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seichira · 2 years

Note

Hello! If I may, could I please ask for some headcanons of how Chigiri, Nagi, Bachira and Isagi would confess to the reader?

LOVESICK CONFESSIONS — blue lock!

✺ featuring — meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, yoichi isagi, and seishiro nagi

✺ lumi’s note — this is my first time writing a request and coincidentally, also my first post for the bllk (best) boys! i hope you like it, anon!

MEGURU BACHIRA ༉‧₊˚.

i have a very good reason to believe that meguru bachira just one day wakes up and decides that he loves you and is going to tell you. don’t get me wrong—his epiphany may be sudden, but this has been a long time coming, and it’s high time he tells you.

since this morning, meguru bachira is a man on a mission. he is going to tell you that he has feelings for you, and it has to be today. to be honest, meguru isn’t the type of person to come up with those cheesy and romantic gestures. he finds his own ways to do things, and confessing isn’t any different.

just like clockwork, you approach the school quadrangle with tree boxes where you always sit down on to read books and sometimes watch bachira as he shows you his tricks in football. it has been a routine of some kind to meet there every after class and you both liked it.

as for you, the presence of the boy is comforting after a long day even though you’re both just doing your own thing, but you know that he’s there and it’s enough. of course, who can forget the ice cream he buys you as a thanks for accompanying him while he plays football?

today, meguru is already there when you arrived. as always, his feet are already playing with the ball in some way even if he’s still in his school uniform. he’s cute like this, you think. in his point of view, while you close the distance between the two of you, he gets more and more excited to tell you.

“y/n! think fast!” before you know it, the ball is already flying towards you. although spending a lot of time with him has resulted in you knowing how to at least catch a ball, you opt to dodge it this time.

“what the heck, megs? you trying to kill me?”

he chuckled, “you have to catch it, y/n!”

you looked at him incredulously, “no, thank you. i came here to peacefully read my new copy of pride and prejudice, so if you may—”

“aw, come on! pick it up! pretty please?”

okay, let’s get this out of the way—meguru bachira has irresistible puppy eyes that can get him anything he wants. so, you do it and you picked up the ball.

“tell me what it says, pretty.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, but your instincts guided you to search the ball for whatever he meant. and there, in big, black, bold letters—i love you.

the scoff that comes out of your lips in insincere and the smile that creeps into your face is a telltale sign of how you feel the same way.

he grins, “well?”

“think fast, meguru!”

you aim the ball towards his head and throw it playfully, which he catches without effort. he looks at you expectantly.

“i love you too, idiot.”

he may or may not have kicked the ball so hard it reached the rooftop of the nearest building to the point where it cannot be retrieved, but who knows?

HYOMA CHIGIRI ༉‧₊˚.

oh dear, you have to tell him first or else, your happily ever after with him will end before it even started. he is very well aware of how he feels about you, but the 50/50 chance of you liking him back or not doesn’t sit well with him, and it makes him sick to his stomach imagining you rejecting him. he’d rather die than go through that heartbreak slash embarrassment. doesn’t do well with rejections. so, yeah.

it has been a frustrating month, to say the least, because chigiri has been acting weird. you guys went from basically acting like an old couple to casual acquaintances, and you don’t understand. not too long ago, everyone was expecting you to be together by the end of this year and truth to be told, you thought so too.

in chigiri’s defense, he is freaking out. his friends are pressuring him to man up and tell you how strongly he feels about you, but that is the problem. he feels too strongly and he’s afraid how rejection coming from your end will affect everything.

first, he’ll lose you and your friendship. followed by losing months of proper training because he’ll be nursing his heartbreak seriously. the odds aren’t in his favor, and it’s keeping him awake at night.

obviously, he has been thinking too much about this, that he hasn’t noticed how he’s hurting you in the present. he’s not showing up to your little picnics by the soccer field, he’s not responding to the cutesy sticky notes you hand to him in class, and he’s not even looking at you, much less talking to you.

“bro, you trying to become single forever, or what?” his friend, isagi, who absolutely has no game when it comes to girls as well, asks him.

“what do you mean?”

“just look at your pretty lil y/n,” isagi shamelessly points towards your direction in the cafeteria, and chigiri hurriedly puts his friend’s hand down.

but he sees what he means—you are looking at them with that faint melancholy in your eyes that you’re trying to hide. chigiri can only look away alongside the torturous feeling tugging at his heartstrings.

of course, she’s upset. i’m her friend and i haven’t been talking to her. i’ll just apologize once i sort these feelings out, he rationalizes.

that is only until you corner him as soon as he got out of the comfort room. you look confrontational and it has him terrified. he’s actually alone. with you. the person who he is head over heels in love with.

“spit it out, hyoma,” you demand with venom and hurt laced in your voice it almost makes him flinch.

since he’s backed against the wall and you’re standing inches right in front of him, he figures running away isn’t the right thing to do in this situation.

“tell me straight up and end my agony. i’ll try my best to fix whatever problem you have with me, but i can’t do that if you won’t tell me!”

“w-what do you mean?” is all he could muster because his brain can only process the fact that he can smell your perfume and natural scent from here and it is sending him on a frenzy.

god, he is so damn in love with you.

however, he is pulled out of his reverie when he hears your small sniffles and when he catches sight of your tears.

no, no, no.

don’t cry. not for me. not for anyone.

“y/n—”

“is it because you found out that i’m in love with you, hyoma? is… is that why you’ve been avoiding me? you could have just told me and i’d do my best to fall out of love with you if that’s what it takes for you to remain friends with me—”

a string of patience breaks within him, and with that comes a breath of pure relief as he grabs your nape to pull you in on a kiss.

“but i don’t wanna be friends,” he whispers in between kisses. “i love you too. i love you, baby.”

ISAGI YOICHI ༉‧₊˚.

he claims that he has loved you ever since you were both kids to everyone who asks him who you are (yes, everyone knows that this nerd is in love with you except… well, you). it was only when he had to go away to blue lock for some time that he realizes he needs to confess to you before spending time apart, and also because he is scared he’d lose you to your other admirers.

isagi is restless.

it’s valentine’s day and he just witnessed your locker throw up a bunch of love letters from losers who are confessing their undying love for you. idiots. if anyone here has undying love for her, it’s me.

despite knowing that no one will love you more than he does, he is still all fidgety and nervous because unlike those losers, he hasn’t confessed to you.

it’s ridiculous. you have been together basically since kindergarten and has been inseparable since then. both of you have seen each other in their highs and lows. you have laughed and cried together. you have made plans for a future where the other is present.

isn’t it already a given that he loves you? does he really have to say it at this point? you must know, right? you know him. he doesn’t even have to talk and you already know what he’s thinking. there is no way that you don’t know he loves you.

“oh, wow—this is a lot!” you exclaim, mostly thankful for all the love that literally just poured out of your locker for you. “it’s like twice as many as last year.”

you start picking up the letters and chocolates on the ground, which isagi helps you with. he is the designated eater of the chocolates you can’t finish.

“too bad they don’t got a chance—” he starts, and you interrupt him to disagree.

“i don’t think so, yoichi. we’re in the right age to be dating people. also, you’ll be leaving me alone once you attend that training, so it wouldn’t hurt to give one of them a chance.”

poor isagi deflates upon hearing that. it never occurred to him that you will be with someone else. to him, it will always be you and him. there could be no extras in your story.

oh, boy. was he wrong to be so complacent. apparently, you have no damn clue that your childhood friend has always loved you. and now, he’s on a dilemma and his other friends have to hear about it.

“it’s your fault, though?” nagi states the obvious. “you never told her, so how’d she know? boring.”

meguru nods eagerly, “but it’s fine, yoichi! there will always be someone out there for you. but of course, you’ll have to suffer watching her with someone else first.”

when he realizes that his friends are no help at all, he takes matters into his own hands and put aside his doubts for a while to muster up the courage to finally confess to you after years of pining.

the day before he goes away for training, he offers to walk you home like he always does. the difference of today from all the other days is that he pulls your wrist just right before you disappear into your door.

“wait a minute,” he says.

you face him again, and without a word, he locks a necklace around your neck with a pendant of a small soccer ball with his initial in the middle. your lips part in awe and in realization of what he is about to say, but you find yourself speechless at how he’s looking at you with the softest eyes he could give only you, with the setting sun behind him.

“i never told you this, but i want you to rememember it starting from now. i love you. i want you to be mine, and mine alone. and this may sound selfish, but will you wait for me until i get back?”

you sigh and caress his cheek on your palm. “honey, i have always loved you too. i am yours already. of course, i will wait for you. so don’t worry about me and do your best over there, alright?”

“you’ll be here when i get back?”

“i’ll be here when you get back.”

SEISHIRO NAGI ༉‧₊˚.

the realization hits him in the middle of a football game. he can’t stop thinking about you and it has been affecting his games. there’s no other explanation for that, right? he likes you. and he has to tell you in front of the ocean of people watching because he just can’t wait but ease the bugging feeling in his stomach.

nagi is not playing like usual, and coach ego has scolded him like five times since the game started.

him being himself, he can’t even bring himself to care because his mind is plagued with thoughts of you. he wants to play and see the field on a levelheaded point of view to match with isagi’s tactics, but boy, are you annoying. you are all he can think about, and it is frustrating him!

“what kinda bullshit was that, nagi?!” reo shouts at him from across the field because the white-haired boy failed to catch the ball meant for him. “focus!”

“i’m really fucking trying, man!” he shouts back painfully and truthfully, because he really is trying but it doesn’t seem to be working.

the game continues on and all nagi can think about are your lips and how they move whenever you smile, your eyes whenever you talk about something you love, your hair when the autumn air makes it dance like leaves on trees, or your small pout when he refuses to give in to your whims!

“goddammit!” he frustratingly utters as he tries to steal the ball from the opponent. he is too close to succeeding until his brain once again flashes a memory of you laughing like the beautiful human being you are.

“you got this, sei!” you cheer from the bleachers, and your voice is much too distinct for his ears not to hear it. almost faster than the speed of light, he looks at you. his breath gets stuck in his throat as soon as he sees you in his jersey, waving up a huge banner with his name on it. in that split second, he got tackled by the players running on the field.

“fucking hell! that’s it!” he grumbles. “oh, y/n. you are damn annoying. making me fall in love with you like a fool. annoying! annoying! annoying!”

ego substitutes him out of the game, and he takes that chance to climb up the bleachers to approach you. the game is yet to restart, so a lot of eyes are on him and his annoyed expression.

you, however, know better. he may be annoyed, but definitely not by you, even though he’s staring straight at you ask he walks. you smile at him.

“you okay, sei?” you ask in concern because he just got tackled to the ground moments before reaching you. “you’ve been out of focus—”

“because you’re here, dammit.”

you laugh through your nose, “what? i thought you wanted me to come watch the game, seishiro..”

“can’t focus now. i don’t know what to do. i can’t stop thinking about you. what’re you doing to me, huh? stop it right now! we need to win!”

“i’m not doing anything, though?”

“that! that pout! stop it!”

seishiro nagi looks incredibly cute like this. he is literally towering over you in his 6’3 prowess and yet, he throws tantrums like a little boy.

“what exactly am i doing to you, sei?”

“you make me want to leave the damn field so i can climb up here to kiss you! because i love you! and i can’t stop thinking about you in that huge jersey!”

your heart overflows with the sudden confession from the boy you have liked for some time now, plus the fact that you have an entire stadium before you, but you are not complaining. not at all.

you take the initiative to tiptoe and kiss seishiro nagi in hopes that it will calm him down to last the game.

“i love you too, sei. no need to be so restless, hm? i’ll be watching from here and i’m not going anywhere, so you better focus!”

like the small peck wasn’t enough, he carries you by your waist to press a deeper kiss on your lips that he has only ever dreamed of kissing.

“okay. i guess that helps. see you after the game.”

he scores the winning goal, and everyone can tell that he is impatient. they are right. as soon as the game ends, he runs to celebrate with you in his arms.

#⏳ — lumi’s hcs!#blue lock headcanons #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #nagi headcanons #nagi x reader #chigiri headcanons #chigiri x reader #bachira headcanons #bachira x reader #isagi headcanons #isagi x reader #seishiro nagi #meguru bachira #hyoma chigiri #yoichi isagi #bllk headcanons #bllk imagines

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little-diable · 9 months

Text

Twin Flame - Dean Winchester (smut)

Inspired by the song "Twin Flame" by Brennan Story. I love love love this fic, and I hope y'all will love it too. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Months ago Dean had broken the reader's heart, a desperate try to protect her. But he no longer manages to stay away, needing to find his way back to her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, makeup sex, some heartbreak in the beginning, a very very happy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.8k words)

Well this road don't get no shorter, I would've drove the whole thing for you, my tank down to a quarter, and it'll be gone soon

„What is up with you lately, Dean?” Sam’s voice filled Baby, worried eyes watching his brother. No reply left Dean as he kept driving on, caught in his memories like a fly trapped in the web of a spider set to kill. He was stuck, without a way out, and yet, deep down inside he prayed that he’d never be able to leave those memories behind.

Whenever he got a moment to let his thoughts wander, he had to think of her, the one who still holds his heart in her hands, even after all these months. Being with her had been something he had never experienced before, a new sensation he longed for like a man dying of thirst dreaming of any water he could drink. Loving her had been everything Dean wasn’t, it had been sweet, easy, it had been too good to be true.

Whenever he was lying awake at night, eyes staring at the dirty ceiling of the motel rooms he and Sam found shelter in, he imagined her laying next to him, head resting on his chest, listening to his calmly beating heart. Dean still felt her weight on him, if he closed his eyes he could feel her right there with him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, words that had been etched into his mind.

“Dean?” Sam tried again, worried eyes flickering back to the dark road ahead, knowing that it would take them at least a couple more hours to make their way to the bunker. “Hey man, c’mon, talk to me, I can tell something is going on.”

“It’s nothing, Sammy.” His voice told Sam everything he needed to know, exposing the hurt, the sadness flushing through Dean’s system. Dean’s green eyes were hazy, no longer filled with that special glint spurring him on whenever they were on a hunt, it felt as if he was no longer in the car with Sam, just a body without a soul tied to it.

“Is it about her? Dean, you should just call her, reach out, it’s never too late.” A sharp inhale of cold air was forced into Dean’s lungs, teeth grazing his lower lip to stop his angry words from rolling off his tongue. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t call the one whose heart he had broken, leaving her behind without looking back once, choosing the life with his brother over her, a hunter just like him and his brother – a woman Dean wanted to protect from being hurt because of him.

The cold words he had spoken to her were still ringing in his ears, how he had pushed her away, nothing but a stupid spiel Dean stuck to, in order to save her from a life filled with uneasy times, with hunts that would leave their marks on her. Dean Winchester would do everything to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking (y/n)’s heart, and his own.

And my drink been feelin' lighter, 'cause I'm a lover not a fighter, and I seen that you caught fire, when you put me out

“Sammy, wake up, we’re home.” Dean’s rough voice filled the dark night, hand shaking his brother’s shoulder. It took Sam a moment to wake, hands rubbing his tired eyes. Slowly did the younger Winchester brother undo his seatbelt, halting his movements as he noticed that Dean wasn't moving.

“What’s wrong?” Worry dripped from the tip of Sam’s tongue, watching his brother’s gaze flicker between the steering wheel and the phone Dean kept clinging to.

“I have something to do, I’ll be gone for a few days.” Silence filled Baby, a silence so loud, Dean started to shuffle around in his seat, waiting for his brother to speak up or to start moving, already annoyed with the time they kept wasting just now. Dean was feeling antsy, nervousness filled his system, a sensation so unfamiliar he couldn’t help but curse it.

“Dean,” Sam whispered his brother’s name, hand finding his shoulder. “Get her back, stop worrying about dragging her down with you, she’s stronger than the both of us combined, she’ll do just fine being around us.”

Dean couldn’t reply, throat too tight, mouth too dry to produce any sounds, unsure what to say to the brother of his that looked at him with so much hope swimming in his pupils. Sam didn’t know much about the night where Dean had left her, he didn’t know of the words he had spoken, hurtful words that have left their scars on his and her soul, it’d be a miracle if she’d take Dean back. But he couldn’t breathe without her near, couldn’t live on without her by his side.

……

“Absolutely not.” (Y/n)’s eyes met Dean’s desperate ones, body turned from him as she tried to close her door, without any luck, wood caught by the boot he had pushed past her entrance. A string of curses left her, jaw ticking in anger as her eyes found their way back to his, reading the pleading swimming in his pupils before she slowly took a step back, inviting him back in.

Dean followed her through the all too familiar four walls he had once started to call his new home, the house they should grow old in, the house they should raise their children in, nothing but mere dreams that have evaporated into nothing but a hazy dream both could no longer recreate.

“I always knew you’d step low, but turning up here is ruthless, even for you, Dean Winchester.” (Y/n) had her arms wrapped around herself, eyes not daring to leave his once. Slowly he sank down on her couch, right next to her, not giving (y/n) a chance to move away. Without thinking he reached for her hand, moving faster than she had anticipated, catching her fingers before she could move them away as if he was a flame she burnt herself on.

“I wasn’t planning on coming here, hell, I wasn’t planning on ever setting my foot back in this house.” His whispers were torn between sounds reminding one of cries for help and a voice so quiet one could have problems understanding what he was saying. An angry huff left (y/n), glassy eyes focusing on the calloused fingertips stroking the back of her hand, pushing an all too familiar sensation through her body. She was trembling, begging for whoever was listening to relieve her from the pain she had never been able to let go of, and yet she had tried to keep on moving, without looking back once.

“You broke my heart, you left me without an explanation, just your awful words. One day you were here, and the next you were suddenly gone. It took me a while to give my life a new meaning, to adjust to hunting on my own, but I managed just fine for the past months, Dean. Why do you have to return the second I’m finally okay on my own?” Her tears started rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her chin like a once dry waterfall regaining its impressive strength. With his other hand finding her jaw, Dean started drying her tears, heart clenching in his chest as he was once again reminded of the pain he had pushed her through.

“I know, and I’m so sorry for being so fucking selfish, but I can’t stay away. Every second without you by my side is pure torture, you’re the only thing I can think of, no matter when or where I am. I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, after watching you getting hurt because of me, because I couldn’t step back from a hunt we should have called backup for, I knew i had to get away from you. I can’t be the reason you get into any more danger. But as much as I hate myself for saying it, I can’t live without you, not any longer.” A heavy sigh left (y/n) as she looked at Dean, focusing on the pain filling his green pupils, on the lifeless expression tugging on his features. He was no longer the Dean she had once been with, no, he had changed, their breakup had left its marks on him, as much as it had left its marks on her. And yet she still longed for him, after all the sleepless nights she had cursed him for.

“I need time to think this through, you have hurt me so much, Dean, so much. But I still love you, a lot. You can sleep on the sofa and we can talk in the morning.” Slowly Dean let go of her, pulling his hands away to give (y/n) enough space to rise to her feet. With one last glance thrown his way, she disappeared down the hallway, letting the door to her bedroom fall shut with a soft thud.

And as Dean sat on the sofa he had once put together with (y/n), he couldn’t help but give into the tears welling up in his eyes.

And I'd set fire onto, these boots running from the hard truth, that you don't need me the same way I need you

……

Dean woke with a groan leaving him, back aching from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in. It took him a few seconds to remember the past hours, how he had turned up at (y/n)’s place, how he had cried into his hands as she had parted from him. His green eyes shot open, finding a pair of all too familiar eyes already staring at him. (Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the sofa, wearing the same shirt she had worn hours ago. Only now did Dean realise that the shirt had once belonged to him, pushing a very welcomed heat through his aching body.

“I made some coffee.” Her soft voice left his heart skipping beats, needing to cherish these moments should she ask him to leave in the upcoming minutes. Slowly did Dean sit up, stretching his neck and arms before he murmured a “Thank you, sweetheart”, taking the cup of warm coffee (y/n) pushed into his direction.

“I didn’t catch any sleep, but I got enough time to think.” Dean braced himself for the words she was about to speak, teeth grazing his lower lip. His heart was racing way too fast for the early hour, and yet Dean didn’t manage to calm his system, palms growing sweatier with every second. He struggled to look into the eyes he’d see whenever he closed his at night, desperate to feel her close, pupils that were once so familiar, so loved, pupils that felt like nothing but a fever dream now. “I love you too much to push you away, but it’ll take me some time to trust you again, Dean. You have to accept that we’ll both get hurt on hunts, with or without Sammy. And you’ll accept that I’ll join you on all hunts I want to join, you won’t get a say about my decisions. Are we clear?”

He looked at her for a few more moments before his hand found the back of her neck, pulling (y/n) in for a bruising kiss. With a gasp leaving (y/n) she moved closer, arms finding their way around his neck, allowing Dean to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longing for one another, hearts begging them to never part ways again, unable to endure another wave of heartbreak.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back, whatever you need. I love you so much, sweetheart, I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.” Dean murmured his words against her lips, pulling her in for another kiss as his hands disappeared underneath the comfortable shirt of his she was wearing. Her breath hitched in her chest as Dean shuffled them around, pressing (y/n) against the sofa with him nestling between her thighs. Moans clawed through the two as Dean began to roll his hips, rubbing his hardening bulge against her damp panties.

“Been dreaming about you touching me, as much as I hated myself for it, I couldn’t help but miss you, your lips, your fingers.” A soft, throaty laugh rumbled through Dean as he pushed her shirt up to expose her chest to his hungry eyes, lips finding her hardening nipples almost instantly, leaving his marks on every inch of her warm flesh.

“Fuck, no matter what I tried, my mind always wandered back to you. I imagined the words you’d moan, how you’d wrap your fingers around my cock. Can’t believe I’m getting another chance to love you.” No longer could she reply to his words, (y/n) had almost forgotten the loving words his mouth and mind were able to create in moments like this one, set on making her feel the love his heart pumped through his system. “I need to be inside of you, it’s been too fucking long. Do you have a condom?”

“No, but I’m clean, I didn’t sleep with anybody but you.” She was almost scared to ask Dean if he had touched another woman, struggling to form the question that now rang through her mind, leaving her breathless. Dean pushed another kiss against her lips before he shuffled out of his clothes, exposing his twitching cock to her wandering eyes.

“Good, you’re mine to touch only, forever mine. I didn’t touch anybody else, just the thought of it made me sick, no matter how much alcohol I needed to try and forget about us.” With her hand finding its way back to his neck, and with her legs slowly wrapping themselves around his hips, (y/n) chased his slightly swollen lips.

The sound of their moans leaving them in unison was drowned by their kiss, Dean moved slow at first, needing to hold back before he’d cum right there and then, no longer used to feeling her tightness wrapped around his cock. Both clung to one another as he fucked her into the sofa, with one hand placed on the arm rest and the other on her waist, leaving marks with his fingertips digging into her skin. (Y/n) arched her front against his, trembling legs not daring to loosen their hold on his waist, wondering if she was only stuck in a dream, or if Dean was truly fucking her, reminding her that she was his.

And no matter how hard I try, I'll never learn to say goodbye, you say it's okay to cry, baby that river done ran dry

“God, how I missed feeling you, feels so perfect, so fucking perfect.” With his forehead pressed against hers, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, growing rougher as her walls fluttered around him, tensing every now and then. Dean had lost count on the amount of times he had dreamt of feeling her again, of loving her just like he had always promised he would.

“Same, fuck, don’t ever leave me again, Dean.” (Y/n) choked on his name, hand disappearing between their bodies to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves. Both knew that they wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer, it felt as if they hadn’t been able to let go for months, unable to touch themselves without thinking of one another. But both had tried to make themselves cum for weeks on end, unable to do so, since their minds painted pictures too painful, pictures they could now finally leave behind.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart? Fuck, I won’t be able to hold on for much longer.” Another moan left (y/n) as Dean’s lips found her jaw, kissing their way down her neck. It took her a moment to reply, choking on her breaths, unable to think clear with her thoughts growing hazy.

“Inside of me, please, Dean, fill me up.” She felt his cock twitching inside of her, forcing her to add more pressure on her clit, crying his name as she came. Dean followed her down the edge, eyes rolling back into his head as he came with a “Fuck” leaving him.

Both were heavily breathing, not daring to part with their bodies still joined, just like their jumping hearts. (Y/n) murmured his name as she combed a hand through his hair, eyes finding his, “I love you Dean, no matter what will happen between us, I belong to you, as much as you belong to me.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural smut

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 months

Note

“Who’s is it”

JUST HANDS

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You know you’re fucked the moment you see Harry grab the blue shoebox from under the bed, but it doesn’t process until he opens the lid and pulls out your trusty purple dildo.

This was not on your bingo card. Your best friend holding your beloved cock replacement that has gotten you through so many droughts and heartbreaks when you couldn’t even bear to look at a man.

Now that dildo is being held up by Harry and you feel like you’re about to scream and burn the apartment down.

“Um, whose is it?” Harry manages to ask, his cheeks turning cherry red, but he is still holding up the fucking dildo.

Once your muscles are over the shock and you finally force yourself to move you step to him over the plenty of boxes and bags on the floor and grab the dildo from him before shoving it into one of the bags.

“Who do you think it belongs to, idiot?” you snap, the heat that’s crawling up your neck is dizzying. “We’re packing up my bedroom, whose fucking dildo would it be?”

Harry clears his throat and just stands there for a couple of moments while you busy yourself with emptying the dresser. But maybe it wasn’t the best idea, because now Harry is watching you throw your thongs and all kinds of underwear into a bag, making it even more awkward.

This is not how you imagine this afternoon when you asked Harry to help you pack up your room. You’ve been living here for the past two years, sharing the apartment with two other girls, but you finally found a nice studio apartment for your senior year of college, so you’re moving now. Harry has been a huge help so far, but right now you wish you never asked him to come over.

Minutes pass by and he is still just standing there, staring at you and it’s now pissing you off.

“What?” you snap with a sigh as you finally dare to look up.

You’ve known Harry since the first day of college. He spilled his green juice on your right before your first ever lecture and then switched shirts with you just so you could make a good impression on the professor. So you sat in an oversized, simple black shirt while Harry sported a sheer white blouse with a big green stain on it, ignoring every curious eyes that turned to him.

You’ve been best friends since then, but you’ve never seen him look at you the way he is looking at you right now. Pupils dilated, the friendly green of his irises has disappeared, his pink lips are parted and there’s something new in his posture as well, but you just can’t put your finger on it.

And it’s making you sweat.

“Uh, n-nothing,” he shakes his head, breaking the eye contact at last. “It’s nothing.”

“Then let’s just move on, alright?”

He only hums as he grabs a box from the floor and gets back to work. But it’s not the same. You can feel the tension as you silently pack next to each other and you catch Harry staring at either you or the bag you shoved the dildo into. When some time has passed and you’ve passed by the embarrassment you finally work up the courage to address the situation, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.

“Um, sorry about… the… I forgot about it and didn’t think you’d find it.”

Harry looks up at you from the pile of shoes he’s been placing in a box, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights for a brief second before a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Forgot about it? So you haven’t used it lately?”

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean. I did use it recently–”

Did you really just admit to masturbating to him? With your purple dildo? For fuck’s sake, this is getting worse by the minute.

“I-I mean, uhh–”

“I know what you meant,” he chuckles, looking down at the shoes as he shakes his head, but you notice his ears have turned red. “It’s just… never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing, let’s just move on.”

“No, tell me! I wanna know what you wanted to say.”

Sighing he drops the pair of tennis shoes from his hands and looks up at you.

“I just never thought you’re the kind to use… help, like toys.”

You blink at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your thoughts are racing a million miles per second, trying to process his words. He never thought you were the kind to use toys? You’re not ballsy or freaky enough to use a dildo? Does he think you’re too prude for sex toys? And most importantly, has he actually been thinking about your ways of masturbating?

Harry shrugs as he stands, hands on his hips.

“It’s just that I always thought you either get a hook up or just use your hands.”

“Why? You think I’m too prude to use toys?”

“That’s not what I said,” he chuckles, but you’re not done pouring questions at him.

“And do you often ponder about how I usually masturbate? Because you seem to be having a very strong opinion about the topic.”

“What?” Now his face has gone blank and you can sense his discomfort.

“Just so you know, I very much love to use that dildo and I’m also a fan of rabbit vibrators, I used to have one, but I dropped it and it broke and haven’t gotten a new one.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise and you swallow hard as you realize just how much you gave away about your private life. Neither of you speaks and then you both just sort of go back to packing without acknowledging the things said, but you can’t stop thinking about it.

This might not feel like this big of a deal if you haven’t been crazily into Harry these past months. You have no idea when your feelings shifted from friendly to “I want him to fuck me in the school cafeteria”, but it’s been messing with your head. Your dirty dreams about him don’t help your case either.

Just as you recite his words probably for the millionth time he breaks the silence.

“I do, by the way.”

“Huh?” you ask with a dumb frown.

“I do think about how you pleasure yourself. Pretty often. Mostly when I’m wanking.”

Your mouth drops open and whatever was in your hand now drops to the floor as you stare back at him. He is holding your gaze smugly, as if he is challenging you to react and make the next move.

The ball is in your court.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as you’re trying to wrap your head around where this conversation has gotten to and you make a decision within a second.

“Do you want to actually watch me touch myself?”

The words sound distant, but you know you said them. And you watch Harry’s eyes turn darker than ever as he slowly nods.

“Yeah.”

Your desires take over your actions, rationality has been thrown out the window as you walk over to him and take his hand, pulling him over to the dresser that’s facing the bed.

“Stand here,” you tell him as you position him against the dresser and then you climb onto your bed, making yourself comfortable in the middle, opening your legs so Harry has an excellent view of the way you run your hand over yourself, only your tiny cotton shorts covering your pussy from his greedy eyes.

“I could use the dildo, or just my hands. What do you want, Harry?” you question, while you keep rubbing yourself over the fabric of your shorts and there’s probably a wet stain already showing through it.

“Hands,” he answers eagerly. “Just hands.”

Lifting your hips you push down your shorts and underwear, over your knees and then kick them to the side before opening your legs again, this time exposing your naked cunt in front of Harry.

When you hear a shaky moan from him you lick two of your fingers before reaching down and keeping eye contact with him you start circling them on your clit the way you like it.

“You like it?” You ask, words turning into a moan when you hit the right spot.

“Yes,” he breathes out and as your gaze drops to his crotch you notice just how much he is enjoying the show. The outline of his cock is teasing you from across the room and though part of you wants him to fuck you until you forget your own name, you’re also enjoying this little game you’re playing and you want to finish it.

“What else do you want me to do, Harry?”

This time he needs a few seconds before he can answer.

“Finger yourself.”

“Want to see my fingers fucking my pussy?”

“Yes,” he nods eagerly and you see his hand twitching, but he doesn’t touch himself, instead, he looks you in the eyes and asks: “Can I touch myself too?”

Fuck, you love this obedient side of him, love that you feel in charge of him.

“Yes. I wanna see you play with yourself while I fuck myself.”

Harry groans as he rushes to undo the button and zipper of his pants and tug them down halfway on his thighs, just enough to let his hard cock finally spring free. Your mouth waters and you whimper as you push two fingers inside you, pretending like it’s his cock that’s filling you up, though you know it will be a whole different feeling when his dick finally pushes into you.

Leaning against the dresser he is jerking himself off while watching you edge yourself closer to your orgasm. Curling your fingers, pushing, pressing and pinching, you already know you won’t last much longer, not when you’re staring at Harry’s throbbing cock.

“Are you close?” you ask, gasping for air, your back arching from the mattress.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he hisses, his eyes glued to you.

“Come with me, Harry!” you whine and he nods, his hand going even faster now.

You stare at each other the moment you both reach your climax. Your legs are shaking and you can’t quiet yourself while you watch Harry’s cum squirt onto the floor in waves, he gasps for air and calls out your name like a plea.

Minutes pass by and the two of you remain in your own respective spots, trying to catch your breath and return to reality. When it finally happens you sit up and you’re met with Harry’s eyes already resting on you. For a moment you have no idea what’s gonna happen, but then you both suddenly start to laugh.

“That was… unexpected,” he admits, lazily pulling his pants back up as you scoot to the edge of the mattress. Harry walks over to you and helps you up from the bed. Now you’re looking at each other from up close.

“But did you enjoy it?” you ask with a sheepish smile.

“The proof that I enjoyed it is on the floor now,” he chuckles and it makes you laugh as well.

“Maybe… next time we could be closer to each other. Even touch each other,” you muse.

Harry smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger before running his thumb across your lower lip.

“I would love that.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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lovingrosewho · 10 months

Text

Framed

Hello there! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything but I recently began watching Criminal Minds again and fell in love with Aaron Hotchner all over again as well, so I just had to write this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) This is my first Criminal Minds (published) fanfic, and the first Hotch x Reader I’ve written ever! (also the first nsfw)

ONE SHOT (but who knows, it may even have a part 2 on a future maybe not-so-near but not-so-far-away either)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Cis!fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3467

Summary: reader has been accused of murdering her older, rich ex-fiancé (of course I took my inspo for this piece of fanfiction from Brooke Whyndam, of the movie “Legally blonde”, also, the line “then show them a picture of his dick” is from that movie).

Warnings: NSFW content (innuendo, sex, curse words, age gap - reader is in her mid twenties, Hotch is in his early/mid forties)

“I didn’t do it!” you scream one last time slamming your fist on the table, on the edge of tears.

It had passed around 8 hours already with you in custody, accused of the murder of your ex-fiancé, a (quite older) man, CEO of a big company in town, and as if that wasn’t enough, the best friend of the sheriff.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rubs his face, tired, after observing Prentiss and Morgan’s attempts to get you to confess. It’s almost 3am.

“Sheriff, with all due respect, I think she’s telling the truth” he tells him with a soft voice after a deep sigh.

“And with all due respect, you profiled that the suspect would be a female in her mid twenties, who we’d have to get the information out of her”.

“And we also profiled she’d be seeking for attention and validation which we don’t see it happening do we?” Aaron retorts rolling his eyes discreetly.

The sheriff gives SSA Aaron Hotchner one last glance before grabbing the doorknob of the interrogation room and storming in, Hotch follows close behind, seeing how the sheriff turns off the videocamera recording what happens inside the interrogation room, knowing no good can come from asking the same questions over and over again when everybody is also tired and fed up with trying to get a false confession out of you, which, from your behavior, Hotch knows it’s impossible.

“That’s it!” the sheriff yells “You killed my best friend! Either you confess or I’ll let you rot in here the rest of the 72 hours we can have you legally detained!”

“For the last time, I. Didn’t. Do it!” you yell back.

The BAU team exchanges glances between each other.

“What judge is going to believe you huh? You were engaged to a successful man in his mid fifties! And then he goes and marries someone even younger than you!”

“That was over two years ago!” you talk back.

“You had motive and opportunity, no judge nor jury is going to understand any other reason for you to be with him that is not for the money”.

“Then show them a picture of his dick! That might clear a few things up” you finally bark at him. The sheriff looks at you in astonishment. Morgan disguises a snicker as a cough, Prentiss bites down her lower lip to suppress a laugh, and Hotchner… Hotchner just stands impassive at you.

The sheriff leaves the room enraged, and everyone else follows, not before giving you an apologetic look. Hotchner is the last one to stay. You see the slightest doubt on his eyes and the subtle twist his lips make. You know he’s thinking about letting you go, but he then lowers his stare and gets out of the room, just like everybody else.

You sigh, drained out of energy after all the interrogations. This can’t be happening to you.

You knew since the moment you met John, that just his pure acquaintance could ruin your life. He had many enemies, and even more groupies who belonged to social circles that if you hadn’t met him, you would have never even imagined they existed, but what you had never imagined either, was that after all the heartbreak, loss and pain of what you thought in that moment to be the love of your life, you’d be reliving all those feelings, cause of some stupid cop negligence.

You lay your head slowly on the table, feeling the coldness of the metal surface on your cheek, and close your eyes for just a couple of minutes. You can’t sleep, not until this nightmare is all over, but at least, you get to have a few moments of peace and quiet before some other agent enters the room and begins yet another interrogation, demanding new information. Information you don’t have.

Outside the gray room, where you can’t hear nor see anything, the BAU team argues with the sheriff about your freedom.

“We’ve gotten out of her everything we’re going to get, I’m telling you, she didn’t do it” Morgan tries to reason with him.

“An unsub who planned a homicide this calculated would be equally calculated both on his answers and his behavior, this girl was in shock when we started showing her the case photos and couldn’t get a single cohesive phrase out. You can’t pin this murder on her” Emily backs up Morgan.

The sheriff looks at both of them, puffs a sigh and places his hands on his hips before discussing.

“Look, I get it, you profilers or whatever think you’re better than all of us, but this is still my county, and while I can have her in custody, I will. Who knows? She might even give up a confession or at least some new information. Goodnight gentlemen. And lady” he starts to walk to the exit without giving any of them any chance to convince him “I suggest you too get some rest. It’s been a long day and there’s one even longer ahead of us. Lock up when you get out”.

With that last statement, the sheriff ends the discussion and exits the precinct. Morgan and Prentiss move their heads in disagreement, proceeding to look back at Hotch, who is frowning at the door the sheriff just left through.

“What now?” both the BAU members look at the unit chief.

“Sheriff is right in one thing: you should get some rest. I’ll stay here with (Y/N), keep her company and see if there’s something we missed” he declares “Call Reid, Rossi and JJ, head back to the hotel, I’ll catch up with you in a few hours”.

“Hotch she’s not our unsub” Morgan defends you again “I mean we could, let her go right?”

“I’m afraid not. If we step ahead of the local officers, we might make things worse by getting ourselves kicked out of the investigation. It’ll be of more use the sooner we find something, anything, that might help (Y/N) clear her name and get her out of here” Hotch answers, he’s looking at Morgan but directs his orders to both of them, he knows his team too well to not know for a fact that Emily is the one who’s more inclined to let you go. They both nod silently.

“All right” Emily surrenders, not just because she’s too tired to continue arguing, but because she also knows that perhaps getting back to the hotel and going over some of the facts and scenes with Reid or JJ, might be more useful “Do you want me to stay with you? I mean the precinct is completely empty. You’ll be here all by yourself”.

“It’s okay. You and Morgan. Hotel. Rest. We’ll gather first thing in the morning and go through everything we have so far” he assures and doesn’t wait for a reply, beginning to walk back to the interrogation room, hearing the exit door of the precinct close behind him and the key turning.

When he enters again, he finds you on the same position you were trying to rest, your cheek against the now warm table, your hair falling on it and covering parts of your face.

“I’m not asleep” you mutter softly “I just needed to clear my head, breath and relax for a bit”.

Hotch lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, but everything is so quiet, that you get to hear it.

“(Y/N) I know you didn’t do it” he pronounces just as softly as you.

“Really?” you frown and shift your position, sitting back on the chair, looking at him “Then… can I go?”

He presses his lips into a straight line, and lets out a firm, but still tender “no”. A single tear escapes your right eye and you wipe it off quickly, not quite giving in to the emotions just yet. Hotch notices and comes to stand right next to you, laying on the edge of the table.

“If I’d let you go, the local authorities would not let us continue the investigation and they’d pin that murder on you. Trust me, the best we can do right now is wait a few hours until everyone has cooled down and come back with fresh eyes” he guarantees you, his features relaxing as he tells you this “Everything’s gonna be fine”.

“Everything’s gonna be fine” you repeat his words slowly, then look up at him. Damn it. He’s handsome. It’s no secret to anyone you have a thing for older men, but did that trait really have to emerge right now? You can’t help but to laugh out loud at the thought, it’s absurd to you that you could be thinking of that when you’re being accused of murder.

“What’s so funny?” he asks confused, and distances himself ever so slightly from you, without leaving his place on the table.

“Nothing, just…” you start, in an attempt to explain yourself and don’t end up looking crazy “God, if I had met you under any other circumstances, I’d probably be all over you right now”.

SSA Aaron Hotchner does not move, nor his face changes towards you, but you can see the most subtle blush on his cheeks, and his fists tightening. His lips finally crack up a light smile, finding the situation absurd as well, he quickly remembers the videocamera is off.

“You do realize you could be facing murder charges, right?” he asks playfully, kinda mocking you, keeping the volume of his voice down.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry” you apologize “It’s just so late, I’m tired, and well, you’re smoking hot” you confess with an apologetic, but also mischievous, look. Hotch finally lets out a laugh. Get a hold of yourself, Hotchner, he thinks to himself, takes a deep breath and goes back to his serious stare.

“(Y/N), I understand it’s been a long day in which you’ve been under a lot of pressure, but for me to keep up this game would be not only unprofessional, but also unethical. Your mind is probably just making up this crush for you to pass the time and distract yourself from what is happening. You’ll get over me” he explains sweetly.

“I wish I could get under you instead…” your witty retort catches him off guard, he swallows hard and starts coughing. He’s not used to women flirting with him anymore, not for a long time, let alone women almost half his age.

“I’ll see you in a few hours” he says standing up and reaching towards the door, not really uncomfortable by your approaches, but more by his increasing boner.

“No, okay I’m sorry, please stay with me” you beg him, standing up as well “I was just joking. Well, not really, but just… please keep me company, stay?”

He turns back at you not realizing how close you are, less than a couple steps behind him and he almost crashes into you, but he prevents the two of you from tripping by stabilizing himself grabbing your hips, but his hands can’t get to let go afterwards. You breath heavily, feeling the arousal and heat from the proximity suffocating you.

“Please fuck me” you half ask, half beg, admitting to yourself that what you need right now is precisely what agent Hotchner said: relieving some stress and distraction.

SSA Aaron Hotchner can’t help himself.

Ugh, fuck it, he thinks. It’s the sheriff’s fault for turning off the videocamera in an attempt to scare you and try and trick you into making a confession.

Without any further notice, he grabs your ass and the highest part of the back of your thighs to lift you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his back and your arms around his neck, not breaking eye contact as you let him carry you to the table. He places you on the table with tenderness, caressing your back as he does so. You bring your dominant hand to grab his tie and pull him in for a long, wet, controlled kiss, running your other hand along his arm and chest, ending the trace on his cheek, allowing your thumb to move back and forth on his skin.

Quite to be honest, Aaron doesn’t know how well he’ll be able to perform. It’s been a while since he’s last had sex, and his mind is always either on his job, or his family. He’ll probably won’t last more than a few minutes. But he can try and make it up to you.

He begins to deviate his trace of wet kisses from your mouth, to you jaw, your neck, and slowly your chest, discovering little by little the skin under your clothes, while his hands drop by the side of your waist, hips and legs, exploring you under the midi skirt you’re wearing. His right hand finds the slit between your legs, covered by your panties, and starts caressing it through the fabric. He listens to you moan and brings his other hand to cover your mouth with endearment, letting you know you’ve got to keep quiet.

He moves your panties to the side and traces one finger along your slick, inserting it inside of you. You have to suppress an even louder moan. He moves that one finger up and down, hitting your G spot, inserting another finger when you’re ready.

“Please” you beg once again. Aaron chuckles, grabbing you and getting you closer to the edge of the table, proceeding to get down on his knees and sucking all your juices without any type of heads up. You can’t but let out a loud moan. He looks up at you, and even though his eyes demand silence, you can tell there’s the slightest grin on his lips, before he continues sucking and licking your folds and clit. Your back drops to the table, unable to keep yourself steady so you can watch him. You’re trembling with desire and lust “Agent Hotchner, please” you beg once again. Hearing you call him ‘agent Hotchner’ does something to him. He stands up, wiping a little bit of your juices off his mouth and kissing you afterwards, his hands resting on either side of you on the table, one of them coming to grab each of your nipples one at a time.

“How much do you want this?” he asks softly.

“I need you” you answer “Please, fill me”.

His eyes meet yours and he nods slowly. His mouth comes to encircle one of your nipples as he pulls down your underwear and hides it in his suit pocket, and undoes his belt and trousers, without taking any clothes off. You come up from your laying position to support yourself with your elbows on the table, not wanting to miss how the special agent from the FBI takes his cock out to give it to you.

When he’s got it out and ready for you, he pumps it up and down a couple of times before lifting entirely your skirt and positioning himself in your entrance. He enters slowly, letting you take him all in, allowing you to accustom to his size, and for the love of him, he feels like he could explode any second. He breathes deeply and clears his mind, his ego not letting him end up looking like a teenager having his first time.

“Let me ride you” you ask after a few slow thrusts, needing more of him. He looks at you and nods.

God, what is he doing? At least you’re innocent. Are you? Right? You’ve gotta be. The profile doesn’t fit. But they’ve been wrong before haven’t they?

You exchange positions so he’s laying on the table, you get on top of him and guide his cock back into you again. You part your lips in a moan when you come down on him and begin moving your hips, his hands moving alongside them. You lower yourself without stopping so you can kiss him, rubbing your whole torso on his, your sweat making your skin slip on his skin. He grabs your breasts so he can bring them to his mouth, nibbling them.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if this might just be another trick for you to let your guard down. But what could you say that might incriminate you? You know you’re innocent. What if he’s not even a real agent?

You’re so close that you can’t give yourself permission to sink into those thoughts, instead, you start riding Hotch faster and stronger, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you do so.

“Aaron, Aaron…” you moan lowly. You don’t know if it’s okay that you’re on a first name basis already, but it just seems weird to you if you call him ‘Hotch’ like his colleagues.

It seems like he’s perfectly fine with it, as he digs his fingertips on your hips, encouraging you to keep going, feeling how your walls tense around him as your orgasm hits you.

You moan uncontrollably as you come, not being able to keep those in, digging your nails in Aaron’s shoulder suit sleeves. Afterwards, you lay slowly on his chest, until you start feeling like he’s pulling himself out.

“Wait” you gather and pull yourself up again, with him still inside of you “What are you doing? Don’t you wanna finish too?”

He looks at you in disbelief.

“Well I thought you may wanna rest or…” he begins explaining. You laugh and look fondly at him, lowering yourself again to murmur “don’t stop” in his ear.

Of course, he remembers. Twenties.

That’s everything he needs to start thrusting into you with everything he’s got left.

“(Y/N) I’m not-“ he tries to phrase “I’m not going to last longer, I’m- is it okay if I…?”

“Come inside me” you order “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’m on contraceptives”.

He decides to believe you, for his sake, and fastens his pace until it becomes sloppy, spilling inside of you just like you asked for, his cum filling you and showing between your folds as he brings himself out.

“Oh my god” he breathes out as he brings you down to his chest, securing his arms around your back, bringing you even closer to him “I’ll put you in handcuffs myself if it turns out you’re not innocent”.

You chuckle, tracing circles on his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

“I am. But still, you can put me in handcuffs any time you want”. He laughs alongside you, still feeling a bit like a teenager. A teenager who just did something very very wrong and that nobody should find out about. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds before his cellphone starts ringing, he answers almost immediately.

“Hotchner” he says calmly “Yes I’m still here. No, everything’s fine, she’s… behaved. Prints don’t match? Well of course they don’t, was García able to tell whose are they then? Right. Well, tell her to keep digging. I’ll see you in a bit”.

After he hangs up he turns to you with a playful look.

“You never touched the gun that was in your purse, did you?” you shake your head.

“Guns and, weapons of any type really, give me the creeps, I just left it there thinking it was someone’s idea of pranking me or something”.

“Well that may have just made your case. You’re free to go. Whoever was trying to frame you did a lousy job not guessing you weren’t going to grab the gun” he tells you arching his brows at you. You stare perplexed at him.

“You’re serious? Oh my god Aaron! Thank you!” you exclaim kissing him.

“Yes, and we should get dressed and get out of here before anything else happens” he affirms gently, helping you stand up so you both can fix your clothes.

“Well, agent Hotchner, it’s been a pleasure. Truly” you tell him when the two of you are walking out of the interrogation room towards the exit.

“Pleasure is all mine, (Y/N)” he says, winking an eye at you “I’d like you to know… I don’t usually do this. I don’t…”

“Aaron” you interrupt sweetly, one of your hands coming to grab his forearm to stop him “I know. I can tell. It’s okay. I know that if I hadn’t initiated it or followed up you would have never even considered it, I get it… but now, can we please do it again?”

He chuckles.

“You know where we’re staying and the number of my hotel room, sweetheart. And I also recall reading on some case file that you’re from Virginia and were just visiting your home town?”

You smile widely at him as you nod, pulling him in from his tie for one last kiss. Or who knows, it might not even be the last one.

MASTERLIST

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fic #hotch fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team fanfiction

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mando-fando · 10 months

Text

The Other Man

Okay, here's my FIRST FIC in ages. I wrote it in a very specific style bc of the ~vibe~

Hope you like it!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Wife!Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, established relationship, (idk if there's more pls tell me?)

The love story of Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara

You’re Gabriella’s mother and Miguel’s wife. A few weeks ago, things were a little off with your husband; you wrote it off until now…

Your heart pounded in your chest as you set a timer on your phone and waited. You thought of your darling daughter, and her bubbly, beautiful personality. You thought of your family, and how arguably perfect your life was thanks to your husband’s dedication and tenacity.

You were panicking, on the verge of tears as the timer silently counted down on your phone screen. You thought of your husband. Your real husband.

13yearsago

Miguel was the first person you’d met at your college orientation. A tall lanky kid who stepped onto the campus tour bus at the last minute and had nowhere to sit but next to you. You felt yourself fall for him instantly when his eyes met your own.

You both chatted awkwardly like teenagers do; you mentioned your majors (he was genetics and you were communications), you talked about your high schools, your friends, and anything else your distracted minds could come up with.

You mentioned that science wasn’t your strong suit, and Miguel suggested taking a science class together so he could be your lab partner. You settled on chemistry, and looked forward to starting classes in the fall.

You exchanged numbers and texted through the rest of the summer. By the time the semester started, you were attached at the hip.

The week that you moved into the dorms, he brought you a bouquet of carnations (you were allergic to roses) and asked you to be his girlfriend right in front of everyone. You said yes with bright pink cheeks.

That night, when all the new freshmen were out enjoying welcoming activities, you and Miguel lost your virginities to each other with soft music playing in the background. You’d heard from your friends that the first time was awful, but you two were slow with each other. You knew you’d chosen the right guy, and you couldn’t imagine sharing the experience with anyone else.

It rained on the first day of classes. Torrential downpour, and you walked into the library together soaked and giggling to take a picture in front of your school’s “Welcome Freshmen!” backdrop.

That photo was framed and hanging above your bed like many others you’d taken over the years.

The chemistry class was hard. Your hardest class by far, but Miguel was there with you every week. He came over to your dorm after the lab to explain everything in detail as many times as you needed. He’d stay late and you’d share cheap pizza and watch movies.

Your friends started calling you Mrs. O’Hara long before you were actually married. You two were the one constant couple among them. You and Miguel would go for ice cream with them after every fresh heartbreak. You reminded them that love exists because you two had it. They’d always lick their wounds and get back out there, thanking you both for your encouragement.

When sophomore year rolled around, your parents offered to rent you an apartment. You begged for them to let Miguel live with you (they loved him of course), and, to your surprise, they said yes.

In between classes, you and Miguel lived in domestic bliss. You had no idea that building furniture, grocery shopping late at night, and decorating could be so fun. He made it so much more enjoyable.

You learned so much about him, sometimes swearing that you knew him better than you knew yourself. You loved how his brow twitched in his sleep, and you loved how he was considerate enough to cover your face with the blanket before he turned on the bedroom light. He made your heart melt every single day, and you couldn’t imagine loving someone more.

You stayed up late on Sundays with him and proofread his papers. He was brilliant, but he couldn’t string together a sentence on paper to save his life.

“Do you even know what a comma is!?” You’d asked as you aggressively hit the backspace button on his laptop.

“Do you know what an autosome is?” He replied in a sarcastic voice, ruffling your hair. (he always ruffled your hair.)

You rolled your eyes and finished proofreading his paper. After he submitted it, he closed both of your laptops and bent you over the table. Your pajama pants were around your ankles as you moaned into the cheap veneer.

Miguel fucked you on every surface in that apartment: the shower, bent over the counters and the table, against the wall, on the floor. It was your space together, and he was ready to claim the 600 sqft and your body for himself.

God, you missed that apartment.

A year later, you took your first vacation alone together to Mexico. You’d never been, but he’d gone a few times when he was younger. You felt secure with him as he easily switched between English and Spanish, and you listened intently as he showed you the places that he remembered visiting years prior.

You walked along the beach, hand in hand watching the sunset. He was explaining something about the tides, and you smiled wide at him and then looked at the pinky-purple sky.

When you looked back, he was on one knee with a ring box. You swear your heart stopped for a moment.

“Yes! Are you kidding me!? Yes!” you nearly screeched at the top of your lungs. He swung you around and dipped you into a kiss. It felt like a scene from a movie. (The only thing he hadn’t thought of was a photographer, but some passersby took a few candid photos and sent them to you.)

A year later, you graduated in May and had your wedding in June. The wedding felt like something out of a fairytale.

Your mother had been insistent on every last detail being perfect, and you were so grateful for her meticulousness as you walked down the aisle. The sun was beginning to set as you said your vows, and you nearly died of embarrassment when he tore your garter off with his teeth in front of everyone.

Now, Miguel was your husband.

Your husband whose eyes were brimming with tears as you walked down the aisle.

Your husband who hugged your parents as if they were his own.

Your husband who looked at you as if you hung the moon.

Your husband.

A few months later, you started your first job and Miguel started grad school.

You’d come home in your blazers and slacks and heels, and he’d give you a particular look.

“What are you looking at?” You asked one day while making dinner.

“Nothing, I just think it’s hot that I’m married to a sexy businesswoman,” he grinned.

He especially loved when you wore tights and that little black dress. (He usually tore them off of you when you got home and promised to buy you new ones.)

Six months into your new job, you called in sick.

“Are you alright?” he sat on your side of the bed and pet your hair gently.

“I just feel so nauseous. It must be something I ate. Do you feel nauseous?”

He shook his head. “Do you want me to get you anything? I could stay home from classes to take care of you.”

“No, school is first. I’ll be okay.” you squeezed his hand.

He kissed you on the forehead and left you a glass of water on your nightstand.

After throwing up the contents of your stomach twice over, a thought crossed your mind.

You ran to the store and picked up two pregnancy tests.

You practically ripped them out of their boxes in your bathroom.

You sat and waited, worrying about what your husband would say.

In both of your minds, kids were still years away.

The pink plus signs on both tests brought you to the harsh reality that those plans were no longer relevant.

Your mind flooded with worry. You were a newbie at your job, you hadn’t even been married for a year, Miguel had so much school left.

You spent the afternoon drowning in your anxiety.

“Amor, I brought you that soup that you like.” Miguel called from the living room. He found you in your bedroom with a tear-stained, puffy face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You turned around and showed him the tests. “What are we going to do?!” you cried. You searched his face, waiting to see his brow crease with worry just like yours.

Instead, he beamed. His face lit up brighter than the sun, and you felt every awful scenario that you’d tortured yourself with melt away at his excitement. He hugged you without saying a word, one of his amazing bear hugs that he knew always made you feel better. You petted his hair, and you knew everything was going to be just fine.

He pulled back from you and you saw tears sliding down his face. “This is amazing,” he whispered.

You kissed his cheek and hugged him again.

“Yeah, it really is, huh?” you whispered back.

There was no better word for your pregnancy than miserable. Your morning sickness lasted longer than the first trimester, and despite being young, you experienced health issue after health issue.

You were bedridden for the last few months of pregnancy, but your husband made it all better.

Your husband who somehow had boundless energy when you had none. Your husband who nearly tripled his class load to graduate early.

Your husband who held your hair back as you emptied the breakfast he made you into the toilet.

Your husband who put on over 100 pounds of muscle so he could ‘be strong enough for the baby.’

Your husband whom you somehow fell even more in love with, which you didn’t even think was possible.

He received his master’s degree in May. You felt enormous, but you begged him to let you take him out to celebrate.

Your water broke in the restaurant.

He rushed you out, you’re not even sure if you paid for the food. He drove you to the hospital as you squeezed his hand with all your might and swore at him.

After making it to the hospital in record time, your doctors looked at you sympathetically.

Of course, after an extremely rough pregnancy, you were going to have a rough delivery too.

Hours and hours of labor and deliberating. Hours of worry and discontentment. Hours of pain and exhaustion.

Everyone eventually decided that a c-section was the way to go. You stared up at the ceiling as your body was being sliced and poked and prodded, and your husband held your hand and gave you words of encouragement.

A loud cry broke through your anxious thoughts. The entire world stopped.

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara, it’s a girl; 10 fingers and 10 toes and a great head of hair!” the doctor plopped her on your chest.

In that moment, you three were the only ones in the entire universe. Your baby, your husband, and you. Nothing had ever been more perfect.

Hours later, after you’d gotten some much needed rest and food, you both gazed down at her sleeping face. “We never even had time to talk about names,” Miguel whispered. He ran a gentle finger over her tiny little hand. Your heart swelled for him even more.

“I was thinking…” you started, “Maybe we could name her Gabriella, after your brother?”

You heard him gasp quietly. You began to open your mouth to suggest something else. “It’s perfect. She looks like a Gabriella, don’t you think?” he never took his eyes off of her.

“She looks like an O’Hara,” you chuckled. “Of course, she lived in my body for 9 months and came out looking like you.”

Despite all the trouble she gave you during your pregnancy, Gabriella was such an easy baby. She slept through the night, she was easy to feed, and she was always content to sit with you.

Those first few weeks of parenthood were surreal. You and Miguel would simply stare at her for hours, unsure how you made such a precious, perfect thing. She mesmerized the both of you.

One evening, you were making dinner while Miguel fed her. His phone rang, and you overheard him in the living room.

“Yes, I’d be happy to accept the offer! You have no idea what this means for my family, thank you so much.”

He’d gotten a job at Alchemax. A fancy, well-paying job in his field.

“You know, I’ll be making enough that you can stay home with Gabi if you want,” he said after you’d put her to bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that? I can go back to work when my maternity leave is up - my parents offered to watch her during the day.”

He pulled you close, “I want you to get to spend time with our daughter. I want you to raise her, no offense to your parents.”

And so you did.

The time flew by. You two bought a house close to your parents, he bought you a new car for your birthday, and all of the sudden, your daughter was turning one.

Your house was filled with friends from college (many now with their own spouses), relatives, and friends from Miguel’s new job and your old one.

You all watched as Gabriella smashed a white cupcake straight into her thick black hair. You and your husband sat together with your bubbly baby girl and opened present after present, making a mess of the wrapping paper.

Suddenly, time was moving even faster. Preschool, kindergarten, soccer practice, family vacations. Miguel had the biggest soft spot for your daughter.

Watching him be a parent made your heart grow ten times bigger. He woke up before the sun rose every day so he could be home to put her to bed every night.

He read to her, he answered every question she had and never discounted her curiosity.

He made it to every practice and soccer game, and took the whole team out for ice cream periodically.

He let you sleep in late on Sundays and made pancakes and coffee.

He was perfect. There was no other way to describe it.

Suddenly, your daughter was 8 years old. She was constantly outgrowing her clothes, reading voraciously, and performing well in school. Her teachers and coaches praised your parenting to no end. You and Miguel smiled, “She’s just the most amazing kid.”

You felt on top of the moon. You couldn’t believe that you’d stressed so much all those years ago in that little apartment when you’d seen the positive pregnancy test.

Everything seemed right with the world. At least until a few weeks ago.

Your husband wasn’t home yet. You checked your phone incessantly, but you never received a call or text.

You got through bedtime with your daughter. She asked three different times where her father was.

After she was sound asleep, you began to get worried. You called his phone again and he didn’t answer.

A sickly feeling bubbled in your gut. Not the churning anxiety that you’d felt so many times before, this was different. This felt like intuition. Something was terribly wrong.

You texted everyone you knew asking if they had heard from him. You called the businesses that you thought he could be at. No one. It was like he had fallen off the face of the Earth.

Just after 2am, you considered calling the police. As you began to dial, you heard a key turn in the lock.

He walked in looking disheveled. You ran over to him and jumped into his arms.

“I was so worried! Where were you!?” you squeezed him tight around his neck.

“I’m sorry, we got caught up in a chem testing sequence. I’m not supposed to tell anyone about the project, so that’s why they said I wasn’t there.” He kissed your cheek and squeezed you.

“You smell weird,” you said. He had such a distinct smell, a combination of the laundry detergent you used, his cologne, and his deodorant. He smelled all wrong for some reason.

He looked you in the eyes and smiled. You’d never noticed how his smile was just the slightest bit crooked.

“Let’s take a shower, amor.” He set you back on your feet. “I want to go take a peek at Gabriella, though. I’ll meet you in the bathroom,” he kissed you on the forehead and made his way to her room.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something was off about your husband that evening. At first, you blamed his late night. He claimed that his workload in the lab was increasing, but something still didn’t sit quite right with you.

You’d stare at him out of the corner of your eye, not sure what you were hoping to see.

He’d found a new interest in your sex life, as well. He pawed at you in your sleep and pressed your cheek up against the shower door late at night. He seemed like he was learning your body all over again.

In some ways, he was the man you married. He still threw himself into parenting your daughter. He still made it to every soccer practice and game, still read to her every night.

But you knew something was wrong.

Your best guess was that he was cheating, but it seemed so out of character for him. Still, you had nothing else.

He came home late again and found you sitting in the bedroom with your bedside lamp on. “You’re still up?” he asked.

“What the hell is going on with you?” You demanded.

His brows knitted together in a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“Are you cheating on me, Miguel?”

“Amor, I would ne-”

“Then what is it?” Your voice was low with suspicion.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He sat next to you and leaned in close.

“I don’t know what it is, Miguel. But something’s not right. I know you, and I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” You flipped the light off and pulled the covers up.

“I love you, honey. Nothing’s wrong, I promise,” he said in the darkness.

“Whatever, Miguel. I’m going to sleep,” you turned away from him and shut your eyes.

The timer on your phone went off.

You thought again about your husband.

Your husband who brought you roses yesterday.

Your husband who couldn’t remember what size jersey your daughter wears.

Your husband who’d had a vasectomy 5 years ago.

You stared at the positive pregnancy test and sobbed.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse

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hellfire--cult · 11 months

Text

Inspired by this TikTok

Cupid!Eddie x Fem!Reader - Oneshot

Request - Eddie's past - Back to Hawkins

Words: 10.7K

Warnings: Pure absolute fluff and romantical tension. No Smut. You will fall in love with Dorito.

Summary: After bad dates and a heartbreak, you believe god is playing jokes on you. You believe love is not for you anymore, but your own personal cupid comes to the rescue to change just that... You just never thought he would look like that.

A/N: IDK I just loved the idea of that TikTok showing Cupid falling for the girl he is supposed to help, and I found myself writing a whole fucking oneshot of Eddie being the protagonist. Personally, I love this couple! So if you want to send some asks, or blurbs for me to write, I would love to write more oneshots of these two, or even imagines! (and smut ofc) SO ASK AWAY.

If you do get inspired by this story or Cupid!Eddie, please, credit properly! I would love to read or watch whatever you guys make! ❤️ Anyways, ENJOY, and remember that if you liked the story, a reblog is very much appreciated! ❤️

And follow me for more oneshots and series!

You were sure this was a joke.

Like, this had to be a cruel joke sent by someone or anything at all. You were minding your own business, at your company’s annual party, and you could invite guests this year.

Now, you didn’t expect your own fucking boss, who is ten years older than you, to walk in with your Ex-Boyfriend, hand in hand. The man who told you he loved you, asked for your hand in marriage, and the very next day he told you it was all an impulse.

You left him on the spot.

That was a year ago, but to see him again, hand in hand with your own boss, who met him before, was just a cruel joke. You almost dropped your glass of champagne as they smiled while walking, introducing themselves to people. The worst part of it all? They looked genuinely happy. You could see it when he would lean over to whisper something in her ear, and she would giggle, or the soft touches of hers fixing his tie, or a strand of hair out of place.

You were a mess, for a whole year, trying to move on, going date after date, with people that weren’t even in your own interest, but you never rejected a date. But you were now tired, wanting a connection, and it seems like God wanted to laugh at you right now, because he was showing you how your Ex had no problem in doing so, and it seems he found an even better match.

So you went home. You didn’t even stay for the party, and you didn’t even introduce yourself to them. You have seen enough for the night, and all you wanted to do was to get home, pet your fat cat called Dorito, and head to bed. Maybe cry a little.

Makeup gone, hair up in a messy bun, long oversized shirt on, and a pair of large sweatpants, you hopped in your bed with Dorito on your lap, and turned on the TV to find something suitable to watch while you drift to sleep.

But it seems now Cupid wants to laugh at you too.

You change channel through channel. Titanic, The Notebook, Harry meets Sally, Dear John, and fucking Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

“Are you fucking kidding me you son of a cunt!” Dorito perked up, alarmed, looking at you and you were huffing angrily through your nose, staring at the screen across your bed, turning it off completely and throwing your remote to the floor. You held onto Dorito, under its armpits and made him stand on your lap, in front of you.

“Mreow~” He greeted you and you just felt your eyes fill with hot tears as you looked at him.

“Is cupid playing some fucking joke to me? Why does he get a happy ending and I had no luck whatsoever? Why?! I was the one who got hurt!” Your cat tilted its head to the side as you kept your rant going on, anger and sadness coming out of your mouth. “Fuck love, fuck destiny, fuck the cunt cupid is.”

The doorbell rang, startling you and Dorito out of your stare contest.

“What the fuck…” You looked at your phone and tapped on it to look at the time. 10:25 PM. Maybe a neighbor in your building had a problem, or needs help with something? You stood up, putting Dorito on your bed, and walked towards the door, looking through the peephole. A man you don’t recognize stood there, long hair down, wearing a black leather jacket and he wasn’t facing the door.

You slowly opened it, a sweet smell invading your nostrils , and you realized he was just a tad taller than you. You cleared your throat and he turned around to flash a dimpled smile towards your way and you felt like your throat had caught on fire by how beautiful this man looked to you.

“Hi! I’m Eddie.” He introduced himself to you and you slowly blinked, coming back to your senses and realizing just how horrible you look right now. You had no makeup on, a messy bun in your head, your sleepwear was on, and you had Stitch slippers on your feet. You blushed a deep red and introduced yourself to him, wanting the earth to swallow you whole.

“Are you new in the building?” He looked around and then back down at you and shook his head.

“No, I’m here for work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I’m your Cupid.”

Blink.

What did he just say?

“I’m sorry, what?” You were stunned on the ground, staring at the crazy man before you.

“Like I said, I’m your cupid. I’m here to help you find your one destined partner, and for you to also apologize for the way you–”

You closed the door on his face. No. No way. This is some sick dream of yours, it has to be! Maybe the glass of champagne you took was enough for you to lose your senses and your right mind. Or maybe you’ve gone crazy with loneliness. That is also a really big possibility that you weren’t going to deny. You locked your door, stepped away from it and took a deep breath in.

“Okay, that was weird.” You walked towards your room again, only to scream at the top of your lungs when you saw that man laying against the headboard of your bed, petting your cat that was purring on his chest.

“It is very rude to slam doors on people’s faces.” He glared at you as Dorito started doing biscuits on his chest. You were breathing heavily with your hand on your chest and you pointed at your living room and back at him, and repeated the motion again.

“But you– There– And now here– how?” You couldn’t even formulate a good question. You were completely shocked, because a strange man, who claims to be a being that doesn’t exist, was on your bed, petting your cat with no care in the world.

“Like I said, I’m cupid. Your cupid to be exact.” He explains as Dorito nuzzles his face against his neck, purring wildly. He is an affectionate cat, but only with you really, so you were surprised he was even doing this to a random man that was on your bed. Who MAGICALLY appeared in your bed.

“What the actual fuck, am I drugged or some shit?”

“Nope.”

“High?”

“Nope.”

“Did I get drunk and didn’t notice?”

“Not really, no.”

“Did I go crazy?”

“Not for now, no.” He was looking at you while you rambled on and on, being patient. You were trying to correct your breathing, gulping loudly as you nodded once in thought.

“Okay… Okay, this is fine… This happens in real life, completely normal…” You said more to yourself than anyone else in the room as you sat at the edge of the bed, looking at nothing in particular. You heard Eddie sigh, as he put Dorito on his belly for him to lay there.

“I know it’s a lot to take, but I sensed you were a little bit distraught, and you even insulted me.” He says with a stern look on his face and you slowly turn to look at him with wide eyes.

“How is any of this real?”

“Alright. I’m going to explain it to you so you can finally digest what’s going on.” He readjusted himself, putting Dorito on his lap as he sat right next to you on the edge of the bed. “Everyone’s got a special cupid. We normally don’t get to work unless the person actually feels discouraged and hopeless in terms of love.”

“I’m not discouraged–”

“Yes, yes you are, and I don’t blame you. Seeing an ex move on happily when you remain stuck is not something easy to see, much less if all the guys you’ve been seeing till now were a complete waste of time.” He says with a chuckle and you were still trying to comprehend what’s going on right now. Maybe you need to sleep, but if this is a dream, then might as well get some advice.

“Alright… So why are you sending me these guys that are horrible for me? Don’t you know who’s the one for me? Like my destined person?” You ask and he started petting your cat on his lap as it purred loudly while he looked forward.

“No. I don’t know who your match is, nor the one for you. And before today, I never sent anyone your way, nor made you fall for anyone, not even with your ex.” He explains to you and you were frowning in confusion at his words.

“I thought cupids, like… Throw an arrow through two people’s hearts and they fall in love.” At that Eddie lets out a wild laugh, shaking his head.

“No, no… That’s all Cartoon stuff. We only help consummate a relationship. We help our person be hopeful about love again.” He explains to you and you were still wondering how he would help in this situation.

“So, how does this work?”

“Well, I can make you meet people that might be of your taste, just out of pure coincidence. I can help you with your looks, with your confidence, and also advise you.” He finishes saying as Dorito lets out a big yawn and you couldn’t help but yawn as well, copying his movement.

“So, you will basically hook me up with someone and hope for the best. Is that it?” He chuckles at you, shrugging and standing from the bed.

“Something like that, but we’ll see. For now, go to bed.” You were feeling your eyes growing heavy, and your body completely relaxed as the sweet scent invaded your nostrils. This was a good dream, knowing your mind made up a little cupid to feel hopeful of finding someone for you. The one.

Yeah, you really wanted to find the one.

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling so refreshed, like you had slept correctly for once in your life.

You sighed happily when you felt Dorito purring loudly on your chest, waiting for you to wake up. You wrapped your arms around him, caressing him softly.

“What a dream huh? You were in it too. This cupid dude showed up and you were all over him.” You giggled, sitting up on your bed and you sniffed the air. You slowly stood up, your stomach grumbling with the need of food in your system, and you walked out to the living room.

You screamed.

“JESUS H. CHRIST!” Eddie thrashed around, the plate on his hand falling onto the sink as he finished washing it. He turned around to look at you with a frown to his brows and widened eyes. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“You– Am I still dreaming?” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Dorito was meowing on your arms, trying to get away and you put him down. He waddled towards Eddie, throwing himself on the floor to show him his big fat belly. Eddie bent down and scratched the cat, making him stretch out.

“I told you, I’m real.” He says, getting up again and putting some eggs and bacon on a plate. He put it on the island counter and motioned for you to sit on the stool. You slowly walked towards it, sitting on it, not leaving your sight off Eddie.

“This is crazy… Am I the only one who can see you?” You ask as you see the plate pushed over to you and an empty glass. You frowned at it and looked at him. “Where’s the juice?” He smiled at you and looked down at the glass again and you followed it, seeing the glass now with the orange liquid inside.

Your heart was beating against your chest, the nerves flying all around your belly. This was real, he is real, what he is doing, as magical as it appears, it’s real.

“Yes, and no. People can see me, but my powers don’t really work on them. My only job here is to get you better, and hopeful for love.” He explains to you once again and you blink, grabbing onto the glass of juice, taking a sip of it. You put it down and scanned him, squinting a little bit.

“I thought Cupids were like cherubs… You clearly don’t look angelic to me.” He laughed at that, giving you a nod.

“That is true. I don’t look like a regular cupid. We all have our own personalities, and our own styles. We were human once, so it is something natural for us to be ourselves.” You were confused now, interest picking up as the shock of the situation was wearing off.

“You were human? You look human to me, present tense.”

“A normal human cannot teleport and make things appear out of thin air darling. I look like one, but I am not one.” He explains to you and you tilted your head completely confused.

“And how did you become one?” He was about to answer you, but his head lifted up, almost alarmingly and he clapped at you to quicken your pace with your food.

“I’ll tell you later. Eat fast!” You were looking all around as he paced around the room and you basically inhaled your eggs and bacon, chugging down your juice, almost choking as you saw Eddie pouring milk on Dorito’s plate.

“Okay, I almost died, but I am done, what happened?” You asked him and he stood up, looking at your attire and he sighed, shaking his head.

“That won’t do, okay… So, he uses polo shirts, so maybe…” He tilted his head once and you felt a swoosh of air hit your body once, and you were completely confused as to what happened until you looked down at yourself, your eyes widening when you saw yourself wearing some leather pants and a white shirt on.

“What the–”

“Nope.” He tilted his head again, and you felt the air hit you again. You looked down to see a floral pink dress on you and you scrunched up your nose at it. “I know, it’s pink.” He gave a nod to it, and the dress turned navy blue.

“You can… change my clothes?” You asked him, completely bewildered and he nodded, letting a sigh out.

“Like I said, I am here to help you.” He walked towards you and you felt your breathing hitch as he pulled you hair down from the bun and he shook it a little bit. You pushed his hands away but then saw he was putting your hair over your shoulders in perfect waves. He then put his hands on your face and you stared up at him, feeling your breath quicken at his stare.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

“Alright, makeup naturally done, hair done, clothes excellent. Good. He should arrive any second now, so I will hide in your room.” He pulled away from you and you blinked wildly, shaking your head in confusion.

“What? Who is coming–” Your doorbell rang and he whispered to you.

“Just be yourself, no tricks, no jokes, nothing. Be yourself!” He bolted out of the room, getting hold of Dorito, giving you a soldier salute before closing the door behind him. You were stunned into the ground and the doorbell rang once more, and you snapped out, rushing towards the door, slowly opening it to see the man before you.

Oh lord…

He didn’t turn around yet to look at you, but you could already see from his profile that he was so beautiful. Beauty marks on his features, brown hair neatly done on his head, brown eyes looking at the horizon while he waited for you to open the door, and… He was indeed wearing a polo shirt.

“Hi! I’m Steve, I moved–” He looked at you only to stop talking completely as he stared at you, gawk would be the exact word. You were looking up at him, waiting for him to continue but he started stuttering out of nowhere. “I– Shit, um– Like I said, I’m Steve.” He introduced himself again and you smiled at his playfulness, feeling a warm feeling in your chest.

“Hi Steve.” You presented yourself and you looked down to see he was holding a small bag of something. He took a deep breath in and gave the bag to you, which you grabbed with a confused frown in your face, but your smile never fell.

“I uh, those are cookies, I didn’t make them of course. I don’t know how to bake, or cook for that matter. I mean, I tried, you know, it’s not that I expect it to be done for me, but I just simply suck at culinary interests.” He was rambling, completely nervous in your presence. He didn’t think a beautiful girl would live in his building, and now he was thankful for Robin who helped him pick this place.

“I mean, if you know how to cook sausages and some eggs, then you’re good to go.” You reply to him, trying to lighten the situation and you succeed, as he chuckles, showing you off his charming smile and you could almost feel yourself melt at the sight.

“I’m more of a pasta guy. I’m a pro at that.” He replies to you and you giggle at his response with a nod.

“Well, if I ever smell burning, I know who to save first.” He put a hand over his chest as if he got wounded by your words and he winced as if in pain.

“We just met and you are already killing me off? That’s brutal.”

“I said I’d save you.” You giggled again and he bit his bottom lip, nodding.

“At least there’s one good person in this building. I said hello to the lady in the first floor, department B, and she almost sent her cat to chase me off.” He said to you with a frown and you nodded at that with a roll of the eyes.

“Mrs. O’Donnell. Crazy bitch, don’t ever cross paths with her. When you are doing your laundry, or even taking out the trash. You see her, turn around and come back later.” You advise him, remembering how you tried to start a conversation with her in the laundry room and she kept eyeing your clothes to tell you that you were a sinner.

“Okay, keep that noted.” He licked his lips and you felt yourself blushing slightly at the change of air around you two as he took a step closer to you. “Should I keep my distance with you too?”

You gave out a little snort and you felt like a high school student again as he flirted with you, looking down at the floor, swaying a little.

“I’m a good neighbor.” You reply, looking up at him and you notice the slight glint in his eyes as you let him go on with his flirting, not pushing him away and not making any excuses. He pulled out his cellphone, almost dropping it because of his nervousness but he tried to play it cool for you as he opened his contact list.

“Since you are the only friendly neighbor I met, is it too crazy to ask for your number?” He licked his bottom lip and you raised an eyebrow up, smirking at his sly way of asking for your number.

“You don’t have to do the whole neighbor charade to ask for my number, you know?” You tell him, seeing him blush slightly. God, he is cute. But to your surprise, he continued with his playfulness, grinning at you.

“Oh, you want to give it to me for some other purpose?” Your eyes widened, catching you off guard, and he laughed at your reaction instantly, making your cheeks get a tint of pink in them as butterflies swam in your belly.

“Now for that teasing, I will not give you my number.” You threatened him and his eyes widened, shaking his head but his smile was still on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I would love to have your number.” He sincerely replies now, handing you his phone and you bite the inside of your cheek to forbid yourself from smiling even further as you type in your contact number in his phone. You handed it back to him and he smiled down at it and then looked up at you. “If you smell smoke, it’s probably me making toast.”

You shook your head with a giggle and said goodbye to him, looking at his retreating back as he glanced back at you one more time, making you jump in embarrassment as he caught you red handed spying on him. You immediately closed the door of your apartment, the smile not disappearing on your face.

A cute boy. A very handsome boy, and a gentleman at that.

You sighed happily and turned around, only to scream at the sight of Eddie with an excited look on his face, holding Dorito by his armpits, jumping up and down slightly, making the cat meow in annoyance.

“You gotta stop screaming every time you see me sweets.” He said while putting Dorito down on the floor, and looking at you. “So? Did you like him? I can sense you do, but I want to be completely sure.” You shook your head but a smile crept on your lips and you hid your face in your hands bashfully, making Eddie jump in excitement. “Hell yeah baby! That’s what I am talking about!”

“Now I get it when you said to me you will make me meet people just by coincidence.” He nodded at your words and sat down on the couch, Dorito following his step and laying down next to him.

“Exactly! I knew he was coming over today, and I can also see a little bit of the other person before meeting you, letting me know that he is indeed worth meeting.” He explains to you as starts petting your cat, making him yawn loudly. You walked towards the couch and sat on it, leaving Dorito in between you and Eddie.

“So, can you tell me about him?”

“Nuh uh. I know about him, but won’t tell you. You have to meet him yourself. What I can tell you though, is that he is not a psychopath, nor is he into freaky shit or something. I wouldn’t risk your life like that.” Your heart skipped a bit at his words, feeling a sense of protection from him. You cleared your throat and looked out the window.

“So, you’re like my guardian angel now?” He chuckled at that, and shrugged.

“Different job, but for now, it kinda seems like it.”

Steve messaged you the day after.

And the day after that.

And the next day he invited you for some coffee at the cafe next to your building.

The days blended together, and you found Eddie’s company in your apartment quite warming. It was nice to come home and see him watching a movie or hear him sing in the shower. You put out your couch as his bed, which he told you was not necessary since he could come and go wherever he pleased, but you insisted nonetheless.

You both sometimes cooked together, and sometimes he would make food appear when he didn’t feel like moving an inch. You wondered if his powers made him tired in some way. He was very reserved with who he was, and what he could do, but other times, like today, sharing a glass of wine, he would let go a little bit.

“So, you told me you were human before.” You say as you both sat on the couch, facing one another with Dorito in the middle with his belly up for scratches which Eddie was dutifully doing.

“That’s right.”

“Does that mean you are dead?” You ask him and he chuckles, taking a sip of his glass of wine, shaking his head.

“No. I am not, but I am immortal, and for some reason I don’t bleed.” You nodded in understanding, but still slightly confused, and took a sip of your own drink before talking again.

“Alright, but did you die to be able to turn into cupid?” He frowned at that, looking down at your cat, letting out a big sigh. You felt the air in the room shift into something more melancholic, as if sadness sipped through the walls.

“No, not exactly. The only way to become a cupid is if you chose to be. You can die from a broken heart, or continue on as a helper.” He explains to you and you feel your heart sink in your chest as well as anxious nerves writhe in your stomach.

“Does that… mean you were heartbroken?” He wasn’t looking at you, just swirling his glass with the liquid inside. He looked distant, as if the memory was causing him pain.

“I was. But a broken heart can come from various places. From a lover, from a friend, from family… I just received too many blows in my life, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He says while taking a sip out of his glass, a very long one. You wondered how many ended up like him, disheartened, broken, to the point of not wanting to keep going any longer.

“Did a lover do that to you?” You ask him, curiosity very present in your eyes as you looked at him and he gazed up to lock eyes with yours. He shook his head and your features grew sad for him. “I know you said you couldn’t know who is ‘The One’, but does it even exist?” You ask him now and he straightens up in his seat and gives you a nod.

“Yes. The One exists. Your destined person. They do, but there is… something about that.” He says with a pained frown while looking at you. “They can be alive at any point. They could be alive right now, same timeline as you, or, they could have already died, or never been born yet.”

Your eyes widened at that. So, the game of life and destiny was just some cruel joke. It was as if someone was just playing dice over your heads and deciding if you would suffer or meet your other half. If you were going to live happily ever after, or drown yourself in misery and loneliness.

“Did you have one?”

“No. When I became cupid, I only got one piece of information, and it was that they weren’t born yet.” You nodded at that, taking a sip of your wine and scooted even closer to him.

“So, right now you don’t know who they are at all?”

“I don’t know if they were even born. Once you become cupid your own love life is unknown to you.” He chuckles sadly, grabbing the bottle of wine off the table and pouring himself some more. You lean your glass towards him and he pours you some as well, muttering a soft ‘thank you’ to him.

“When did you…?” You stutter a little at your question, not really knowing how to keep going with it, but a knock on your door makes you jump up slightly, and you look at Eddie alarmingly. He simply chuckles and looks at you, his hand reaching up to your cheek, lingering there for a few seconds.

Your breathing hitched slightly as you looked into his eyes and he looked back into yours. The alcohol was mixing with the butterflies in your stomach as you felt his warmth invade your skin, your air, and you just wanted to keep looking at him. You wanted to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay, that he was an amazing man, even after what he went through.

And you just felt a little helpless around him.

He gulped and pulled away from your face, giving you a dimpled smirk.

“Put a little blush on those cheeks. Go open the door for him.” He got up from the couch and held onto his glass of wine, walking into your room. You didn’t know if he was in there or actually leaves whenever Steve knocks or comes to say something to you. You got up from the couch, putting the glass on your coffee table and walked towards the door, pulling the door open to reveal Steve in a suit.

“Hi there.�� He says with a smile and you feel yourself becoming warm at his greeting. He is such a cute man.

“Hi Steve, or should I say Mr. Harrington?” You say with an eyebrow raised up in question, combined with your smile as you eyed up his suit. He laughed and gave you a nod.

“Yeah, I know, you’re mesmerized.” You roll your eyes at his words and you giggle, feeling this interaction lifting the heavy mood from earlier on that you had with Eddie. “I actually got off work early, and it got me thinking… uhm.”

You bite your bottom lip, giggles completely halting as you wait for his words. Was it going to happen? Was he going to ask you out? Finally?

‘He is.’

Your eyes slightly widened at the voice, making you look behind your back to see if Eddie was next to you, or behind you, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

‘I can talk to you in your mind sweetheart. Part of my job is to make sure you don’t mess up while talking.’

You wanted to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you couldn’t when Steve was being a mumbling mess in front of you. He might think you’re making fun of him or something and you certainly weren’t doing that.

‘Urge him.’

“Steve…” You called him out, giving him a small smile of encouragement and he took a deep breath in, stopping with his rambling and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I just haven't asked a girl out in a while so…” He said with a slight blush on his cheeks and you raised an eyebrow up at him.

“You were going to ask me out?” You say, almost a whisper as you looked up at him and it seems he got all the courage he needed as you stared at him, waiting for him to keep going.

“Yeah. I got off early today and honestly… The first thing I thought of was that I wanted to see you.” Oh, that certainly made you blush, and he wasn’t far behind that, but despite his nervousness and his cheesiness, he kept going. “So maybe, I can pick you up at 6 PM on friday? We can head down to the bar a few blocks from here.”

‘You don’t even need me to tell you what to say right now.’

You cursed at Eddie inside your head because he was distracting you. ‘Shut up!’ You yelled at him, not really knowing if it works the other way around, until you hear a soft chuckle vibrate in the depths of your mind, and you knew he had gotten your message.

“Friday at 6… It’s a date, Stevie.” You comment with a smile, and the guy before you was almost bursting with happiness as his eyes sparkled at your approval. He bit his bottom lip, and you felt your heart beat loudly into your ears as he nodded at you.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” You watched as he walked down the hallway, stealing a few glances over his shoulder and towards you. You waved at him one last time until he was out of sight and you entered the house, slamming the door shut with a big smile on your face. Eddie was already out of your room, smiling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Eddie, oh my god!” You squealed excitedly as you rushed towards your phone to raise the music up from the speakers. ‘I Wanna dance with somebody’ by Whitney Houston was blasting and you couldn’t help but want to dance out of happiness right now. You were going on a date with a cute guy on friday! A guy who doesn’t look like he just wants to get in your pants! A guy that is genuinely interested in you and is willing to make conversation and get to know you!

“The 80’s? Really?” Eddie asks with a cock of his head, his eyebrow raised up. You just rushed over to him and grabbed his hands, twirling both of you around, catching him completely by surprise as he stumbled while you moved him. “You know this kind of music is not my scene? Thought my clothes were pretty obvious, sweetheart.”

You felt your stomach twirl at the nickname, but you kept the smile on your face and then started pulling his arms back and forth, making him sway in his place. A smile was creeping in his face as he looked down at you and he instantly twirled you in place, making you giggle and then he pulled you to his body, his hand on the small of your back and his right hand holding your left.

He started singing along as he started moving around in an exaggerated manner, making you laugh and helping him sing along. You were happy, content in this moment right here. You felt his sweet scent invading you, as you saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he sang along in high pitch and then low in order to make you laugh.

“Now that’s a singer right there.” You say with a smile and he chuckled, looking down at you.

“I was in a band actually. Played guitar too.” He says to you and you caught the sad smile that painted in his features. You raised your hand up, pulling a curl of his behind his ear, slowly and gently, and you felt a wave of lightning course through you, as if you had touched a naked copper cable.

He was staring down at you, his eyes locked in yours as you inspected him, touched him. He was about to pull away out of nervousness, and because he was starting to feel tense at the situation. A situation that never happened to him before. He never had this much interaction with his human, he just helped them and–

“Is the 80’s your time?” You asked him, taking him aback completely. You both fell into a small sway, going side to side as his hands rested on your hips, barely touching you, while your hands rested on his chest, staring up at his features.

“How did you know?”

“You know a lot about the music of that time. I caught you singing some songs before while cooking, or showering and they’re all from the 80’s.” He gave you a small smile and then a nod.

“1989 was the year I decided to become a Cupid. I was 23 years old.” So he is, technically, younger than you. But if you had to count the years he kept his youth, he is much older.

“What happened to you?” You brushed your hand over his chest, just where his heart is, and you could feel the beating of it, and you could almost hear it from how hard it was strumming against his chest.

“I got cheated on by the only girlfriend I ever had… Slipped up and lost my band too and then, I– I lost the only person who ever cared for me. My uncle. Died from a heart attack.” You looked up at him, feeling your eyes burn with incoming tears and he gave you a sad confused smile. “I’m telling you my story, and you’re the one crying?”

“Yes, I mean, it’s you, and you were in pain, so much that you–” You stopped talking. When he mentioned to you that you could die from a heartbreak, you wondered if he meant it literally, or if he meant that the pain was too strong that he considered ending it all for himself. He put his index finger under your chin to raise your head up in order to look at him.

“Hey, I’m okay.” You couldn’t help the sadness that ran over you, like a wave that just drowned all of the happiness you were feeling seconds ago.

“But, what about your friends? You didn’t have any?” You asked him and he winced slightly, giving you a small nod.

“I did tell you I was in a band.” His grip tightened around you, and you realized you both had stopped moving with one another. “Once one becomes a Cupid, it’s as if you never existed. Everyone forgets about you and the memories they shared with you.”

You couldn’t help but stare up at him. He was in constant loneliness, despite being a helper of love. He was all alone, moving around the world by himself, doing all of this for the benefit of others. You shook your head at him, giving him a small smile to take away the tension that was on your shoulders.

“Well, I am your friend now! We can go have fun together, and we can even get you a new guitar!” You say, jumping slightly with excitement but he was not copying you, his eyes staring at you, but not really. He was distant, as if his mind had gone somewhere else. He bit his bottom lip, and let out a sigh.

“Darling… You will forget about me.” You frowned and shook your head at him.

“There’s no way! You’ve helped me so much, and Dorito can hardly live without you now–”

“Once you fall in love, my job is done, and you won’t ever be able to see me again.”

You stood still. Frozen. Your heart stops completely at his words.

You’ll forget about him? Eddie will be gone once all of this is over? He will disappear once you fall for someone else? Does Eddie think you are being a bother and that’s why he is insistent on Steve? Did he not want to spend time with you anymore?

“That’s– That’s not fair, it should be my decision if I want to remember you or not!” You pulled away from him, a tear threatening to run down your cheek. He was standing still, inspecting you with a sad look on his face. He was dreading the moment he would have to tell you this, because he was afraid you would not continue pursuing Steve just to be able to keep being friends with him.

He appreciated it. He’d grown fond of you, and even took notes of all your quirks and little movements. How you bit your nails when you were concentrating on a movie. How you hummed a tune every time you watered your plants. How you wanted the magnets on your fridge to be color distributed. And he adores the fact that you love strawberries to the point of getting sick with them.

“It’s not our decision. It’s destiny. I am just a helper in your life, and not a human.” Your eyes widened at that, and a smile creeped on your lips, walking towards him again, grabbing his hand.

“Then turn human! I can help you get a job! You can move in with me, and we can go to a bigger apartment, and–” You didn’t want him to leave you. Not when he has helped you so much. For the past two weeks, he had helped you build up your confidence in ways you didn’t know you could feel. He had helped you through your nights, crying after going to work to a place where your boss was mentioning how happy she was with her fiance. He had held you, rocked you, sang to you in order for you to calm down.

Eddie was more than happy to help you. That’s his job. He liked, as horrible as it sounds, holding you while you poured your heart out onto his chest, crying as if there was no tomorrow, because then he would make you laugh and it was all thanks to him. He would make you smile, and it would be directed to him.

But the reality of things are way worse than a smile.

“I can’t turn human.” Your smile fell instantly at his words, and you gulped tightly. There was no way… You can’t digest the fact that, if everything went right with Steve, you would forget about Eddie. Then he would end up alone again, and you wouldn’t even know. You would be oblivious to that. He looked at your face and then sighed. “The only way for me to become human again, is to mend my broken heart.”

“Mend…?” He nodded at you and he grabbed your hand, pressing it into his chest.

“I have to love, and be loved in return. Seal the bond with a kiss, and I… I would become mortal again.”

The tear finally slipped from your eye. You felt hopeless for him, a sadness you’ve never felt in your life. Your sister’s passing was something you could see a mile away when she was diagnosed with Leukemia. Your father, you knew he was cheating on your mother since the first day you hit puberty, so you weren’t surprised when they got divorced and he remarried.

This sadness was unexpected, and was washing over you as if it were the only emotion you could feel at the moment.

Eddie’s arms engulfed you, pushing you close to his chest. How is that heart that was beating loudly against his chest broken? How could they hurt someone like him? Why can’t anyone fix it? Why does he have to leave?

“Hey… The good part of this is that Steve looks like an amazing guy… And–” He pulled away, wiggling his eyebrows at you, wiping your tears away. “I did a little bit of research on past encounters, and all girls have really nice things to say.” You sobbed a little as you tried to talk.

“About what?” He wiggled his eyebrows again and that’s when you caught on, gasping and slapping his bicep with a noise of disgust coming out of your throat. He laughed at your reaction, causing you to giggle through your tears.

Cupid is a dork.

“Well, I had a great time.” You finally say as you reach your door, Steve right behind you. You had an amazing evening with him. He picked you up at exactly 6 PM, and you both headed down to the bar he mentioned before. The conversation was fluid, as if you two had known each other for a long while, but also, the flirting was there, but not too explicit because well… Someone was a little distracting through the evening, even now.

‘This is the part where you invite him in, and you blow him on the couch.’

‘Eddie, jesus, shut the fuck up.’

“Me too. And how convenient it is that we live so close to each other.” Steve says with a smile as he leaned on the doorframe of your front door when you finally opened it and stepped inside, looking back up at him.

“That is definitely a plus.” You say while biting your bottom lip, staring up at him. You were anticipating a move of course. You wanted it to happen.

‘He is not going to do it.’

‘Shit, should I?’

A moment of silence was in your mind and then you heard Eddie’s voice again.

‘Maybe it is too soon.’

Huh? That was definitely not the answer you expected him to say. You thought he was going to make you kiss Steve, which you really wanted to. Steve was blushing as he spoke to you about wanting to go on another date again and you really wondered if Eddie was right on it.

‘Are you sure Eds? I mean, he really looks like he wants to, but is too shy to do so.’

‘I said it is too soon.’

You frowned slightly at the change of tone in his voice. It sounded too demanding, as if he were angry with you. Your jaw clenched, and you muted your head, just everything. You tiptoed towards Steve, and planted a soft kiss on his lips in response to his rambling about a second date.

His lips were plump, expectant. He was stunned for a whole second and then you felt him kiss back, his hands and arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, feeling your chest warm at the feeling of someone’s lips on yours as well as an anxious feeling that wasn’t sitting quite right at the pit of your stomach.

What it was, you didn’t know.

He pulled away after a few seconds with a blissed look on his face, his eyes completely blown from the kiss, and he smiled downwards at you.

“Well, that answers my question on the second date then.” You giggled at that, your arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Maybe we can have some dinner at your place next time?” You flirted with him, voice low and he whistled, calling out your name with a smirk to his face, knowing what you were meaning.

“It’s a date then. Next wednesday?” You bit your lip and nodded at him. He bent down and kissed you softly on the lips again, pulling away only seconds after and then pulling completely off you. “Can’t wait…” He kissed your cheek and he skipped down the hallway, making a fool out of himself just for you to laugh at. You shook your head and closed the door to your apartment, turning around for your smile to only drop.

Eddie was with arms crossed over his chest, almost glaring at you. You’ve never seen him mad before, so this was a new sight for you.

“Did I speak in chinese?” He asks you and you just roll your eyes at him, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. “Why did you go against what I said?”

“Because it was bad advice! I kissed him, because he clearly wanted to, and I got myself a second date!” You exclaimed at him, your own anger filling your body as you poured some water into your glass. He was pacing behind you, glaring daggers in your back.

“How can my advice be bad?! I am your Cupid! If I say something it’s because there’s a valid reason for it!”

“And what was the reason to not kiss him tonight?” You turned around to face him and he wasn’t looking at you. He was just looking to the side, at nothing in particular but with the purpose of not clashing with your gaze. “Or what was the reason for distracting me all night?!”

“You were too interested. Guys get bored when girls are easy, just throwing themselves at them.” Your anger was exploding now. What did he just call you?

“Did you just call me easy? Is that what you think I am?!” You couldn’t help how tight your chest was feeling at the moment. You wanted to throw something at him, yell at him, make Dorito scratch his perfect face. His eyes widened and then he slapped his hands over his face, as if he had just realized something.

“Shit, no, that’s not what I meant–”

“Then what did you fucking mean Edward?” You stuck your hip out, looking at him with an angered look in your face and he shook his head at you.

“Don’t twist this on me! You kissed him when I told you not to! You have to follow what I say to you, or this thing with Steve won't happen!” Your nerves were making your body shake, feeling your eyes burning from the incoming tears that were for sure about to spill. Your body was ablaze, and the knot in the stomach you felt before worsened. Your heart was beating in your chest, almost as if you were having a heart attack.

And your mind was going places, words and thoughts swimming in your brain, just so fast, that you didn’t have the chance of thinking before talking.

“Are you that desperate to leave me!?” You yelled out as tears started running down your cheeks, not able to contain your emotions any longer. “Are you that bothered about helping me?! Do I annoy you?! Am I that detestable to you that you want me to forget about you?!”

The self deprecating words kept coming out of your mouth like bullets to him. One by one, hitting him in the chest. He made you cry. The tears that were falling down your cheeks were because of him. He felt his throat closing up as he stared at you, taking a step towards you.

He stared at your sobbing face, as you tried to wipe away your tears and your nose. Even now, even with the stained face, he found you beautiful… And that thought scared him.

He raised his hand up, caressing your cheek, gently, and slowly. You sniffled, looking up at him, and your knees almost got weak at the sight. He was staring at you with eyes you’ve never felt before. An adoration that you only saw in movies, and described in many books you’ve read before.

You instinctively took another step, your body an inch away from his. Your heart started picking up the pace, rapidly, listening to the blood rush through your ears, and your mouth went dry as you looked at him. The world stopped, time itself, even sounds around you became silent.

You wanted to. You needed to. You had to.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he was still in a state of trance, not pulling away from your embrace, but his arms moved by their own accord, wrapping themselves around your waist.

You want him.

You raised yourself up, tippy toeing, slowly in order not to scare him away. You knew these feelings might be inside you, but you needed to make sure. You wanted to make sure. You wanted it to be true.

You need him.

Your chest went flush against his as you started to reach your goal, your breath picking up as the thoughts in your brain ceased to exist. The only thing that was there, the only one was Eddie.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Tight hands grabbed onto your shoulders, and ripped you apart from the body you were stealing warmth from. Your back hit the fridge behind you, making you wince slightly. Your breath was heavy and when you looked up your eyes widened when you saw Eddie’s face. He was panting, as if he were in pain. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

And you heard the crack. You could even hear it. A small crack in your heart as he says those words, as if repulsed by the idea of being kissed by you, a mere human. You licked your lips and shook your head, gulping loudly as he pulled away from you, stepping away.

“I’m– I’m sorry– I just wanted–”

“You’re confused.” He says to you and you feel like he was clawing at your chest with those words, making you shake your head at him.

“What? No! I–”

“We need space. I have to give you space so you can focus on Steve.”

You felt your throat close at those words, your eyes widening as you saw him retreat to your room. Space? Confused? Your brain was running a mile per minute and your legs finally moved, rushing towards your room right after him.

Only to find Dorito meowing with sadness as it looked all over your room.

You looked all around, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest as you rushed towards your closet to look inside. You then walked back out to the living room and kitchen area, finding it empty too. You slammed open your bathroom, feeling your tears coming down even more and more.

You kicked your door in anger and finally sobbed out as you rested against the doorframe of your doorway. You slid down on it, falling onto the floor as you cried into your hands.

He left. He left you.

There were no more movie nights. No more music sharing. No more brainstorming for outfit or date ideas. No more cooking for two. Who is going to fill Dorito’s plate in the morning when you are asleep? Who is going to wait for you at home, apart from your cat, after a long day of work? Who is going to tell you so many stupid stories about his teenage years now?

Steve?

No, you didn’t want it to be Steve. You didn’t want that part of your life to be done by Steve. It felt wrong, and you were just now feeling it. You were just now realizing how wrong it feels to put Steve where Eddie was.

You fell for Cupid. You stupidly fell for your own cupid. And it was obvious that the feeling was not mutual. It was obvious that he did not want anything to do with you. It was obvious that you would have to keep moving on in order to fill the empty space he left. Would he appear again? Or will you be able to fall in love with Steve?

How can you possibly forget about Eddie?

Two months later.

You were tired. Exhausted really as you walked up the stairs of your apartment.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, but it was something that was going to happen, because you knew it wasn’t going anywhere really. Your day at work had also been quite stressful, but the ache you expected to get when you got your boss’s wedding invitation, never arrived. You were actually excited for it, knowing there will be food and free drinks.

You opened the door of your apartment, turning the lights on as you took your coat off, closing the door and throwing the garment onto the couch. You walked towards the pantry, getting hold of your bottle of wine, and getting your corkscrew device out to open it. With a loud ‘pop’ you smiled slightly at the relief this will bring you, pouring a glass for yourself. You took a long sip, turning around to face your living room.

“Dorito?” You called your fat orange cat, but heard no meows. You walked towards the front of the couch and didn’t see him there. He must be in your room. You sat down on your couch, turning the tv on, and you groaned loudly when you saw Titanic on screen. You clenched your jaw and decided to keep it on, taking a sip of your glass again.

You felt a shiver run down your spine but paid no mind to it, cracking your neck slightly at the chill.

“Why did you do that?”

You sat still, your blood freezing over at the voice you haven’t heard for over two months. The voice you wished to hear again and didn’t think you’d ever would.

“Why did you break up with him?”

You were shaking, putting the glass on the coffee table before slowly getting up. Your stomach was in shambles, and your heart was with an energy you haven’t felt in a long while. Ever since he left, you felt hollow, as if you didn’t have the energy to keep pretending, to keep trying.

Steve had been nothing but sweet to you the past two months. Intimately and publicly, he was the most caring person you’ve ever been with… But he wasn’t Eddie. You tried, you really tried, but you knew the love you could possibly feel would be empty, almost numb. So before you could hurt Steve, you decided to call everything off, with nothing but being honest with him.

He sadly understood, and was grateful for you to be honest with him and not wait till he was completely devoted to you to break his heart.

You turned around to face him, and he was just standing there, with a pained frown in his eyebrows and your breath caught in your throat. He was wide eyed, staring at you, his hands shaking as his whole body ached, for what, he did know, yet he wasn’t going to act on it.

“I– Uh… I’m Eddie, you probably–”

“I never forgot about you Eddie.”

And he was stunned. He gave you the time, he gave you the space, he left you. He went onto helping someone else to keep himself distracted, not wanting to see something he would regret with you. He gave you privacy, to you and Steve. So how? How is it possible that someone as perfect as him, didn’t get your love?

“What?”

“I said… I never forgot about you.”

The only thing separating you at this moment, was the couch between you two. You could hear his heart and he could hear yours. You gulped loudly, walking around the couch to finally stand in front of him. You wanted to reach out, grab him, hug him tightly against you, tell him so many things, but first, one question remains, so you pushed through the knot in your throat, and spoke through the tears that were already slipping out of your eyes.

“Why did you leave me?”

His breath hitched, feeling a sting of guilt at the pit of his stomach, as well as feeling his heart clenching and unclenching inside of his chest, wanting to explode. His bottom lip quivered slightly and he sniffled, looking away from you.

“I– I had to. I had to leave because I…” He didn’t want to say it. All his life, he ran away from this feeling, scared of it. He was terrified of ending up as a cupid again, or deciding to finally put an end to it all. But he knew that this time, there was no running from it. Not anymore.

“Eddie–”

“Remember what I told you about ‘The One’?” You gulped and slowly nodded your head at him. He licked his lips in order to continue. “I explained to you that The One for each person really does exist. I also explained to you, that this person might be in your present timeline, might have already passed away, or they haven’t been born yet.”

Your throat was dry, feeling your whole body shaking with electricity and anticipation as he slowly looked up at you, his brown doe eyes locking with yours and you felt a sigh escape your lips.

“And here you are… Born in 1998.”

You processed his words, and they felt like cold water being dumped on you, but at the same time they felt like a great relief, like a warm blanket covering you. Eddie was telling you that you were The One for him. Your cupid was confessing that he believes you are The One.

“Y-You…” He stopped you again, stepping away from you. You didn’t realize that you were taking steps towards him, as if you were a magnet, not really being able to control your movements.

“I am not… It would be from the beginning with me… I don’t have a job, no family, no friends, nothing… I don’t want to be a leech, but… Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can stay away from you much longer.” He lets out a shaky breath as he feels the weight on his shoulders finally leave him. He was waiting for your rejection, for you to push him away, tell him he is insane for this. But when he looked up, he saw those eyes he looked at you with months ago. His own widened as he realized you had looked at him like this that night, and the night before when talking about The Lord of the Rings. And many mornings before that as well.

“Then don’t…” At your words, Eddie took a step towards you as you took one towards him. Standing face to face, bodies only a few inches from one another’s, only your heavy breaths filling the room, you licked your lips to be able to talk to him again. “So… You say I am The One for you… Does it mean you are The One for me?”

And Eddie looked down at you, his mind finally stopping and setting its goal on one thought only. You. You. You. Your scent, your eyes, your tics, your anger, your smiles, your voice, your sleepy face, your laughter, your cries.

Just you.

“Let’s find out darling… Kiss me.”

Your heart leaped at those words, wrapping your arms around his neck, almost instantly, as his hands took the position they did last time he was at your home, around your waist. Your breath was fast, as the universe stopped and not just for you. Eddie was feeling the exact same thing in your arms. You both were the only ones in the whole world right now, the only ones wasting the oxygen away.

His hands tightened around your waist, as your breaths mixed together as he leaned down to help you meet him halfway. You closed your eyes, and he did as well, as your lips finally touched, melting together as if it had always been meant to be.

He groaned into the kiss, feeling like a firework just exploded inside of him, an intense heat engulfing his whole body, making him grip you even closer to his body and you sighed in contentment as fresh tears filled your eyes behind your eyelids. Happiness was consuming you and you will happily succumb to it. Your lips moved together as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, trying to push your body into him, more, and more. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, because he was here.

He heard you moan in happiness against his lips and he almost fainted right then and there at the sound, but another feeling was taking over his mind. The voices in his head stopped. The insistent noise that told him to help, and help, and do something for someone else stopped. He pulled away from you, and you immediately looked for him, but he kept the distance with his head.

He was breathing heavily as he took a step back from you, unwrapping his arms from your body. You were still shaking at the event, wanting to go after him but he rushed towards the kitchen and opened one of your drawers. You were staring at his back as you saw him jump and something dropping on the counter. He turned around to face you and stomped towards you with a look on his face that was puzzling you and making you feel uneasy.

“What do you feel about me?” He asked you and your breath got stuck in your throat again, feeling embarrassed and fearful for what the words that want to come out of your mouth will inquire, but there was no stopping this, no more running away from it.

“I’m in love with you Eddie…” He stared down at you for a few seconds, a smile breaking on his lips as he lifted his hand for you to look at it. Your eyes widened when there, in the tip of his left index finger, you could see the small speck of blood, slowly dripping down the digit.

‘I don’t bleed.’ You remembered his words and then your eyes teared up as you also realized the condition it took for him to become human again.

“To love… and be loved in return.” You say those words making him smile widely, his right hand reaching for your cheek to wipe your tears away with his thumb as a gentle sob escaped your lips. He called your name for you to look at him and even in the blurriness of it all, you could still see those brown doe eyes, shining with fresh tears as he spoke to you.

“I’m in love with you darling.” He called out and you almost choked on a sob as you held onto his face, squishing his cheeks to pull him into another kiss. A shock of electricity ran through your body and you knew this was right. You somehow felt this is what it was always meant to be. This is what your heartbreaks led you to, your suffering, your tears. Everything led to this perfect moment and to all the moments to come with him.

“Mreow.”

You both pulled away from the kiss to look down at the fat orange cat that had an unamused look on his face. Eddie chuckled and tilted his head, but nothing happened. He groaned loudly and rushed to fill Dorito’s plate by hand, making you giggle in amusement.

“That’s going to take some time getting used to.” He comments as he straightens up again, putting the bag of food back inside a cabinet. Once Dorito rushed to his food, Eddie immediately swept you off your feet in bridal style, making you squeal in surprise, holding onto his neck. He chuckled loudly as he walked towards your bedroom, making you blush in anticipation.

“Now where are you taking me Cupid?”

“Heaven.” He said with a smile and you giggled while he slammed the door to your room shut.

Cupid isn’t so bad after all.

End of One Shot

I really loved writing this. If you liked the story, all likes and Reblogs as well as comments warm my little heart!

Hope I can return to this couple some time in the future!

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dropsofletters · 1 year

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how to unsubscribe to dating

SUMMARY: on april 18th, hansol likes his favorite youtuber’s instagram picture. not because of her content—though, he finds himself laughing at all of her weekly videos—but because he thinks she’s gorgeous. that is how it ends. just a like on a picture that no one will see.

three years later and after a tough break-up, the internet hates her and a misstep has hansol dragged into the drama. now, everyone thinks they are dating and what a better way to gain subscribers and have millions on views on their videos? just let them think it’s real and work on a whole season of dare videos for the world to enjoy.

only that it is not so easy, one can subscribe to a youtube channel but not really unsubscribe to falling in love.

TITLE: how to unsubscribe to dating.

PAIRING: chwe hansol x reader

GENRE: youtuber!au ; fake dating-ish!au ; youtube drama!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au

WORD COUNT: 14,014 words

GENRE: fluff ; humor ; drama ; angst if you squint ; suggestive

NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want me to write anything, you can go over there and request something from me.

The secret to color theory is that there are primary colors, and the rest are just blend-able shades that would not exist without bases, foundations and ‘trials-and-errors’. In some sense, we correlate the color of our lives to that primary stance—we are red, we are yellow…the intensity that we want to be. How we want to counterpart in a main role that, inherently, sometimes won’t be settled upon us. The saddening truth of being a purple, or a lime green.

She would have never imagined herself to be anything more than a yellow. She said, when she was younger, that her voice would be so high that the annoying tone that came with her made her stand out in any crowd. Yellow. And then came heartbreak, teenage years, the blending with a pure gray or a black undertone that could never get her to darken her soul. It was more like a mustard yellow. Lulled. Not as bright. Just wishing upon standing out again, blending nicely with everyone, but always sticking out like a sore thumb. Hard to look in the eyes.

For the past two months, she felt like she was back to her bright yellow. To smiles with all teeth, shared with Jay as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder; to late-night talks with the phone screen glaring across her vision as she whispered small ‘I don’t want to go’s. Relatively, that comes to a stop. Because, in the eyes of a man that she dated with the dumbfounded hope to finally meet the love of her life, she was never yellow. God, he’d cringe at the mere sound of the Coldplay song. She was brown.

As in shitty brown.

Jay should be better than this. In actuality, after how everything fell down with a break-up text that he never really responded to, she doesn’t think he’s better, but hey, common sense is a thing still, isn’t it? As a YouTuber, quite like her, who shared the same interests and niche with a commentary channel based on pop-culture, one would think that he would not incorporate their ‘not-that-talked-about’ relationship in a Tweet. Though, maybe she had seen him as a bright blue, when he’s nothing but—at best—a plum or a dark gray.

You know, like having concrete between your teeth. Not that pleasurable, neither something she wants to try again.

@notthatjay_lee: how does that song go? a, b, c, d, e, f…thank you for wasting my motherfucking time.

She chuckles. Actually, full-on laughs when sitting on the counter at her kitchen, trying or supposedly about to edit her newest video commenting on Disney’s old shows and how she binge-watched them on a brim. Not that the viewers should know that she watched the entirety of Hannah Montana in a week because she was going through a break-up and crying for the asshole that Jay Lee is, but she needed to update after being a month away.

She continues scrolling, watching the thread that has formed in the tweet and the hundreds of comments that tag her. They weren’t precisely out as a relationship, but it was known. They went to conventions together, appeared in pictures with fans tagged together. It wasn’t hidden under the rug, but it was also not blasted out of proportion like Jay is doing right now.

He responded to a fan.

@jaysassissick: We are here for you, Jay! I can’t believe what some bitches can do for fame.

@notthatjay_lee: imagine getting cheated on by someone who can’t even reach a million subscribers. lol. can sadly relate.

“You just didn’t…” She mutters to herself, standing up and closing her laptop with a bang. More notifications pop up, from all social media that she could muster. Pictures tagged of the two of them together coming up with headlines that read commentary-channel YouTubers feuding. Cheating. Cheater, out of all things.

And that’s the thing about women. If they are not colors that blend well with the primary ones, like men expect to be, they are tarnished and burned to ashes to stay in the ground. That was her case, in which her silence was the ignition of a chain of events that now are out of her reach. None of those people that keep harassing her online can know that Jay had been distant the past month; that he’d spend more of his days running away from her than actually trying to put effort into the relationship.

That it’d be more looking through social media to see him commenting on pictures of his supposed ‘friends’ wearing bikinis and his phone hidden with his face down whenever they were together. It was not confirmed, of course, she didn’t have enough proximity with him, neither did they live together for her to confirm that her suppositions were true, but something she knows. Jay is not a saint, neither is she for the rage that builds within her like a Lego house that burns with the unsatiable need of revenge.

She almost believes that the best way to go about this is making it as public as he is. However, she knows she’s better. Yellow, bright, shining, as she has always been, just shadowed by someone who was envious of how burning her colors could be. Hence, she puts her phone down after turning it off, quite like he did whenever a fight ensued between the two and he would play the victim card with a pout to his lips. She thinks about it—the video she is supposed to edit, the pictures on her phone she has yet to delete and the revival, that word that speaks about new beginnings and definitely, a smirk that tells the past that she’s doing much better.

For now, she’s just alone in her apartment. With a bowl of noodles that has gone cold and a heart that is palpitating far too fast, for heartbreak isn’t easy, much less when it’s this open, but she can think of ways of getting back to Jay, whether the public knows it’s directly thrown his way or not.

She owes this man nothing.

“Jeonghan, I need you recording my shit. Not looking at your phone.”

With a hand quipping closed as if asking for Hansol’s lips to remain shut, Jeonghan remains as relaxed as he had been when they started recording this weekly’s recap. Though, while Hansol had been stumbling over his lines—as per usual on a Saturday morning, that’s the only time they could meet up because Seungcheol was going on a trip this weekend for his cousin’s wedding—, Jeonghan had frankly lost his mind to whatever is showcased in his phone. So far in the text he’s reading, which Hansol is certain is not a book, that he leaned back on one of the love seats in Hansol’s office, propped his knees to his chest in fetal position and lurked through whatever caught his interest like a lion looking for his prey.

“The moment you can get a word out without stuttering is the moment we start recording.” Jeonghan runs a hand through his black hair, covering the rudeness of his words with a soft smile. Hansol knows better than to take Jeonghan’s words close to heart, but still.

“I just needed some more coffee.”

Seungcheol enters the room then, with a new Starbucks drink since Hansol decided to steal his. “You drank my macchiato.” With a slap on the back of Hansol’s head, the man takes a seat on the other empty love-seat, as if there is not a whole video to be recorded and posted on Monday. “But Hansol’s not wrong. I have to get on that plane at four and it’s nine in the morning. We can get through this video if we just start recording it.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond and Hansol takes this time to sigh deeply and toss his head back. Things were easier when posting a YouTube video wasn’t so…meticulous. At the beginning, just over eight years ago, Hansol had posted a video on social media that had gotten quite visibly viral. He had over a million views in just fourteen hours, breaking records somehow, making it to meme accounts and Vine compilations. Stupid as it could get, it was a video of Hansol wearing a swimming hat and those aesthetic sunglasses that resembled John Lennon’s style, with Jeonghan zooming in on the frame and him saying: ‘bitch’ before the video came to an end.

It had literally no context, but he made a living out of it.

That’s how he launched his career, changed the name and created an online persona. He called himself Zach, sporting bright and quite frankly unfitting outfits and making meme weekly recaps. He spoke about what was new on the Internet, made fun of some videos, never quite made it to the commentary channel spectrum but became a voice that over ten million people had subscribed to. No one knew that his real name was Hansol, or that he wasn’t as outspoken as he was in his videos. Never an opinion that breaks or makes a room.

Jeonghan grabs the coffee mug from Seungcheol’s hold, ignoring the man’s complaints to take a sip. “I think I have a topic we need to add to this week’s review.” He finally pulls away from his original position, biting down on his lip like he does when he has an idea that he can’t keep on the depths of his chest. “Have you heard about the newest drama with Jay Lee?”

Hansol crosses his arms across his chest, sitting on the edge of the desk that holds his computer, always in front of him in his videos. “Jay…Lee? Doesn’t ring a bell for me.”

“You know, the TikTok guy who makes POV’s videos.” Jeonghan urges on, tossing a glance towards Seungcheol who finally snatches his drink before giving a curt nod.

“Even I remember who he is.”

“How many guys don’t make ridiculous videos on TikTok?” Hansol prompts, only to have Jeonghan sighing.

“He was known on YouTube for his music videos and parodies. You know how that went a little bit downhill lately, so his niche has changed. Makes videos every once in a while.” Jeonghan includes in his narrative, turning his phone around to show a picture of a man he now recognizes. Damn, even in his beginnings as a YouTuber, Jay Lee already had a bunch of people under his name. With long, tossed back black hair, tattoos that scatter across a slim, tall body and a pair of glasses that always rest on the brim of his straight nose. He was of interest for a bunch of people on the Internet, even to this day.

“What about him?” Hansol questions, only to have Jeonghan clapping his hands once.

“He’s burning the Internet with his latest allegations. He was dating a commentary channel YouTuber, though they never accepted it, but he’s making the allegations that she cheated on him and has announced that he’s releasing a diss track to explain everything.” He’ll never understand how the world revolves around drama, but Jeonghan gives more explanation by saying her name and giving him the phone once again.

The picture shows a couple together with a fan, and he recognizes her with far more ease. He remembers last summer, when he would spend most of his afternoons laughing about her videos with the graphics she made. Very rarely does her face show on her videos, but she draws a little character that speaks, through her commentary, about the topic at hand. Always a show. A video. A meme. Hell, he thinks that she once talked about him on a video years ago.

Jay is much taller than her, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, squishing their cheeks together as they hold peace signs, her hand interlocked with the young fan’s. They didn’t look necessarily in love, but close enough to it. Like the beginning of a love that had just started to flourish.

“What has he said?” Seungcheol questions, now interested in the topic.

“What hasn’t he said? He has spent the past three days creating a YouTube war. He has even dropped her name a few times, tagging her, asking her to be upfront because she has escaped the internet. MIA and all.”

Hansol can’t imagine how tough it is to go through a break-up where the other person is trying to plot everyone against her. Sure, he’s not certain if she cheated, but he takes his own phone to look through Twitter, seeing him post pictures of the two of them together—clearly personal, never seen by anyone but them—, adding thread after thread of how in love he was with her and how badly she broke his heart. It seemed like he was bleeding through a wound that was never quite as open as he made it out to be.

“What an asshole.” He mutters, getting closer to the computer and writing something down on his script. “I think we can add it to this week’s episode. The last bit. Just for a few clicks and because…he’s really getting out of control.”

“And everyone is supporting him.” Jeonghan adds, shrugging his shoulders. “Would be nice to give an opinion that isn’t sided one way or the other.”

“…That’s putting Hansol against a man that has just about the same following as him. Including him in the war isn’t going to do the channel any good.”

Hansol looks up at that moment, raising his eyebrows and weighting the options. Seungcheol isn’t wrong, but he knows this is a topic that needs to be talked about. Break ups on the internet. Where some people post videos crying and hugging for the last time, while others take their following to side with them as if it was a parent going through divorce.

“Yes, but this whole Zach character is about that. Speaking about what I think is wrong, right or funny…and these tweets? Stupid, borderline funny, over-line worrying.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his macchiato, bringing a shoulder up in nonchalance. “I’ll have to take care of the mess after, but if that’s what’s going to bring the views, go for it.”

Is he really doing it for views, though? Or maybe, he just thinks it’s inherently wrong to destroy someone’s career that way, until they are too afraid to go on the internet because of hate. Jay Lee will have to learn a lesson about being made fun of.

@notthatjay_lee: glad to know the mystery’s resolved. @chwethatzach you’ve cleared the rumors up. song coming in three days!

Hyeji had said it seven months ago when she started liking Jay, as she flipped on tarot decks, spread them neatly on the coffee table between them, speaking through a cloud caused by the blunt between her lips. Jay Lee’s an imbecile, he’ll break your heart. She didn’t listen, because in her mind all men go through a phase of being overly-confident and, quite frankly, assholes. She opted to believe that Jay was willing to change and talk, venturing into a friendship and then, into whatever kind of relationship they had held that now is a complete disaster.

Her best friend, Moon Hyeji, runs her fingers through her dirty hair after showing her the tweet that Jay had just posted. Tagging her after, nonetheless. Hyeji, as wild as she is, with long locks of wavy hair and a rose tattoo on the column of her neck, had called Jay just a day ago, telling him to back off before she took legal actions. Taking it from the woman who is the daughter of one of the richest men in the country, a businessman nonetheless, Jay should have taken it a little bit more seriously. Hence, he doesn’t.

“What the fuck do I even have to do with that dude?” She questions, finally standing up from her position on Hyeji’s lap. Ever since this issue went to absolute hell, with the diss track incoming and a handful of people making drama videos about the timeline of their very short-lived relationship, Hyeji had travelled all the way from London to get here and eat piles of ice cream while bad-mouthing Jay. Only that it didn’t help her the slightest.

She wants to talk, but she doesn’t know how to go on about the issue. Fueling the problem even more if just going to have his fans speaking with more fervor, and just like how he doesn’t have proof of her cheating, she also doesn’t have anything to defend herself with about not cheating.

“There’s a video, apparently…” Hyeji roams through her phone with long nails before she displays her screen on the TV in front of them. The image that loads is of the start of a video of someone she knows somewhat well, for she really likes Zach Chwe’s videos, or at least, she can catch up on them every once in a while.

Zach has always been a little different than most. He feels like a true friend that one can talk with as he launches in that green chair of his, always wearing clothes that leave everything to the imagination and would have everyone talking about him. He’s wearing a tie-dye hoodie, as per usual in some of his videos, with an apron on top of it that reads ‘the chef’s dead’ and a pair of sunglasses that rest on top of his brown hair. His soft eyebrows move with each of his words, firstly greeting his audience, then speaking about the newest memes found on the internet.

“He must have spoken about your issue with Jay.”

“How so? He never talks about drama.” She asks, getting a look from Hyeji who clears her throat soon after.

“People believe he’s the one guy Jay is saying you cheated with.” Her best friend whispers, moving through the video, getting fast glimpses of Zach laughing, tossing his head back, speaking through slim lips and using his ring-cladded hands to express his points. Only three minutes before the video ends does the image of Jay with her and a fan comes on the screen, earning Hyeji a few taps on her shoulder.

“There! There! Stop the video there!”

The darkness of her room, reeking the smell of orange chicken and diet soda, is bathed in the light of Zach Chwe as he rolls on his chair and says: “There’s a reason us men are called assholes and I think it’s because Jay Lee exists. Okay, I’m not anyone to be putting my opinion here and I usually stay away from these things, so I’m not sure if she cheated or not…but isn’t it, at least, the best thing you can do to spell correctly as you’re dissing your ex?”

Then, the screen shows screenshots of Jay’s tweets, bathed in hate, writing in the worst possible way and yet, with a few errors.

She hadn’t noticed that as she got drowned into the drama that he had created, so she smiles for what feels like the first time this week.

“You don’t even spell that well, Zach!” Someone shouts from the background, and she knows Zach Chwe normally has his friends putting in some words for spice on his videos, but she actually laughs along with him.

“More of a reason to critique, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But hey, remember those Facebook videos we talked about a few weeks ago? If you haven’t checked it out, I’ll leave the link to that video on the description, but we were making fun about those mom videos where they make their daughters fearful of sending nudes because some creep will post them on their Facebook page. I thought men like that didn’t exist, until I figured out this whole Jay Lee thing. He’s a hair away from posting a picture of her feet, I tell you so.”

The video doesn’t last much long after that, with Zach making fun of Jay’s tweets and then, the camera zooming in on his face for an outro recalling his beginnings online. However, Hyeji has fallen silent, with her knees propped under her chin, using her free hand to caress the column of her ear, as always, seeking for a way of making her feel better through touch.

“This sounds…like the internet is going insane.” Hyeji then reaches for her phone, shaking in the air. “Come on, unlock it and turn on your notifications again!”

“What? Why?” She is not sure she’s ready to lurk through social media once again, Hyeji has been doing that for her instead, like her little manager, blocking the hate that gets real and personal.

“Jay is playing it off as if Zach Chwe is the one that you’re dating, or the one you cheated on him with.”

“I didn’t cheat on him—

“I know, but he’s trying to get views and I need to know if Zach’s team contacted you, so open that phone and get a pair of balls for what we’re about to face.”

A pair of balls would be little to what she needs once she opens Twitter and Instagram.

On Instagram, she has been tagged on a bunch of pictures. Headlines that include her profile picture on YouTube and Zach Chwe’s picture. Titles that go on the rampant lie of ‘YouTube Stars Zach Chwe and OfDrawingsAndWords on a relationship!’ scattering across her vision on every platform she comes across of.

“I’m doomed. Jay keeps winning no matter what I do—”

“Because you haven’t said anything. You’re protecting him even when he’s trying to destroy you.” Hyeji advices, pushing on her Instagram notifications until she sees it, a direct message from the YouTuber who is implicated on this drama with her, nonetheless. “So, you either take the reigns right here, right now or Jay Lee is going to drown your career before it even reached the shore.”

Shaking fingertips reach for the Instagram message, closing her eyes tightly until she opens it.

“Read it.”

“Come on…” Hyeji trails, clasping the phone in her hands. “I know it’s been tough, but I don’t need you hiding away.”

“I’m scared! This guy has nothing to do with me!” She screeches, slapping her hand on her shoulder only to have Hyeji looking at her. With that softness that characterizes her under all her strength.

“Alright…” Hyeji whispers, soon after reading out loud. “Hey, it’s Zach Chwe. I’m sorry that my comments involved us in a mess bigger than what you already had going on and my team and I want to make mends on the issue I just created. Do you mind talking about it, in person or with my PR team getting in contact with you? Sorry for the inconvenience once again.”

Hyeji takes in a deep breath before tossing herself onto the half-done bed.

“We’re talking about it in person.”

“…Uh, we’re not.” She finalizes, trying to snatch her phone back but Hyeji isn’t relenting. Though, she’s not as rude as one would imagine, she still consenting by looking her way and expecting her to change her mind. “Hyeji, I don’t want to see anyone right now. Jay’s blowing everything out of proportion—”

“Reason as to why you shouldn’t hide. Zach Chwe can be a great person to have on your side right now. The internet loves him, and now they’re not as cruel. You have to see the comments, people are torn just because he is involved.”

That makes her ponder, inspecting every portion of Hyeji’s face to find some fun or joke in her features, but she’s full-on serious. Not a drop of insecurity in those quirked eyebrows. She sighs deeply, taking the phone in her hands and seeing the sign that reads ‘you follow each other’. Why is it that people naturally gravitate towards what a man can say or not, even when she has been expecting to be trusted by anyone online and no one seemed to be by her side?

No one but him and a few people. Even the friends that she had collaborated with several times had taken his side.

Hence, she starts typing, not caring about the consequences of fueling the fire a little bit more, because she’s already getting burned, but she won’t relent without a fight.

“I’m down with meeting up so we can sort out how we will go on about this. You select the place and the time. Thank you for getting in contact, by the way!”

Hyeji places a kiss on top of her head, squishing her slim cheek against her scalp.

“We will get past this, love. I swear we will.”

She doesn’t think this unreasonable love war is anywhere near over, however.

“I sure hope we will.”

Hansol thinks making ramen is an art form. He does it when he’s nervous instead of nibbling on his bottom lip or tugging his black beanie down his ears for the umpteenth time. Only he would think it was a great idea to meet with one of his favorite social media creators on a fucking convenience store, but he feels protected by the quietness and the sweet buzzing of the microwave as he wishes upon a start that the stacks of cheese that he poured on his flaming hot noodles becomes a puddle at the bottom that relishes its exquisiteness.

So, maybe, he’s a bit nervous. Reason as to why he had lost his grip a bit when pouring the cheese on the ramen basket.

It passes him how she has been able to spend weeks receiving the messages she does, but the moment he posted that video, the narrative took another turn. Hell, he even thinks he has seen some edited videos of the two of them as a supposed ‘couple’. The song has been released, heard by thousands, even more news coming up about them and he’s…surprised. About the sheltering that came from his pseudonym and how the world is torn. Now, Jay shines as a real villain and people ponder if leaving him for Hansol was the right choice.

How in the hell he got in this situation is misunderstood by him?

However, he rubs on his eye after grabbing the ramen noodles and plopping them on the nearest table, he hears the bells by the door ringing, the worker too occupied in organizing the strawberry milks to even care about her, but he does. None of her pictures online would ever compare to how she looks in real life. With a gray turtleneck for the weather, face ridden of any makeup, sweater half-tucked into her pants and yet, as her sunglasses rest on the brim of her head, she looks like a whole…dream.

She reminds him of the warmth that comes from a gust of breath on top of freezing hands when winter drops around. They are just barely reaching fall, but the weather has fallen significantly. She stands in front of him, looking away from her phone before a small smile reaches the corner of her eyes, not adding a small ‘hi’ as he does with a wave of his hand, but something to the air between them nonetheless.

“You look different when you’re not mumbling ‘bitch’ into the camera.”

Breaking the ice, warming the air, significant matters that only she can do and does in the brink of a second. Hansol plops the two bowls of ramen on the table, watching as she scrunches her nose at the cheese to stir it within the mixture, but he tries not to think too much about his decision. Maybe, she’s just not fond of cheese.

“I take that as a good thing. I don’t call anyone ‘bitch’ unless I get a really good check out of it.” Hansol jokes around, soon after widening his eyes when she quirks an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth barely lifting in a smirk. “Not that I’d call you anything of the like. Gosh, I’m being stupid. Uh…hi, I’m Hansol.”

“You’ve already said hi.” She prompts, picking up some of the noodles and unlike him, who has already burned the bridge of his mouth, she twirls them on the chopsticks, blows on them and munches on the cheesy treat. “But I didn’t know you were called Hansol. I would’ve sworn on my life that your real name was Zach.”

He shakes his head. “I want my real life nicely divided from who I am as a person online. Not that I am much different, but Hansol’s the name that I have on my ID and that I use for personal matters, so I don’t want to mix the two.” He shrugs his shoulders soon after, saying her name and earning a nod from her. “Okay, so, uh…to the matter at hand, right?”

“Straight to the point.” She clears her throat, giving him a smile before reaching for the diet soda Hansol had brought. “So, half the internet thinks we are dating…and that you’re that supposed side guy that I had while dating Jay.”

He shouldn’t ask. Shit, this is Jeonghan speaking in his brain, telling him to fucking ask, but he’s curious. He heard the nonsensical beat that Jay released in the form of a diss track that now has fifteen million views, so… “Did you really cheat on him or is he taking everything out of context?”

She spreads her hands across her chest, defending herself. “Here’s the thing, I am a woman. Me breaking up with a guy just because I was unhappy in a relationship directly has to mean I cheated on him. For starters, I didn’t. I liked Jay even after the break-up, obviously until the moment he decided to blow everything out of proportion.” She explains, sighing deeply after. “I didn’t, for instance. I’m sorry that you got involved.”

“No, I am the one that should be sorry.” Hansol shakes his head, rubbing his eyebrow as if something was bothering him. “It’s just—No, I’m sorry but I don’t regret it. I had to talk about it. Part of it was because obviously, it’s a trending topic, but also because…no one deserves to get the hate you’re getting right now.”

She remains silent, playing with the straw in between strawberry lips. Not an ounce of makeup and yet, the inside looks as if they were bitten to utter perfection. Hansol’s embarrassed that he has liked every picture of hers on social media ever since they started following each other.

Things that the public had sadly taken account of and had completely used against them to prove a supposed relationship.

“I don’t regret it either. That you did that, I mean.” She counterparts. “Sure, I shouldn’t be thinking about revenge, but Jay has been so distraught and the public has turned against him, while also not being on my side. They are just on your side.” With a mellowness that, somehow, he thinks should never belong to her, for the twist of her lips on a downwards motion is a terrible contrast to the smile he saw earlier. “Reason as to why my friend got in contact with one of the people from your team. I don’t have a team myself—”

“I’m surprised I even have a team, so I don’t judge you.” Hansol’s eyes twinkle, remembering the words he had shared with Seungcheol earlier. After all, he’s the manager and the one—technically, for Hansol still has his input—in charge of what is posted on his channel or not. “Seungcheol, my manager, talked to me about what your friend and mine talked about.”

Seungcheol was not that happy about the exposure that Hansol got, but after a while, Jeonghan weighted the options and became a mastermind for what the internet was aiming to see. They wanted to learn the other side of the story, just because it would be told by one of the most liked characters in YouTube as of now. Zach Chwe, venturing into the world of a person that no one would have ever thought he’d be compatible with. To break all the rumors with a show, a mini web-series for the world to gnaw at while both teams earned money.

“For the record, I know it’s a difficult thing to think about. I wasn’t in for it at first.” Hansol explains, and he’s not sure he’s ready to have a different light casted on his channel, but Jeonghan was clear to say that he wasn’t intending on a dating show or a couple’s channel. Instead, he wanted something…vague. “They just want us to work on a challenge mini-series. We’d do stuff like go to haunted houses or anything of the like. To make people wonder if we really did date or we were just in it for the show. They’d give us views, hoping to find something or any clues, and we’d leave with a good paycheck and a big question mark after what we were.”

She continues eating, pondering with fluttering eyelashes and a sigh that gets trapped on her throat. “Yeah…I’m okay with it. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” She responds, and Hansol thinks the deal is almost over, but she continues: “You’ll have to keep in mind that while there may be a huge wave of people loving our series together, you might also get a lot of hate. Jay did a great job at—”

“I don’t care.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll come to learn I don’t care about a lot of stuff. Hate? I don’t care.” Hansol explains, giving her a soft smile. “A wanking old man can tell me I’m the worst YouTuber he has ever seen, and I won’t take it to heart. I’m not a plate to be enjoyed by all.”

“Whoa…” She whispers, plucking a lot of noodles up to show it to him. “Not only are you the antonym of a lactose intolerant person, but you’re also awfully wise.”

“You’re welcome for the visit to the bathroom later.” Hansol comments, earning well-heard laughter by her. She tosses her head back and the laugh comes out in spurts. Odd and yet, cute.

“I’ll have to get used to those comments, Z—Hansol.”

“We’ll get used to each other. We have a whole season to plan, after all.”

WE VISITED A HAUNTED HOSPITAL? | EP. 1 S1 | ZACH CHWE

She’d kill Hansol for thinking of visiting a haunted hospital as the first topic of their new show, but she’s too scared to actually want to murder him right now. What if he came back as one of those ghosts who were supposedly here? She can’t risk it.

Drops of petrichor build on forgotten walls, where once were supposedly patients that needed help but were abandoned to a beckoning fire. Hansol said on the way here that he truly doubted the events happened. If the hospital was burned down to its core, why was it still standing and why were tickets sold for people to go through it like tourists in Sydney? She doesn’t have a clue. All that she knows is that they were placed on opposite ends of the hospital, bound to meet through clues, but she hasn’t been able to move from her position under a table.

She was aware that Hansol’s team and hers, which only includes Hyejin, had insisted on having jump-scares all around. One of those jump-scares could be Jeonghan in a clown uniform, but the moment she saw it, the moment she sprinted away. Now, she has been seated there for more than thirty minutes, ignoring her next mission and the door in front of her, with a beating heart and her knees pressed to her chest.

Great, she’s about to ruin their first episode.

Beheld with destiny, she thinks she’s about to shit her pants the moment she hears that old, wooden door creak under the weight of someone entering. Caught, she’s imagined to be, unable to discern between the group of people there to add spice to the video and the actual ghosts that are supposedly in this hospital. However, the first thing she sees are a pair of converses in light green and soon after, someone is kneeling in front of her.

Hansol’s long hair is clouded by a hoodie so thick his earlobes are red, or so she thinks that’s the reason, because his hand pats on the expanded leg of her jeans. Bell jeans were in once again, and she had opted to have them on her outfit. However, Hansol’s high cheekbones lift in a smile when he counterparts:

“If you’re really trying to hide from ghosts, having half of your leg out from underneath the table is not the way to go.” Hansol spares a look at the corner of the room, perhaps pinpointing where the camera is, before she shakes her head at him. She’s still a little shaken, letting out in a trembling tone what must be the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard.

“What if this place is actually haunted?”

“I don’t know percentages, but I am sure someone has died in every possible place on earth. Here, if it’s haunted, or anywhere.” Hansol drags himself under the table, sitting down next to her and taking up the same position she has, though he presses his cheek to the upper portion of his knees. “So, as a matter of fact, every place should be haunted.”

“You’re not helping.” She adds, turning her face to look at him and my God, is Chwe Hansol actually very handsome. He’s different from Jay, with higher cheeks, rounded eyebrows, and a color that resembles honey on tea in his irises. She should look away, not feed into the idea that people have of them being together, but they were meant to act as natural as possible for this show, and looking away has never been more difficult.

“…Said my mom as I helped with the dishes, and my sister after I met her first boyfriend. Helping is not really my biggest forte, but I try.” Hansol shows a full row of teeth when he smiles, like he does it without a care in this world. He probably does. Something about Hansol tells her that he doesn’t really care what people think of him. “But I found you, so I think that’s us winning the game, isn’t it?”

“Is this a park ride for you or something? You’re all smiley and shit.” She tells him, mimicking his smile though hers is a bit more crooked, like she’s trying to push it away so it doesn’t reach him as the most dumbfounded, surprised expression.

“I like this place.”

She feigns a ringing cellphone with a purr of her lips, folding her hand to mimic a phone only to be caught in between his digits, pressed to his ear as if he’s picking it up.

“Yes, hello?” He asks, fluttering eyelashes in between sweetened laughter. One would think that someone like Chwe Hansol was a punch of pink lemonade, but knowing he’s more like a very sweetened soda is a new occurrence.

“It’s your psychologist. He’s asking for another appointment.”

Hansol chuckles at her words, putting down her hand and yet, leaving her with a tingle that awakens in the pit of her stomach and blossoms like butterfly wings across her chest, filling her in with a breath so profound that every single one of her ribs expands with glee.

“They should.” With that, he stands up,extending a slim hand that wavers its fingers for her to grab. Once she does, she’s up her feet, chest to chest with a man who looks at her with pink lips closed together, hiding the row of teeth that she had grown so fond of in just minutes, for how beautiful and calming his smile could be. “I think we should get out and get to the exit—”

What they don’t expect is for the door to bang open, irrupting on their fort and creating a tense atmosphere when they come face to face with a clown, much of the like of what It could look like. And while Hansol laughs from the moment he sees it, she doesn’t. A shout trips from the back of her throat, much like herself, as she jumps onto Hansol’s back and feels his hands contracting against her thighs, catching her just in time. Her eyes, hidden by his neck, are barely touched by the long hairs on his nape that don’t get to be trapped in his beanie, and when she mumbles for them to leave, Hansol starts sprinting like his life depends on it.

Never does he stop laughing, though, as whoever is dressed on the clown outfit follows after them. He’s secure, for some reason, even when they don’t know each other very well, something about Hansol makes her feel as though she is protected. Sheltered from a world that had always been so tough, but with him is just a tiny bit more complex. And for Hansol, that’s okay.

Something tells her that Hansol doesn’t push himself to understand the majority of things. The reason why the world goes around the sun, or why so many people choose heartbreak. He knows he’s a particle, a mere second in a clock, a reason to laugh or a momentum to flee. While she lives through memories, Hansol relishes on breaths. On moments that are here and now, enjoyable and yet, somehow dreamy in the way that they go by so fast.

She doesn’t know him much, but when they reach the exit and the sun bathes them through peaks in between gray clouds, he is still holding her. Even when Seungcheol points Hansol’s camera at them and he’s talking, he still doesn’t let go of her. She hears a faint joke, a reason to part from his neck, but lord does she wish she would not have looked away.

For his face is too close and that mole on his temple is right there, valuable enough to catch her attention.

So, she drops herself to the floor, falling on her knees and raising her hands in the air before shouting to the camera:

“Good fucking Lord, we made it!”

And Hansol laughs, like he does in these situations, but how she wishes that laugh would not feel precisely like home should feel like.

Thirteen million views and just the third episode of the series has been posted. Now, that is breaking records.

She would have never believed the world would become a big number for her. Flop or not valued by the amount of people seeing you; regardless of interest or not. She seeks for that validation—much more after the break-up—. From people who don’t really know her, but love to give conspiracies about how Hansol and she met. They say they are together, and they don’t really deny it. The closer they get through episodes, the more people seem interested in it, and while she’s in the thrive for more—fame, success, whatever the fuck it is that is sedating her, Hansol stays…the same.

He invited her over to his place. So unorganized, just like his thoughts. He leaves his coats hanging on his poor couch, picking them up per demand, with splashes of coffee on the coffee table from early this morning still forgotten. Tonight, on this Saturday night, Hansol has brought soju with himself, licking off the remaining bits of his black bean noodles from his chopsticks. She still has a bit left on her place, but she has opted to sit with her head hanging from the sofa, looking at him from upside down, maybe a bit boozed because of the alcohol he had prepositioned for ‘idea organization’.

“What if we ate noodles on a rollercoaster?” They have planned up to episode ten. The end of the season, after all. But people have been asking for another season, and while it’s not confirmed, a company had ventured into the hardships of wanting to promote them for a second season and that meant giving them ideas on a silver platter in hopes of them liking it enough to support it monetarily.

“You want a POV of us vomiting on a camera. Got it.” She drags, inspecting the way his cheeks turn maroon and how he puts his bottle of soju down, giving her a smile that, if she had to describe, would call it extremely dumb.

“When you put it that way, sounds incredibly hot.”

“Ew, Hansol.” She has gotten used to calling him that name now, a month into their venture and almost four episodes in. Her head starts thumping and with four bottles of soju, she can’t stop thinking. Hansol has almost been like a bubble; he lets her see on the outside and still, protects her in some way. She knows that the death threads are still there, as well as the ongoing rumors with Jay that include her in a love triangle, but with him, recording and a new group of people around them, she has managed to lose herself a bit more. “I can’t think straight at this moment.”

“Probably because you’re losing blood flow.” Hansol drags himself closer to her, never lifting his butt of the ground, twisting her hair in a bun that falls the moment she sits up straight. Not because he told her so, or because she was afraid of losing oxygen in her brain, but rather the reason behind it was that Hansol was a little too close to her. Enough for her to see those beautiful speckles in her eyes.

Yes, so that’s the thing…Hansol is extremely pretty.

Awfully so.

In a drunken state, that’s multiplied by a hundred.

“What if we made a ‘Show Me The Money’ parody?”

Hansol shrugs. “I’d eat you up.”

“You think so?” She slurs, pressing her cheek to the edge of the couch and almost twitching when Hansol reaches for the corner of her joggers, pulling them down where they had bunched at her ankles. That’s when his skin comes in contact with hers, wrapping entirely around that portion of her leg and letting his thumb caress the joint behind it. “Mm, don’t do that.”

“S—Sorry.” And Hansol pulls away at that moment, cheeks even more flushed with the alcohol, eyes widened. “I—I didn’t…”

“It just feels nice.” She tells him in a whisper, dozing off and letting her eyes close as the only thing she can hear in the background is the faint sound of Drake’s latest record and, of course, his calm breathing. “…And I don’t like getting used to it. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten used to things only for them to hurt me…after…”

It’s the alcohol talking and the sleepiness losing her, because she doesn’t remember what else she had said or why she falls asleep so fast. What she does remember is what she dreams. She sees Jay in dreams, remembering the way his palm fit so snugly around her knee, and how he’d trace the underside of it with how big his hand was. Now, she sees it in third person, in some cramped-up party of the like of those he went to, with his lips spread around another woman’s, doing the same thing he did to her, and somehow breaking apart the little threads left in her heart. Because that’s what men have always done to her—hurt her until she couldn’t recognize herself.

She awakens with sweat pooling at her neckline and breaths unarranged in a manner that has her clasping the first thing she feels. Hansol has turned down the lights, his back pressed to the edge of the couch, head lulled back in a way that will probably have him aching in the morning. His brown hair spreads on top of his forehead like vices, eyelashes straight and long, jaw squared yet somehow relaxed as his lips part. He’s snoring softly, barely audibly, laying there like he wouldn’t move even if the world ended.

So, she drags her hand across his forearm, feeling every bump and mountain of slim muscle until she reaches his knuckles and touches them, shaking his hand in hopes of getting him to open his eyes.

He doesn’t, but he does hum at the mention of his name.

“Hansol…I had a nightmare.” She has them often. Each time, she looks into the shadows of the night hoping for the real monsters to appear. Not the ones that make their guest appearance in horror movies, but the ones that actually hurt her. People that tarnished her heart in ways that now has it stopping from time to time. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but could…could you please hold me? When I’m held, I can fall back asleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rasps out, dragging himself towards the couch as she makes him some space. He doesn’t talk about his room or taking up the bed, because he’s probably too sleepy to even care, when he places an arm under her head and lets him square a leg in between his just to make room for the two.

“I’m sorry for getting so close.”

He drags her until her face rests on his collarbone, humming what she can imagine is a ‘no’. “You’re not doing it for anything bad. It’s okay.” He whispers. “Is this tight enough?”

She looks up at him, eyes still closed. So naturally peaceful and yet, somehow blaring war noises inside her head. Ready to flee away just in case her stomach drops to the ground at the mere sight of him. “It’s perfect.”

Hansol shouldn’t feel perfect. Not if season two is ever going to happen.

Usually, the one with the cruel ideas is Jeonghan. Hyejin has finally met up to that standard. Her friend, not his, and that’s surprising. Hansol has to give her some props for the idea of the ninth episode.

‘Never Have I Ever’. He doesn’t think he has played the game since that one moment he joined college. Only recently did he get his degree, and the engineering degree normally doesn’t get invited to the kind of parties that have drinking games, but Hansol was friends with a bunch of people who would take any kind of game as a reason to drink. This one doesn’t include drinking, but it’s either eating something really nasty, laid in front of them on a picnic cloth—there are testicles in there, as far as he knows—or answering.

Hansol should be concentrated on making her eat the five meals that are meant to be eaten by her, but he is tranced by her. Has been since two weeks ago, when he decided that sharing a couch with her was a good idea. Not only did he have to walk away before she noticed that he had accidentally wrapped a hand around her waist while asleep, but he also had to fight off the thoughts that ventured into his head. He didn’t want to be the rebound, but that’s precisely what he would be if he tried to get with her. If he played the cards he does sometimes, when life is a little simpler, of rubbing the back of his neck and buying someone’s favorite Pokémon cards.

It doesn’t help that she has decided to look absolutely gorgeous while they sat on a bench, in a secluded park that Seungcheol had found fitting for filming. Roses scatter around them in the same color of red that splashes on her dress. A loving heart neckline that has him looking down and—fuck, Hansol, don’t be stupid. She’s way out of your league—

“Never have I ever…” She drags her voice while reaching into the hat that was placed nearby for them. He looks at the shape of her mouth, the length of her eyeliner and he wants to punch himself for a second. For staring with that intent, even with cameras around them. For feeling a bit protected in front of them just because everyone thinks they are dating. Or so. “Eaten or tasted earwax.”

“Do I have the face of a man that has tasted earwax?”

“Yes.” She responds, chuckling at him only to have him scrunching up his nose. He looks down at the plate that is served in front of him, this round’s beverage for anyone to enjoy. “Hansol, don’t tell me you have.”

“I’m not sure, but I was a weird kid! May have!” He tells her, picking up his chopsticks and biting into the testicles that he had repulsed from the moment the game started. She throws her head back, laughing like the child in her had awakened at his response, before she’s shaking her head and tossing the card to the side.

“You’re so nasty.”

“Tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Just because I am sure I did it as a kid as well, I’ll help you out with those testicles.” She picks up the chopsticks from his hands, giving it the slightest of bites before sticking out her tongue and dropping it to the ground. “Gross! Jeonghan, where the fuck did you find this stuff?”

“It was Cheol!”

The game continues, with the two of them a point away from either losing or winning. She has her legs spread in front of her, crossed by the ankles, waiting for him to read the card that he’s just opening when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Oh, this wasn’t Seungcheol. This has Hyejin’s name written all over it. He knows it because she has been wriggling her eyebrows whenever he makes his way past her, opting to tease him about the ‘obvious crush’ he has on her best friend.

“Never have I ever liked the person across from me.”

Hansol doesn’t move, and he should be drinking the broccoli lemonade that the team prepared, but she moves with a little more precision, as if her anatomy was made to act in cue. His heart stops when she grabs the glass and brings it up to those lips that had been burgundy red at the start of the recording to drink. She closes her eyes, tosses her head back, and gags at the taste, but Hansol is far too lost.

…She had liked him? Then? Now? When?

“Confessions, confessions. Always coming up from these videos.” She is more of a natural in front of the camera, taking his hand and bringing it up in the air as per a champion from a boxing fight. She has won him over, if only if she knew. “We’ve got ourselves a winner. Give a round of applause for Zach Chwe, everyone!”

Hansol can’t even smile. He’s dumbfounded, staring at her profile and seeing her grin in such an easy going way. Though, the moment they say their goodbyes from the video, she pulls away from him, clearing her throat and looking at him as if she expects an answer. One that never comes and leaves him just to stand up, excuse himself out of the park and lock himself in the nearest bathroom.

Being the rebound is not what he wants, but God, would he be lying to himself if he didn’t accept he has liked her for longer than he’d want to admit.

Two months pass by. The first season becomes a success and still, not a word has been uttered about that episode. The subscribers’ favorite episode, but the forgotten episode for those who were involved.

No one asks questions when they come together for VidCon. It feels natural, actually. She doesn’t think she would have been able to just go on her own anymore. As some kind of way the world had planned it, Hansol feels like her counterpart in whatever this is right now. Friendship, work, whatever they have garnered together that people seem to love enough to have a panel for them, where they speak to fans and take pictures together. She notices then that she’s not the only person awestruck by Hansol’s beauty, even when that’s obvious at this point. He looks like a daydream in his black t-shirt, rounded glasses and skinny jeans, smiling in pictures and even joking around with fans.

Sometimes, she just looks at him from the side and blames him for it. For letting things slide so smoothly in between the two after that forbidden episode. He never said a word, neither did he try to clear her head with a kiss to her lips or even a strict ‘no’ that would have her moving on. It’s his fault for being likeable; for giving her a necklace with her initial as a celebration when their first season became a success. For him to receive her with a bowl of noodles for every recording they had each week. For him to tag her on stupid memes on Twitter, not giving a care what anyone could say.

The venue is packed and Hansol gets a little too lost on conversations with a fan that is talking about his beginnings as a gamer—that wasn’t really good to start with—when she feels someone tapping her on the shoulder. Her hips move from the edge of their table, where an enormous poster of the publicity image for the first season of their show spreads in the background, to turn around and respond to the subscriber that was trying to get her attention. Nonetheless, like a clashing thunder in a summer day, Jay stands there looking like the oddest thing she has seen in the past three months.

Because she’s not used to him anymore. Neither has she felt like she was truly comfortable with the idea of him. He’s a few heads taller than her, with his black hair pushed back and the sleeves of his shirt dragged up to showcase his tattoos. He’s smiling when he greets her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her briefly before he pulls away. They are lucky that is not peak hour and most people have scattered to look at the music presentation that was taking place.

“Jay?” She questions, only to have him smiling proudly, like he would do whenever he got recognized in public.

“The one and only. I had to pass by when I heard you were making it to this year’s convention.” His dark brown eyes splay across the poster behind them, trailing after every detail of the image of Hansol wrapping an arm around her shoulder, both smiling at the camera as they spread their hands in peace signs, smiling gleefully. “Haven’t watched a season of the show, but I might start. It’s fucking everywhere.”

She should not talk to him, but she scoffs at his words, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest to portray just how closed she is to him, but she doesn’t miss her sarcastic smile. Not an ounce of hate is within her chest anymore, but she recalls the wounds he opened just to make bigger ones. “…Mhm, it’s not the type of show you’d watch. Too much of a big brainer.”

“Oh, come on, you know I’m smarter than I look.”

For the way he plotted the entire internet against her, she knows for a fact Jay could very much be a lawyer or an astronaut if he wanted to. Misspells or not. “I’m certain. I’ve never doubted you’re a cunning, smart little shit.”

“I like that. Might make it my new motto.” Before Jay could venture into more of a conversation, her waist is grounded by a pair of thin arms wrapping around them. Soft skin connecting with her through the fabric of her pink hoodie has her looking back to see that Hansol is hugging her from behind, hiding his hands on the pockets of her hoodie and pressing his chin to her shoulder before whispering into her ear.

“We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Like organizing our things at the hotel and sign some posters for tomorrow…” He never rushes with those things, but at the presence of Jay, Hansol’s a bit more masculine and selfish with time. When she tries to answer him, far too lost in the beauty of him now that he has pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, pulling the strands of his hair back, his golden eyes have settled on Jay, not even sparing him a grin out of courtesy. “I’ll have to snatch her away from you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Jay adds, aiming to hurt and taint, but Hansol doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls her by the strings of her hoodie, interlocking their hands together before speaking closely to her face.

“So, are we going?”

It’s not a doubt that she says ‘yes’. After all, if her heart had grown a bond for Hansol without him touching her that way, having a glimpse of what it could be like to be with him has her brain going feverish.

Hansol is certain about many things. That he likes the color green. He loves tie dye hoodies. That he would die in a beanie if he could. He enjoys weird scary shows, and he would marathon the entirety of Scream in a minute. He is also certain that he doesn’t want to talk to her, as they sit across from each other in his hotel room. Not just because, but for the matter that she was talking to the ex that had done anything in his willpower to push her to be absolutely nothing.

He sits on a brown leather couch, working diligently on signing posters while she has opted not to do so. For the past ten minutes, she has ventured into all the possible conversation topics in order to get him to look up, even smile, but while Hansol likes living his life in tranquility, he also has his angered moments. His blood felt like it had rushed to his knuckles from how tight he was holding them closed when he saw Jay. He couldn’t bear but admit to himself that, while he had opted not to think about her in that light, the idea of her going back to Jay and not with him infuriated him. Sure, she wasn’t his—neither was she anybody’s, for that matter—but if someone had to have her as the person by their side, it had to be him. Right?

Anyone but fucking Jay Lee.

But preferably him.

Yet, she knows how to get the world to look at her with eyes that had been rose-colored by her voice and eyes alone. After ten minutes, she knows that he won’t talk to her and when the beads of silence surround the cream-colored room, he almost imagines that she has left. Only that he gets to see her jean-cladded thighs standing in front of his knees, his eyes darting to her face for a fraction of a second until he sees her. The closeness, the little smile that splays in the corner of her mouth, and that wave to her eyebrows that tells him that she’s a bit confused, amused, but also a tad annoyed.

“Why are you angry at me? I haven’t done anything to get the silent treatment.” God, she’s one of the smartest women he has met. With the way she can think of matters in the spot and make a drawing on the screen the most interesting thing in the world. He knows her commentaries on movies are the most precise, intelligent words that could be said, and yet, he wishes she could wake up and realize that he has been here, all along, for three months and even a bit more, liking her like a complete fool. “Hansol, you either talk to me or you talk to me. I’m not giving you another option.”

“That man was…okay, I’ll talk to you.” Hansol stops himself when he hears just how mortified he sounds when he starts talking, putting the poster he was signing to the side, laying on the table next to him with the other pile of posters. Soon after, he’s spreading his hands on the armrest, leaning back on the couch. “Jay has done nothing but make your life an absolute hell and there you go, just being nice to him, letting him hug you and talk to you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupts him, spreading a hand on her waist. “If I just ignore him or treat him like shit, I’m giving him even more of a reason to talk. I’ll be the first to admit to say that the stuff Jay put me through wounded me in ways that will take more than a few months to work through, but I also don’t want to give him the benefit of being aware of how much he hurt me.”

Hansol can understand that, but he also knows what men like Jay think. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning through half-parted lips. “He probably thinks he still has you on the palm of his hand.”

“He doesn’t.” She shrugs. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to see you with him. That is the problem.” Hansol says, standing up and staring at her, face-to-face. “I know you won’t go back to him but it makes me angry to think you ever thought of being with him. Not only doesn’t he match up with you on looks, but he never deserved you. You could put him on a pan and drop an entire bag of salt on him and Jay Lee would still be flavorless. The biggest mistake you could ever make, and the thought alone of him wanting to be with you—”

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Yes, but…” You also don’t want to be with me, he completes for himself. Sure, she had once said she liked him, but what reassures him that it wasn’t just for the camera?

“You’re making a big deal out of it!”

“I fucking know!” He exclaims, widening his eyes.

“Then?”

“I will make everything that happens to you a big deal because I care for you. I’ve liked you for God-knows how long. Sorry for getting jealous, but I don’t regret it one—”

She interrupts him before he could say anything else, with her lips spreading across his, savoring the tremor of his mouth before he opens it to the granting touch of her tongue. His bottom lip fits between hers as if they were made for her, her hands gravitating to his waist and pulling him closer, though the fact that she was the one to make the first move did not stop Hansol from adding his own motions. His hands spread on the back of her neck, thumbs coming in contact on the column of her throat and dragging a sweet stripe down, rising goosebumps all over her skin. Hansol tilts his head to the side, a cloud of humidity building from the breath he lets out before kissing her lazily, albeit strongly, like he knows he doesn’t have to do much to do it right.

She would like to punch him, ask him why he never did anything when she confessed to liking him in that video, but Hansol has seated back on the chair, hands landing on her hips as he continues to kiss her, and her thighs part to settle comfortably on his lap. When she pulls away from him, lips tainted in that romantic shade of pink that he leaves everywhere he goes, she traces the outline of his mouth with a peck before she goes down to his neck, hiding in there for a second.

“You had me guessing for so long, Hansol. That’s what assholes do.”

Hansol’s hands rub at her hips, one of the portions she’s more insecure about, but with him it just feels right. “I don’t want to be your rebound.” He tells her, grabbing her by her chin before pushing their lips together once again. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks against her mouth, just minutes after biting on her bottom lip. “Please, don’t let me be a rebound. If I am, stop me now.”

She’d be crazy to stop him. Not when his mouth looks like a rose petal and her heart feels the more at ease she has felt in a while. Sure, this is always the start of every romance. She knows that men feel comfortable before they destroy her heart even worse than the last time, but something tells her that this is not the case with Hansol. She closes her eyes, venturing into the shape of his mouth to trace it like the map she should have followed a long time ago.

For now, she’ll get lost in him, in the way he makes her feel like she’s the newest star in the sky and he’s drawing it himself. Calling her something that goes unnamed for now.

The word ‘for now’ is so funny. It prolongs in time, so much that three months turn into six, and then, an entire year.

She had said that Hansol’s idea was a ‘for now’. That him, as a person, was temporary as it gets, but the clock was making fun of her as she rushes to his car, holding onto the coldest coffee she could get at this hour of the morning. Some people feel comfortable, not because they are colored certain way or how they make you feel, but what you two make together. Blue and green are colors on their own, but together they make something different. The creation of new matters is what makes the world a little bit more interesting.

Hansol doesn’t enjoy mornings, not after a short night of sleep, and that may be her fault, but with the way he smiles at her when she opens the car’s door, she’s sure he has forgiven her. For how great they felt last night, she’s sure that there were no grudges held. A camera is pointed her way, though she knows that the second season of their show is still being published on her channel and, no way in hell, he would ever post the videos he takes of her. Little vlogs to remember what it was like here, now, forever. God, forever sounds amazing with Hansol.

“Here we have a whole coffee addict, making her way to my sick Porsche.”

“It’s a Toyota, Hansol. Sit the fuck down.” She completes, entering the car and pushing her hair over her shoulder, leaning over the seat to let him taste the coffee. That makes the camera a little too close to her face, laughing and pushing it to the side the slightest. “I’m sure I don’t look that good in that angle.”

“You don’t, but real love will make me say you do.” He completes, sipping a few more times into her coffee before giving it back to her. He has the hood of his shirt all the way over his dark hair, turning off the camera and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he starts the car.

Talking about their relationship in public was forbidden, for she doesn’t want to blur the line in between the faux relationship and what became real. In fact, it happened with its bumps along the road. She can’t say that everything has been easy, that sometimes her nightmares don’t wake her up with the idea of Hansol leaving one day, or not precisely leaving her, but stomping on her heart before he flees away, but that idea alone is pushed away with a served kiss and a few words that save her from doubting. Hansol is not much of a talker and yet, when he opens those lips of his, he always seems to say the right thing.

So, while the subscribers have never gotten a real video of them admitting to their relationship, it’s almost public notice. She sips on her drink, looking at his profile and the tranquility of him before asking.

“So, I saw a Tweet not too long ago. As I was waiting for coffee, actually.”

“From who?” His voice grows serious, expecting to hear anything from Jay or anyone else on the internet, but she calms him down by interlocking their fingers together, tracing the small promise ring on his finger with her thumb.

“From a subscriber that wanted to point out our supposed beginnings.” She likes looking at those conspiracies from time to time. They are so ridiculous that she can’t help but be amused by how close and obsessed people can get from someone they saw on the internet. Well, as long as it’s kept like a good momentum on someone’s life, and they know not to blur the line, she’s sure it’s okay. “The first picture you liked of me was on April 18th, three years ago. It was a picture of me on my desk, looking down at my I-Pad as I drew, working on my next video.”

Hansol twists his head to the side, laughing to himself a bit before nodding. “I remember that picture.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He looks at her for a fraction of a second before bringing their interlocked hands up, giving it a soft kiss. “Your hair was shorter then. Way shorter. I thought you were pretty.”

“Sometimes, I wish I had met you earlier.”

“Huh, earlier wasn’t our time, I guess.” Hansol responds, letting go of her hand to grab her coffee.

Holding her breath, she looks at his sleepy profile. At him as a person. It has been so long and yet, the words don’t weight on her mouth when she opts to mumble it for the first time:

“I love you, Hansol.”

His eyes twinkle when she says those words, spreading a smile into his face that show all his teeth before he gnaws at his bottom lip.

“I love you, too.”

#vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #kpop scenarios #seventeen #vernon #writing #vernon au #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au

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creedslove · 1 year

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DESERVE IT - PART FOUR

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: after the traumatic night you were doing your best to keep things to yourself, but when a co-worker begins to bother you, you make a decision that brings consequences no one imagine and now it's Javier's turn to take your side, despite the bad situation involving the two of you

Warnings: angst, hurt, mentions of smut, kind of unrequited love, sexual harassment, violence, verbal abuse like a lot of verbal abuse, physical abuse, protective Javier, this one is heavy sorry

A/N: Idk I was so invested in this chapter because reader is me (us) and I love the drama

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

• PART THREE

3.6k words

The reflection that stared back at Javier in the mirror disgusted him to no end.

He hated every single detail about it, its looks, its attitude, its job, its shitty choices.

Javier Peña hated himself.

He was a low life, he knew that and never actually hid it, but to know you now, not only knew for a fact he was one, but told him to his face made it everything worse.

He wasn't a hypocrite, he knew you were right, he was never going to try to convince you otherwise, there was no mistake, no misinterpretation in the world that could somehow lessen what he'd done to you.

He'd ghosted you, ignored you, been cold, rude, he'd complained about how well you treated him, even if that was the only good thing he had in his life. The kindness he received from you without expecting anything in return was something he should've refused but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And he knew he should've kept to himself the moment you refused his flirting. That was what he did to the very few women who refused him, but he just couldn't resist.

The way you laughed softly and bit your lips, an adorable pink spreading on your beautiful face as you leaned closer and watched him up and down.

"If it weren't for the heartbreak I still got, I'd be under you right now" you chuckled "and then I'd be on top of you and if you really played your cards right, I'd be on my hands and knees" you burst out laughing, sipping the drink he'd paid you and looking down in embarrassment.

That was your first ever interaction outside the office and after you were bluntly honest with him, he wasn't able to let you go.

You were too good, too pretty, too funny and too damn sexy.

After that, he promised himself he wouldn't let you get hurt, but he couldn't stay away. Each time your face lit up when he said something about your nails, or how you smiled when he called you a pet name and the next thing Javier leaving small gifts on your desk.

It was stupid, he felt so dumb when you arrived at work and saw the small chocolates, or the flowers, but the moment you smiled at him and rushed to his desk to thank him, it made it all worth it.

Then you began hanging out on the weekends too, at first it was a shy restaurant recommendation, that quickly turned into a ride to the restaurant and that evolved into lunch or dinner together.

During the week, the smell of food coming from your apartment was tempting, and though Javi salivated just to picture how good it would be to have some homemade food again, he was too embarrassed to knock on your door and ask for a plate.

As if you'd read his mind you knocked on his door, offering some and that became a habit.

You were right when you rubbed on his face he enjoyed being treated like your boyfriend, he really did. That way he could be near you and daydream about how things could be if he were a different man.

He never meant to hurt you, but he began hurting you by letting you in, by not pushing you away when he had the opportunity to do so. He knew you, he knew you were past the relationship feelings a long time ago, maybe you didn't tell yourself that, but he could tell you liked him in a way it was fair to you, because he liked you just as much, though it took him some time to bring himself to admit it himself he was in love.

But nothing good ever came from that.

Even the times Javier was actually in love, it faded as quick as it started. He was a guy that had passions, but they never lasted. So he couldn't do that to you. He couldn't let you think you two could be together knowing some day he would probably wake up and see his feelings for you had changed, while you were stuck in love with someone who didn't deserve you.

He couldn't be like your ex, he hated that motherfucker with passion. Since the first time you mentioned your heartbreak, under all the amusement he felt at your words, he also felt a hint of anger. He didn't understand how a man could hurt a woman like you.

You'd never told him exactly what had happened, and he never asked. It was pretty simple to him: if you wanted Javier to know, you'd tell him eventually.

Of course he couldn't help wondering what he'd done to you. Several times Javi lay on his bed thinking of your past relationship. He assumed the guy had cheated, that was a real good reason for someone to become brokenhearted but he had a feeling that it could be more than that. Maybe he'd got someone else pregnant? It was one of the theories Javi came up with.

When Steve had one drink after the other after work the day he actually got his shit back together after crying over Connie for weeks, he got tipsy and talkative, and he blabbered everything you'd confided in him.

You'd been left at the altar by your fiance.

You'd been left in front of everybody, family, friends, co-workers, while wearing a beautiful wedding dress that you picked so carefully, in order to make that day perfect in every way.

Your fiance had publicly humiliated you just like Javier did with fiancee a decade prior.

Javier hated your ex with passion for what he did to you, and he hated himself even more to know that in a way, he was also that guy.

He had to try and stop you from getting even more hurt by being around him, but just like everything in life, he screwed things up.

When you woke up the morning after that horrible night, you wanted to disappear. You groaned as a pounding headache reminded you constantly of your very poor choices the night before and you closed your eyes wishing as hard as you could that what had happened would be just an awful nightmare and nothing more.

But you needed to face reality.

But reality could wait a little, so you spent the weekend locked in your apartment, literally playing dead, not wanting to see anyone as you thought about everything you were doing in life, you were so tired of that situation, tired of Javier, tired of your feelings for him. You were also tired of what was about to come, you just wished your heart would stop aching like it did.

When Monday came, you ignored everyone and did your job. You went out for lunch on your own and returned for another shift of not making visual contact with anyone and praying that lump in your throat that suffocated you would go away.

Javier and Murphy kept their voices low, so you didn't distinguish what they talked about, eventually you felt their gaze on you, which you also ignored.

Steve looked around nervously at Javier who just looked away, avoiding you as much as you did him, but continued walking towards your desk, stopping right in front of it and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um… Y/N?" Murphy smiled nervously "Javi and I left some reports with you last week because you were helping us with it and Messina wants them… where are they?"

You bit your lips at the urgent need of bursting out laughing at his face.

After everything they'd done, Steve had blabbered about your personal life and Javier… well, you didn't even like to remember it, they still wanted you to do their job?

You thought of many ways you could snap in front of them, make a scandal and have the entire office's attention on them, but you quickly gave up, instead, you raised your head with a sweet smile

"Oh sorry Steve, I forgot them at home, but they'll be here first thing in the morning" you assured them.

When both Javier and Murphy got to work the next day they found a huge pile of unfinished documents to fill. They looked at each other in confusion but what you'd done quickly sank in. For one second, they were both naive to the point of actually believing you would help them do their job after what happened.

•••

Three weeks had passed since the Javier incident and you'd never been more isolated from everyone. As Javi used to be your favorite person to hang out, you still talked to Steve and Connie, and some other people from the office, but you ended up distancing yourself and they didn't seem to be too eager to get your company, so it was not like they missed you.

Steve was still single, going to bars almost every night but also managing to be a functional drunk by day and work as a cop.

As for Javier you didn't know and you didn't care, sometimes you could smell coffee coming from his apartment, or cooking oil, which meant he was probably making himself some french fries. He loved them just like the man child he was.

You also didn't hear any commotion from his place, which meant whoever he was fucking was being silent.

You missed him on a daily basis, everything reminded you of Javi and sometimes it even took you some time to process you weren't friends anymore when you saw something nice or funny and wanted to show him.

But at the same time, you also felt proud of yourself for working on your emotional detachment from him. The first few days you thought it was impossible to be away from him, but you were getting by.

On the other hand, one consequence of Javi's distance from you was the fact that Carlos took it as an invitation to hit on you.

He started small, discret, but consistent. At first he just left small chocolates around your desk because he was so pathetic he had to imitate Javier, not being able to come up with an idea on his own.

You always got rid of them by placing them on Steve's desk when he wasn't around which led him to think they were a gift from Colleen. You chuckled to yourself when you heard his theory. You knew the fire was about to spread in that department but you simply didn't care. You wanted them all to fuck off.

Then Carlos left you post its with several messages. They started humble and innocent, calling you pet names and other stuff, but after a while they started to become spicy, until he left you full, explicit words of what he would like to do with you in that ugly, sloppy handwriting of his.

You kept them all in your drawer, you knew when the time was right you'd be able to use them in your favor.

The morning you decided to wear a pencil skirt to work was when everything began going to shit. First, Javier's jaw dropped; he couldn't even pretend he didn't acknowledge your existence anymore. Instead, he just followed you with his eyes all around the office, like an animal and he didn't even care.

His jeans got tighter and he would let Pablo Escobar produce all the cocaine in the world if he could only know if you were wearing panties along that skirt or not.

The mere idea of you bare under that teasing outfit in your workplace was enough to send shivers down his spine. It was enough to take all his focus away and the only picture in Javier's mind was to have you sitting on his desk, legs spread wide while he had his face buried between your folds. At that moment, he wanted to be nothing but your fuck boy, to make it up to you by fucking you like no other.

"We gotta go, perv" Murphy interrupted his wet daydreams and reminded him they'd have to go to the streets.

Carlos took their departure as an invitation to come closer, and as you grabbed yourself a cup of water he slapped your ass.

"Ay que culo sabroso princesa" he whispered into your ear, without warning and making you spill some of your water. He laughed softly "leaving a wet path for me already?"

Your blood boiled, if you had access to a gun you knew you would probably shoot that pig in the face, you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs until someone actually put you out of your misery.

You were so fed up, so tired, so angry with men taking everything from you. Your fiance, Javier, Murphy, Carlos… you felt you couldn't even live your life without having one of them ruining some aspect of it somehow. It stirred something in you and an idea popped into your head. You took a deep breath and controlled yourself again, you were going to make him pay, because if one of them got punished, the others would learn from the lesson.

You turned to him and smirked.

"You're all talk and no action. You've been dropping little dirty notes on my desk like a horny teen and made no moves… are you even interested in me?" You batted your eyes at him.

Carlos frowned softly and chuckled.

"I thought you hated me, you went pretty feral when I talked about Peña a while ago, didn't ya?"

"I did, but Peña is no longer in the picture and I heard hate fucks can be even better than love ones… I haven't tried these yet, but maybe you could help me with that?" You smirked and took his hand writing down the address to a shady hostel known by the cops who investigated downtown.

"Eight PM. Bring a bottle of wine and a bottle of lube, ya que te gusta mi culo" you whispered and saw the color drain from his ugly, pathetic face. "Nobody will suspect a cop and an assistant carrying out an investigation there, right?" You winked at him and walked away.

Carlos believed you so easily for a second you though he was the one messing with you, but turns out he was just simply and straight up stupid.

The next step was easy.

You excused yourself to mail some documents and on your way back you also mailed the collection of obscene post-its to Carlos' house, where his wife received them. The last one had the time and the address she should go to.

And the rest was history.

When morning came, gossip spread through the office like wildfire, thanks to Colleen who heard it from a cop, who heard it from another and by 9AM everyone knew agent Carlos Galindo had been caught red-handed by his wife who immediately pulled out a huge scene dragging attention from the whole block.

There was crying, screaming, slapping, scratching and accusations, and according to Colleen, Mrs.Galindo had kicked him out of home and forbade him from seeing the kids.

Apparently a mysterious woman had set the whole thing up, and no one knew her identity.

Though Murphy had a pretty good idea, he shot you a smirk "don't you think it's a whole lotta coincidence Carlos got into this shit now that he'd been harrassing you?"

ou shrugged and smiled big, it was the first time Javier had seen you smile for real in almost a month and he cursed himself to see his heart skipped a beat.

"Well, I know some men think they can get away with everything, but they gotta learn they can't just play with women as if we were nothing" you accidentally glanced at Javier and he caught your eyes. Shit.

You cleared your throat and hoped you weren't blushed "anyway, whoever did this knew he deserved it" you winked at Steve and went back to work.

You were finishing another report, going over the spelling again to make sure there were no mistakes when a commotion dragged your attention.

You could hear some muffled voices which became loud as someone approached the room. You looked at Javier and Murphy, the three of you confused at what the heck was going on.

Colleen's voice wasn't much more than a nervous squeak, telling whoever the person that was coming wasn't a good idea.

And then you saw him.

Carlos was standing there, fuming, with red blood eyes, looking like he hadn't seen a shower in ages, still with his work uniform and staring at you with a death glare.

Anyone could see he was clearly out of his mind, but everyone seemed to look at him in a mix of awe and curiosity.

You thought it was so amusing to see him in that shitty state, but your smile immediately died when you saw him taking some steps towards you. He had a bottle of wine in hands and his lips twitched in an attempt of a smile which turned into a sinister face.

"Buenos días puta" he said "I waited for you last night, but you never showed up, whore. My wife did though and she wasn't happy about it, and I bet my heavy balls you were the cum dumpster slut who called her" he said getting near your desk at the same time Javier stood up, calling Carlos' name in order to draw attention to himself, but he was ignored.

"I'm such a gentleman I even brought you your bottle of wine, I hope you enjoy it, puta" he said angrily before shattering the bottle against the edge of your desk and spilling wine all over the floor. Carlos' hand immediately yanked a handful of your hair and pulled you against his body, pointing the sharp glass towards your neck.

Murphy and Javier began trying to talk to him, in order to distract the man and get you safely out of his hands.

The grip on your hair was painful and though you didn't think Carlos would do it, you couldn't help but being scared.

"You're nothing but a bitch, a cum dumpster for the guys in the office, you are worthless Y/N, you destroyed my marriage and now you'll pay, you'll s-"

Carlos was interrupted mid sentence when Javier elbowed his ribs as hard as he could, ignoring completely his police training that was clear when it said the agents should keep calm in a dangerous situation, he just went to action. He didn't give a shit if Murphy wanted to follow the protocol, he wouldn't stand there and watch that motherfucker talk to you like that, let alone try to hurt you.

Carlos dropped the sharp bottleneck and gasped for air, as you ran away from his grip and didn't know what to do.

He immediately turned to Javier, all his anger focused on the man, as they began a real dog fight, Carlos threw a few punches at Javier, but he stepped over the spilled wine and fell onto the floor. Peña didn't think twice before kicking him, not caring if he was already down. Carlos managed to stand up even though he struggled and laughed softly as found you pressed against the wall, watching the scene with horror in your eyes.

"You're scared now? Don't be, malparida. Save your scared look for when I'm fucking all of your tight pretty holes until you are crying and bleeding and whimpering for your manwhore prince charming to save you" he said darkly "I'll do you worse than any Escobar men would"

Everybody went silent when you heard the click of a gun's safety. Carlos went dead quiet when he felt the cold metal against his neck.

You could barely believe the scene of Javier standing there, pointing a gun at a fellow cop just to defend you. Murphy also tried to calm the both of them down, but at that moment you felt as if you'd gone deaf. All you could hear was Javier's words.

"Turn around, Carlos. Turn around nice and slowly" he commanded in a surprisingly calm voice and the disgusting man who had just been making horrible threats looked like a scared stray dog, obeying Javier, he meet his angry eyes.

"Now you listen to me… you will never get near Y/N again, got it? Never!!! You will never step into the same room she's in, you will never call her those things, got it? She's not a puta, she's not a whore, she's not a cum dumpster… You deserved what happened to you and if you make Y/N slightly uncomfortable I'll shoot you in the face" Javi lowered his aim a little, now his gun pointed right between Carlos' eyes.

"I'll do you worse than Escobar men would"

The man went completely silent as he remained at Javier's gunpoint.

No matter how many times Murphy and other people that arrived just in time to watch the grotesque scene asked Peña to calm down. He would still hold his gun against Carlos, the waves of rage flowing through his body as he thought of every second of what that animal had done to you.

His heart was racing with adrenaline and he felt an urge to pull the trigger.

He just came back to his senses when he felt a soft, warm hand on his arm, looking at it and recognizing the pretty nails done just like he loved observing.

"Javi… put the gun down please"

Your voice calling his name after so long of being ignored. He wasn't Peña, he wasn't Javier. He was Javi. He was your Javi again, at least that was what he hoped for.

He looked at you and saw your scared eyes, finally putting his gun down just like you'd asked for and nodded at you.

"It's okay, it's over now, cariño, I'm here to protect you"

_____

A/N: did you guys go soft for Javi now?

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maple-the-awesome · 6 months

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Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun 💜

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It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do.

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes.

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

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