“You mean the potion we’re giving to the, now four, dragons we have to transport that you were supposed to be helping me with 45 minutes ago?” you asked, upset.
“Uh-”
“Yes, Weasley, that was part of the potion” you told him.
*-*Flashback*-*
“Well, look who finally decided to show up” you said, annoyed, as Charlie entered the class and ran over to your desk. You couldn’t believe you were stuck with him as your Potions partner for the entire year.
“Sorry, princess. Practice ran late” he smiled, sitting next to you.
“Don’t call me princess. And I don’t understand how being in the Quidditch team gives you immunity so you can show up whenever you want to and work on half a potion” you said, as you added the next ingredient.
“Come on, love. Don’t hate on the team” he said smirking at you. “Everyone loves the team!”
“Oh, yeah, I have such a deep admiration for guys who fly around in sticks with other guys” you said with a sly smirk.
“I know you’re joking, but when you use that sexy voice, you know it turns me on a little” he mocked you.
“Ugh, I can’t stand you!”
“Then sit down” he smirked.
“Shut up! And help me with this thing, or I’m taking your name off the Potion” you said, as he saw the potion you were making on your book.
“Ugh, give it, you’re doing it wrong!”
“Excuse me? I have brewed the Volubilis Potion many times before, Weasley. And I am already halfway through, without your help. I am not doing it wrong!” you snapped frustrated.
“Yes, you are!” Charlie said grabbing the jar of Syrup of Hellebore from your hand but you didn’t let it go.
“No! Give it!” you said pulling it towards you.
“Ugh! You stuck-up, know-it-all drag!”
“Take that back you pompous Quidditch nut!” you argued, neither of you noticing Professor Snape coming towards your table.
“Mr. Weasley, Miss Nott-”
“Give it, Nott!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Fine!”
Charlie hadn’t been prepared for you to let it go and he ended up dropping the whole thing on the cauldron making it explode all over Professor Snape’s face. When you heard the small explosion, the entire class went dead silent and the two of you slowly turned to see your teacher’s face covered in soot.
“You two. Detention. Tonight. My office” Professor Snape said; as you both resisted with everything you had to not laugh at the change of his voice. “50 points off Gryffindor and 30 off Slytherin” he said before walking to his desk again.
“That’s not fair!” Charlie argued.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking in in the middle of my class, Mr. Weasley” he added.
“Ugh! Thanks a lot” Charlie snapped at you.
“Me? You’re blaming me? You’re the one who dropped it!”
“Only because you wouldn’t let it go!”
“Enough!” you heard Professor Snape from the front of the class. “Both of you out of my classroom!” he said standing up.
“But I wasn’t-”
“NOW!”
“See what you did?” Charlie said once you were outside.
“Me? I had never been kicked out of a class or had detention for that matter! This is all your fault!”
“No, it’s not! You were making it wrong!” he insisted.
“UGH! Just because you’re the Captain of your bloody team, you think you’re the boss of everything! And everyone!” you snapped frustrated.
“It’s not my fault you can’t stand to be wrong!”
“You are so… so-”
“Charming?” he said smirking and raising his eyebrow at you.
“Vexing!” you snapped, as you walked down the hall but he followed you.
“Really? Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either!” he glared at you. “‘Oh, look at me, I’m (Y/N) Nott. I’m a patronizing know-it-all princess who thinks is better than anybody else!’” he said mocking your voice.
“Ugh! I don’t talk like that! You’re infuriating!”
“You know what? I hope you fail all your NEWT’s!”
“Yeah? I hope you go bald!”
“I hope you end up an old spinster!”
“I hope they cancel Quidditch!”
“Take that back!” Charlie snapped.
“Make me!” you said smirking at him.
“You know what? I hope that once we graduate here, I won’t ever have to see your conceded face again!” he said, before turning around and leaving for the Gryffindor tower.
“My thoughts exactly, Weasley” you muttered to yourself before walking to the Library.
*-*End of Flashback*-*
“We can fix it, love. Don’t worry” he said, cleaning up the mess. “See? Just like old times” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun, princess!”
“Don’t call me that” you glared at him, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to contain yourself.
Yes, you had one very big problem. His name is Charlie fucking Weasley. And you have no fucking idea how you’re supposed to survive the next few weeks with him.
To Be Continued
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A/N: so… part 2?
#harry potter#harry potter imagine#charlie weasley#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley imagine#charlie weasley series
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august — cam cameron
pairing: cam cameron x fem!reader
summary: y/n has a summer job at the cousins bakery. cam cameron likes to find excuses to buy muffins every day.
warnings: none? just a long fic (i got carried away oopsies)
a/n: already rewatching tsitp and i finished it this week I LOVE IT SO MUCH FJSHJDHSH
masterlist !
⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚
cousins beach was so surreal in the summertime. it was the busiest time of the year for the small town. the beaches were crowded and the boardwalk never slept.
everyone practically knew everyone. that's what y/n might have loved most about it. besides her close friend isabel conklin of course.
the girls met in the summer of 2017 when y/n's family started driving three hours to their newly bought beach house. it was in the same neighborhood as the beck house, meaning y/n and belly quickly became friends. belly always invited y/n over, and grew fondly of conrad and jeremiah fisher. she eventually learned to enjoy steven's presence as well.
the two girls have been inseparable since. every summer you'd find them attached at the hip, with conrad, jeremiah and steven following behind.
this summer however was different. not for belly though, she was still just as obsessed with the older fisher brother. the summer was already different for y/n. her father made the decision for the girl to get a summer job. her mother wasn't too thrilled with the idea, just wanting her daughter to have a memorable summer. but after officially getting hired at the local bakery, y/n didn't mind.
she's always loved going to the bakery. it was almost tradition for her mother to buy a pie to bring to susannah's fourth of july parties. y/n always begged for the double chocolate chip muffins before they left at the beginning of august. nine out of ten times she left with a smile on her face and a muffin in her hands.
the first week of work went smoothly for y/n. belly stopped by everyday to check on her. jeremiah went with her one morning for a muffin run, and conrad went with her once to buy chocolate chip cookies to cheer up a very upset steven.
two new faces came into the bakery with belly and the fisher brothers. conrad and jeremiah immediately went to the small stand with different flavors of cupcakes. belly walked up to the counter, with the two newcomers trailing behind her.
"hey bells," y/n smiles, leaning against the cold counter.
"hi," she smiles back, "i just had to bring everyone here for the best muffins in the whole wide world."
belly gestures to the two friends behind her. the girl to her right has dirty blonde hair, with thick mascara covering her eyelashes.
"this is taylor," taylor waves.
the boy to her left has brown curly hair, with darker skin than belly's, and y/n can't help but smile when be does.
"and this is cam," belly pushes him forward a bit.
"it's cam cameron actually!" jeremiah interrupts from the other side of the small store.
y/n can't help bit giggle, "cam cameron?"
"yeah, cam or uh- cameron works just as well."
y/n sends him one last smile before turning back towards belly, "so i'm guessing you didn't just come in here to chat?"
belly shakes her head and gives y/n the muffin order, including steven's request who was busy with his summer job at the pool as a server.
y/n was quick to pack the 7 muffins in a box before handing them to belly. she walked over to conrad after paying, with taylor following behind. cam sent a wave to y/n, which she happily reciprocated, before watching them walk out of the store.
—
the next day at the bakery was quite boring for y/n. an older couple came in and ordered a cake, and a family of four ordered a dozen muffins. y/n was in the middle of cleaning and rewriting on one of the chalkboards on the wall when the bell above the door rang.
"oh hey cam cameron!" y/n turned to see the curly headed boy from yesterday.
he smiled at the name, not hating it when it came out of her mouth.
"what can i do for you?" she sets down the chalk and walks behind the counter. cam follows as he stands on the opposite side.
he gives her his order, which was one blueberry muffin for himself to enjoy. she slides the small bag across the counter, but cam doesn't want to leave the store just yet.
"seeing as you're not busy," cam chuckles as he looks around the store, "do you mind if i keep you company?"
y/n instantly shakes her head, "no, no not at all. i'd actually love that today. it's been so slow."
cam nods, "yeah i saw the boardwalk was pretty busy on the way over here."
the pair talked for over an hour, when to both of them it only felt like ten minutes. y/n couldn't keep her smile off her face when he was around.
cam pauses in the middle of his story when his phone buzzes from his pocket. "shoot," he sighs, "my mom wants me home for lunch."
cam grabs his bag before walking towards the door, "i'll see you!"
y/n smiles and waves, "bye cam cameron."
for the rest of her shift y/n couldn't stop thinking about cam. their conversation earlier ranged from their favorite foods, to cam's love for marine biology, and even to y/n's hidden talent of being a boss at karaoke (belly's words, not hers.)
—
a week had passed and cam stopped by the bakery every day. his order varied from muffins, to cupcakes, to cookies. cam accidentally admitted to the girl he visited her to keep her company. it absolutely warmed her heart and a giggle fell from her lips.
y/n practically skipped out of the bakery and towards her yellow bike. she knew she'd call belly as soon as she got home to tell her what happened with cam today.
the phone rang once, then twice, then belly answered.
"hi y/n! what's up?"
"i may need some girl advice bells."
"i'm sorry?" belly's instantly confused by y/n's words.
y/n groans, not knowing how to word her feelings, "can you just come over? it'll be easier to explain."
not even five minutes after hanging up, belly's knocking on the pale blue door of y/n's parent's beach house.
"cam cameron asked me on a date," y/n was quick to the point once the two girls got to her room.
belly squealed, before asking a million questions. y/n happily answered them all, knowing belly was truly excited for her.
y/n explained to belly that cam asked her right before she left to go home after her shift at the bakery. the sun was setting, and cam was worried he'd miss her if he didn't jog the second half of the route from his house towards the bakery. she found it cute as he seemed more nervous around her today than any other day last week.
cam took a deep breath before asking y/n if she wanted to go to the boardwalk with him. with a bright smile the girl agreed.
which leads to her predicament, of not knowing weather or not cam cameron meant it as a date or not.
"he asked you personally, so obviously it's a date y/n," belly was looking through y/n's closet as the ladder layed on her unmade bed.
"but what if he just sees it as two friends hanging out?" y/n rebuttals.
belly doesn't answer, but instead she comes out with a navy blue corset type of tank top, and grabs the pair of shorts she found in y/n's dresser moments ago.
she holds the articles of clothing together, "because how can he see you as a friend if he sees you in this!"
both girls fall into a fit of giggles before you eventually get ready. y/n still had thirty minutes or so until cam was picking her up, so belly insisted on helping with the rest of the look.
she kept her hair natural, from it already being styled for work earlier in the day. she threw all her jewelry back on, considering she can't wear any at work. y/n always wore two necklaces, five rings (three on her left hand, two on the right), and a handful of bracelets adorned both her wrists.
belly helped with her mascara and lip gloss.
with one last look in her mirror, y/n and belly both giggled as a knock echoed through the whole house.
cam cameron was never speechless, but when he saw y/n standing in front of him words weren't even a thought.
"hi cam," she giggles.
"hey- hey y/n, you look great."
belly not-so-subtley squeezes her way between y/n and the door, greeting cam before she ran back to her own house.
cam and y/n started walking towards the boardwalk. the sun was still in the phase of setting. hues of orange, yellow and pink filled the sky with a couple of clouds.
the walk to the boardwalk wasn't the shortest, but y/n loved the amount of time she's able to spend with cam. they didn't stop talking the whole way there.
cam observed the girl, and noticed the small wrinkles around y/n's eyes when she laughed. he saw her fiddle with the ring on her thumb when she listened to him talk. he loved how excited she got talking about all her favorite rides at the boardwalk.
y/n wasn't the observant type, but cam was the only exception. her heart sped up when his smile got bigger as he talked about marine biology. he loved everything about whales. she noticed during the week, when he got nervous he runs his hand through his hair. he does the same motion as the two finally walk into the buzzing atmosphere of the boardwalk.
"so, what do you want to do first?" cam politely asks.
y/n can't help but giggle again, before grabbing onto his hand, "i have an idea." she simply grabs cam's hand and pulls him towards one of the many games.
—
y/n never thought her favorite night of summer would be with a boy she just met this year.
her and cam played almost every game on the boardwalk. y/n won most of them, but when cam beat her at ring toss, he gave her the purple stuffed giraffe, which she didn't dare loosen her grip on it for the rest of the night.
after games, the two sat down on a bench to eat. y/n had a massive plate of chilli cheese fries while cam had funnel cake. y/n wasn't one to question his choice, as he explained he ate an early dinner before he picked her up.
after eating they went into the arcade for a little over an hour. they walked out and the sky was now dark, with a million stars reflecting off the ocean.
now y/n and cam were walking side by side at the other end of the boardwalk. they were near the railing, away from all the games and bright lights, making it more quiet.
"i had a lot of fun tonight cam," y/n's smile hasn't left her face all day, and doesn't falter when she thanks him.
"me too, i'm glad you were able to come."
for a few moments it was quiet between the two. their hands kept brushing into each other's. y/n could feel the warmth radiating off of his hand, she couldn't help but slowly interlock her pinky with his.
"do you mind if we sit?" y/n points to a bench maybe ten feet away, "all the walking is finally catching up to me."
of course cam says yes. they sit beside each other on the cold bench, with the purple giraffe sitting lopsided by y/n's feet.
"are you not cold?" cam asks, suddenly remembering y/n was outside in only a tank top and shorts.
y/n shakes her head, "no uh- not really. i like the cold."
cam tilts his head towards her, "you sure? cause i could easily go to the gift shop for you."
y/n giggles at how sweet cam is, "really, i'm okay cam."
"do you know what you're gonna name it?" cam gestures to the giraffe he won for her earlier in the evening.
y/n shrugs, "i haven't really thought about it yet," she picks up the giraffe and studies it, "what about muffin?"
cam lets out a chuckle, "it's perfect."
a cool ocean breeze blows through the boardwalk. once it reaches y/n and cam, the girl shivers and subconsciously moves closer to cam. his cheeks flush slightly at the contact of her thigh pressing against his, and her shoulder bumping against his own.
"you sure about you not being cold?" cam laughs.
"okay, maybe it's a little cold now," y/n laughs with him.
silently, cam holds his hand open. y/n takes it, and a warm electric feeling flows through her body. cam's hand was shockingly warm, which was a great contrast to y/n's cold skin.
—
sadly, the fun night cam had planned for the pair had to come to an end. their hands never left each other's grip as cam walked y/n back to her house. once again, the two talked the whole way back.
y/n sighed once they reached the cobblestone driveway of her house. cam walked her up the steps of her porch, now turning to the girl once they reached the door.
"thank you for today cam," y/n thanked him again.
"i'm glad you had a good time," cam smiled down at the girl.
y/n smiled before leaning up to kiss the boy's cheek. her lips lingered there for a moment. just as she was about to unlock the front door, cam's voice stopped her.
"you missed."
y/n's eyesbrows furrowed.
"you missed," cam repeated.
before y/n can respond, cam grabs her hand again to pull her in front of him. he smiles before pushing his lips softly against y/n's. the kiss lasts for a few seconds before the girl pulls away. her cheeks are pink and her cold skin is suddenly warm.
"i really like you y/n," cam's voice is quiet, afraid to break the moment the two just shared.
to respond, y/n leans up to kiss cam again. this time one of her hands goes to his cheek to make the kiss become deeper. cam smiles against her lips, as his hold on her waist never falters.
this was the first of many dates for cam and y/n, and she loved every single one of them.
#shelbi writes#keerysfreckles#the summer i turned pretty#tsitp#cam cameron#cam cameron tsitp#cam cameron the summer i turned pretty#cam cameron x reader#cam cameron x you#cam cameron x y/n#cam cameron x fem reader#cam cameron x fem!reader#cam cameron fic#cam cameron fanfic#cam cameron imagine#conrad fisher x reader#jeremiah fisher x reader
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✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with han on your wedding day
✰ pairings: bsf!han x fem!reader
✰ genre: angst, fluff if you squint and romance
✰ word count: 1.3k+ words
HAN | chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | felix | seungmin | jeongin
one 𖨂
first off, i’m sorry i made you cry like that. i’m sorry that i intentionally hurt you even though i didn’t mean to. i guess it’s time to spill the beans, huh? it’s been what– like 6 years now? 6 years of constantly pining over you. 6 years of falling in love with every bit of you. and 6 years of watching you fall for several people and get your heart broken. i’ve seen it all. lived it all as well, right by your side just like always. it wasn’t easy of course, watching the love of your life kiss someone else, hug someone else or cry over stupid exes who didn’t deserve you. but i did my best to hold it in. but now . . . i don’t think i can. i love you so much, more than you’ve ever now and more than you ever will. your fiancé is lucky. he truly is. for being able to marry a girl like you in less than a few hours. and you must be wondering why i’m sending you these voicemails 3 hours before your wedding. well it’s because you don’t have your phone with you right now as you’re very much busy, which is a golden opportunity for me.
two 𖨂
i hate you. so so much. i hate you so much for making me feel this way. i hate you so much for running through my mind the entire day. i hate you so much for making me feel all excited and giddy whenever you smile at me, but your eyes. . . they have love. not the romantic one, the platonic one. and that’s what hurts me the most. i even thought of telling this to you earlier but i couldn’t. not when our friendship of 8 years was at stake. never. nothing is more precious than that. but sometimes i do wonder whether your heart used to beat fast when i stood close to you. or whether your cheeks used to feel warm when i touched you. did it ever happen to you? i guess not. how could you love a guy like me? you, who are literally the perfectionist and me who learnt from you. doesn’t match right? i wished it did. i truly wished it did.
three 𖨂
i never lost hope, you know? instead i clung onto it until the very end, which is today. i hoped for you to fall in love with me little by little. and even though you couldn’t reciprocate my love for you, i wish we tried. but i fall in love with you a little bit more day by day. and now my heart is swelling with immense sadness that it even hurts to laugh without letting out tears of pain. it hurts to see you smile knowing i’m not the main reason anymore. i’ve become a side one. and it hurts to see you so excited for your wedding. and i hate myself for that. i hate that i can’t even pretend to be happy for my best friend who finally found true love. best friend. that’s all i mean to you right? nothing more, nothing less. but i don’t blame you. i could never. so i hope he doesn’t hurt you ever. because i might not be sufficient for you whether it be now or 10 years later. just know that.
four 𖨂
as i stand wearing my tuxedo, i wonder how it would look to have your arm linked with mine. to have your eyes shining with joy, for me. but that can never happen, can it? i see the way you look at him. the way you talk about him. and when you’re angry at him, it hurts me even then. oh, how i wish i could be him. standing by your weeping side and wiping your tears. or perhaps, holding you in my arms under the moonlight. it sounds heavenly doesn’t it? at least it does for me. which is the exact reason why it isn’t real. and i can’t imagine what would happen after you hear these. just don’t hate me please? i beg you. it took me a lot of courage to say this. and i would die if i ever knew that you hate me. your man, he’s perfect in every way. i tried to find any flaw but there isn’t one. he’s madly in love with you too but not longer than me, try to beat that. he gifts you all his love and never his anger. he treats you like a delicate vase, if handled improperly, you might break. he engulfs you in his love and you can practically drown in his eyes with the amount of admiration it contains for you. all for you, my angel.
five 𖨂
i’m back, hiding in the bathroom as i speak. your wedding just ended– and i don’t think i could see you two kissing. i’m so sorry angel. so so sorry. i didn’t want to be that bad friend who falls in love and starts acting as a homewrecker. never. i’m so sorry for falling in love with you. if only i didn’t look at you while you were doing my makeup, this wouldn’t have happened. i danced with you although, and when you asked why i was getting emotional i could only smile with tears. this was the last time i held you like i loved you. the last time i twirled you, and the last time i caught you. because now, i’m throwing away that hope from my life. and i’m letting you go now, my love. i promise. i won’t ever try to love you again the way i did and i’ll punish myself if i ever do that once more.
six 𖨂
at times i even thought i don't want to love you anymore. you tore my heart out in the summer and tossed it aside with a carefree laugh and that crooked smile, before sauntering off to meet your new partner before classes began in the autumn. i don't want to flinch every time i hear your name escape someone’s mouth. i don't want to keep getting hurt every time a memory flashes in my mind like a blaring siren, a loop of playful moments and the moments where i fell deeper. i want to not care about you anymore. i want to be perfect strangers, but i couldn’t just not care when you knocked on my door at 4 am, drunk and a sobbing mess, i just took you in my arms. i held you for hours till the moon disappeared, replacing itself with brightness. not for me. not when you couldn’t even remember how i cared for you or how we went back to being best friends. maybe it was selfish of me to for the night knowing you saw my worth only in your drunk state. but it was enough for me. you were enough for me. and my heart shattered every time knowing i wasn’t.
seven 𖨂
i’m finally letting you free, from the love i had buried deep in my heart. i wish you a happy married life, my angel. and i’m sorry but i will be leaving tonight. i’m going away for a while. for good. and even though i have many excuses i won’t tell them to you. i need time. away from you. away from those feelings that keep bubbling out just by hearing your laughter. i know i’m late. very late in fact. but could you try and not hate me for this? please? it’ll be my last wish before i go. and now, suddenly, everything seems like a goodbye. the last dance, the last hug, the last smile, the last kiss on my cheek and the last moment where i add a full stop to this unrequited love of mine. congratulations angel. though i wished i could call you mine.
#ॱଳ͘#k labels#stray kids x reader#skz scenarios#skz fluff#skz angst#han x reader#han jisung#jisung x reader#skz fanfic#han angst#skz han#skz jisung#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines
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Please may I have Yandere! Harry Potter and Hermione and Ron Weasley and they all share the same darling headcanons and how they reacted and all behaved when Draco flirted with their darling on purpose...knowing full well that darling belonged to the Yanderes..darling sensed danger and basically told Draco to stop before he did something that he would regret and obviously Draco didn't listen and it was starting to make their darling uncomfortable..their darling didn't like Draco whatsoever and darling sent the yanderes slient pleas for help. It is Platonic because the golden trio and Draco are in third year in Hogwarts..it isn't romantic yet at all.
Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, threats
Flirting gone wrong
Of course it had to be Draco who had to do this to you. You aren't exactly surprised by his actions as he has a personal vendetta against the Potter boy and everyone who associates themselves with him. So it comes to no surprise that you are very high on his list as you are exceptionally close not only to Harry but also to his best friends Ron and Hermione. After all the four of you have been going through thick and thin ever since your first year in Hogwarts and you all also are part of Gryffindor. It isn't really a secret that you mean a lot to the trio either, pretty much everyone knows that they are attached to your hips, especially Ron and Harry. Hermione tries not to be as clingy as the boys as she is the only one who I can call with confidence lucid about the growing obsession she and her friends are going through the more time passes on as she is also essentially the one who tells Ron and Harry to tone it down since she doesn't want people to find out. Harry already is cause enough for attention.
Ron and Harry also tend to get quickly jealous, although for different reasons. Ron gets quickly jealous out of insecurity as he is clumsy and also has a lot of older brothers who are great whilst Harry tends to be more possessive due to his background as the Dursleys essentially isolated him and never allowed him to have any friends. Maybe he is a bit selfish and a part of him actually knows that but he is too deceived by his own obsession to give this too much thought. Hermione is the brain who basically does her best to keep the two boys in check from being too clingy but she is due to her awareness also the strictest one of the bunch. Ron is the complete opposite as he is very delusional and clingy. He is low-key a worshipper who can't see you doing anything wrong and despises seeing you sad which causes him to try to do anything to make you smile again. Harry is possessive and also very protective because as popular as he is, he has learnt that there are a lot of people who want him dead and he knows that you may also get dragged into it.
They have been aware of Draco tormenting you for a while now as you never see any reason to keep a secret from them. Also there is the fact that all three of them usually always are with you, such as Harry or Ron who are clingy, or at least watch you silently from afar, such as Hermione who at least tries to give you some privacy. So normally there is always at least one of the three who has an eye on you, they literally agreed to this without your knowledge. For all three of them to be away, they must have been quite busy with something, mostly related to schoolwork. When all three notice that no one is watching you, Ron and Harry are the first ones who start running to find you whilst Hermione is chasing after them in futile hopes that they can be at least a bit more discreet. They're not. When the two boys finally find you, there is no time to feel relief though as their blood starts boiling when they see Malfoy doing what he does best by making someone, you, uncomfortable.+
When the blond bastard spots the three sorcerers, he gives them a disgustingly smug grin whilst continuing to flirt with you and even touching you a bit, his eyes darting constantly back to Harry, Hermione and Ron to further provoke them. Ron's head turns red with anger, Harry clenches his jaw and his fists whilst glaring darkly at Draco whilst Hermione, next to also glaring at the Slytherin, can't help but also glance worriedly over to you. It is Ron who is the first one to storm towards Malfoy as his emotions get the better of him, as they do often around you, his face redder than his hair. As soon as he stands in front of Malfoy, he pushes him away from you before grabbing you and pulling you behind him. He hasn't thought much about what to do as his first instinct was getting Malfoy away from you but Harry and Hermione aren't far behind him as they also join Ron. Harry even has his wand in his hand as he just continues glaring at Malfoy whilst the blond boy just gives him a taunting grin.
There is tension and Hermione knows that as her eyes go back and forth betwee you, her friends and Malfoy. She wouldn't put it beneath Draco to provoke a fight and she definitely knows that Harry and a bit later also Ron would fall for it but everyone would get in troubles if this were to happen. She doesn't want you to get into unnecessary troubles for something that isn't even your fault and she knows that neither Ron nor Harry want that either. So she is the one actively attempting to de-escalate the situation and to get you away from the scene whilst Harry and Draco are verbally insulting each other, Draco with a hint of arrogance and Harry with growing anger as the Slytherin knows that he merely has to speak about you to trigger Harry. Ron, who also feels the tension and is feeling a tad bit nervous, still joins Harry in his insults towards the blond boy. Even Hermione won't hold back with passive-aggressive comments if Draco should grace her with his attention.
All of them feel flattered the moment you start defending them if Draco were to insult any of your friends, although Hermione will still scold you lightly later on for only prolonging the argument and further allowing Malfoy to get under everyone's skin. The situation is dismissed when a professor appears who has been hearing the arguing voices, especially since Ron, Harry and you have gotten louder as your nerves got the better of all of you. The moment they are told to leave, Harry gives Draco one last glare before he grabs your hand and drags you away from the other boy as fast as possible. His hand is squeezing yours in an attempt to comfort you as well as himself. Ron is right beside you, hastily questioning you if you're feeling fine and if that Malfoy did anything to you. Hermione is right behind you, telling Ron to ask you one question at a time and to let you answer whilst occasionally looking back to make sure that none of Draco's friends are following you around.
They all do their best from that day on to spend more time with you so that Malfoy never gets the chance again to catch you all by yourself. The boys are even dedicated enough to accompany you to the toilet. It is safe to say that Malfoy is receiving constant glares from Harry and Ron from that day on. Hermione tries to ignore him but she can't suppress the occasional cold glare either before going back to ignoring him and she advices you to do the same as attention will only fuel Draco's inflated ego. Harry and Ron are obviously not listening to her though. Especially Harry is very likely to approach Draco when he is alone to warn him to stay away from you. He's acting like a coward by approaching you instead of facing him straight away. The next time he tries something like this, Harry will use his wand.
#yandere harry potter#yandere harry#yandere ron#yandere ron weasley#yandere hermione#yandere hermione granger#platonic yandere
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Code Of (Mis)Conduct | kmg x f!reader feat. Choi San of Ateez
Playlist: Yes Man - P1Harmony | Addicted - Monsta X | Need to Know - ELHAE & IM | I Don't Understand But I Luv U - Seventeen PU | Leave The Door Open - Ateez Cover
Summary: You're just trying to keep your head down and your coworkers out of your business but that's not exactly easy when your cubicle sits between Choi San's and Kim Mingyu's.
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~10k
Warnings: not a threesome, food and alcohol, sorry i made san kind of a dick i know he's a kind sweet boy, grinding, size kink, spanking, oral m rec., spit kink, hair pulling, marking, fingering, unprotected sex
Reader Notes: written as a commission so some details are not as inclusive as i normally try to be, tsundere, use of girlfriend but no she/her, has vagina and breasts, physically smaller than gyu, marks show on skin
A head pops over your cuticle, floppy black hair appearing before sweet eyes and a nose with the cutest freckle. Mingyu has been in the square next to yours for the better part of the year, a transfer from the Camden branch and a cutie to boot, though he is endearingly clumsy. He’s fallen off his chair trying to grab a lost pen four times just this month, and anytime you hear a crash to the right of you, you know exactly who the culprit is. He also likes to ‘bother’ you occasionally, though occasionally is starting to become something like every single day.
He doesn’t actually bother you, but he does distract you. Case in point, the conversation he’s trying to draw you into, one you actually have the time to afford for once. He’s curious about what you do in your free time and you could just tell him, but you’ve made it thus far without anyone in this office knowing personal details about you besides the visible ones. You’re not sure you’re willing to give up that anonymity, especially because Mingyu so quickly became the golden boy of the bullpen. If you start giving in to him, other people in the office will think they can talk to you, and it’s already hard enough having Mingyu and the only other person you tolerate know things about you.
The other person you tolerate is Choi San, and tolerate is quite the generous word. Unlike Mingyu who thinks he’s bothering you but isn’t, San thinks he’s not annoying you at all but is actually unbearable. You deal with him because he always knows where to find the good creamer and because he’s ridiculously attractive and you could use some eye candy on your left side too.
Yes, San’s cubicle sits to the left of yours. You’re in a San-Mingyu sandwich, and not the kind you’d like. No, this kind includes conversations and teasing and insults that they both think are jokes, which would be fine, even pleasant, anywhere else. Unfortunately for all three of you, you’re at work, and work you has patience for exactly 1.5 people.
You give Mingyu the patience a whole person deserves because he’s cute and sweet and brings you home-baked goods. You give San the patience of half a person because he’s a menace who deserves nothing more and nothing less.
Maybe I’m being too hard on him…
You jump as San rises to rest his folded arms on your shared cubicle wall, his stupid hot face twisted in a smirk and his gaze half-lidded in what you can only assume are his bedroom eyes. You won’t lie, he definitely makes you… feel things, but you don’t have the emotional bandwidth or will to engage with him like he wants. You’re pretty sure that’s only making him try harder though, so you go for a change of pace and give in, turning to San with an expectant look and waiting for him to speak.
You catch Mingyu’s face falling in the corner of your eye and wince as he sinks back down to hide behind his wall. Fuck, you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. You’ll have to ask him what he’s doing this weekend to make up for it, and if that’s not enough, you’ll tell him what your plans are too.
You watch San’s smirk widen when he sees Mingyu shrink, frowning and furrow your brows in distaste before swivelling back to face your computer screen. You mindlessly click and type away at your little excel spreadsheet, ignoring San’s attempts to get you to respond to him.
You’re officially out of patience for him for the day, and it’s only 11:37 AM.
You’re going to have to corner Mingyu at the water dispenser. He hasn’t poked his head over in hours and it’s nearly time to pack it in, making you fear you’ve actually pushed him away for good this time. It seems like something so small, ignoring him to answer San, but you suppose with how San is always goading him over their sales records, Mingyu is a little sensitive when it comes to him. You’re not the type of person to apologise and you’re absolutely not the type of person to embarrass yourself by peeking over his wall, but you will try to make it up to him.
He’s bent over comically far to fill his water cup, a beastly thing with times and encouragements printed on the side, and you know you shouldn’t spook him but you just can’t resist.
“Mingyu.”
He jumps, water shooting out over the mouth of his open jug as he turns with confusing speed to face you.
“Y/n! W-What’s up?” You can tell he’s trying to act cool, but his stutter and reddening cheeks give him away and you just know you’ve caught him off guard enough by approaching him that you might not even have to ask him about his weekend at all. You do anyway, for some reason.
“Oh! My weekend… Um, just working out and taking Millie to the big park across town. She likes that one a lot better and her girlfriend should be there, so,” He cuts himself off, biting his lips between his teeth and clenching his eyes shut as if he’s embarrassed.
“That sounds nice. I hope Millie’s girlfriend is there. And that they have a nice time. And you too, I guess,” you sound stilted as hell but you’re positive this is the longest combination of words you’ve ever said to him, so he should be happy with what he’s getting.
And of course, he is. Blisteringly happy, in fact, his beam taking up the whole of his face and his entire body curling closer to you. Wow. Mingyu is kind of like, obsessed with you. Shockingly enough, you don’t mind. It means you don’t have to look up as much to slightly avoid his eye contact, and there’s the baked goods too. He always claims he just needs a tester, but you know he has a truly wild amount of friends that could try his creations, so why is he giving them to you? In good tupperware? The glass kind.
You were in your own head while Mingyu was realising he hadn’t responded to you, and you both look to each other at the same time in alarm. You can’t slightly avoid his eye contact now, not when his face looks like it does and he’s ten centimetres shorter than normal. You’re reminded why you don’t gaze straight into his eyes, and it’s because this always happens. Your dumb, traitorous body reacts to having his full focus on you. It would be one thing if it was just sexual, but it’s your heart too. The mutinous muscle flutters, just like the mosquitos in your stomach do, and, like always, you refuse to think a single thought about what it all means.
“Well. Bye,” you turn on your heel and speed back to your cubicle, pointedly ignoring the doe eyes boring into your back and further ignoring San’s petulant stare. He undoubtedly watched the whole exchange, must have seen Mingyu melt into you and the way you didn’t flinch away, but you don’t care. He’s been ragging on Mingyu too much lately, and someone needs to put him in his place. If that person needs to be you, so be it. It might even mean you get to talk to him less.
Thank fucking God.
So far, it doesn’t look like you’ll be talking to San any less. Then again, neither will you be talking to Mingyu any less, considering that all three of you have just been put together for a group project. You thought you’d left those behind in uni but here you are, stuck in between two men who won’t stop glaring at each other long enough to actually listen to what the assignment is. You shake your head, knowing that this will likely go exactly like group projects of years passed and you’ll be carrying the team. However, that can only happen if you let it, and you’ve grown a backbone since then. It’s rather spiky too, you’ve found, so if either of them have a problem with putting aside their issues and working together, you’re confident in your ability to… persuade them.
For now, you’ll let them continue to completely ignore your boss. It makes you look better and you get to be the one in charge of allocating work because you’re the only one who understands what exactly the work is, so it’s a win-win. You stand, thanking your director with a handshake and a smile that turns smug as soon as she leaves before you round on the two men beside you.
“So. Would either of you like to tell me what this project is about?” You ask, watching as the competitiveness drains from their faces and dread replaces it. They shake their heads, nearly bowing them in shame while they wait for you to grant them the knowledge. You could make them suffer for it but you’ll ensure having you as their lead will be enough pain for a lifetime, if they don’t cooperate.
“We’re tracking how the beta for the new product is selling - there’s two versions with pretty significant differences. Mingyu, you’re selling one, San, you’re selling the other. I’m doing the analysis and we’re all working to put together a portfolio and presentation that the board won’t fire us over. Don’t forget about the ‘we’re all working together’ part.”
“You didn’t say, ‘we’re all working together,’ you said, ‘we’re all working to put together,” San provides rather unhelpfully, making you roll your eyes hard enough it almost hurts before you decide you’ve spent long enough away from your cubicle. You walk away from them both, Mingyu scampering after to tell you about Millie’s date with her girlfriend, Asher, and San watching with narrowed eyes as you tilt your head just enough to show you’re listening.
“Okay, Mingyu, how many models of Beta One have you sold?” You jot down the number as he calls it out from his cube.
“And San? Beta Two?” You ask absentmindedly, pen spinning in your hand.
“Why do you always ask him first?” San groans, his deep voice managing to still sound annoyingly manly even as he nearly whines.
“Because he’s ready first. Were you ready when I asked? And his name is first alphabetically, too.”
“I thought it was because you like me more,” Mingyu pouts from behind the wall (you can’t see it but you can hear it).
“I do like you more but that’s not why,” you answer, uncaring of San’s gasp and Mingyu’s shock of a giggle.
This project is going to be the death of you.
Mingyu is wearing glasses today. He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is all long and messy, and he has circles under his eyes so he must not have slept well, but his voice is gravelly and rough and you can’t feel bad for revelling in it. Fine, you feel a little bad, especially when you catch him dozing at his desk. So it makes sense for you to make an extra cup of coffee, you were already at the machine and it was just a minute longer. And you have this extra coffee, and you have a neighbour who likes black coffee and seems to be quite exhausted, so why wouldn’t you drop it off on his desk? And while you’re at it, why not gently shake him awake and also try not to let your fingernails dig into his massive deltoid? Why not?
He’s so very grateful, his large hands dwarfing the mug and his cute lips pursed around the edge as he takes a sip, and he explains softly that Millie ate one of his scrunchies and had to have emergency surgery. You’re not sure why he came in at all, but he answers that question before you voice it, saying he doesn’t have any vacation days left so he called his mom to come and take care of her. She won’t be able to make it until later in the afternoon, if at all, and you can tell he’s worried.
It feels beyond foreign to offer, almost wrong, but the words slip out before you can stop them.
“I have a few days saved up. If you want, I could take a half and go… hang out with her.”
Tears flood his eyes immediately and his head drops back to rest against his chair. He hiccups in a breath, his tits heaving with the motion as he does nothing to hide his crying. You see San breeze by in your peripherals, and, sensing he’s about to stop, give a sharp shake of your head and throw a quick glare in his direction. Seeming to understand the threat to his life and limb, he carries on to the lobby to flirt with the receptionist for his break. Your focus returns to Mingyu when he hiccups again, the waterworks slowly drying up.
“You’d do that for me?” He asks brokenly, like you’ve offered him your kidney instead of your afternoon, and you can only respond, “I’d do it for Millie,” before handing him some tissues and going to talk to your supervisor.
Thankfully, she’s an animal lover herself and felt terrible having to deny Mingyu, so it was easy to get the afternoon off. She also mentions her satisfaction with your project progress, though you decide not to tell San and Mingyu lest they get overly comfortable.
You return to your cubicle to find Mingyu on a sales call and the coffee half gone, and, smiling slightly to yourself, go back to translating their numbers into words.
Work flies by as you find yourself oddly excited to leave for the day. It’s not just because you get to skip out on the rest of your work (until tomorrow), you’re also looking forward to seeing Mingyu’s apartment and meeting Millie. You’ve stubbornly not let him show you any pictures of her, though you’ve seen the ones on his desk from afar, and you’re a little nervous she won’t like you. You don’t have a lot of experience with animals, which is why it was so ridiculous of you to offer this, but what’s done is done.
Mingyu looks like a different person when you tidy up your cubicle for the day and pop over to his. The glasses are gone (sadly), his hair isn’t as messy, and his eyes are clearer - all changes pointing to a decrease in stress. So why is his lip bitten so pink? And why is he rearranging his pens?
“My apartment is kind of messy,” he starts, explaining himself before you ask, nibbling at that bottom lip like you suspected he had been.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you furrow your brows and shake your head, sure it can’t be bad enough for you to have anything to fear.
“I bet yours is clean,” Mingyu protests, though you’re not sure why.
“Yeah, it is clean. I like to keep it that way, it makes me feel less stressed,” you shrug, not realising you’ve given up another piece of information until you catch the grin spreading across his face. You hate that he notices when you share things about yourself. You almost wish you could fly a little further under his radar, but you know deep down that if you lost his attention, you’d feel it, like the loss of a friend. Is Mingyu your friend?
Yes, you suppose he is. You wouldn’t do this for someone who wasn’t your friend, you’re sure about that, at least. His smile just deepens, his fingers twitching by his sides like he wants to reach out for you. It’s then that you realise you need something from him.
“Your key, I need your key,” you say quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the stillness surrounding this moment. You hadn’t realised it was a moment but it feels like one, even under these fluorescent lights with San just a cubicle away and likely trying to eavesdrop on your whole conversation. You don’t mind him knowing about this; it might make him chase you a little more, but you’ve gotten better at evading him and, if necessary, glaring him into submission. He still tries to flirt, and you still like it a little, but it’s not the same. Nothing has been the same since this project started two months ago and you had to confront the fact that you really do like Mingyu more than you like San. It’s harder to face both men, San because you honestly feel a little bad, Mingyu because you still don’t want to figure out these feelings and what exactly they mean.
Mingyu holds the key out but you’re too lost in thought to notice. You don’t notice anything until he takes your hand in his and gently folds it around the metal, the touch of his warm, thick fingers sending shockwaves through your system. He’s never really touched you before, just grazed you while handing off confections, and you’re stunned to learn what he does to you. Normally, you don’t like being touched but you dread him letting you go, your entire form tipping closer and closer to him until he slowly drops your hand back to your side and releases you. You stagger back, bumping into the edge of his desk before he grabs your elbow to pull you forward again. You can tell he’s biting back a smile at your unusual moment of clumsiness, and you’re grateful to him for deciding not to mention it. Maybe because you still have his key in your hand and it could act as a weapon. Probably because he knows you so frustratingly well that he’s aware saying anything will make you freeze back up.
You don’t linger in the office, swiftly making your way downstairs and to the Red line. You actually live pretty close to him, you discover, the commute being on half the same lines you usually take home. That’s convenient, a little voice whispers in your head, making you clutch the key tighter and resist the urge to put it on your key ring for safe keeping. You don’t need to think about things like that right now, you need to think about how to approach Millie. Should you let her come to you? Should you let her, like, sniff you first? Should you look away to show respect and submission? Fuck, you don’t have service on the subway and you’re not even sure what kind of dog Millie is anyway, so googling it couldn’t help you now. You suppose you’re fucked, and pray that Mingyu will keep liking you even if his dog doesn’t.
You expect to hear barking as you turn the key in the lock but all that greets you is a massive, golden furball with a cone on her head. She looks so sad and confused, and you’re not really sure how smart dogs are but she seems to know you’re not who she wants. However, she also seems to know you’re not a threat because she’s already licking your hand - gross - and wagging her tail.
“Hi Millie. It's nice to meet you,” You laugh awkwardly and pat her back with robotic movements, “I’m sure you’ve heard about me, your dad is kind of obsessed.”
You may be imagining it but it’s almost like she nods, and you decide to take it and run.
“He is, right? I’m not crazy?” She just stares at you now, and you start to think maybe you are crazy but then you remember you have no one else to talk to about this. You’ve hidden Mingyu from your friends for a multitude of reasons, the largest being that you know you’ll give yourself away as soon as you start talking about him and they see the annoying little steel hearts in your eyes. But Millie… Millie can’t talk. She can’t perceive your feelings about her dad either, and she definitely can’t show up at your workplace to see him for herself like your friends could.
“Millie, what do I do?” You collapse to the floor, uncaring of the golden fur that will inevitably get on your black work slacks, and wrap your arms around her neck. “I like him. I fucking like him. It’s terrible, and I don’t know how to deal with it, or how to talk to him, or if I even should talk to him anymore, but I have to! This stupid project has two more weeks, and even after that, I’ll still be stuck in between them!”
You’re not crying but you could. However, you vowed never to cry over men when you were thirteen and a half and it’s a promise you’ve kept ever since. You really want to though, and you wonder if maybe you could cry about your situation rather than the men (man) you’re actually upset over. That could be a cute little loophole, and just as you start to let the tears fill your eyes, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.
It’s him, you already know somehow, and as you check to see a text asking if you’d gotten in okay, you hope you can manage to find peace in the fact that you’re totally into Kim Mingyu.
You’re in love with Millie. There’s no other explanation for how you find yourself on the floor, face to cone with her big ol’ head resting on your outstretched arm. She’s panting happily at you, tongue lolling out to the side and eyes nearly shut. They close a bit more with every pass your nails make over her stomach, and you know it sounds dramatic, but it would make your year if she fell asleep on you.
(You happen to fall asleep first, and that’s how Mingyu finds you. Knocked out on the floor in your work clothes, his precious baby’s head just inches from yours. She’s closer to you than he’s ever gotten and he rolls his eyes at the flash of jealousy that lights up his throat.)
You blink awake as the warm weight on your arm leaves, whimpers filling the room and making alarm bells go off in your head. You spring to attention, fists formed and nearly swinging as you turn to face whoever upset Millie.
Oh. Mingyu’s home. Fuck.
In all of your lamenting, you’d forgotten to consider what might happen when he returned home from work. Returned to his apartment, you mean. To his home, not yours.
He’s got the brightest grin on his face, his pretty mouth stretched apart and his annoyingly perfect white teeth shining at you. Millie is trying to jump on him, so he looks away just for a moment to kneel down and welcome her into his arms, trying to avoid the cone she keeps knocking him with as she does her absolute best to kiss him. He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides and his high-pitched giggles replacing the whimpering that had awoken you. Before you can stop yourself, you’re laughing too, wandering over when Millie swivels her head around to stare imploringly at you. Apparently, Mingyu’s attention isn’t enough and as he pouts, you bite down the smug smirk that wants to rise. Millie loves you back.
“Do you wanna stay for dinner? I had something nicer planned tonight and there’s enough for two. Well, three, I eat enough for two on my own,” he chuckles sheepishly, rising to his feet and towering over you.
You don’t have anything planned, and you don’t really have any chores you need to do at home so you suppose you could stay. For a little while.
A little while turns into most of the night.
Mingyu is an excellent cook, his meal for the evening far better than anything you could scrounge up yourself, and in just a couple hours you’re washing dishes elbow to elbow and laughing like old friends. You don’t know how he’s cracked you open like this, but cracked open you are. You’re laughing at his jokes, smiling back when he grins at you, even leaning into his flirting for once. You wonder if it’s alarming to him but assume that he’s not willing to question anything that’s happening, just in case it closes you back up again.
You would almost commend him for knowing you so well if it didn’t have you feeling so miffed, like all the work you’d done in trying to keep your walls up around him was for naught. You suppose you could throw some more up but what’s the point? Mingyu will just knock them down with his big warm hands and sweet smiles and dumb jokes, and then Millie will eat all the pieces, the little hoover she is.
So, you won’t build up more walls… but, you can’t get too comfortable, either. This needs to be a one time thing.
One turns into two, two turns into three, three turns into once a week.
The project has come and gone, as has any attempt to pretend you’re not just as obsessed with Kim Mingyu as he is with you. Even San seems to have noticed the change, returning to what you assume is harmless flirting and a touch of light bullying. Mingyu doesn’t even really pick up on that anymore either, the flirting or the teasing. He’s too busy peeking over the wall in between you to stare at you with hearts in his eyes or whisper, “For dinner, I was thinking…,” in a voice far smaller than you’d think could come from a 186 centimetre tall man (that’s the exact number, he’d corrected you quite petulantly when you approximated him to be 182 centimetres).
You don’t even get annoyed when he interrupts your work anymore, just giving a light roll of your eyes and then all of your attention to whatever he’s deemed important enough to tell you about. Most of the time, it is important. Like asking you to come to the vet with him to see if the neighbour dog had gotten Millie pregnant (her and Asher went through a bit of a rough patch). He didn’t, and Millie got a very stern talking to about safety and loyalty, and you got to see Mingyu in full dad mode which was very, very dangerous for your poor, susceptible ovaries. Some times are less important, like when he made you stop working on your spreadsheet to show you his new high Wordle score. He started playing when San said he needed to work on his vocabulary and while you think his repertoire is just fine, you are happy that he’s found a new game to spend time on rather than playing Cooking Mama in between work calls.
The environment at work has changed too. People passing by have always said hi to San and Mingyu, but now they mention you too, unfortunately. Mingyu always chuckles when they include you, knowing that you’re frowning into your computer screen even as you respond with a fake-bright, “Morning!” Your boss makes more small talk with you, as do others at the water dispenser, and it’s exactly as you’d feared.
You knew that letting Mingyu in would make everyone else think they had access to you too, and you were right. You’d expected it to feel like the end of the world, like you would need to pack up your things and terminate your employment immediately, find some remote job and move to Antarctica so your coworkers wouldn’t even have a chance of becoming interested in your life.
However, it’s not as bad as you thought.
Sure, you can’t go to the bathroom without Janet asking if you need her to go with you, but it’s nice to have a lil Ladies Room Chat from time to time. And maybe your daily fights with Anderson over the good parking spot are becoming more and more playful and less like you’d actually hit his car if it was legal. And perhaps you’ve noticed the way the receptionist looks at San and told Mingyu and now you’re hatching a scheme to get them together. And it’s possible, you begrudgingly admit, that you’re having a good time with it. With Mingyu, with your work… acquaintances, with everything.
You’re enjoying yourself and no matter how foreign it is, you think that it could be okay to just lean into it all. You also think that if Mingyu asked you out, you’d say yes.
You sit across from Mingyu at his dining table, a glass of red wine at your lips and a glare radiating at him over the rim. It’s been weeks of this, weeks of him making you dinner and you cleaning up together and then watching a movie on the couch. You’re not sure how much longer you can take the domesticity without the label, which is quite off-brand for you, needing a label at all, but you want Mingyu to be your boyfriend, damnit! You want to have to fill out one of those stupid forms, and actually stay over after dinner, and drive to work together and have him drop you off at your cubicle with a dramatic goodbye as if he won’t be just a metre away. You want to kiss him, and hug him, and feel up those massive biceps. You want to fall asleep next to him and wake up with him and let him teach you to cook and probably get distracted and oh no, he needs to bend you over the counter?
Your eyes flit to his island as if you can picture it, feel the cold marble under your stomach and the sharp edge digging into your hips and the smooth texture of it against your skin as he fucks in and out of you. His kitchen is custom made, the cabinets a bit taller than regular for his height, so your feet would probably hang once he got you folded in half, and the thought of being suspended as he fucks you how he wants has heat flooding your stomach.
“Y/n? You okay?” Mingyu asks, a bite held up to his mouth as if he’s just now noticed how far away you’ve gone in your mind. You nod, finally taking a sip and trying to let the deep flavour of the wine clear your mind. It doesn’t, of course, just makes you feel warmer and the images clearer. Imaginary Mingyu wraps your hair around a fist and bends over you, whispering filthy nothings into your ear and biting at your strained neck, and you can’t take it anymore.
“Mingyu, why haven’t you asked me to be your girlfriend?” You don’t mean to sound so upset, and you know it isn’t fair, but you think you are upset. How could he do this to you, make you see him this way and want all these things with him, and not take responsibility?
He chokes on the bite he was chewing, coughing uncontrollably and turning red as you sit there and stare at him. He’s not actually choking or you’d help, but for now you just watch as he takes gulp after gulp of water and fights to clear his throat. You see fear, confusion, and something like incredulity in his eyes once he finds his breath again.
“I kind of… thought you were?” Mingyu starts slowly, trepidatiously reaching across the table to cover your hand with his and subtly remove the knife from your grasp.
“What do you mean, you thought I was? Why haven’t you kissed me then? Or taken me out on a date? Or even told me how you feel about me?” Now you’re the confused one, because how could Mingyu think he was dating you without doing any of these things?
“Well, I didn’t want to scare you away! You wouldn’t even look at me when I used to say good morning and now I get to text you goodnight. And I would love to plan a date for us, you’re just a self-proclaimed homebody so I thought dates at home like this would be better.”
You suppose those are good explanations, and you can’t blame him for being scared, you can be kind of scary.
“What about the kissing?” You ask in a small voice, pursing your lips and avoiding his eyes as if you could hide the vulnerability currently swallowing you.
“Baby, trust me, I want to kiss you all the fucking time. I just couldn’t tell if you were a touchy person so I wanted to let you make the first move,” Mingyu promises, intertwining his fingers with yours and lifting your hand up to his mouth to place a gentle peck.
Your heart races, thumping like a rabbit on the run, as you take in his words. You feel supremely stupid for your part in the lack of communication and even more annoyed at how long you could’ve been on your back underneath Mingyu if either of you had just said something. But, you’re not one for apologies, so you stand and stride to Mingyu’s side of the table, pulling his chair out just enough for you to throw a leg over it and straddle his lap.
“Okay, so just to be clear, I’m not a touchy person but I want you to touch me. I’m not a romantic person but I want you to romance me. And I’m not really a relationship kind of person, but I want one with you. So, you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend, and that’s that. Good?”
His eyes shine up at you, his beam blinding, but you don’t need to see much as he nods and cradles your face, pulling you closer to press a searing kiss to your lips. You’d expected him to be gentle, tentative, but he’s been waiting even longer than you and you suppose he’s got some time to make up for. You don’t mind, preferring more of a fast pace yourself and opening up for him immediately when his tongue grazes your bottom lip. He tastes like wine and want, like pure desire, and already you never want to stop kissing him.
You sit there in his lap, making out as the food grows cold and the wine grows warm, kissing the night away until something starts to nudge at the place between your thighs. Something huge, you think, judging by the sheer length of it pressed against your leg. He moans when you grind down on it, making you grin into his lips and do it again, reveling in the way his hips jerk into you. One of his hands clamps around your hip and the other travels down to adjust himself before he slides lower in the dining chair so his dick presses right against you. He’s so warm you can feel him through the four layers separating you but it’s not enough, you need to feel his skin on yours, his body on yours.
“Mingyu, can we move this to the-,”
“Yep!,” he shoots to his feet, barely waiting for you to hug him with your legs before he speedwalks to his bedroom and sits heavily on the bed, the force of it bouncing you in his lap and making both of you let out a groan as his dick presses between your legs.
“Clothes off,” you insist, pulling at the buttons of his work shirt and pouting when you realize he’s got an undershirt on too. He chuckles at you, pushing your hands to your own shirt so he can finish undoing the buttons, working much faster than you were. He’s pulling off the white tee when you finally get your shirt open and off, and you both freeze when you catch sight of the other.
He’s so… perfect. His skin is so honeyed and smooth, his muscles the optimal level of defined, and his body… His body dwarfs yours, you could hide in the circle of his arms and be completely unseen, untouchable except by him, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the idea.
You know Mingyu’s staring because you’ve got your tits out, but you’d like to think they’re some of the best he’s ever seen and that’s why he’s hardly breathing. Or moving. And not speaking at all. You slowly shift to unclasp your bra, letting the garment fall and watching his eyes grow impossibly wider.
He just keeps staring, and though you’re not one to be self conscious, it’s slightly difficult when you’ve got a specimen of a man looking at you so intently. You squirm a bit in his lap, your lip bitten between your teeth and your arms coming up to cover your chest. He catches your wrists in his hands and draws them back down to your lap, whispering when you protest, “Shhh, baby. Just lemme look for a little bit.”
And look, he does. Soon enough, he touches too, his fingers grazing your nipples and his tongue reaching out to swipe at his lips as he watches them pebble under his touch. He experiments for a while, constantly looking up to your face as he tries different things, searching for what really makes you tick. A quick study, he finds it, and it’s like he’s lit you up. You gasp for breath and arch into his hands, your legs stretched open over his thick thighs and your nipples hardening between his fingertips.
You want his mouth on you, and either you say it out loud or he reads your mind because his tongue is lapping at your skin in the next second. His lips wrap around one side, his fingers tweaking the other, and fuck, you need these stupid fucking pants off. You’re getting so warm and they feel so restrictive, and you sink your fingers into his hair to physically pull him away when he doesn’t respond to calls of his name.
“What is it?” He pants, his lips shiny and his eyes hazy.
“I want all the clothes off, they’re getting in the way,” you complain, starting to shuffle off his lap before his hands take you by the waist and plop you down next to him on the bed. You’re not used to just being moved so you’re quick to bristle, but when you really think about it, you love that he can manhandle you like that. You love that he’s so much bigger and stronger than you, and, frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he became your own personal peoplemover.
He stands to undo and shuck his pants and your face is just about at dick height, so as soon as his boxers are revealed, you lean forward and trace your tongue over the length of his cock. He’s massive and so, so hard already, and you desperately want him in your mouth.
“Can I suck you off?” You ask, unable to hide your laugh at the way his knees buckle and he has to brace himself over you on the bed.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he groans, hiding his face in your neck and letting his hands travel up to your breasts to meanly tweak a nipple, “I’ve had a crush on you for months and you just asked to suck my dick, of course it’s gonna do something to me.”
“I’d like to do something to you,” escapes your mouth before you can stop it, making Mingyu snort into your throat and then bite it harshly to stop another from letting loose. You don’t usually make jokes like that, out loud at least, and though it feels very unfamiliar to you, you stand by the sentiment.
“For real though, can I suck your dick?”
“Yes, my God, let me get on the bed so I don’t actually collapse,” he laughs, withdrawing from his hiding place to belly flop onto the sheets next to you, making you bounce and land closer to him than you were before. He twists over and lifts his hips as you pull his boxers down, his cock springing up against his stomach and swaying heavily to the side. It’s gorgeous, just like the rest of him. Massive, slightly curved, and wrapped in thick veins, your eye finding one in particular that you can’t wait to feel inside of you. You want to feel all of him inside of you but you want him in your mouth first, need to feel that thick cock weighing down your tongue and pushing into your throat, need it like you need to breathe.
Mingyu needs it too, you think. He’s leaning on his elbows but he’s got his head thrown back like he can’t stand to watch, like he’ll cum the second he sees your lips wrapped around him. It’s cute, really, but you want him to see this.
“Gyu, watch,” you breathe onto his dick, waiting for his eyes to meet yours before taking it in both hands and licking at the tip. You’re gentle, to start, your tongue darting out to lap at his frenulum and glide over the head, your hands following the movements to drag your saliva down to the root of him. You’re not sure you’ll be able to fit the whole monstrous thing in your mouth but you’re going to try your damndest, and it’ll need to be slick if you want even a chance.
You gather up the spit in your mouth and catch Mingyu’s eye, letting it drop down onto his shaft and smoothing it with your hands as his face crumples on a groan.
“You’re too fucking good at this,” he whines, his fingers clenching in the sheets before you take them in your own and bring them up to your hair.
“I literally haven’t even started,” you remind him, “and you can pull.”
You bring the head back up to your mouth and press a soft kiss to the seam, taking in one final deep breath before tucking your lips over your teeth and swallowing as much of his cock as you can in one go. He shouts above you, his hips bucking up and shoving more into your mouth. You try to accept it but you gag and pull off of him, trying to catch your breath. Mingyu pets your hair, whispering a thousand apologies and doing some deep breathing of his own, until you go again and take more this time, making him hiss and grip your hair tighter.
He doesn’t buck into your mouth again but he does start running his.
“Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, honey.” “Wanted to see you like this since you picked up that pen in front of me, shit.” “Fuck, you’re the best, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”
His praise spurs you, keeps you going when the air gets too thin and your throat feels too raw, and you’re bobbing up and down on his cock, really starting to hit your stride when he pulls you off by the hair and up into a scorching kiss. You wonder if he can taste himself on your lips and grumble to yourself that if he’d let you keep going, you could have really tasted him, but you know that him stopping you now means you’ll get his dick that much sooner, so you can’t complain.
“Sorry, baby, got too close. That mouth is fucking insane, Jesus,” Mingyu moans, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to regulate his breathing. You smile and peck him again, sliding off the bed to strip off your slacks and underwear and missing the way his eyes heat up and his face smooths out.
“C’mere,” Mingyu sits up, holding his hands out to you and bringing you in close to stand between his knees. He pushes the hair away from your face, cradling your cheeks in his palms and laying the softest, most gentle kiss on your lips before running his hands down your body. They graze your breasts, smooth over your stomach, pause for a squeeze at your hips, carry on down your thighs, then glide back up to turn you around. You guess he’s only really seen the front and you’ve gleaned that he likes to look, so you let him take in his fill, feeling his eyes on you like a physical thing before his hands replace them.
He focuses on your ass immediately, pinching, kneading, rubbing, and you think you can just barely hear him whispering to himself when he asks, “Can I spank you?”
Your eyes fall shut in silent thanks, your heart thudding in your chest at the thought of his big, hot hands coming down on your skin.
“Fuck, yes,” you sigh, following dazedly when he tugs you to lay across his lap, shivering when he places his hand on one cheek as if to steady you before he starts.
“Just tell me when you want me to stop, this isn’t a punishment or anything,” Mingyu reassures you, squeezing your ass to acknowledge the little, “Okay,” you let out.
The air stills when his hand leaves you, tension winding tighter and tighter in your gut until a smack echoes throughout the room and a hot sting starts radiating through the flesh of your ass. You almost feel like you can’t breathe, it feels so good, and you just know you’re getting wetter, can only hope it doesn’t trail down between your thighs to land on his. You have a feeling he’d love that so you’re not too worried about it, but he doesn’t need to know yet, just how much power over you he holds.
“Was that alright?” he asks, his voice slightly worried and his palm soothing the throbbing skin.
“Perfect,” you force out, your toes wiggling in anticipation as you wait for the next, “Are you gonna do it again or not?”
“Impatient,” he laughs but obliges, bringing his hand down on you lightly before following up with a harder smack, his fingers digging into the flesh sharply afterward like he can’t stand to let go.
He carries on like that for however long. You can’t be fucked to tell time when you’ve become a sopping wet mess on his lap, when you’re nearly crying with pleasure, when your cunt is pulsing and leaking and empty and your ass is hot and swollen and covered in handprints. You don’t know anything anymore, just Mingyu, and when he carefully pulls you into his arms and cradles you to his chest, you think you might finally let yourself actually cry over a man.
“Fuck me?” You whine somewhat pitifully, clutching at his bicep and looking up at him imploringly.
“Baby, no, I gotta stretch you out first,” he insists, and you consider protesting, but then you remember what his dick felt like in your throat and know that he’s right, even if you hate to admit it.
“Fine, but be quick,” you reply, rearranging yourself so your back rests against his chest and you can spread your legs out over his. You gasp as the cold air hits you, your wetness glistening on your thighs and between your legs before one of Mingyu’s warm hands slides down to cover you, his teeth nibbling at your ear cartilage and his voice deep as he whispers, “So fucking wet.”
His fingers glide slowly through your folds, taking their time getting to know you, enough so that you buck up into his touch and moan his name impatiently. He teases you for a while longer, until you’re writhing in his arms and about ready to shove four of your own fingers inside, and that’s when he finally gives in.
He slips in one, first. It’s long, thick, bigger than yours and able to easily hit your g-spot, but still not enough. Two is better by half, but you still feel so empty, “Need you,” you whine, and he slides in a third, spreading and curling all three but just barely missing that rough patch inside. You know he did it on purpose, but you don’t complain, knowing that he’ll just tell you to wait and that you’ll do it, like the g-.
“Good girl,” Mingyu breathes into your ear, and the shudder is uncontrollable.
He must feel you clench, must feel you get wetter around his fingers, and you just know he’s got an evil smirk on as he chuckles, “You know, I thought you might like that, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Then why’d you say it?” You ask, frustrated at him cracking your code once again. And at how his fingers have stilled halfway inside of you.
“Because I wanted to. I would stop if you told me, but I want you to know how much of a good girl you're being for me. I think you deserve to hear it and I like saying it, and now I know you like it too, so…,” he drifts off, thrusting his fingers into you harshly and sucking in a breath when he feels you clamp down, “Are you gonna keep being my good girl?”
You can only nod weakly, whining as he starts to fuck you roughly with his fingers, the digits jackhammering in and out of you at a speed you almost can’t handle. You can feel your wetness splashing against your thighs, hear how it squelches out of you with every thrust, and you know Mingyu feels it, hears it too. You fucking love it, love how messy he’s gotten you and how you’re only going to get messier, and when he whispers lowly, “Wanna see you squirt,” you know he loves it messy, too.
Thank God for that, because he’s totally going to make you squirt. It doesn’t happen often, only once or twice with that one magic-handed ex, but you recognize the signs. You can feel it coiling up inside you, the pressure building and building deep in your pelvis, like a knot that just keeps getting pulled tighter and tighter. He changes the angle of his thrusts, aiming them a bit higher and slightly more shallow, and you know he’s got you.
He pounds into you, fingerfucking your g-spot with startling accuracy and force until the balloon pops and you scream, your knees fighting to close as liquid sprays out of you and down his arm. Your eyes clench shut and you lose your breath, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around his fingers as you cum hard enough you nearly black out.
“Good girl, there’s my good girl, there’s my baby,” Mingyu exhales, petting at your sweaty forehead and keeping his fingers curled inside of you. Your hips jerk with aftershocks, little bursts of slick seeping out around his fingers with every buck.
“Now will you fuck me?” you pant, sprawled on top of him and quite literally aching for his cock.
“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you now,” He nods and laughs at you again, as he seems liable to do, and nods, his chin brushing against your shoulder and his stubble grating on your skin.
He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you, placing you on the bed next to him so he can hover on top of you on all fours.
“How do you want it?” He asks, looking, for all and intents and purposes, as if he’d do literally whatever you said. You like that, and absolutely plan to use it to your advantage later, but for now you’ll be kind and say, “Like this, Gyu, just like this.”
You suppose that’s the answer he wanted, because he grins and smacks a kiss to your lips, hauling your legs up around his waist and letting his cock glide through your folds to nestle against your clit. You jump, your pussy still sensitive from the orgasm he’d just drawn from you, but you love the pressure and heat of him there. You want him inside though, need him stretching you out, so you angle your hips and thrust down, sinking the head of his cock into your entrance.
He whines into your open mouth, a broken, stuttered thing, and pushes in a couple more inches. That’s all you can take, for now, his girth bigger than the three fingers he’d opened you up with and his length enough to reach the end of you. He fucks you open just a little bit more with every thrust until he’s halfway inside and it’s like something shifts in you to make room for him because from there, it’s easy. He pulls out, or tries to, your cunt sucking him back in so tight it’s hard for him to move.
Mingyu isn’t one for giving up though, so he pulls back with more force and plunges inside of you again, his one thrust sending you up the bed. Your head rests just inches from his headboard so he wraps his arms around you to hold you in place as he starts to really fuck you. He’s so big and warm around you and inside of you, and when he tilts his hips up and finds your g-spot with the head of his cock, you know you’re done for.
There’s little else you can do but lay there and take it as he pounds into you, one of his hands rising to clench in your hair and pull your head back so he can bite bruises into some very visible spots on your neck. You’ll be annoyed later at having to cover them up, but right now, you love that he wants to leave his mark on you. You want to leave your mark on him too, dragging your nails down his back as you moan his name and beg him to keep going.
“Won’t stop, baby, won’t stop until you tell me. Never been like this before, fuck,” he sounds wounded, dazed, like your cunt has cast a spell on him and he never wants to wake from it. You’re not sure you sound much more composed, your throat starting to ache from all of the sounds he’s pulled from you tonight and your stomach filling with heat as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. It won’t be long now, and though you don’t want this to end, you know that later, you can wake Mingyu up to fuck you again and he’ll be ecstatic about it.
“Are you close?” You ask urgently, your neck straining from his grip in your hair and your pussy now formed to the shape of him.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he hisses, dropping a hand down to your clit to press rough circles into the raw bundle of nerves. He was closer than you anticipated but you have a feeling that soon enough, Mingyu will have you cumming on command, so you have no doubt you’ll get there with him. Especially not with the thrusts he’s got aimed right at your g-spot, and definitely not with the thick fingers he’s got rubbing your clit. Before you can even take in another breath, you’re tumbling off the edge with him, your pussy clenching around his cock as his hot cum floods into you in waves.
It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, your brain dissolving into a delicious haze and your body melting between Mingyu and the bed. You let your eyes slip closed, thoughts ticking away one by one until you don’t have even a single string of words to connect. You have to wonder if every sexual experience with him will be transcendental like this.
Mingyu whimpers above you, probably sensitive as he starts to come down. Your cunt keeps squeezing him and though you don’t wish it would stop, you do feel a little bad that he seems to be struggling so much.
“You know you can pull out, right?” You offer, confused as to why he’s staying inside of you when it seems to be hurting him so.
“Don’t want to, I like it,” he forces out, digging his hips into yours just a little bit more before laying his head down on your chest and promptly falling asleep.
You don’t really know what to do, but you can hear Millie whining so you give him a few minutes to recover before fighting to shove his dead weight off your body and throwing on his shirt. His cum is trickling down your inner thighs so you make a pit stop at the ensuite for a quick shower before peeking your head out of the bedroom and looking for Millie. She’s on the couch, staring balefully at the door and wagging her tail just slightly, though she perks up when she sees you. She’s probably waiting for her bedtime walk and you don’t want to keep her waiting any longer, so you find a clean pair of Mingyu’s boxers to throw on and get her harnessed and ready to go.
You cup Millie’s face in your hands and kiss her on the forehead, whispering quietly about where you’ll go on your walk and standing to grab her leash before you finally notice Mingyu in the doorway. He’s got rumpled pajamas on and he’s trying to frown, likely about you leaving him to sleep alone, but his eyes are too full of love for you to believe him even the slightest bit.
“Can I join you two?” He asks softly, pushing off the doorframe to amble over and steal a kiss before pulling away to let you answer.
“I’d be annoyed if you didn’t,” you assure him, holding a hand out for him to take and following him to the front door of the flat. You slide into your loafers, nagging yourself to bring a pair of slides to keep at his place so you don't have to walk in your work shoes.
“You know… if you wanted, you could, um, maybe bring some stuff over to have here? Like, comfy clothes and maybe your nighttime things so you could… stay?”
He sounds nervous to offer, like he’s still anxious about frightening you away, so you answer quickly, “I want the third drawer of your dresser.”
He bites back the beam, staring down at you with his canines pressing against his bottom lip, and just as he leans down to kiss you, you can’t help but think, fuck, I’m fucking in love with this guy.
A head of floppy black hair rises above the wall separating your cubicles, followed by bright eyes and a cute, freckled nose. You spot the grin and know exactly what he’s decided to bother you about, preemptively declaring, “No, we cannot leave early to take Millie to the good park across town.”
Mingyu whines quietly, pouting and beseeching you with his eyes to change your mind. You’re resolute, well aware that your previously preciously stored vacation time is dwindling and you can’t afford to waste anymore if you want to take Mingyu on that hiking trip. You, personally, despise hiking for all that it is, but Mingyu is a fanatic for it and you know he’ll carry you whenever you get tired or bored, so this is one you can take for the team.
“But Asher-”
“Babe, Asher will be there on Saturday too. Millie doesn’t need to see her all the time, space is good for a couple.”
“Tell that to you guys! Oh my god, you’ve been unbearable since you got together,” San exclaims, popping up over his own wall to glare at you both.
“San, please, don’t think I haven’t heard you with the receptionist,” you retaliate, “you might as well just ask her to marry you with how obvious you’re being.”
Mingyu only smirks in response and you try to pretend it doesn’t make your heart and your pussy flutter.
You’re not successful.
AN: from the bottom of my heart, thank you to @bbychocolat for commissioning this work! I love the idea and it's the fastest ive ever written 10k words before, and it was more than wonderful to have both her cheering me on as i wrote. thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading this for me, your notes are invaluable!
please reblog if you read and enjoyed this! reblogs and replies are what make this website work and i would love to know your thoughts and feelings 💖💖💖
#svthub#kim mingyu smut#mingyu smut#seventeen smut#mingyu x reader#mingyu x you#mingyu x y/n#mingyu x oc#mingyu x female reader#seventeen fic#mingyu oneshot#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#mingyu au#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff#seventeen au#✨emily writes✨#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#kpop scenarios#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen fics#seventeen fanfic#mingyu fanfic#mingyu fic#kim mingyu fluff
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Hi! I love your TTN series so much.
I was wondering if you could write a bit more about them, like, reader meets Gwen or Miles (because Hobie already knows them) and maybe reader helps them with their suits or helps them by making something for them. It's okay if you decline this, I didn't know if this counted as a normal request or fluffy friday request, sorry. I really admire your writing, you're really talented.
Take care, you're amazing 🤍
Thank you, lovely! You're too kind 💛 hope u like this one!
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mention. TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF
Thread the Needle Masterlist
TTN oneshots Masterlist
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
“Oh those are so based, dude!” Gwen exclaims from the floor, her sentence a bit muffled by the chips she's currently munching.
You look up from Miles’ suit that you're currently mending, the spandex slippery to touch. Sitting on the settee with Hobie sitting in-between your legs, you lock eyes with him who's equally confused as you. His head on your lap, eyebrow cocked up in question.
The four of them are sitting in a circle, snacks and sugary sweet drinks in hand. Miles lounges on the foot of the sofa, wearing an outfit you've designed once upon a time in college. You wouldn't let him wear Hobie's clothes, because, well, he looked like he was being eaten by just his shirt, his pants pooling on the floor. After almost tripping and landing smack on his face, you insisted on giving him a Y/N exclusive outfit. A one of one design.
You mentally take note to design clothes for the three of them that perfectly encapsulates their tastes.
Pavitr— who definitely didn't express how jealous he was of Miles’ new outfit, is sitting beside Hobie who is currently taping an ice pack to Pav's head with duct tape (that will definitely have consequences). He got annoyed that the ice pack kept slipping from his friend’s head, landing on his crisps, smooshing its contents.
“Ah, Gwen? What does ‘based’ even mean?” you ask, closing up the last seam.
All three teenagers look at you, then the other two stares at Gwen, waiting and snickering. Hobie leans against you, hand absentmindedly curled around your ankle.
“I keep forgetting you're from the 90s” Gwen cleans her hands with a napkin. “It means, uh, to carry yourself with swagger, yeah! I think…”
Miles and Pavitr guffaw loudly, Miles' soda spilling over the can. The houseboat shakes a bit on the water. You murmur out a ‘swagger?’ still scratching your head for an answer to your previous question.
“Oi! You're spilling everywhere!” Hobie throws a chip at Miles. It hits him on the forehead, leaving sour cream dust on his skin.
“Ack!” Miles mumbles while wiping his forehead. “You used to be cool, man”
“It's our house. I'd like to see you be cool when somebody spills sticky crap on your hardwood floors”
Our house. Even after all these years, Hobie still finds a way to make your heart sing.
You lean forward, placing a chaste kiss on his temple. Fingers kneading the muscles on his shoulder. “It's alright, Hobs. Miles didn't mean it, right Miles?” Hobie visibly relaxes, body melding close to yours.
The spider kids share a knowing look, triple smirks on their lips. Hobie doesn't notice, too busy getting lost in your eyes. You look at him like he's the stars in the sky.
Pavitr sighs, hand on his chin, mumbling about missing someone.
“Yeah, Hobs, I didn't mean it” Miles chuckles throughout the sentence, almost unintelligible with his laughter. Gwen scrunches her nose at her friend.
Meanwhile, you and Hobie are inside your own little bubble. The bubble bursts when the door to the houseboat bursts open with Ned heaving, clutching a stack of papers.
“Hobie! I figured it out—” he stops in his tracks, everyone looks at him, you stop with your barrage of massages. Pavitr pauses mid bite. Ned stares at the room, eyes swimming with questions.
“Who are these children?”
#request done#ttn one shot#thread the needle#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#hobie brown#the kr8tor's creations#x reader#atsv fanfiction#spider punk#spider man across the spider verse#ttn! hobie and reader#cw food mention#hobie fluff#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie brown x you#spider punk x fem!reader#spider punk x you#hobie x reader#atsv fanfic#atsv x reader#atsv hobie
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Season Two Halloween AU Part Nine
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven Part Eight
Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...
As always, thank you thank you to the lovely Jess @strangersteddierthings for cheering me on, letting me send spoilers, and Steddie screaming with me!
***
Eddie moves, trying to find a comfortable position in the firm plastic hospital chair, letting his legs stretch out into the bulk of the hallway and sliding down the chair.
He won't be able to stay like this for much longer either, but it's worth it for the irritated looks he can feel from the nurses station.
Eddie hadn't been allowed in the room with Steve while he was being assessed, forcing him to wait outside in the hallway.
He can hear them talking, not bothering to be quiet at four in the morning.
"There's no answer, who isn't home at this time of night?"
"Did you try the secondary number?"
"Yes, it's for a business though and all I get is the answering machine for a Richard Harrington".
Eddie frowns, silently agreeing with the first nurse, why the hell aren't they here?
That's when he remembers something Steve had mentioned, so casually, Eddie realizes, feeling a little sick, that his parents wouldn't be home until Thanksgiving this year.
Which is just shy of a month away still, give or take a week.
Just how long have they been gone, he wonders, feeling an anxious pit begin to form in his stomach, and what would that mean for him now?
He's saved from this train of thought for the moment by Hopper appearing at the end of the hall, his heavy step and squeaky boots announcing themselves well before he steps into view.
He looks exhausted, and a little worse for wear, and Eddie has never been happier to see a cop.
He walks past Eddie, though he does spare him a single nod, and makes his way to the nurses station.
"Morning," Hopper says gruffly, his voice crackles as though it's either been used too much or too little recently.
"'M'here about the Harrington kid, we have a few questions for him and his injuries and then I'll be taking him home after his statement".
"Sir, that's not--" one of the Nurses tries, only for Hopper to flash his badge and knock his knuckles once on the top of the desk.
"Which room?" He at least has the decency to ask this time, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.
Eddie hears a long sigh as the other Nurse mutters, '206'; Hopper doesn't even wait for her to finish the word before he's turning on his heel, his boots making a horrible squeak against the linoleum tiles as moves.
He slows to a stop in front of Eddie, finally looking at him, it's always been nerve wracking having the chiefs full attention on him, though there's a rather big difference between now and the last time, down at the station.
"They check you out?" He grumbles to Eddie, his fingers tap a nervous rhythm on his leg.
Eddie shakes his head, "Steve took the brunt of everything tonight".
Hopper nods, his gruff face pinched with something close to worry, but it's gone in an instant.
He looks down the hall at something over Eddie's shoulder and lifts his hand in a muted wave before turning back to Eddie.
"You should head home Munson, I took the liberty of getting you a ride".
Eddie frowns at the words and startles slightly as another person sits down beside him, he hadn't even noticed until Wayne was all of a sudden right there.
Eddie blinks, exhaustion and emotion all encompassing; he feels as though he might sink into the floor or tip forward and fall away from the world right then and there, but Wayne reaches out, clasping his shoulder with his firm warm hand. Like he always does.
"Wayne," Eddie says in a tremulous voice, the weight of the night finally crashes over him, the dogs, Billy, the tunnels, it's too much. The image of Steve crumpling to the floor, shards of ceramic in his hair, plays over and over again.
Eddie's face is wet as Wayne pulls him into his arms, he ignores the way the hospital chair digs into his ribs as he moves.
"S'okay Ed," Wayne whispers, letting his hand rub soothing circles on his back, up and down.
Wayne says something above Eddie's head, most likely to Hopper, but he doesn't care, not now. He focuses on the grounding feeling of being held, the warm comfort of knowing that when he needed it, his uncle was there.
He tries not to think about the fact that it's Hopper in Steve's room rather than his parents.
***
They don’t talk after.
It shouldn’t have been surprising really. After the whirlwind in the tunnels, learning that Dustin really had managed to bond with one of the creatures over a mediocre chocolate bar, and finally, finally, getting Steve to the hospital, it was like everything else was put on the back burner.
The government gives them all NDAs to sign, including Wayne now --how was he not going to tell his uncle after the hospital? The government officials had given Eddie a bit of trouble about it during the debrief about their cover story, until Wayne and Hopper had argued his defense.
The worst part though, about everything, is the pretending.
Pretending that everything is normal, like there aren't monsters from an alternate dimension running around Hawkins, like the government didn't know about the real reason so many people, like Mr.Newby, had died. Pretending that small petty things like his late homework assignments, or who was dating who in the wilds of Hawkins High really mattered.
With that being said, the news that Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers were officially dating now, surged through the school.
Pretending that that news doesn't make Eddie feel relieved was also difficult.
Well, maybe relieved isn't the right word, but after Eddie's half-assed confession before the tunnels, and the stay in the hospital, Steve has been avoiding him.
And if it wasn’t because of Nancy….
Well, Eddie tries not to dwell too much on it.
Two weeks after their trip into the Dismal Caverns, Eddie spots, speak of the devil, Nancy Wheeler leaning on his locker.
The last bell has long past so it's only the stragglers now wandering halls, those waiting for Band Practice to start, those just getting out of detention.
Three guesses which one he's here for.
Eddie hasn't seen or spoken to Nancy since their government meeting, not that either had been particularly chatty that night, but she had at least sent a grateful smile Eddie's way as one of the officials went through the whole story of that night.
So to see her now sets his teeth on edge and his stomach plummeting into his shoes.
Is it back, did something happen to Will, did another Demodog surface?
Is Steve okay?
As if Nancy can see the terrified questions swirling around his head, she raises the hand not holding her books to her chest and says lowly, "everyone's fine".
Eddie lets out the breath he's holding, trying to lower his heart rate, "haven't seen you around these parts Wheeler, don't tell me you need a pick me up?"
He tries for a swarthy smile but it falls flat as the adrenalin from his earlier panic is still running rampant, he runs a sweaty hand through his hair, trying to hide the slight shake.
Nancy rolls her eyes and pushes herself off the locker by her shoulder, tipping her head towards the far back door to the building.
She says nothing as she leads him out of the school and towards his usual picnic table in the trees.
Eddie tugs his leather jacket around his torso as a harsh November breeze kicks up dead leaves and dust around the school building in small whirls. He wishes in this moment he had found a zip up closure rather than one with button snaps.
Eddie laughs nervously as they enter the treeline, "uh huh, you sure you didn't want something?"
Nancy turns to sit on top of the table, her face impassive, "Mrs. Click was still there, in her room, I don't need to have any meetings with her and my parents because they think I'm being corrupted," she lifts her hands and makes exaggerated quotations with her fingers before rolling her eyes again.
"We can talk here," she says primly, setting her books down on the table beside her.
Eddie grins, "you're probably setting yourself up for a meeting with the counselor tomorrow anyway, walking out of the school with me".
He kicks at a bottle cap in the grass and watches as it tumbles a few feet away. When he looks back up, Nancy is staring at him with a pinched brow.
"I'll bite, what's going on?"
Nancy nods and it's like a switch flips, her spine straightens slightly and her shoulders square before a determined expression smoothes out her face, it's eerie how similar it is to Steve's.
"What is he to you?" Nancy asks,
"Who?" Eddie stumbles over the word, already knowing exactly who Nancy is asking about.
She looks around now, prompting Eddie to do the same, just in case.
"I know it isn't," she hesitates for a beat as though searching for the word, "safe to talk about it, but," she blinks once, twice, "that's part of why I'm here, asking".
"I won't see Steve get hurt, not again".
"So," Nancy stands now, gracefully rising to her feet and stepping off the table, she takes a step closer towards Eddie, "what is he to you?"
He has a good five or six inches on her at least but the fire in her blue eyes makes him feel so much smaller in this moment.
Eddie feels a snarl build in his chest, the words tumbling out before he can get a chance to really think about them.
"That's fucking rich coming from you, as though you didn't rip his heart out at that stupid Halloween party".
Nancy's face pales slightly, but there's blood in the water now.
He never really had the heart to ask Steve this question, and he probably never would have been able to actually answer it.
But Nancy can.
"Steve is brave, fucking reckless but he's brave, and selfless, and he cares so much --about everything,"
Eddie forces himself to stay where he is, to not move, but his voice climbs in volume, carrying through the trees.
"You had that and you threw it away Wheeler, and you come in here asking what he is to me?"
He watches as Nancy looks around them frantically watching for people, but Eddie doesn't care, he keeps going.
"He's more than some bullshit you toss in the trash".
There are twin spots of red on the high points of her cheekbones, matching the flush painting her ears, Nancy pins him with a frosty glare as she breathes out slowly through her nose.
"Well, you certainly care, don't you, that's a question answered at least".
She clears her throat and blinks again, and to Eddie's horror, her eyes shine with tears in the afternoon sun.
"You don't know what it was like after everything last year, how hard it was".
She wipes roughly at one of the tears that rolls down her cheek, cutting it off.
"I wanted to talk about it, I wanted to tell Barb's parents what happened to their daughter, my--"
Nancy swallows roughly, her nostrils flaring, "my best friend, was dead".
"And Steve wanted to pretend that everything was fine, that it was normal," she clears her throat and wipes at her eyes again, "and I can't do that, I don't have it in me to let it go yet".
Eddie nods, he gets it.
He didn't understand how everyone was able to just go on like everything in the last week didn't happen, or if he will ever forget the sounds those things made as they screamed in the darkness, that people had died that night.
He can't pretend either and it's a relief to know he isn't the only one.
Eddie opens his mouth to apologize but Nancy keeps going, her words softer this time.
"I don't really believe that Steve has been able to let it go either if I'm being honest," Nancy says, her eyes searching Eddie's face as she speaks, "he sleeps with the hall lights on, did he tell you? He can't stand the dark anymore".
"Yeah," Eddie breathes out, "he's said it before, I didn't know about the hall, but.."
He lets the thought trail off, it makes sense. It's not as though he's been sleeping well since everything ended either. Wayne had woken him up that first night to stop his screaming and calm him down, he ended up crawling in with Wayne for the rest of the night, something he hadn't done since he was eight.
Eddie startles slightly at the sudden small hand touching his arm. Nancy pulls back almost immediately at his flinch, regret painting her face.
"Steve needs something that I can't give him," and I need more than he can give me, it wasn't meant to last".
"I didn't mean to hurt him, but that doesn't mean I'm good with Steve getting hurt again and again, he has enough of that with his parents".
Eddie nods again, "have they always been like that?"
Nancy's face darkens for just a moment before smoothing out again.
"In the year we were together, I met them once," she wraps her arms around herself and shivers as another breeze rips through the clearing, "he always made excuses for why they were gone or when they would be back".
She looks up at Eddie now, her wide blue eyes still red rimmed from earlier, "he told me about you, that night".
Oh.
Suddenly the weighted looks Nancy had been giving him make more sense. The small conspiratorial smile.
"Yeah well, he's been avoiding me," Eddie admits softly, lifting his hand to snag a lock of hair, "so I wouldn't hold your breath".
Nancy nods and shivers against a rough gust of wind that shifts the trees and swirls the leaves around the table. She looks into the distance suddenly, her eyes catching something behind Eddie as they widen before darting back to his face.
He turns his head to look behind him, only to see Hawkins Middle through the trees.
"Steve's good at pretending, but he doesn't have the same kind of friends around him that would just accept that version of him now, he's got us --well," Nancy stutters momentarily, "he's got you, and the kids, I'm pretty sure Dustin thinks Steve's an action here now".
Eddie snorts, prompting a smile out of Nancy. He takes a small step forward before offering his elbow. Nancy looks from his arm to Eddie's face once before reaching out to curl her hands around it.
"Alright Wheeler," he says with a grin, "how do we do this? I know you've got a plan rolling around that brain of yours and I'm cold as shit so let's move this to the van".
Nancy smiles again, tilting her head towards the Middle School once more, "How do you feel about Dances?"
Tag List: Please Note the List is Officially Closed
@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @carlprocastinator1000 @0o-queendean-o0 @emly03 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @louismeds @fruitmix
@lizzicleromance @fairy-princette @eddiethehunted
And a few people I think may be intersted!
@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads @spooky-brakers
Part Ten Now Up (Final Part)
#season two halloween au#stranger things#stranger things season 2 au#steve harrington#eddie munson#the party#steve and nancy breakup#eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here#i will never get tired of halloween party aus#you can pry them from my cold dead fingers#afewproblems writes#pining Eddie#uh oh more problems#poor eddie#poor steve#where is robin when you need her#nancy and eddie need to hang out more#I tried to give nancy some nuance here because I do love her character and I almost never write her#she was a fun challenge#nance scheming with eddie to get her ex a boyfriend#its messy but in the best way
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Thought about My number one IZ*ONE? 😍
underappreciated hottie! I wish she got more lines during IZ*ONE, but I'm also very glad she's doing much better for herself now :DDDD I particularly like how well she dances, talk abt hidden gems!
"I'm just curious, that's all."
"You already know what I think about you, Hyewon." Suddenly your burger looks like the most interesting thing in the world right now, and all your attention is poured onto it.
"Right. I can never beat Yuri. Thanks." She slumps back into her seat and sips on her Sprite defeatedly. The paper cup is slammed onto the table and the cubes of ice inside clink gleefully against each other.
"Don't be like that. It's different, you already know this."
"I just miss when I was your favorite. I'm not allowed to miss that anymore?" Her attention flies off to the registers again, as if calculating how much the next customer's total will be plus tax and tip.
She's right, though. You fell for her first, way back when you didn't even know what a bias was. Kang Hyewon caught your eye out of all of them, and with just a couple lines in that song she'd already been able to claim you as hers.
"Is it something you feel bad about? Me choosing someone else?" Your burger meets its plastic wrapper once again as you reach for a napkin. Wipe away the mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth, accidentally pulling her gaze towards you again.
She chuckles at the thought. "Am I supposed to say 'no?' Am I supposed to tell you 'Oh, I'm fine if you choose anyone else over me. It's not a big deal for me to let you shower someone else with the love I earned for myself six fucking years ago,' like some sort of pushover who can't fight for who she wants?" She pulls your hand off her cheek and looks down at her food tray. Three more chicken nuggets remain, as well half of a large order of fries. She takes one of the nuggets and tears it in half, eating one and throwing the other back onto the tray a bit too hard.
Silence surrounds the table and the air thins between you two. On one hand, you do feel bad about how things turned out, but on the other hand, you can't deny your heart belongs to Yuri now.
She sighs deeply at the situation, knowing she's getting herself upset over nothing. "Why not write smut about me? I'm at least worthy of that," she bargains. You note how odd it is that she's talking he way she does, as if she isn't holding any cards against you when you know she does.
"I'm... busy." Wonder how you manage to keep finding the worst things to say. Sure, tell her Yuri deserves four more fics and counting than she does. Show her how little she means to you. Shove it in her face how much you don't miss her.
"... Yeah. I guess that's fair." She takes a French fry into her mouth and keeps it between her teeth, not chewing nor attempting any more eye contact with you.
"Right. Sorry."
a/n: eme
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Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist
There was something different about this girl from the surface. Zylia Shelley was unlike anything anyone had ever met. Pink eyes, skin and hair devoid of color, and a peculiar appetite. She caught the attention of a certain Ghoul, and not in the way either one would like.
Cooper Howard did not want to care for anyone after losing his family. He has spent two hundred years alone, and he will spend the next two hundreds alone too. So when he gets this weird girl dumped on him, he is not a bit happy about it.
The two outcasts strike up an unusual partnership that slowly morphs into some form of caring for the other person. No, they will not say they are in love.
~
Ongoing~ Updated on Fridays (Last Update: Friday May 10th, 2024)
~
Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley
Chapter One: Ten Thousand Candles
Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.
Chapter Two: My Thriller Scandal
He has decided that he is equally impressed and pissed at Zylia as she proves to be a formidable opponent.
Chapter Three: Take A Bite
When it comes to his cold, undead, somehow beating heart, Cooper goes back and forth on whether or not to use it on Zylia.
Chapter Four: Home Is Your Teeth Sink (May 17th, 2024)
After two hundred years, Cooper thought he had seen it all. But he has no clue what fresh hell Zylia is up to.
Chapter Five: Take You In Real Slow (May 24th, 2024)
Finding an unlikely companion, Cooper can not help but to be amazed by the woman before him.
Chapter Six: Connect With The Sound (May 31st, 2024)
More tales and old wounds are brought to light around a campfire, and there is something interesting enough for Zylia to want to stick around with him.
Chapter Seven: Connect With My Body (June 7th, 2024)
Raiders, fiends, other ghouls, other humans; there is no shortage of people who would look to do harm to someone as rare as Zylia or as common and grotesque as Cooper. Does not mean that either one should be used to this sort of treatment.
Chapter Eight: My Tongue and Smoke (June 14th, 2024)
A budding partnership is born, and the two mutants realize the same thing at the same time; they are not as alone as they thought.
Chapter Nine: Something Darker On Your Mind (June 21st, 2024)
Cooper would argue that he does not have a soft side anymore. And even if you see him helping Zylia in a time of need, no you did not.
Chapter Ten: Teeth Are Where Your Heart Was (June 28th, 2024)
There is something so intimate about sitting on the same abandoned couch in the middle of the desert with a fire blazing ahead.
Chapter Eleven: Don’t Ever Let Me Go (July 5th, 2024)
Zylia has an epiphany. Cooper has a realization. Neither one of them get that the other person is going through the same thing.
Chapter Twelve: Tear Right Through Me (July 12th, 2024)
How far are you willing to go for someone that you care for?
Chapter Thirteen: Welcome You To Try (July 19th, 2024)
Such tender moments are not common in the Wastelands. You have to hold them tight and not let go when you do have them.
Chapter Fourteen: Kiss Me, Kiss Me (July 26th, 2024)
Time to put those old cowboy skills to work.
Chapter Fifteen: I Wanna See Your Teeth (August 2nd, 2024)
While Cooper is busy finding out how to get her back, Zylia is fighting as much as she can with what little she has left.
Chapter Sixteen: Kiss Me You Animal (August 9th, 2024)
One final showdown. One final goodbye. One final kiss.
Main Masterlist: Here
Fallout Masterlist: Here
#rebelliousstories#writing#cooper the ghoul howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard imagine#cooper howard#cooper howard x oc#the ghoul imagine#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#the ghoul x oc#fallout imagine#fallout#Kiss Me You Animal series
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Dirty
Warnings! 18+(minors do not enter, go on now-get!). Unprotected PinV(don’t be like this- too many risks), bar bathroom sex, fingering, mirror play, alcohol consumption, consensual, cussing
Not really any description of reader besides clothing. Pics from Pinterest on the mood board thing(I made it, first one ever. Can’t ya tell? 🤣)
A/N: First smutty piece. Just decided to go for it. @jay-zzle read it over and seemed to like it so hopefully someone else does too ❤️ Not tagging character cause that’s a surprise part of the story. Constructive criticism is welcome but I won’t tolerate assholes. Here we gooooo
Masterlist||AO3 Link
Reader X Surprise!Pboy
*****
“Oh fuck!” You gasp while being pressed against the sink in this dingy bar bathroom “Yes! Please, right there!”
Is this how you saw your Friday night going? Not really. Are you disappointed? Not at all. It was a spur of the moment decision. A recent break up calls for some debauchery.
*****
“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea?”
Your best friend, Laurie, looks at you like you grew a second head. Breaking up with your boyfriend of four years on a Wednesday afternoon wasn’t in your plans for the future but it happened. While you thought he was too focused on his career and succeeding. Come to find out, he was actually too busy fucking his assistant.
“Uh yeah! Fuck Dean! If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him then he’s an idiot. But we already knew that” She says, “It’s Friday night! We need to go out and have fun!”
She was the decision maker in your outfit for the night. A tight red strapless dress that stopped just before your knees, fit your curves in all the right places, black heels, and a full face of makeup that you almost didn’t recognize yourself when you looked in the mirror. It’s been so long since you dressed up like this. In all reality though, you need this. You need to feel wanted, you need to feel attractive, you need this like the air you breathe.
*****
After going to a few clubs the only place left that would serve you alcohol was a dingy local dive bar. Laurie is already three sheets to the wind. You’d sobered up a teensy bit when you got in the cab to come to this place. There’s a jukebox in the corner with a small dance floor where people are making their best effort to dance, well worn black leather seats at the bar, and plenty of drunken entertainment around you. You look up from the drink you’ve been sipping on and make eye contact with a stranger across the bar. You can’t make out many details of him besides the white shirt and leather jacket combo, brown hair, a little bit of scruff on his jaw and that he’s alone. He looks decent enough from a distance with this bar's dim lighting. You decide then and there if he continues staring you’ll have to go up to him, this is what this night was about after all, right?
It continues, it’s like you can feel his eyes on you. This random man who can’t look away. Occasionally you glance in his direction. Still sitting alone, still observing you like he’s waiting to see if you’ll make the first move such as a game of chess. Your drink is down to the bottom, you look over your shoulder to search for Laurie. Seeing she’s occupied by her own stranger for the night, you decide to make your move. Getting up you saunter over to the stool next to him.
“Is this seat taken?”
“All yours if you want it.” The stranger replies.
You sit and get the bartender's attention to order another drink.
“Put it on my tab.” He tells the bartender when your drink arrives.
“Oh, well thank you!!” You say, giving him a slight smirk.
“What uh… brings you to this place dressed like that?” He asks, looking you up and down.
“Only place left that would still serve us booze.” You laugh.
“Ah, I see!” He says grinning like the Cheshire Cat “Makes sense.”
You cock your head to the side chewing on the small straw.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just don’t see many gorgeous women dressed like that in here.” He shrugs.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re trying to flirt with me” you giggle
“Maybe I am.” He says with a wink downing his own drink and signaling the bartender for another.
*****
With a subtle nod of his head and standing up from his stool, you follow. It didn’t take long at all for this stranger to lead you towards the back where you can only assume there is some sort of privacy. The stranger grabs you suddenly pushing you against a wall. His face is so close you can smell the whiskey he’s been drinking on his breath.
“Wanna have some fun?” He asks smiling
“It’s why I’m here.” you softly laugh
He closes the gap between you pressing his lips to yours. Kissing someone new is always exciting, not even knowing this man’s name seems to make it even more so. You didn’t realize how touch starved you were til this moment. Some stranger simply kissing you already has your panties soaked. Grabbing the back of his neck and pressing into him more you feel the cool material of his leather jacket against you, sending goosebumps across your skin. He deepens the kiss and willingly you open your mouth for him to explore. The sound of a lock being undone and the jiggle of a door handle has you both separating, trying to control your breathing he gives a friendly nod to the person who walked out of the bathroom.
“Come on.” He says, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you into the bathroom.
He closes the door and you hear the lock click. Grabbing a hold of your waist he presses you against the door. He grabs your face, craning your neck up while slowly moving one hand down your throat, collarbones and landing at the top of your dress.
“Do you want this?” The stranger asks toying with the material.
“Yes.” you whisper, trembling under his touch.
“Good.” He says, moving his mouth to yours again.
It feels like he’s everywhere all at once. His hands were moving with a mind of their own grabbing whatever and wherever they could. Your neck, your breasts, your waist, til they move down to the hem of your dress. His knuckles slowly trace your inner thigh moving up, up, up. He brushes against your clit and you whine.
“Already whining and I’ve barely done anything?” The stranger chuckles.
With one hand around your neck and the other under your dress he moves you swiftly deeper into the bathroom. You can feel the sink digging into your lower back shifting your dress up to give him more room, all of a sudden you’re being lifted. When did his hands move? You can’t seem to focus on anything but the way his mouth moves against yours, all you know is this handsome stranger is making you feel things you haven’t felt in years. His tongue in your mouth, his hand moves your thong to the side.
“Jesus. So fucking wet.” He hums as he swipes a finger through your folds. You can’t even think straight. This man, this handsome stranger, he’s all consuming. He starts rubbing your clit with such precision it’s unreal. When was the last time someone just touching you has gotten you this worked up? Panting relentlessly, already so close to the edge. He inserts a finger into your dripping core, moving in and out at a steady pace.
“Fuck!” You whine. “Yes, baby, it feels so good!”
The stranger withdraws his fingers with a smirk. His hands make busywork pulling his pants down and his cock springs free, you’re mesmerized. It’s long and thick. Like nothing you’ve seen before. Giddy with anticipation of what’s about to happen. He grabs you again and turns you around to face the mirror.
“I want you to see what’s happening.” He whispers in your ear.
He grabs himself and begins rubbing his tip up and down your seam. The sounds coming from your throat surprise you. Never has it felt like this. Never has someone driven you up the wall with want like this.
“Ready?” He asks. All you can do is nod. Feeling his tip at your entrance slowly teasing. “Words, baby. Words. I need to hear you say it”
“YES! Please!” He plunges into you with so much force it’s hard to breathe. The feeling of his cock inside your dripping heat feels as if you're on another planet. You shouldn’t be so close this fast just from his teasing.
“Wanna see you come.” The stranger says. You nod, focusing on the pleasure of his cock inside you. Feeling his hands slid up to your face pushing it toward the mirror so you can see. “You look so good on my cock! Look at you.”
Sliding his hands down your back, he grips your waist. His thick cock spearing into you feeling like you’re going to split in two. His lips are on your neck giving open mouthed kisses and little nips. There are no words coming to you, your brain is blank from the pleasure, all you can do is feel his cock punching into you at a relentless pace, and moan. With each thrust you can feel your hips digging into the sink. Suddenly he hits a spot that has your breath becoming ragged and you can feel that coil in your belly tightening.
“You feel so fucking good,” He groans setting his head on your shoulder blade.
“Fuck! Right there!” You moan out. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”
“Yeah?” He breathes out, moving his head to look at you in the mirror. Winding one of his hands around your waist to the top of your mound and finding your clit. He begins to circle that button and you can’t help but bite down on your lip to keep from screaming at the feeling of it.
“Oh fuck!” You gasp. “Right there, right there, I’m gonna come. I’m- I’m gon-“
The tingling starts at the base of your spine and begins to climb up. Back arching, head resting on his shoulder, your orgasm washes over you, fanning out from your head to your toes.
“Fuck me!” He groans, working his hand a little faster. “So fucking tight.”
“Mmhhmm.” You whine. Winding your hand to the back of his neck to hold him, slightly tugging the curls at the base of his neck, trying to ground yourself. His pace begins to falter, you can tell he’s getting close.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where?” He asks, grunting.
“Ass.” You reply. He pulls out placing his dick on your ass, you can see his arm moving at a fast pace in the mirror. His face begins to twist in pleasure, eyebrows knitted together, moving his face down to watch his spend shoot out on your ass.
“Fucking hell.” He sighs. “That was amazing. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome?” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t know if anyone has ever said thank you to me after sex.”
“Well, my mom always told me I needed to be polite.” He shrugs, grabbing a paper towel from the holder on the wall. He gently begins wiping his come off you. You can’t help but stare at him in the mirror as he situates your thong and dress back into place. You make eye contact when he looks up again, both smiling at each other. He grabs your waist and turns you around to face him, arms wrapping around his neck, playing with the curls that rest against his neck.
“Speaking of being polite,” He says, kissing you softly. “The name’s Marcus.”
“Well hello Marcus, nice to meet you!” You giggle telling him your name.
“So, I know we did this totally backwards but could I get your number and take you out sometime?” Marcus asks, cheeks turning crimson in color.
“I think we can manage that.” You say with a wide smile.
#fanfic writing#pedro pascal characters#smut#Pedro pascal character smut#fanfiction#be kind#fanfiction smut#pedro pascal
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