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starryhyuck · 3 years

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thin ice. (m)

pairing: icehockeyplayer!mark x figureskater!reader

words: 2.6k+

summary: mark lee is the only thing standing in the way of your team’s victory. therefore, fucking him dumb is the best way to defeat him.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: dom!mark, sub!reader, overstimulation, constant fucking, bathroom sex, talks of car blowjobs, sex on the floor, (slight) breeding kink, creampie, hair pulling

disclaimer: i have no idea how figure skating or ice hockey works, i literally fell on my ass when i tried to step on the ice

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds left and the money is all yours. You can see it now — the lavish outfits, brand new skates, and even silk hair ties for when you want to play dress up. Mark Lee just has to miss this shot.

“He’s going to fucking make it,” Doyeon hisses in your ear, chewing on her nails in anticipation.

“Shut up!” You push her away and tell her to stop damaging her fingers.

You watch as Mark glides across the ice, almost knocking into Doyoung twice. “Slam him, slam him!” You screech, ignoring the stares of people around you. You simply want to see Mark get wiped out so glory can be within your reach.

You feel your world collapse when the puck hits the net, time stopping in slow motion as the crowd jumps up in pure bliss. Doyeon’s already crying in your shoulder, and you hear the angry shouts of Chaeyoung on your other side.

Mark Lee, you fucking asshole.

—

Since you were five years old, the ice became your home. And no, you didn’t have an awakening and gain powers like Elsa from Frozen. Your mother discovered how much you loved figure skating, even though your brother, Johnny, was a tall, bumbling mess once he stepped in the rink.

Once your talent was discovered, you were enrolled in figure skating classes and spent most of your afternoons gliding around the ice. You were excited to learn that you could possibly do the sport professionally if you practiced hard enough, but nobody told you how difficult the athletics administration could be.

You were scouted for your college because of your talents in figure skating, many believing you would be a great candidate for the Winter Olympics. However, when you arrived to campus, you learned that you would never be the first priority in the athletics budget.

It was a constant battle between figure skating and ice hockey for the money. Most of the funds went to football and basketball anyways, so you didn’t have much to fight for in the first place. The deal made by the athletics department was simple — if the ice hockey team could not carry themselves to a national championship, the rest of their budget would be distributed to your team.

The victory was within reach until Mark Lee scored the winning goal Friday night, making the ice hockey team one step closer to the national title.

You’re currently waiting for them to finish practice, tapping your foot impatiently as you stand besides the opening to the rink. You finally hear the boys finish up, laughing with one another as they exit. Their eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Ten asks.

You smile. “Nope. Sicheng, we need to talk.”

The captain sighs and follows you until you’re out of earshot. “What is it now?”

You scoff. “You know damn well my team deserves the money more than you do. Worlds is just around the corner and we need the money in order to get there.”

Sicheng laughs at you, still holding his helmet from practice in one hand. “Please. Don’t act like you’re doing this for your team, we both know you’re just wanting to advance for yourself.”

If you could punch Sicheng without facing a lawsuit, your life would be so much easier. You take a step closer to him, ignoring the immediate flush in his cheeks at the proximity.

“I hope your team fails at the next game. I’ll be watching when you do.”

“Stop harassing him.” Mark approaches the scene, pulling his captain’s shoulder and pushing him away from you. “Just face that your team won’t make it. Can’t blame us for your failure.”

You smile sweetly at Mark. He’s been haunted ever since Donghyuck leaked his secret that he used to like you during your freshman year. Mark used to follow you around like a lost puppy, but now, he has no hesitation putting you in place. You know you still have the advantage over him because after all, he can’t deny the way his heart beats when he sees you.

Sicheng observes as you grip onto the fabric of Mark’s uniform, pulling him close until his nose is inches away from yours. Mark gulps at the proximity, not feeling so confident anymore.

“Don’t act like if I dropped to my knees right now, you wouldn’t jump at the chance to stuff my mouth full-”

“Okay!” Sicheng exclaims, pulling the blushing boy to his side. Mark’s cheeks are almost as bright as his uniform. Sicheng glares at you. “We’re going to win on Friday. Then, I’m taking your entire team’s budget.”

You smirk. “Good luck with that.”

—

“I’m not sure this is going to work,” Yeji remarks, watching as Doyeon pulls a tight black dress over your head. You roll your eyes at her comment while Chaeyoung helps you adjust the spaghetti straps of your dress.

“Don’t be so negative,” Seojeong flicks Yeji’s forehead, causing the younger girl to glare at her.

You’re all gathered in Doyeon’s living room, trying to hatch out a plan that Yeji believes is doomed to fail. Tonight was the celebratory party before the game, a dumb idea concocted by Donghyuck on every Thursday night. It goes to show how irresponsible the ice hockey team really is, getting wasted the night before their biggest game. However, tonight works in your favor, because as demonstrated just a few days ago, you still have Mark Lee in your waiting palm. All he needs is a little push away from his teammates and you’ve fully got him. Once the plan is in place, you highly doubt Mark will be able to perform well tomorrow. Considering he’s the team’s best player, taking him down secures a win for the figure skating team.

“Does everyone know their roles?” You check again, eyeing Yeji from her spot on Doyeon’s couch.

She scoffs. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” Chaeyoung nods. “Remember that this isn’t just for us but the future figure skaters for years to come.”

None of you have time to comment on Chaeyoung’s dramatics, already seeing how stressed she is by the way she tugs at her hair frantically trying to apply lip gloss on you. The girls finish getting you all dolled up when Seojeong gets a text.

“Yuta says Mark’s ready,” she announces. You thank the heavens that Yuta was able to get in the ice hockey’s team good graces, none of them expecting the figure skater to be a double agent.

“Let’s get him then,” you grin.

You’re quickly shoved into Yeji’s tiny car and the five of you are off to Donghyuck’s apartment. There’s commotion when you arrive — Sungchan standing on the couch and declaring Sicheng the cutest man alive, Ten giggling with Yangyang by the kitchen counter, Donghyuck’s tongue shoved down a random girl’s throat and Jeno trying to save Mark from choking in the bathroom. Your eyes meet Yuta’s and he winks at you, making sure no one else has seen your arrival. You lean on the doorframe of Donghyuck’s bathroom, smiling at the two of them. Jeno sees you first, urgently patting Mark’s back to save him.

“What’s wrong? Did he see a naked girl or something?”

Mark’s eyes shoot up at the sound of your voice and he gets even more flustered, coughing and choking even more now.

“Why are you here?” Jeno frowns.

You smile and shrug. “To enjoy the show. I can handle Mark from here, Jeno.”

Jeno laughs. “As if I would leave him with you.”

“But Yeji’s waiting in the living room. Are you really going to keep her waiting?”

You smirk at Jeno’s confliction before he finally gives in, leaving Mark and you in the bathroom. You shut the door while Mark recovers, downing a glass of water to help the food go down. “Why are you really here?” He asks once he’s calmed down. He tries not to linger on what you’re wearing, the swell of your breasts tempting him in this close proximity. His gaze flies to the ceiling when your hand wraps around his shoulder, pulling him in closer and letting his fingers rest on your hip.

“What’s wrong, Mark? Scared of a little action?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses. “We’re going to win tomorrow. You can’t stop me.”

You pout. “Is the win really worth it, Mark? Do you want it more than my pussy around your cock?” He grunts lowly, fingers tightening around your waist. You smile. “Or what about your cock shoved down my throat until I can’t breathe? You could easily bend me over the sink and take me any way you want. Doesn’t that sound so much better?”

“Don’t,” he warns you, cord about to snap. “You’re being such a brat.”

He needs one more push. You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Please, Mark? I want your cum inside me. Need it dripping down my thighs so everyone can see who I belong to.”

He breaks, growling as he pushes you against the sink. You giggle when his lips crash into yours, his hands quickly moving to push up the fabric of your dress. He delivers one slap to your clothed clit and you moan at the sensation.

“Fucking annoying whore,” he scoffs at you. “Look at you. So fucking desperate for money that you would drive all the way here just to take my cock like a good girl. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to fuck you until you cry?”

You nod frantically, whimpering. “Please please please. I want it so badly.”

He shoves two fingers in your dripping hole and you cry, back arching against the mirror. Mark’s fingers grip your cheeks and he turns you so that you’re looking right at him. You hold his stare when his thumb rubs frantically at your clit, fingers curling inside of you.

“S-So good, so good,” you blubber, eyes rolling back at the pleasure filling your veins.

You whine when he retracts his fingers but he’s quick to drop to his knees, ripping your underwear and flinging it to the side so he has no obstacles in his way. He immediately dives into your pussy, licking and sucking at your folds. You internally curse. You had no idea Mark was this good at eating pussy or you would’ve prepared yourself more. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his lips attach to your clit, abusing the nub by sucking harshly.

The pain throws you into your first orgasm, whimpering loudly as you fall apart around Mark’s tongue. He quickly cleans you up, not missing any of your juices as he licks your pussy clean.

His eyes darken when he stands, taking in the sight of you looking so fucked out on top of the bathroom sink. He’s about to unbuckle his belt before you stop him.

“I want to fuck at your place. Please?”

He nods at your request, helping you get down and adjusting your dress. It’s a little harder to walk since Mark ripped your panties, but you make do. You two exit the bathroom and you’re about to leave before you hear Donghyuck’s voice.

“Where the fuck are you two going?”

You glance at Mark, who’s a little irritated by his teammate’s appearance.

“Mind your own fucking business, Donghyuck.”

You smirk at the blonde boy’s shocked expression as you two leave his apartment. Mark walks fast, fumbling with the keys to his car.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“Trust me, I can’t.”

The drive to his apartment involves two pit stops, the first one happening because you desperately want to give Mark a blowjob and the second one happening because Mark desperately wants to taste you again.

When you finally get to his apartment, the both of you are already a mess. You don’t even make it to the bedroom — Mark shoving you down on his living room rug and pushing his cock deep inside you. You moan at the intrusion and Mark wastes no time, setting up a fast pace and ramming his cock into your sweet spot over and over again. You’re a drooling mess, letting him abuse your pussy. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you upwards. He balances you so that your back is against his chest.

“Such a perfect little slut for me. What would the panel of judges at Worlds say when they see you? The future Olympic gold medalist begging for cock?”

“I would let them see,” you whisper back at him. “Let them know what lengths I would go to just to win that fucking competition.”

You fall apart around his cock again, your orgasms coming faster after the first two. You whine when you hear Mark’s constant grunts filling your ears.

“Cum inside, Mark. Want all of your cum.”

“Yeah? Little whore wants it all? Wants to be bred like a good little bitch?”

You cry. “Yes, yes, yes! I want it so badly.”

That’s all it takes for Mark to shoot ribbons of white inside of you, coating your insides. You both collapse on the floor, exhausted.

A few minutes pass in silence before Mark speaks up. “I’m ready to go again after I eat some ramen.”

You laugh. “Make it two servings and I’ll be ready.”

He eagerly gets up and shuffles to his kitchen. You smirk, searching for your phone and shooting a text to the group chat.

I’ve got him. The money’s all ours.

After eating ramen and chatting for a little bit, Mark takes you again on the barstool of his kitchen. Then, he fucks you up against the wall, on his couch and in his bed.

He’s thoroughly fucked out when you two finish and you smile, leaning over to kiss him.

“Good luck with your game tomorrow.”

You leave him laying in his bed, wondering if he just jeopardized the future of his team.

—

There’s one minute left in the game.

The team is down by one point and they’re all looking at Mark as they huddle together. Donghyuck hisses at him.

“Did she fuck you stupid? We’re going to lose everything because of you!”

Mark shakes his head, trying to compose himself. It’s hard to do so when he spots you in the crowd, smiling at him as if you want him to win. You’ve thoroughly fucked with his head, his thoughts constantly traveling to the image of you beneath him, sobbing as he shoves his thick cock into you mercilessly.

“This is your fault, Jeno!” Ten growls. “You should’ve never left Mark alone with her!”

“Everyone, shut up!” Sicheng bellows, annoyed by his teammates. “We’re going to lose if we don’t focus. What’s wrong with you, Mark?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “I think I do.”

Sicheng glares at the younger male to be quiet. “I don’t care what it is anymore. There’s one minute left and I need you to get it together.”

“I will, I will,” Mark insists, even though he’s not so sure about it himself. They break the huddle and get back into the game, Mark trying to focus as the referee blows the whistle. Jung Jaehyun comes charging at him and Mark tries to dodge.

“Come on, Mark!”

As soon as he hears your voice overpower the audience, he loses his balance and Jaehyun slams him up against the wall. Mark groans when he tumbles to the ground and it isn’t long before he hears the final buzzer echo in the rink. The competing team jumps for joy, laughing with one another as they meet in the middle of the ice. Mark stays on the ground, watching pitifully as his teammates slump in defeat.

His eyes look for yours again in the stands, but you’re already long gone.

#nct smut #mark lee smut #mark #mark smut

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that-was-anticlimactic · 3 years

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reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

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hookingminor · 3 years

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invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #my writing #avs8

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denkineptune · 3 years

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mha date headcanons- boys and girls :))

♡ request: “i love ur blog already, ur writing is so good!!! im so excited to see the content u’ll be posting !! :D since ur taking requests, how abt some date headcanons for the mha boys (or girls if u want!) ?” - @dianangels

♡ thank you for letting me write girls aaa i chose to do some as first date hc. it was kinda hard to keep jirou’s gn because i wanted to reference wlw stereotypes but i succeeded in gender-neutral because i want everyone to be able to enjoy

♡ dedicating part of this to @anxious-botanist because she’s the one who inspired the momo cuddles hehe sorry it took so long

♡ fic details: headcanons, fluff, gender-neutral reader, 2nd pov

characters: kaminari, amajiki, jirou, ashido, yaoyorozu

kaminari- arcade

↠AR C ADE DA T E

↠you hear me??? arcade!! date!! ideal man, right here, someone claim him immediately or else i will be forced to take ownership

↠he’s super laid back and chill, pretty childish at heart. he only means the best, though, so i think an arcade is exactly what he would go for when taking you on a date! he doesn’t have a lot of money but still wants you to go home with something to remember the date by

↠he buys like $50 worth of tokens and splits it between the two of you, making sure that he tells you which games give the most tickets, because he’s definitely been here enough times to remember

↠his favorite game is either crossy roads or the big bass wheel- he loves crossy roads because of how cute the style is, but also there is impending stress and levels of d o o m as you progress further. big bass wheel is basically just gambling, and i think he’s yumeko jabami.

↠he hacks games to make you win sometimes,, his quirk is bascially designed to do this. it’s like he was born just to take you out on this arcade date. he uses his quirk to short circuit the game and trick the computer into giving you hundreds of tickets

↠he just wants to make you happy and see you smile!! there’s not a feeling quite like succeeding at something as silly as an arcade game, but there’s a certain pride to it that he loves seeing on your face.

↠kaminari only does it a few times, since he knows that you should be earning your prizes ((not that you know when he does it, he’s really cheeky about it))

↠playyyy multiplayers with him! he loves DDR (dance dance revolution)- you do multiple rounds and are equally exhausted by the end of it akdflad you may not be good, and tbh neither is denki, but you still have fun, which is what matters

↠he also loves taking photobooth pictures, he puts on the most horrendous filters and does the dumbest poses, but it’s so adorable. he does the typical one smile, one “serious”, one silly face, one kith > <

↠kami gets cocky,,, it’s just how he is,, he gets overly confident whether or not he’s been on a winstreak

“heyy, y/n! look at my speedrun on this, i’m getting so many tickets, i’ll be able to get a house by the end of it!”

↠and then he CAN’T because he doesn’t get the jackpot eghgdhgeh

↠by the end of the day, you’ve spent hours at the arcade, laughing and screaming with denki as you terrorize the small children. yes, he’s that kind of guy

↠by “terrorize”, i don’t mean like a bully, but he’s unintentionally intimidating kids with his pockets overflowing with ticket chains, a crazed look on his face as he goes absolutely ham on the shooting games

↠there’s electricity coming off of him, kids sometimes have to dodge it when passing by

↠so anyways, by the end of the date, you’re basically being kicked out of the arcade, because, as kami puts it,

“we were here when it opened and i’ll be damned if we’re not here when it closes,”

↠between the two of you, you’ve aquired tens of thousands of tickets??? the employees probably hate y’all, they had to count those beasts of ticket rolls you’ve accumulated during the 10 hours the arcade was open

↠exactly 62,069 tickets (69 go brrr- kaminari’s brain), and you can basically buy the arcade with that currency

↠but here’s the thing: he lets you spend all of it. you heard me, all. of. it. he just wants to see you happy, and the best way he can think of to get a final glorious memory of your smile is to let you spend the tickets as you see fit, this generosity just to see you glowing as you walk out of the building, arms chock full of amazing junk

↠but of course, you’d feel bad if you spent all of it, especially since he was the one who took you out, so you offered him the half of the tickets that were won

“denki, you won most of these with your amAzINg gaming skills, it’s only fair you get to have something too,”

“my prize will be seeing you- your- your-- aw fuck, i forgot the line, it’ll come back to me, just give me a minute.”

↠he tried to be smooth and it failed, but you chuckled at the attempt, so all around, he considered it a success

↠denki gets a lot of dumb things that will probably end up being thrown away soon, but he also gets you a very soft bat stuffed animal that you should treasure and keep forever

amajiki- a walk and picnic in a japanese garden

↠tamaki is very shy, very socially anxious. he’s the kind to wait for people to leave a section of a store before he goes there, purposely do his errands in the early morning to limit social interaction, and find any excuse to leave a situation. which, tbh, isn’t that all of us?

↠let’s be honest here, if it wasn’t y’alls first date, he’d probably not go anywhere. as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t really care for anything too fancy

↠but he’s convinced himself that he needs to do something reasonably big for your first date to make sure you don’t regret your decision to go out with him. so instead of deciding to stay in, he goes somewhere that’s only slightly anxious for him, but where he still feels comfortable

↠so he’s decided on a japanese tsukiyama garden! these places are beautiful by design, not cheap but not too expensive, and people are obligated by rules to be quiet and keep their hands to themselves

↠nobody goes to a garden to socialize, in fact, i’d argue most people go just to look around, rest, and clear their heads. there’s usually not any screaming children, no quirk usage, no villains, it’s a little safe haven.

↠bonus: there’s butterflies :))

↠it’s so peaceful, and he gets to focus on you instead of whatever loud noise is making him anxious

↠he brings a picnic basket filled with all your favorite foods, and his! he makes a show out of displaying what he can manifest with different snacks, making a point to eat edible seeds so he can produce flowers for you 🥺🥺🥺

↠you walk around the garden for a few hours, marveling at the decor and how well-maintained everything is. there’s a koi pond, hanging wisteria trees, and multiple gazebos that create a really comfortable and calm environment

↠speaking of koi ponds, amajiki offers to buy you food so you can feed the fish! you stand on a bridge above the pond, sharing the container with him. the sMILE on his face when he watches you throw the food is so pure i’m-

↠he’s the walking embodiment of “uwu”- his face is so calm and his eyes are shining and he can feel his heart swelling with love i am GOING to cry my eyes out

↠but honestly, he wishes he could stay in this moment forever- you’re happy, he’s happy, and it feels like you two are the only people in the universe. right now, he doesn’t have to worry about school, villain attacks, his future, or anything that makes him anxious; all that he can see right now is how beautiful and at peace you look. he took you out today, and you’re enjoying yourself. this is one of the few things that makes him confident: knowing that he’s able to make you happy

↠tamaki is silently celebrating; you’ve had a good time and he didn’t freak out, so it’s the best possible scenario!

ashido- rollerskating! ((look at her she’s adorable the smile n the eyes aaa))

↠mina is a very energetic and bubbly person, its quite obvious if you’ve spent any amount of time around her

↠for your first date with her, she’d already have a location in mind!!

↠the atmosphere of rollerskating rinks is so electric, she can’t help but feel happy there, and she wants to experience that lovely feeling with you, too :))

↠you enter the rink, and mina is already borderline bouncing off the walls alskdfj

↠whether or not you’ve ever skated before, ashido is super cautious with you- multiple times she’s fallen on her butt while learning how to skate, so unless you’re a pro, she’s watching your every move to make sure you don’t get hurt

“y/n! please be careful- you’re not getting hurt on my watch!”

↠she jabs a thumb in her direction proudly, with the cutest bigass grin on her face awh 🥺🥺🥺she’s really enthusiastic about sharing one of her passions with you

“try to balance, alright? don’t put too much weight on your heel or toes, because then you’ll fall on your butt. here, take my hand and i’ll help you! hey, there you go, you’re doing great!”

↠she pays for everything and will WRESTLE you if you try to disagree aldkfa if you’re the type of person to pay for everything as well, y’all are going to have to fight; mina will not give up

↠ashido comes here a lot, so she’s friendly with all the employees, she has the uncanny ability to make friends wherever she goes ((i mean she’s friends with bakugou,, if she can do that,, she can do anything))

↠she takes one of your hands and backs onto the rink, watching for anyone behind her. once you’re balanced properly, she shows you how to move your feet so that the two of you are in sync

↠skating isn’t super hard to figure out, it’s mostly intuitive, so you’ll get the hang of it quite quickly!! maybe you’re not too fast, but it’s still fun, so it doesn’t matter

↠while you’re moving with care, making sure to focus on your footwork, mina will definitely take the chance to show off her skating skills! she’s moving like crazy, weaving around other people and nearly toppling them over but shh she’s trying to impress you and if i’m being honest??? she’s really fucking good aldkdf

↠it’s obvious that she loves this hobby, and the fact that she likes you enough to share it with you on your first date is so adorable aaaa

↠mina’s really agile- you don’t know if that’s all the hero training or just something that comes naturally, but the way she moves makes skating look like the easiest goddamn thing in the world-

↠she’s such a romantic, she’s definitely put in a request for the dj to play your favorite song, no matter if it fits the mood or not

↠heavy rock? sure!! as long as you’re having fun, who cares about what other people think? super vulgar rap?? w h y n o t ? !

↠she just has that extroverted, positive, charming energy that’s infectious

↠you can’t help but feel at ease around her, she’s a genuinely a great person, and what you think the epitome of a hero is

↠all ashido really wants here is to have fun with you- i mean she really likes you, and hopes that she’ll get to go on another date w/ you, so she’s doing everything in her power to woo u

↠and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working 🥺👉👈

jirou- hanging out in her room

↠kyouka jirou, being the more introverted person she is, wouldn’t really want to go somewhere super public, like mina would

↠i also believe that she’d want to be friends (or at least acquaintances) with you before asking you on a date- she’s easily annoyed by people, so i think that she’d need to be comfortable around you if she was to be romantically interested

↠and you’ve ticked all these boxes! you understand her sarcastic, blunt personality, and find it pretty amusing. beyond all that, she’s kind and caring, and deep down, she aspires to be a hero for all the right reasons. who wouldn’t love her for that?

↠so for your first date with kyouka, i think she’d want to be somewhere quiet and intimate with you. she wouldn’t want any interruptions ((specifically from jammingyay, who enjoys butting his head in other peoples’ business))

↠the most comfortable place for her would be her room, since it’s really just an extension of her personality, and since you’re quite close, she’d be okay with letting you in her private space. she trusts you.

↠just two guys bein dudes 🤠 ((if you’re a girl, it’s just sappho and her friend--))

↠music is one of the biggest things in jirou’s life, and i think she’d want to share it with you. that is, if you’d let her :)) she has dozens of different instruments, so if you want to attempt to learn something, she’d be totally down!!

↠please show her what kind of music you’re into! no matter what it is, she’ll listen to it. she wants to get to know what kind of person you are when you’re not around other people, and music is a great way to do that. even if you don’t have the same taste as her, she wouldn’t mind, since a) she’ll listen to pretty much anything, she’s not picky; and b) it’s something that you’re showing her, and that’s enough to make her happy

↠she’s not a very formal person, so i think she’d just want to talk to you and hang out. i’d think kyouka would be more of a fan of a gradual relationship, one that starts from friends and slowly evolves into more. and yes, as you can probably tell, i am a sucker for mutual pining and friends-to-lovers tropes-- im a simple hoe 😌

↠she’s super fun to hang out with!! her sense of humor is really snarky, she also enjoys talking shit about people she doesn’t like. if you’re not into that, she’s able to carry on conversation really well. there’s not a moment of awkward silence between you

↠jirou actually really likes talking shit about people hsahsh- as long as it’s someone that’s been mean in some way. she won’t say anything bad about someone who hasn’t done anything to deserve it. but if you’ve wronged her in some way, boy, do you have it COMING

↠by the end of it, i just know your cheeks hurt from laughing

↠she’s just a really fun person to be around, she may not be the most bubbly person ever, but she’s super easy-going and cool ((jirou bias incoming ekejke))

↠i do think she’d try to sneak some kind of affection if she thinks you’d reciprocate- if you’re really getting along well, she might snake her hand into yours when you’re sitting on the bed, laughing

↠honestly you might not even notice until she stops, because your hand feels empty and cold without her like your heart aa

↠if she’s really into you?? might get a smol peck on the cheek 👉👈 please try to get a smol peck on the cheek, it’s very cute and she gets so flustered

↠she goes up to you as you’re about to leave her room, grabs your shoulder, turns you around, and gives you an adorable if not slightly aggressive smooch

↠then she reFUSES to acknowledge what she just did akdfld- she turns away, beet red, and is completely silent

↠meanwhile you’re probably laughing your ass off because wow she’s so cute

↠kudos if you give one back to her, baby is on the verge of exploding ejkdjf

↠her heart just can’t handle what you’re doing to her

↠and despite what her appearance is, her heart is doing backflips- she’s whipped <33

momo: tea and c u d d l e s

↠she’s a very fancy person, obviously. yaoyorozu wants only the best for everyone she loves, and that, of course, includes you! she loves showing affection through giving things to others. her family status only magnifies this aspect of her personality, as being born into wealth gives her the means to spoil you rotten

↠and even though she’s bougie as all hell, she also somehow maintains an elegant and simple air about her. it’s impressive, really. it’s not like she tries to flex her money, it’s just a part of her life, and she enjoys using her privilege well

↠that being said, what’s more elegant and mature than going for tea? it’s a lovely pastime that momo would love to include you in!

↠lowkey,, she’s a whole sugar momma dfkdjla im not even joking- she doesn’t try to be, but virtually everything she does shows how rich she is

↠you arrive at the tea room, and by god is it fancy. there’s multiple chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, which is decorated with classic renaissance-style paintings. all the tables are set with white cloth, plates made of pure fine china, flowers and woven baskets set everywhere to create a cottagecore-like setting. the air about it is so sophisticated, from the patrons (wait is that a celebrity-) to the decorations

↠your face is kinda just,,, 😮,, because what in the world did momo get you into??

“momo, you’re so sweet, and this place is lovely, but don’t you think this is a bit much? not that i don’t absolutely appreciate it, it’s just that this seems really expensive, and i don’t want you to have to spend that much for just one date.”

↠she just chuckles, saying that it was “really nothing” (???? MISS GIRL???)

“don’t worry, y/n, this isn’t too much! i want to have fun today, and this place is so nice! let’s just find a table, alright?”

↠like, hunney, you’re so kind, but this is a LOT

↠but if you say so....

↠she looks at you with the most enthusiastic, wholesome eyes, and soon you’re following her like a puppy towards your table. the waiter sits you down, and leaves, giving you a moment to glaze over the menu to find a drink

↠and there’s so many types of teas, at least 30 on this page alone. you hadn’t even heard of half of these drinks, how would you know if you’d like them?

↠yaomomo seemed to notice your puzzlement, and said that you could get a pot of something simple, like jasmine green or earl grey, and she would get something fancier that you could try. why not?

↠a few minutes later, you’ve already adjusted to the sophisticated and intimidating environment, focusing only on the girl across from you, and how her eyes glittered with happiness

↠she orders a few normal tea foods, like scones with jam, lemon curd, and devonshire cream, and finger sandwiches. the fanciest thing she buys, though, is a blooming tea that arrives in a clear pot. it has an open flower inside of it, which is what the tea is infused with. it’s nearly 16,100 yen for one pot, though, and while you protest its expense, momo reassures you that it’s no problem (you just learned not to say anything about money, as it wouldn’t stop yaoyorozu from spoiling you)

↠ngl, it’s so fun to pretend to be fancy for a few hours at a tea room !! you acted as if you were a member of high society, using stereotypes to exaggerate your actions. it made some people only slightly irritated, but hey, it got a laugh out of a pretty girl, so who’s the real winner?

↠yaomomo taught you some classy etiquette that you should definitely use, it makes her so happy to think that you’re learning about new things while still enjoying your time with her

↠she makes really good conversation!! her intellect seeps through everything she says, anyone who talks to her would be able to tell that she’s extremely well-spoken and mature. momo is modest, and deflects a lot of the compliments you try to give her, so if you try to display your admiration for her, you’d probably need to be very specific about it. she doesn’t have the best self-image when it comes to her heroism and field work. spoken affection sometimes doesn’t get through to her, but you know what does? physical affection!

↠she loves cuddles, and will regularly take you back to her house after a date to cuddle in her bed. her mattress is legendary, and it’s comfortable as hell. there’s an abundance of pillows and the bed isn’t too soft or too firm, and it’s always somehow an amazing temperature???? mattresses are investments, and this was definitely a good one

↠momo loves the intimacy and trust of holding you, it allows her to escape from overthinking and only focus on you, her beautiful partner. she doesn’t care if she’s the big or little spoon, but her favorite kind of cuddling is when you’re on your back and she’s curled into your side, head tucked under your chin and hand on your chest

↠she can do this for hours, please let her. she feels safe with you, confident, because you’re choosing to spend time with her in this quiet moment instead of being off somewhere else.

↠in conclusion,,, 💕women 💕

-denkineptune

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

Note

“Please don’t go” with Freddie Andersen 🥺

"Please don't go" - Frederik Andersen

Words: 3.6k+

Type: ANGST

Warnings: A lot of crying from both Y/N and Freddie. Break up. Mentions of long distance relationships.

It was a tough decision to end your relationship with Freddie.

You two had dated for a few months, after being extremely good friends for years. The whole relationship was a quite sudden decision, but right as it started, it felt so right that you felt stupid for not admitting your feelings sooner.

You feel like it’s fair to say that everything, absolutely everything, was just pure perfection when you were together. And that is why what you two shared will always be kept in your hearts:

All the smiles, all the laughter, all the hugs, all the kisses. The way one would always support the other on whatever decision. Or the way you two believed in one another, no matter what.

There was just nothing bad about it. There were no arguments. If anything there was just disagreements, which if they did escalate, you two would fix it or just calm down in the same breath.

Ending it, even though expected, was as painful as anything can possibly be. Both of you cried, constantly itching to comfort one other, feeling as helpless like never before.

You two sat opposites on your couch. Freddie looked at the ground, elbows over his knees as he listened to you, and you stared at a wall to contain your tears. Yet as soon as the first one escaped, you were done for.

Sobs in the middle of sentences, almost as if your heart was pleading your brain to stop you from putting an end to it. To what made you happy.

An imaginary weight, which would always be lifted off when together, had now set over the two of you again. As well as the cold of familiar loneliness, and the horrible pain of heartbreak.

But it was for the best... right?

You got a huge offer for your job, some kind of promotion, which consisted of you moving to America.

It has been so many years since you started calling the Toronto streets your home, that you just know that this change will be unfamiliar and hard, yet the outcome always seems worth it.

In your eyes, there’s absolutely no way for you to refuse it.

But for you to have it, you have to lose a lot too since work never makes it easy for anyone to take days off. Especially if those few days are to be in another country. Canada, in your case.

And sure, you had holidays and a week or two offered to you as some sort of vacation in a whole year of work. But not enough for you to try and leave everything behind you intact and act as if it will stay like that while you're away.

Whether you like it or not, strong friendships will become weak, the constant communication with your family will not even seem like half of what it used to be, and when it comes to relationships, trust will be tested. And god, even if you trust someone with your life, nothing can stop your brain from thinking of all awful possibilities. As well as your heart from hurting due to missing them so much.

Long-distance relationships are painful and you do not want to go through them. You would prefer to let the love of your life live his life with someone else, then let them wait for you for only God knows how much time.

That decision is the opposite way of looking at life selfishly. You prefer to go through an immense amount of pain if that means that the ones you love will be happy. Something Freddie always loved about you and sometimes would bring it up in conversations.

He also wouldn't let you refuse such an offer and you know it. The opportunity of you going after your dream was more important to him than anything, because it is your dream. He just didn't really know what would come with it.

He didn't know how much he would cry, how much he wouldn't want to open his eyes in the morning to see an empty bed, how much he would come to hate the silence in his home, or the absence of your perfume in his hoodies. It was a whole list of horrible things that he feels while following the same routine as before, yet all it gives him is pain.

While you were packing your whole apartment to move far away, fighting off tears, Freddie had to work.

In morning skates, he would find himself skipping almost half his playlist when stretching because everything would remind him of you. He wouldn't look up at the clock in anticipation to go home. Or even be quick with getting off the ice when the last minute of work ends.

Sometimes he would sit on the bench for so long that the lights would eventually turn off around the arena. But he would just sit there. Head hung low with his eyes either closed or staring at nothing in front of him, letting his head run free.

Those weeks were rough. If rough could even come to describe half of what you two felt.

Today is your last day. The day to get on an airplane and not be sure when you're going to step foot into Canadian soil before Christmas. Or even see your loved ones before that too.

Your family and your friends have texted you a lot this morning, letting you know that they'll meet you at the airport. As well as asking how excited you feel.

You truly aren't even slightly excited to leave. All you feel is regret. And it's heavy and painfully stabbing its way into your back while closing its fists around your heart.

Why didn't you start dating way before all of this? Maybe that would've worked out in a way. You two could've argued and hated each other for what you've swarmed it could be forever.

Or why did you have to meet him at all? Why didn't you ignore him like every other guy that talked to you on that specific bar? It would've made your friendship impossible and he would be nothing but a goalie you would see on the TV.

Getting up from bed today was just as bad to you as it was for Freddie. You two both dragged your feet into your separate bathrooms and undressed, pulling yourselves under the water of the shower. The water would soak you but neither of you moved to actually start doing anything else, you just stood there for a minute.

And with that, a loud sob jumped out of your mouth and you're back into your circle. Back to doing the same things with the same make-up-less face, your eyes swollen from tears and gaze fixed in nothing but the tiles of your floor.

Freddie didn't sob, but he isn't sure if he didn't cry either. If tears fell they left with the water falling from on top of him. The water that is trying to embrace him back to comfort, but failing miserably.

You throw the rest of your things inside your last bag and close the zipper slowly. Your gaze lifts up to the mirror of your bathroom and the reflected image breaks you as reality sets in.

You have to leave.

Walking around the apartment to check on everything was difficult as you continue to battle your emotions and throw all the memories to the back of your mind.

After that, you leave the key on the place you had previously planned with your landlord, and off you went into your Uber to the airport with your last belongings in your bags. Ready to leave home.

The driver was nice. He made small talk about where you were going and how he had gone there with his family last summer. He also must have sensed your uneasiness, so he decided highlight how nice the locals were and how everyone would always be ready to help you.

It relaxed you in a way, but not entirely as that wasn't even what was on your mind in the first place.

On the other hand, Freddie's late. Stuck in traffic to be more precise. His leg bounces with stress as he hides his face under his hat and hood of his shirt. All he could think of is how he won't get there in time.

His driver is silent, bobbing his head to the soft music playing on the radio while he stares at all the cars in front of them.

When taking a quick peek at the lines of cars in front of him, Freddie's starting to lose hope, no matter how hard he tries to be more optimistic.

He unlocks his phone as his fingers itch to text you, but he freezes at the picture of his home screen. He still doesn't have to heart to change anything he had with you, not even his god damn home screen.

A picture just a few weeks old, before you even had told him about the job offer. You were smiling at him behind the camera while holding a puppy up to your chest, eyes bright and wide with excitement. And your smile... just as breathtaking as heart-wrenching.

Freddie blinks harshly at the painful happy memory and looks ahead of him as the car moves ever so slightly. He has to at least say bye to you.

"You're going to love it, I know it!" Your mom says excitingly.

She squeezes you into another hug and you close your eyes at the feeling of her squeeze. Your hands are shaking for some unknown reason so you hesitate before wrapping your arms around her as well.

"You'll meet so many new people and learn so much new stuff."

She's starting to sound more excited than you at this point, yet you don't do anything but a short nod against her shoulder.

When you pull away, you look down at your phone, expecting to see any sort of notification... but there's nothing.

"Hey, I want a hug too." Your friend says over everyone's voices as she elbows her way to you.

You offer her a broken grin and she sadly smiles at you, throwing herself and her arms around you.

Freddie almost rips the door open as the Uber parks right in front of the airport's main doors, not even realizing that he hasn’t acknowledged the driver verbally ever since he got inside the vehicle.

His feet feel heavy and his legs tired, even though they have no reason to feel that way, yet he drags them into the building.

He walks fast-paced through the airport, looking through every group of people. His eyes scanning every single backpack, shirt, head of hair, beanie. Everything to find you.

You unwrap your arms from around another one of your friends and she smiles at you while cupping your face in her hands.

"If you ever need anything, I'll be on the first plane to you." She tells you and you grin at her.

"Promise?" You ask.

"I promise."

She kisses your nose and that's able to make your scowl break onto a smile, making everyone around you feel a sudden weight being lifted off the air around them, relief.

You adjust your backpack on your shoulder as you look around the group to see if you've hugged everyone and it sure seems like it. Your heart tightens in your chest and you take a deep breath.

"Are you ready to go?" Your mom asks you, laying her hand over your shoulder.

"I think so." You tell her.

She gives you a light squeeze in comfort and looks over behind her to see the line where you need to do your check-in.

"Well, I believe you just need to go over there," She starts, looking back at you, "and get your-"

She stops talking out of nowhere and you lift your gaze from your bag at her. She’s staring at something behind you.

Your heart quickens and at the sudden bit of hope runs through you. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet Freddie walking towards you.

He's wearing grey sweatpants, a black hoodie, a hat over his head, and the hood of his shirt over it. If it wasn't for all the light coming from the large windows beside you, you wouldn't have noticed his reddened eyes and the broken look he's giving you.

Without any sort of hesitation, you take the backpack from your shoulder and lay it on the ground, taking steps towards him.

Freddie meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you as yours move up to wrap around his neck and cling onto him. He holds you by your waist securely and lifts you in the air to hold you as close to him as possible.

A soft sob you’ve been holding in falls from your lips, sounding slightly muffled by his clothes, and you lay your head over his shoulder. Freddie closes his eyes to stop his tears from coming up again, snuggling his face close to you.

Your family and friends, when seeing and noticing you two, let sad smiles appear on their faces and decide to step aside, giving you two some space and privacy.

"I ran the whole airport to find you." He says, some humor deep in his tone.

A small smile lifts over your face as you cry your eyes out again, more out of relief than anything else.

One of his vacant hands lays on the back of your head, almost as it holding steady and his thumb caresses the nape of your neck, softly and carefully.

"I thought you weren't coming."

You pull your face away from his shoulder and take a look at him, locking gazes with him. Your hands rest over his shoulders and Freddie looks back just as directly.

"I got stuck in traffic." He explains.

Your hands come up to his bearded cheeks, a small pout influencing your forced smile, and your thumbs caress his skin.

His hand also rises up and he quickly wipes the tears off your cheeks.

“Don’t cry, come on.” He tries to tell you in a whisper over the sound of everyone’s loud voices around the airport.

“Sorry.” You tell him almost automatically, voice slightly cracking.

“No, don’t be sorry.” He corrects you. “I just don’t want to see you sad.”

You sniffle, your hands still over his cheeks, and give him a little nod, almost as your way to acknowledge his words since you’re not really trusting your voice right now.

Freddie kisses your palm and you lift your hands to wrap your arms around his neck again. He holds you as well and tries to swallow the ball of emotions at the back of his throat as your body shakes as you let out another overpowering small wave of silent sobs.

His eyes water ever so slightly and he blinks the tears away.

“Do you feel ready to go?” He asks against the fabric of your hoodie, leaning his head closer against you.

“No.” You tell him.

Freddie swears his whole body reacted to your words. Maybe it was because you said it so close to his ear and that was the reason why he felt all those chills, but in a way, he knows it’s more than that.

He gives you more squeeze and your heart aches over what it could possibly mean. His hand rests over your leg and he leans forward to motion you to get back on the ground.

You do as requested but your body almost acts as if in denial when you order it to let go of him.

Freddie’s hands lay loosely by your waist, while your arms still hug his neck close to you, making him have to lean down over you.

“You still want to go, right?” He asks.

He doesn’t even know if he’s just checking on you or if he’s just hoping for an answer that would mean that you could go back home with him, but either way, he awaits it.

“I think so.” You try to say, but your voice falls in a whisper.

He forces your arms a bit away from him and you lift your head from his shoulder, sending him a look so broken that Freddie swears it broke his heart even further. He stares back into your eyes silently and observes your expression.

Without thinking twice, you close the small space between you two and lay your lips against his.

The sweet kiss is more than welcomed by Freddie, who can’t help but feel the small bit of hope course through his veins. The relief he felt over feeling you just hugging him again was able to destroy so many doubts in his head, and now that you’re kissing him, it’s like he’s falling in love all over again.

His hand rests in the back of your head, not letting you pull away just yet from the kiss he has been thinking about and needing for the past few weeks.

When you do pull away, you two just feel reality wash over you like a ice cold bucket of water. It’s heartbreaking to the point of you to want to gasp for air.

You feel horrible.

Freddie looks back into your eyes as he pulls away further and he feels his eyes well up in tears again. And this time, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Why do you have to go?

Your hands lay over his shoulders even when he stands upright and his hand continues rested over your head, against your hair, feeling it under his fingers.

He breaks his gaze from your eyes to check the time on the screen a few meters behind you. You follow his gaze, hands now sliding and resting over his chest, and your heart skips a beat at how the time flew since you had gotten there.

You don’t have much time left.

Your eyes go back to Freddie and he looks absolutely broken. And that is not making anything feel any easier for you.

“I love you.” You decide to tell him, “So much.”

He looks down at you and brings his hands back to your cheeks, holding your face.

“I love you too.” He answers.

His voice is so much lower and so much weaker than you’ve ever heard it before, it feels like a nightmare.

It feels so unreal and so scary that it seems like something only the back of your mind can create to terrify you.

You grip onto his shirt and pull him down to you again, ignoring how the tears are starting to come up your eyes once more. He does as you request him to and this time doesn’t even even think twice before kissing you.

Your lips press against his as he lays various small pecks onto them while holding your wet cheeks in his larger hands.

“Please don’t go.” You hear him plead after a kiss.

You reopen your eyes and stare back at his. A tear has been able to escape his eyes and you’re quick to wipe it with the end of your sleeves.

“I need to go, Freddie.” You tell him, fighting off a sob. “I already signed everything.”

Frederik lays his forehead against yours and looks back onto you.

“Then I’ll wait for you.”

No.

You shake your head at him as a sob escapes your lips again and he fights off your denial with a nod.

“I will. I’ll wait for that contract to end, or I’ll retire early, I don’t care.” He tells you, feeling some more tears wet his face again, “We’ll be together again. I’ll visit you as many times as I can. I promise.”

You wipe his tears and quickly lean back to just pull him into another hug.

You cling onto his shirt, feeling more powerless than anything.

The pain you’re feeling due to leaving is so strong that you almost don’t feel like yourself. Your body is shaking, you feel light headed, your chest is aching as your heart beats just as fast as your mind runs through all your options.

You didn’t want it to be like this. For you to feel so sad and in so much pain.

Freddie holds you back before you pull back, squeezing you close to him.

“Honey, it’s time to go.”

Your mom’s voice.

You quickly wipe your tears and lift your head from Freddie’s shoulder. He lets you go and a sudden rush of cold fills your body. The lack of his warmth is almost able to freeze you.

After that and a harsh and hard swallow of all your emotions, you pull your parents and friends into another set of hugs. Rushing back to Freddie for a last hug.

His hand is over your back, moving up and down to try and comfort you. You lay your wet cheek over his shirt, not caring if you wet it. And as soon as you look at him, your chin over his chest, he kisses your cheek.

A last squeeze later and you step back, offering everyone a small smile. Freddie grabs your backpack from the ground and gives it over to you. You take it silently and look up at everyone once more.

A small broken whisper moves past your lips as a small ‘bye’ to everyone that is looking at you and you soon turn on your heels, and... leave.

You don’t look back. Scared that if you do, you’re not able to keep going. And with that, Freddie stays back, standing right next to your family and friends.

Your mom has her hand over his back, comforting him just like he just did to you, in silence. And as soon as you’re out of the view from everyone’s eyes, she doesn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug.

“You’ll be together again. I’m sure of it.” She reassures him.

I hate this, but it can’t stay on my drafts for longer than it already has. Hope you like it...?

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen imagines #freddie andersen imagine #freddie andersen x reader #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head.

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more.

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes.

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion.

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you.

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still.

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second.

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily.

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that.

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together.

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real.

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want.

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment.

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky.

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii

#so aha.... not the dystopian au #but i was inspired by a song in the car and this happened <3 #mingi #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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hee4won · 3 years

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enha + lyrics analysis [eng. ver]

╰ okay so quick little explanation; this is basically an en- as songs mixed w songs they would play for you in different scenarios. these are some of my fav songs at the moment! i hope you like it <3 (even though it’s a bit self-indulg.) playlist.

warnings: angst + fluff.

heeseung as ‘leave the door open’ by bruno mars, anderson .paak, and silk sonic

to start off with, heeseung is very playful while also being super mature. so honestly i think this behavior would carry over into a relationship that hes really comfortable in. ‘leave the door open’ has a very romantic and warm feeling with the humor-filled lyrics, which (in my opinion) represents hee very well. this is a song he’d send to you through text meaning: “hey pls come over i miss you lol” and when you get to him you’d both listen to the song and maybe dance a little while heeseung is “playing” the drums. not to mention that this boy definitely loves bruno mars.

jay as ‘bad blood’ by nao

alr so besides the fact that he is definitely the one that had this in the playlist for the dance jam live. the line, “i worship you like holy days”, just really makes me think of him. and the reason i feel this way is because i have the feeling jay is a very hard liver when it comes to relationships. like this boy will dedicate his entire soul to his s/o no matter what. buying clothes, cooking food, taking them to the doctor, literally anything. and i can also picture him being so into only satisfying his s/o that he could possibly lose himself in the process, literally worshipping this person because of how much he cherishes them.

jake as ‘love affair’ by UMI

WOOOO OKAY THIS IS ANGST. so jake we all know is 100% a softie like i can never see him doing anything wrong. and i feel like he would wholly devote himself to any kind of relationship whether it be platonic or blah blah. with this being said though, i do think his physical affection could become too much for some people. if his partner isn’t always down for physical touch or if they’re stressed and don’t want to sit and have a talk i can imagine an argument ensuing. “don’t mistake this as love, baby it’s just a crush.” you two would listen to this song almost religiously, and now he finally understood why. he was prepared to give every piece of himself to you but the effort wasn’t reciprocated. he would still listen to this song, and think of all the moments differently. now jake would analyze situations where he was going overboard, and honestly it would take him a while to open up to someone else again. you were his first love, but it was just a crush.

sunghoon as ‘telepatía’ by kali uchis

this song is perfect for sunghoon for one very specific reason; when listening to it you almost feel like you’re floating, or you wanna go outside and dance under the stars while it’s a bit foggy but the perfect temperature. i love the mystical feeling that this song exudes, i feel as though i’m in the clouds every time i play it. as we have all seen, sunghoon is the human embodiment of the word “ethereal.” i can picture sunghoon and his s/o (or you in this case) sneaking out at night and breaking into an ice rink, the cold air sends goosebumps down your bodies but the adrenaline is just enough to keep you warm. you watch sunghoon skate and take in sharp breaths of the cool and relaxing air. “you know i’m just a flight away. . .” the song echoes throughout the building as you’re immersed in the graceful movement of his long limbs.

sunoo as ‘after the storm’ by kali uchis ft. tyler the creator

i feel like this will play into my how en- comfort you headcanon (which may or may not be posted already) but sunoo is the type to cheer his s/o up in a rather unconventional way. you’d probably be stressed with some homework or time-consuming projects and would be so exhausted. sunoo would notice and do his best to take you out of the environment that was making you feel down. “nothing good ever comes easy,” he tells you this line anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed by something in your life, but he always says that he “knows your potential.” some people might help you study or do the work for you, but not sunoo. he makes you sit down while he does your makeup and hair, as well as singing a few lines of your favorite song. “but winners don’t quit, so don’t you give up.”

jungwon as ‘JEWELZ’ by anderson .paak

gosh i know i’ve used anderson .paak twice now, but this song is so Jungwon. you’re both finally free from whatever you’ve been doing and jungwon decides that it is indeed a beach day (super sunny + super breezy.) you are not in the mood at all, but if you’re in a relationship with jungwon you will soon come to learn that his cuteness will get him whatever he wants. his s/o could literally be like passed out but as soon as jungwon plays ‘JEWELZ’ you’re both up and dancing around. “i ain’t even put my jewels on!” jungwon will find himself smiling at his s/o while playing the air guitar. “i ain’t even play my latest, greatest song.”

ni-ki as ‘hold on’ by the internet

okay this is such a relaxing/comforting song. and i think you and riki lying down on the floor, grass, or wherever late at night (or super early in the morning) while listening to this would be pure bliss. maybe waking up and making your way to the kitchen while riki guides your movements with his and you both just let the music take you wherever next. it’s a very soothing song and honestly, mornings with ni-ki make it all the better.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

What Baking Can Do (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Rosé keeps making food for Denali as a way of expressing her crush, not knowing that Denali feels the same way.

A/N: Writing has been slow for me lately, but I'm glad I was able to finish this! It's basically just pure fluff, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave some feedback if you'd like, I really appreciate it! Thank you to Writ for betaing!

Title from the song from Waitress because I'm basic.

Rosé might live in the city now, but in the small southern town where she spent most of her childhood, every woman had an arsenal of pie and casserole recipes to whip out at a moment’s notice for birthdays, funerals, and new neighbors.

Rosé just so happens to have a new neighbor, and as she knocks on the door, a fresh strawberry pie in one hand, she feels the pride her mother must have felt in welcoming someone new, giving them a nice gift.

Even if she’s already friends with the new neighbor she’s welcoming.

“You didn’t have to do this, Rosie,” Denali says as she takes the pie, a huge smile on her face showing her dimples. “I mean, we’re already friends. Hell, I should make you something for telling me about this apartment in the first place.”

It’s true that Rosé had gone right to Denali when she found out the apartment was up for sale, knowing that she and her roommate Kahmora hated the tiny apartment they had, with the shower that always broke and the heat that never went on. She was just helping out a friend. A friend she’s just happened to have a crush on for a year now, since the night Jan introduced them at some club.

“It’s nothing,” Rosé insists. “You know I like to bake.”

“Why complain, Denali?” Kahmora asks. “It’s food that’s actually edible.”

“My food is perfectly edible!” Denali sputters. She bites her lip as Kahmora stares, and nods in admittance to herself. “Look, no one’s ever died from eating my cooking.”

“No one’s ever really enjoyed it, either,” Kahmora mumbles under her breath.

Rosé holds back a smile. Denali’s struggles in the kitchen have been well-known in the time Rosé’s known her, with Rosé’s favorite being the pancakes that Denali somehow burnt and left raw at the same time. She’s always been so busy with skating and work that she never got much practice at cooking, and Rosé pushes away the thought of teaching her, of her hand curling around Denali's as they mix ingredients.

“Keep mumbling, Kahmora. Maybe I’ll eat the whole pie myself.”

“I’ll see you, Denali.” Rosé leaves them to fight over the pie and heads back down the hall, passing apartments full of people she’d welcomed with food at one point. There’s Kylie and her roommates Ra’jah and Scarlet, who loved the peach cobbler Rosé made. Then Brooke and Vanessa, who demolished her chocolate cake, next door to Raja and Manila, who she still makes almond tarts for from time to time. It’s Rosé’s favorite part of making something, really--to have someone love it so much. Rosé thinks of the smile on Denali’s face and knows this won’t be the last time she makes her something.

—-

Rosé’s normally much smoother, more confident. If Denali were anyone else, Rosé would’ve been open about her crush and already asked her out months ago. But there’s something different about Denali, something that makes Rosé hesitant to take such a leap, to confess her feelings, because if it ruins things between them, then she’d lose a friend she really cares about.

Food is safer than feelings, so Rosé ignores everything and busies herself in making dinner, not realizing how much spaghetti she’s making until it’s all piled in the bowl. There’s enough to feed a village, even after she and Jan eat. Rosé stares at the bowl and figures Denali wouldn’t mind some.

Her heart leaps into her throat when Denali opens the door. Her hair is up in a bun and she looks adorable in her tie dye sweatshirt, soft and sweet in a way that makes Rosé’s chest hurt.

“I made way too much food,” Rosé says, handing Denali the bowl. “I didn’t want to waste it, so I figured I’d give you some.”

“Thank you.” Denali flashes her dimples. “Hey, do you want to come in? Kahmora’s out with some friends.”

“Sure.” Rosé follows close behind Denali, moving past boxes she hasn't unpacked yet on their way to the kitchen. The apartment feels like Denali already, with sneakers by the door and video games in the living room.

Denali hums with joy as she eats the first bite, and Rosé grins, her body buzzing with that rush of someone loving what she made. No matter how many times it happens, it will always be special to her.

“How was work?” Rosé asks.

“It was good! My coffee tasted so good this morning, and all my lessons went well, and I saw this adorable dog—not as adorable as you, Donut,” Denali adds to her dog, who’s curled up under the table.

Rosé just laughs as Denali talks, and it’s easy. So easy. Easy being friends like this, just talking and laughing. Watching Denali’s eyes widen and listen to her laugh just makes Rosé like her more, but it also makes her want to hold back on admitting her crush a bit more. Because the more she likes Denali, the more she has to lose if things go wrong.

Denali bursts into laughter as Rosé shares stories of her day, and it’s enough.

—-

It’s nice, knowing Denali is open to accepting leftovers. Rosé usually makes small recipes for her and Jan, and it’s nice to make whatever she wants, even if it feeds a crowd, and just bring some down the hall instead of giving herself a headache trying to halve fractions of ingredients.

She makes chicken and potatoes and cookies and brownies, extras carefully wrapped up and delivered to Denali, each one letting them have time to talk and just be around each other. They talk about work, about friends, about funny things Donut did that day. And Rosé loves every second of it.

Rosé finds herself making more things than she probably should, but she can’t help it. Cooking started out as a stress reliever for her, when she and Jan were up to their eyes in paperwork trying to open the dance and vocal studio. Jan suggested she make something to relax, and Rosé remembered how much she had loved to be at her mother’s side when she was little, watching her roll out pie crust. She remembered how much she loved creating something out of a pile of ingredients, the soothing repetition of mixing batter, the joy of watching someone eat what she made.

She’s made things all the time since, and part of her knows she’s making more now just so she can give them to Denali. Jan’s always teased her for baking enough to run a bakery when she’s in love, and Rosé doesn’t want to admit how true it is. Because baking is a form of love for her, a way of transforming her love and work into something people can eat. A way of caring for them and loving them at the same time.

Not that Denali knows any of that.

---

Denali sighs as she shuffles to the elevator after the skating class from hell. She had parents almost fight her because costumes haven’t come in yet, like Denali controls the mail, then yell at her some more for not giving their kid the solo in the group performance.

Rosé slips in the elevator with her, and Denali smiles a bit just seeing her, with her big green eyes and soft red waves. Rosé always makes her happy, since the night they met, and being around her just feels right to Denali. So right that Denali likes to invite her in when she drops off food, just for an excuse to spend more time with her. So right that Denali wishes they could do it all the time, that they could always be close, maybe even close enough to kiss--but no, they’re nothing more than friends. Especially not when Denali is standing here in old sweatpants and smelling like a skating rink locker room. How could Rosé ever like her back anyway? She makes fancy pastries with fancy names and Denali almost set ramen on fire once.

“Rough day?” Rosé asks.

Denali groans as her answer. “If I ever become a parent, please don’t let me be like the ones at the skating rink.”

Rosé snorts. “Tell me about it. I’ve had parents follow me to the parking lot because their kid isn’t famous yet.”

Denali manages a smile. It’s nice to know she isn’t the only one, that someone else understands.

“Is there anything I can do?” Rosé asks.

Denali’s heart flutters at how she’s always so caring, so kind. Just friends, they’re just friends. “I don’t think so. I’ll probably just take a bath and watch TV. Thanks, though.”

“Of course.”

They head to their own apartments, and Denali soaks in the tub until the water runs cold, the stress of the day leaving her.

There’s a knock on her door as she turns on the TV. Denali groans and throws the door open, only to find a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the welcome mat.

Still warm.

---

Rosé turns down the hall and almost smacks into her neighbor, Kylie, who’s on her way to walk her dog. Gizmo licks happily at Rosé’s ankle, and she would pet him like she normally does, but her hands are full of the pan that might be just a little too big, if Kylie’s staring is any indication.

“What’s that?”

“Mac and cheese I made for Denali.”

Kylie blinks at her. “Hun, are you sure that’s for Denali and not a school cafeteria?”

“Well, I mean, she can freeze it if she wants,” Rosé stammers.

“I hope she’s got a big freezer.” Kylie looks at her thoughtfully. Rosé’s always thought Kylie has some sixth sense, able to figure out your feelings and what you need to hear just from looking at you, and she’s about to be on the receiving end of it. “You should tell her,” Kylie says softly.

Rosé doesn’t bother to ask how she knows. “I don’t—I don’t want to lose her if she doesn’t feel the same way,” Rosé says, eyes on the floor.

“I don’t think you have to worry.” Kylie heads for the stairs, and Rosé stands in the hall like an idiot before taking a breath and going to Denali’s door.

Someday. Maybe someday she’ll tell her.

—-

Denali knocks on Rosé’s apartment, trying to calm her heart. There’s no reason for it to be racing like this, not when she’s knocked on Rosé’s door to bring back her food containers a dozen times. Not when she talks to Rosé almost every day.

Denali isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved when Jan opens the door.

“I just wanted to bring Rosé her plate back,” Denali says.

Jan nods. “I’ll give it to her. You can come in, if you want. There’s some leftover blondies on the counter.”

Denali follows her inside, taking in the apartment with wide eyes like she’s never seen it before. Being in the kitchen feels special, like she’s in Rosé’s sacred space. Denali peeks at the soft pink stand mixer and utensils beside it, at the worn recipe box and well-used cookbooks on the other counter. She thinks of Rosé standing here, carefully measuring out ingredients, flour in her red hair, and her heart tugs painfully. What she would give to be around Rosé in her element like this, at her side while she cooks. “She really likes cooking, huh?”

Jan rolls her eyes. “You have no idea. She loves cooking for people, especially when she really likes them. It’s basically her love language. When she was with her last girlfriend, this place was like a freaking bakery. Not that I’m complaining, because her stuff is amazing. Even if she makes a giant mess of the place.”

“It is,” Denali says, but then she freezes as Jan’s words hit. Especially when she really likes them. Does that mean Rosé likes her? Likes her as more than a friend, if she cooks this much when she really likes someone? If cooking is her love language? It’s normal for Rosé to cook a lot, Jan said so. And Rosé still cooks for other people, has her friend Lagoona over for dinner every week. But Denali thinks of how many carefully-wrapped plates and full containers Rosé has given her the past few months, juicy chicken and thick soups and buttery shortbread cookies, and knows it’s more than anyone else has gotten. Rosé likes her, and the food is her way of showing it.

Denali usually isn’t so oblivious. Then again, she usually isn’t so hesitant around her crushes either. But maybe she was so oblivious and hesitant with Rosé because she didn’t possibly think Rosé could like her back.

But Rosé does. She likes Denali.

And if food is love to Rosé, then Denali has an idea.

---

Rosé hums as she unlocks her apartment. Jan has a date tonight, so it’s just her, and she’s really in the mood for takeout. Maybe she’ll order from that Chinese place--

Rosé drops her keys when sees someone in the apartment, and she drops her heart when she realizes the person is Denali. Denali, who’s standing in her living room for some reason.

“Um, not that I’m not happy to see you, Denali,” Rosé says, easing her way inside, “But what the hell?”

Denali’s cheeks are flushed and some hair has escaped her ponytail, and her smile is one of the brightest she’s ever seen. “Jan let me in so I could surprise you.”

“Well, I’m definitely surprised.”

“But not surprised enough,” Denali gloats.

“There’s more? Haven’t I had enough near-heart attacks today?”

Denali just smirks and leads her into the kitchen, where Rosé sees the table laid out with candles and a fancy tablecloth and huge platters of food.

“I thought I’d cook for you for a change,” Denali says. “I’m not the greatest, but they’re my mom’s recipes and I had her FaceTime me to help, and I don’t think you’ll get food poisoning or anything—“

“You cooked for me,” Rosé says softly, looking at Denali in awe.

“I did.” Denali bites her lip, and her cheeks flush even more. “Rosé, I--I realized how much cooking means to you. And what you were trying to tell me with your food. I want to tell you that I...I feel the same way. I like you, I’m trying to say, and that’s why I wanted to cook for you.”

Rosé reaches for Denali’s hand, squeezing it gently for proof that this is real. That Denali really does like her too. That Denali took all the love Rosé puts into her cooking and gave it back to her. “I like you so much, Denali. For a while now. I just wasn’t sure if you--”

“Well I wasn’t sure if you would like me,” Denali laughs softly.

Rosé snorts. “We could’ve done this a while ago if we weren’t idiots.”

“But we’re doing it now.” And then Denali is leaning in, her lips meeting Rosé’s like coming home. Denali’s kiss is soft and sweet, just like her, warm and passionate yet still gentle. It’s everything Rosé has dreamt of, and she can’t resist going back in for another.

And another.

“Hey, the food’s gonna get cold,” Denali says, and they laugh all the way to the table.

#submission #rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #jan sport #kylie sonique love #rosnali #lesbian au #fluff #athena2 #concrit welcome

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Eighteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Brat taming. Bondage (ropes and handcuffs). Sex toys (remote controlled vibrator). Ball gag. Edging. Name calling. Impregnation kink. Stop light safe word system. Hate fucking. Angry sex. Oh, boy. Sin. Just pure sin. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying "good girl".

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7794

Timeline: Right after part seventeen.

Hotch practically threw me on the bed before I could say or do anything. One minute we were eating breakfast in the dining room, the next thing I knew, he picked me up and carried me up to our bedroom. Okay, well… Technically… It was my fault. But I swear I didn’t think it would end up like this after how we had been practically dancing around being angry at each other all morning. Yeah, I was still mad at Hotch for not letting me go to the office, and, yeah, I was still hurt by what he had said; but under no circumstances was I legitimately mad at him for something beyond that, and none of my feelings were about him or going to risk our relationship. That being said, there was a part of my mind that decided: “Yes, Y/N, it would be a great idea if you pretended to be mad at Hotch while walking around in that dress all morning. Yes. That will go over well for you.” So, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Hotch was less than impressed with me when I kept bending down to grab things in front of him, or that my hand kept wandering on his leg as we sat at the table, eating our breakfasts.

He had grabbed my hand that was exploring a little too far up his leg, then, before I knew it, he pulled my arm and the rest of me over his shoulder, and he was storming upstairs. I gulped, not moving a muscle out of fear of either falling off his shoulder or getting spanked. Neither of us said a word as he slammed the bedroom door behind us, then threw me onto the bed. I gulped again as I scrambled to the middle of the mattress, watching him with my eyes as he walked around the room to get to the closet. I whimpered because I knew that wasn’t a good sign. Having a kid in the house meant that we had to keep multiple things locked up. Our guns, our fake passports, and identifications— don’t ask— and, well, our toys. Most people would keep them hidden in a drawer or something, but with Jessica and Jack coming and going as often as they did, we didn’t want there to ever be a chance of someone stumbling across something we didn’t want them to see.

Now, I guess I could have reasoned that Hotch was just changing out of his work clothes, or maybe he was grabbing an extra blanket or something. Right? Right?… I wanted to laugh nervously, but I was practically petrified as I laid still on the bed, watching the closet door for the first sign of his reemergence. There was the sound of clothes moving around on hangers, which I figured was a sign that he was changing. Good. Maybe I was going to get off free. I had nothing to worry about. It was fine. He probably didn’t even notice my teasing with the dress because he was focused on not burning his bacon. And he probably just moved my hand off of his thigh because he didn’t want me to ruin a pair of work pants. Okay, valid. I was going to be fine—

I whimpered and tried to blend into the mattress as I saw Hotch come out of the closet wearing his grey pajama sweatpants and no shirt, and carrying a black box of our things that we had hidden away. Fuck. My thighs instinctively rubbed together for extra friction of where I was growing hot, but Hotch shot me a glare and I immediately stopped moving. When he was satisfied with my silence and stillness, he continued to walk towards the dresser. He set the box on top of it, his back to me, his stance right in front of my gaze so that I couldn’t spy on what he was doing. I heard him ruffling through the box and I cursed myself for putting myself in this situation. I’d be the first to admit that I was a brat, and I loved getting under Hotch’s skin, but I had never made him mad to this extent. He playfully got mad at me in a dominant way, but I could see how furious he actually was, and I knew that the rest of my day was going to be long. But I did this to myself, didn’t I? I knew the game I was playing; I knew what buttons I was pressing, and now I had to live with the consequences.

“Take that dress off. Now.” He was still facing away from me, but the gruffness in his tone was different from anything I had ever heard from him before.

I had to put this all in perspective, right. Only the other day, I was teasing Hotch about not being able to touch each other at work before I found out about my suspension. That was strike one. Then he found out that he was getting suspended, which probably put a lot of stress on him, and my solution was to start an argument, and when that didn’t work, I started walking around like a whore. That was strike… one hundred at that point. I had been skating on thin ice, and all of the anger and pressure that had been building in Hotch’s chest finally found a way to be released, and it was to take it out on me. The fact that he wasn’t even coming over to me to rip my clothes off or tell me to keep them on to make the teasing worse just further proved that I was laying on that bed for one reason and one reason only: to make him forget. And I was so ready.

I rushed to pull my dress off and throw it to the side without even looking. I kept my eyes trained on Hotch’s back, refusing to look away because I wanted to catch a glance at what he was doing as soon as I could.

“Panties. Bra.”

I felt my mouth go dry. He wasn’t even going to do that much. He liked doing that. He liked peeling off my panties as slowly as he could in order to watch me beg and squirm. But not that morning. He wanted me to know just how fucked I was, and, boy, was he getting his point across. As I scrambled to get my bra and panties off, Hotch finally turned back around, holding two lengths of rope, two pairs of handcuffs, and a ball gag. Well. Shit.

Silently, Hotch dropped everything on the bed, my eyes still following him, but he focused on his hands and what he was planning on doing. Without warning, he grabbed my left ankle with a tight grip and yanked me towards the bottom left bedpost. I gasped when he started pulling my ankle through an overhand loop on a bight knot attached to the bedpost. When he let go and I tugged to test my mobility, I found that the more I fought against it, the tighter it got around my leg.

Fair enough, Hotchner.

I yelped again when he grabbed my other ankle and pulled it to the right side of the bed, spreading me out as far as possible for him. I tried to tug my left leg closed again, but was only met with the bite of the rope, earning a light hiss from me. Hotch tied my right ankle, too, just as quickly as he had done with the other one, not even taking a moment to look at how spread and vulnerable I was for him.

“Sir—” I began, thinking that I could possibly apologize or at least gain an ounce of sympathy, but Hotch met me with the sternest glare I had ever seen. Never in my life had I seen him so conflicted with anger and lust, an inner struggle which was taking over his eyes, his face, his tensed chest muscles, and his growing erection in his pants. “Sir…”

Hotch bit the inside of his cheek as he picked up the ball gag and came around the side of the bed, not bothering to give me the satisfaction of leaning over my naked body to feel the warmth of his chest or the hardness of his cock through his sweats.

“Open, brat.”

I held back the moan I felt rising in my throat. I was panting while trying so very hard to stay still for him, but the way he said it, the way he seemed so mad and uncontrolled, I swear I never wanted him to fuck me harder in my entire life. There was something so erotic about imagining him hovering over me, hips thrusting into me so hard and fast because he was only focused on his anger and getting it all out by fucking me into the mattress… I could feel myself dripping onto the sheets already.

“I said. Open.”

I did as I was told without hesitation. Within a millisecond, Hotch pushed the ball gag into my mouth and I bit down instinctively against the rubber. Hotch lifted my head and buckled the clasps together under my hair. He always threatened that he would finally get a chance to shut me up, I guess that time had finally come.

There wasn’t even a moment to breathe between my head settling back down on the pillows and Hotch slapping one of the handcuffs around my left wrist. As he pulled my hand out towards him, I stretched my fingers to touch the outline of his erection, and I barely got him with the tip of my fingers before he jumped back and groaned. He used the other side of the handcuffs to restrain me against the headboard, and before he could move for the other hand, he put a hand around my neck and leaned over me.

“That was a bad idea. You might want to think about not being a needy whore for once because it’ll just hurt more if you keep acting out.” He squeezed his fingers around neck slightly, earning a tug at my restraints from me. “Hold still.”

I nodded eagerly, as if to say: “Yes, Sir. Whatever you want. Yes. Fuck, yes.” But he didn’t grin wickedly like he normally would. He still frowned and pouted as he let go of me roughly and grabbed the other pair of handcuffs. He walked to the other side of the bed, still insistent on not giving me anymore attention besides the demands he had just given me. After my other hand was cuffed to the other side of the headboard, leaving me completely spread out for him, Hotch walked to the end of the bed and stared at me.

He got serious for a moment. Not angry, not wound up, not blinded by lust. Just serious. “We’re going to use Colors.”

I nodded again. It wasn’t common for us to use Colors because he knew my limits and I knew his like the back of my hand. I could tell when he needed to slow down or stop, and he knew the same with me. But there were times, just like this, when making sure that I was safe and comfortable came before getting lost in desperation, lust, and passion.

“You’ll knock on the headboard three times for green, two for yellow, one for red. Got it?”

I craned my neck slightly against the pillows to look at how I was restrained against the headboard and took notice of how close my knuckles were. Practically everyone knew the stop light system, but to review: Green meant I was fine, yellow meant slow down or change or check up, and red meant hard stop. I had never once used red with Hotch. Ever. It never got to a point where I needed to stop immediately and end the scene, simply because Hotch never let it get that far. His own limits didn’t allow him to hurt me, and I understood. He wasn’t into harming me in any way, probably because of all the horrible things we had seen in our line of work. Some people were entirely fucked up, and Hotch didn’t get the point of hurting a partner when the whole point was supposed to be about pleasure. Hence, never having to worry about using red. But he wanted to make sure that there was an understanding that if I reached a limit that he didn’t foresee, we would stop at once.

“Color,” he demanded of me. In response, I knocked on the headboard three times. I didn’t want him to slow down or change whatever it was he had planned. What he had already done to me was more than I expected, and I was giddy to know more as fast as possible. “Good girl.” He slapped the inside of my thigh, and I jumped slightly, tugging at all of the restraints. He palmed himself through his pants at the sight of me struggling but unable to actually do anything about my predicament. “You can’t even beg for me,” he groaned, snaking his hand past his waistband. “Can’t slip up on calling me ‘Sir’, can’t beg for more— can’t beg for me to stop.” He finally smiled, but it was to himself and a wicked thought he had. “I could keep you like this forever.”

I whined behind the gag, tugging at the ropes on my ankles and handcuffs on my wrists, my eyes pouting softly. All I could think about was how this could go. He was either going to leave me like that until he was bored and wanted to see me squirm as he edged me endlessly for hours, or he was going to immediately pounce on me and fuck me until neither of us could breathe. Either way, I was screwed. Neither option was good for me considering how angry he was with me.

“Maybe then you’ll listen to me and you won’t go ask for a transfer.”

Asshole. I wouldn’t hold it past him since he totally would leave me like this just to prevent me from doing it. That was a terrifying concept.

He pulled his hand from his pants and turned back to the dresser. My breathing sped up as I anxiously anticipated what he would grab next. It was at times like this when I was really starting to regret showing him that box. Yeah, he didn’t even know about it until I brought it from my place when I was moving in. By that point, we already had an unspoken dominant/submissive relationship, but when I packed that box and brought it over, and he was the one who happened to unpack it, that was when we had a legitimate conversation about it. He had endless questions, of course— not because he was naive to the lifestyle and the kink, but because he was curious what I thought of it and to what extent I had tried it.

I had to keep in mind that Hotch had been with Haley his whole life, and she wasn’t exactly the most… Well, frankly, she was a pretty boring person overall. She was nice and everything, but she didn’t have any excitement in her life. Her job, her home, her friends, everything was boring. She didn’t strike me as the kind of person who enjoyed the things I enjoyed, and it took me explaining everything to Hotch over a couple of days for him to realize that it was something he was genuinely into. Because he hadn’t experimented around with Haley, or anyone else, he didn’t realize that it was something he could have an interest in; and, oh, boy, did I screw myself over by telling him everything. One minute he was the silent dominant who just liked to be a little more rough with me in bed, the next, he was tying me up every chance he could get and was insistent that I called him ‘Sir’.

But there were still loads of things we hadn’t tried in that box. Hotch knew of their existence, and he knew how to use all of them, but we just never found the time to use them. In his state, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were willing to try anything— which, in hindsight, was probably why he put Colors in place. I internally screamed.

When Hotch turned around, he was dangling a small chain over his index finger. Connected at the ends of the chain were clamps that looked like small metal clothespins. My eyes shot wide. Hotch never… He never showed any interest… I had originally mentioned that I found them fun because of how the slight pain from the pinch only increased my arousal, but the topic of using them had never come up before. I never thought in a million years that Hotch would want to try them out.

“Color?” he asked before even taking a step towards me.

Telling by my shocked expression behind the gag, he knew that I had been caught off guard, but he wanted to make sure that I was okay with it since it was something he had never played with before. I thought to myself: “If only you knew, Aaron Hotchner.” And I wished that I could knock the headboard a thousand times, a signal that it was more than okay— it was more than green. I had been waiting so long for him to realize that I wasn’t as fragile as he thought. Sure, he was rough in bed, but that never compared to some of the things I had experienced with past partners. Hotch was rough, yes, but to an extent because he always held himself back since he was still learning and exploring. With anger fueling him, there probably wasn’t a chance in hell that he wasn’t thinking about using every single toy in that box just to see how long he could torture me. After all, why would I have bought them and brought them to his house during the move if I didn’t like them and want to use them? It was always just a matter of what he was comfortable with.

I knocked three times, restraining myself from knocking an obnoxious amount of times like I wanted to. Given permission, Hotch stepped forward, fidgeting with the chain so that he could pinch one of the clamps open. I held my breath shortly as I anticipated his next movements. Hotch sat on the side of the bed, his hip pressed against my side. He bit his bottom lip as he concentrated at pinching one of my nipples between his thumb and middle finger while also still holding the clamp open in his other hand.

“Breathe, baby girl,” he encouraged as my nipple hardened against his touch.

I let out a breath as he rolled the sensitive nub and pulled slightly. My back arched off the bed as I moaned behind the gag, my eyes screwing shut. In response, Hotch’s touch left me until I put my hips back on the bed and calmed down. When I had stopped moving again, I watched as he brought the clamp to my nipple and slowly released his grip on it. I screwed my eyes shut and bit into the gag as the pressure of the clamps increased until they were all the way on. Hotch watched me carefully to make sure that I was alright, and I wanted to scream through my gag that I wasn’t as fragile as he thought I was, but I couldn’t think of anything to say or do without just moaning instead.

As Hotch picked up the other end, the chain rattled, which moved the clamp on my nipple. My head hit the pillows again as I groaned and pulled against the cuffs. He saw that the slightest movement or pull of the chain caused a physical reaction from me, and he wasn’t about to forget it or let up. Wickedly, Hotch pulled at the chain lightly and I cursed around the gag as loud as I could. I knew he was mad at me, but, Jesus, did he have to torture me like that? Fuck.

Hotch didn’t hesitate to pinch my other nipple until it was hard, then put the second clamp on. It didn’t sting as much, which was a relief, but I could feel my whole body responding to the consistent pinch, just as I had explained to him once. If I wasn’t soaked before, I didn’t even know how to express how fucking wet I was for him now— and he still hadn’t even touched me past my breasts.

And, again, Hotch grabbed the chain and pulled. My hips bucked once more with the height of the chain, and I saw him smirk, pleased with his work. Asshole. I really, really shouldn’t have shown him that box. Once he was done experimenting with these, there was no doubt that he was going to want to explore everything else, no matter how tired or desperate I got. Asshole, asshole, asshole, ass—

I cried out his name as he used his other hand to slap the inside of my thigh again.

Asshole, asshole, asshole—

“Such a needy whore.”

Oh, fuck.

“Do you think that arguing with me, then teasing me was a bad idea yet?” he inquired, slapping my other thigh. I nodded a quick agreement, wanting to make him as happy as possible in order to make him stop. “You were expecting this, though. Weren’t you?” I nodded again. “You wanted to be punished, didn’t you?” I kept fucking nodding like it was all I knew how to do. “And now you want me to touch you.” Same thing. “But bad girls don’t get rewarded. They get punished.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. “There are a million things I have thought about doing to you since the night of the Super Bowl. Do you remember?” He tugged on the chain when I stopped nodding. “Answer me, whore.” I whined and nodded. “You edged me twice. Me. Made me give you permission to cum just so that you would relent. I won’t be so kind this time around.”

My eyes followed him again after he let go of the chain and stood up to go back to the box. No, no, no, I thought to myself. Please… I just wanted him to fuck me. I was sorry for pissing him off. I was sorry for arguing with him. I was sorry for teasing him. I shouldn’t have fucked around when tensions were still high from our argument. Fuck that dumb fucking black box. I swear, I was going to burn it all before he could get his hands on it again.

“I’ve waited…” he sucked in a breath, “so long to have a day to ourselves again where I could do whatever I wanted with you. Work always got in the way, but…” It was still a sensitive topic for both of us, but reminding himself of it all was what encouraged him to keep up with the roughness and nonchalant attitude. “But now we have all the time in the world.”

He turned back around from the box again, this time holding a small controller and vibe in his hand. Yep, I was burning the box. If he was about to do what I thought he was going to do, then I had every reason imaginable to make sure I’d never be tortured this much ever again… No matter how much I ended up secretly liking it.

Hotch kneeled on the edge of the bed, just between my spread ankles, and he settled comfortably while finally taking notice of the mess he made of me. He liked that he could always do that to me without needing to touch me there. All it took was the right words and carefully calculated touches, and I was all his. But I didn’t notice until just then how dark and dilated his eyes were, at least not until he palmed himself again and he looked directly at me. I was so in for it. Fuck…

His index and middle fingers ran down my wet slit without any warning whatsoever. My hands fisted around the chains of the handcuffs holding me back from grabbing him and pulling him over me, and my hips bucked up. He didn’t stop me that time, which was some kind of relief, I supposed. When his fingers dipped ever so slightly into my core, I moaned his name behind the gag, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to decipher that I had broken the rules. He pulled his fingers from me, then dragged them back up to my clit, and he circled it twice. Just twice. That was it. And then his hand was gone from me. Fucking tease.

“I wonder how long it will take to break you,” he said more to himself than to me. “Maybe just the two edges again, but I won’t stop this time. I won’t give you any options. I won’t give you an out so that you can trap me again. You’re going to lay here, begging to tip over the brink, until you learn that I made no mistake asking you out. Until you learn that you’re not going to do anything stupid like ask for a transfer. Until you learn that you can’t parade around in my clothes and short dresses and act like I won’t do anything about it. Until you learn that I only love you.”

Suddenly, Hotch slid the bullet shaped vibrator into me with ease. He had only used his fingers to see how easy it would be to make it fit, and once he was pleased, he had decided to put the toy in me. So he was an asshole and a tease. Game on, Aaron Hotchner.

When the toy was settled inside of me, Hotch brushed his fingers over my clit “innocently”, then sat back. “Let’s see…” he mumbled to himself, looking down at the controller in his hand. “If I do this—” I cried out again, bucking around like crazy, and screaming a string of curse words until I ran out of breath. He had turned it onto the highest setting without warning, and then he shut it off once he understood. “Oh, so that’s what that does,” he grinned. I was going to kill him, I swear. “How about this one?” A lighter moan escaped me as he put it on the lowest setting. “That’s what we want for now.” My eyes shot wide again as I lifted my head to look at him in a panic. “What? Is it not enough?” I shook my head. Of course it wasn’t fucking enough. “Too bad.”

I continued to stare at him with wide, shocked eyes as he stood from the bed and walked over to the leather chair in the corner of the room that he liked to read in whenever he was too lazy to go work in our office just down the hall. He reclined, unbothered by my constant muffled moaning and pleading. Every time I moved, I felt the chain on my chest move, causing the clamps to move, causing me to remember how good the pinch felt, causing my pussy to throb, and the cycle would repeat. Hotch was being the absolute worse, keeping the vibrator on low because he knew it wasn’t enough to even get me close to an edge. He liked watching me squirm with the cycle I had unfortunately made for myself. He liked that he could control me all the way from his seat across the room, and all he had to do was relax and palm himself.

“Sir, please,” I begged, knowing fully well that it wouldn’t help. “Please—” I was grinding my hips against nothing, but I could still feel the toy moving inside of me, and that was good enough. “More…”

“Color.”

I knocked three times. Asshole.

“Then stop making noise.”

I fell silent at his command, but I kept moving in order to just feel more. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Hotch shuffling out of his sweatpants so that he was finally naked, and his erection sprang free. He wasted no time forming a fist around his length and began pumping at a pace faster than even I would have gone. The sight of him tensing his abs and arms, curling his toes against the carpet, and biting back the same pathetic moans I was spewing was so intoxicating and arousing.

Next thing I knew, though, as I was finally catching a rhythm with the toy inside of me while watching Hotch fuck his hand, the vibrator’s speed increased. My entire body collapsed on the bed as I was turned into nothing but moans. I was already so close, but I couldn’t let him know that if I was ever going to cum. I knew the rules, I was supposed to ask for permission, but I would rather cum without permission and be punished then not cum at all. But just as I thought it, just as my orgasm was building, Hotch turned the toy off, stealing my high from me before it could even reach its peak. I cried behind the gag and knocked on the board three times before he could even ask. I was so desperate for him to turn it back on again, I was going to do anything and everything in order to encourage him to turn it up.

“You were going to cum,” he growled. I shook my head, lying as hard as I could. “Yes. You were.” My stomach tensed, but my whole body continued laying limp as the toy turned back on. “It’s so easy to tell.” He turned it up and I moaned. “You try to pretend like you’re not, you get so still and quiet because you think it’ll trick me.” He turned it off again. “But I know better.” I whined and pulled again. He grinned, “See?” He turned it on. “And we haven’t even gotten you to the edge yet.” Fuck. “Maybe if I do this…” He turned it to the highest setting.

“Sir, please!” I cried out, knowing that I wouldn’t last long like that.

Hotch laughed. “I heard that one. You have no idea how pathetic you sound when you’re like this. I’m so used to having you beg, scream, cry, and moan for me. I like that you can’t say anything coherent. It’s refreshing to take away that bratty tongue of yours.”

“Sir—”

“You haven’t even edged once and look at you. A mess. My mess,” he groaned and threw his head back as his own thumb wiped over his sensitive tip.

My stomach was twisting into a familiar knot that I couldn’t stop, slow down, or even encourage, if I wanted to. The toy was doing all the work, and watching Hotch fall apart in his seat wasn’t exactly helping me either. I thought about how badly I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to grab onto his biceps as he braced himself on either side of me before slowly thrusting into me. I wanted to kiss his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose— everything. I never wanted to stop kissing him. Most of all, I wanted his cock inside me. It was unbearable to know that he was so close yet so far from me. He was only a few feet away, but there was no way he was going to go to all this trouble of tying me up and toying with me only to give in and fuck me as soon as possible. There was a good chance I might not even get any of him… And that thought was torture.

My edge was approaching faster than expected, and I knew that meant he was going to stop it again. I anticipated the toy turning off with every second that passed. Every muscle in my body tensed with how on edge I was between expecting my orgasm to be ripped away at the last second while also still fighting with the toy to make me cum. It was right there— I was about to tip over. I could feel it. I was clenching as hard as I could around the toy, and the knot had constricted as tightly as possible in my body… and then it was gone.

I heard the headboard hit the wall as my palms laid flat against it and pushed back hard as I stretched my whole body while still trying to chase my orgasm. My back arched, the nipple clamps moving around again, and the still toy inside of me moved against my walls. But nothing. The knot in my body slowly started to untangle and subside. The pleasure that had been building dissipated and was replaced with the sudden sting of the clamps racing through my veins.

That was only the first edge and it hit me like a fucking train. Hotch liked doing soft edges because it built up my stamina and it was more about me begging for more than begging to cum. But he had waited until the very last second, just before I was about to cum, to rip it all away. I hadn’t expected the hard edge, which was why it hit me so hard when it was stolen from me. And Hotch seemed so satisfied that he didn’t even wait for me to entirely calm down before starting again. The speed wasn’t as high this time, but it certainly wasn’t as low as the first time.

I was still pleading, even though it wasn’t going to do anything. And then my second edge approached. Hotch stopped moving his hand on his cock as he watched me, probably because he got a little too close to the edge himself.

It took watching me ride through four more edges for him to finally touch himself again. Only the lightest pass over his tip with his thumb made him buck his hips slightly and I saw his entire length twitch with need. I wondered if he was really suffering just as much as me. I mean, he was obviously having fun watching me fall apart on our bed while completely unable to stop the endless torture, but on some level, he was probably getting just as frustrated as me since he wasn’t finding the relief he needed. Hotch liked cumming one place and one place only: in me. Anywhere else felt like he didn’t accomplish his goal, unless he was really frenzied like this. There were plenty of times, like the limo ride in St. Louis, where Hotch couldn’t or wouldn’t take me, but he needed to cum so badly that he would use my mouth and watch me swallow every drop. I figured that since I was gagged and he was thoroughly enjoying it, he wasn’t going to use his backup plan. It was either in me or not at all, and there was no way he was going to choose the second option willingly.

Another two edges washed over me, one after the other, Hotch still refused to let up or waste precious time for things like catching my breath or calming down entirely. He wanted the edges to be endless and… painful. And they fucking were. I couldn’t even remember what soft edges felt like anymore because he had practically broken me with the hard edges already. Another orgasm escaped me as Hotch turned the vibrator off again. What were we on? Seven? Eight? A hundred? I couldn’t keep track, despite how hard I was trying. They seemed to blend into one another.

Hotch finally stood from his seat and came back over to the bed. My chest was rising and falling dramatically as I breathed through my nose, trying to find my composure so that he couldn’t find any kind of sexual relief in my desperation.

He looked down at me with a frown again, no wicked smirk in sight. When he took note of my silence and obedience, he grabbed the chain again and pulled. My back arched. “I made no mistake asking you out. Do you understand me?” I nodded hurriedly, trying to give him a reason to let go of the chain. He pinched my cheeks with his free hand so that I was looking right at him. His thumb wiped over the ball gag and I moaned quietly. He pulled harder at the chain. “You know that I love you, right?”

Oh, no, no, no… Aaron Hotchner, please… Sir, please… I was begging to myself, but there was nothing I could do to warn him that I was sorry for being a brat. He asked if I loved him over Colors because we both knew what was coming, and it wasn’t anything new. It was going to be more rough than usual, and he would use Colors if he needed to then, but nothing had actually happened yet… I almost preferred the idea of being edged with the toy again over what was about to happen.

“I asked you a question, slut.”

I nodded and mumbled through the gag, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He released his grip on my cheeks and dropped the chain. I winced at the minor pain before feeling the pleasure race to my core again. He turned the toy on again and leaned in real close to my face. His breath was hot on my nose as he stared at me. “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you now.” I gulped. “Color.” I knocked three times. “Of course you want that.” He laughed at me in a degrading way that made me moan and buck my hips.

The toy turned off again, proving to me that he had only turned it on towards the end in order to distract me and rile me up. When it was still inside me, Hotch grabbed the end of it and slowly slid it out. I gasped as much as I could at the feeling of emptiness that overwhelmed me. Hotch shuffled on the bed, his thighs moving to bracket my hips. His erection rested against my stomach, and I tried to squirm around, but he forced his weight on me so that I couldn’t move.

“Do you remember that night how you touched yourself without my permission, and then you rode me… I remember fitting into this tight pussy with such ease,” he whispered as he fit one finger inside of me, but refused to move it. I let out a sigh, thankful to finally just be feeling him. “You’re always so wet.” His finger retreated and I whimpered. “I promised that night that I was going to ruin you… and I never got the chance…”

So, you know how people say that Karma is a bitch. Yeah, well, this was a prime example of that. While it was perpetually entertaining to fuck with Hotch and get on his nerves in an abundance of ways, it had all finally caught up to me.

“I don’t think I even want you to cum today.”

“Please, no!” I cried through the gag. I wanted to cum. So fucking bad. I would do literally anything.

“Maybe if you take my cock like a good girl.”

I nodded desperately as he shifted his weight on me down so that he could plant his knees between my spread thighs. Finally. Finally, I was going to feel him. All of him. Fuck, yes.

He took his length in his palm again and pumped himself a few times as he lined up his tip with my entrance. When I first felt him, I moaned his name quietly, and he must have heard it, because the next thing I knew, his free hand shot up to my neck. I looked at him with apologetic eyes, but he didn’t look at me or care about what I had to say.

Hotch held my throat in his hand as he slowly inserted his cock inside of me. He took his time, making sure that I felt every inch as it stretched me and hit every wall. When he bottomed out in me, Hotch didn’t waste a single second to start thrusting in and out of me at an ungodly pace. I tugged again, this time not giving up on the idea of trying to pull as hard as I could to see if it would somehow magically release me.

Hotch’s grip on my neck tightened as he groaned roughly at my movement. “You’re not going anywhere.”

My breath hitched at the pressure of his grip and I felt my head spin. It felt so good. Taking every inch of him over and over again, without mercy, without a constant pace that I could predict… it was inebriating. He wasn’t focused on pleasing me, or making sure that I was getting close, or that I wanted to cum. The only thing he was focused on was cumming inside of me as fast and as hard as possible in order to get rid of all of his worries outside of the bedroom. Hotch wanted to forget just how badly our lives were falling apart, and he just wanted to remind himself that I was a constant— no matter how bratty I would get. I would be there, I would always love him, and he could use me to get rid of his anger if he really wanted to. It was just an added perk that he had me all tied up and unable to argue. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and that power was getting to his head.

His lips found my neck as he concentrated on fucking his anger away. When he began nibbling on the sensitive patch of skin just below my jaw, that was when I totally lost it. I didn’t realize before just how much control I still had over my mind and body, even when I thought he had broken me entirely, but now, with him fucking me so hard I knew I was going to be sore for a few days, and his mouth working on marking me for everyone to see, I lost every ounce of control I had. My body went stock-still, and I let him use me however he wanted.

Hotch immediately took notice and complemented, “Good girl,” against my skin before continuing to leave another hickey on my collarbone.

His pace quickened somehow, though I wasn’t sure where he got the strength for it. It only took another minute or so of him fucking at this new pace for his thrusts to get sloppy, a silent signal that he was getting close. Hotch sat up, his hand still wrapped around my neck, though, and he grabbed the toy from where it was resting to my right. He turned it on and pressed it to my clit, making me clench around him.

Hotch groaned, “You’re so tight. Fuck.” He was slowing down, despite his attempts to keep going as fast and hard as before since it seemed to be working for both of us, but his stamina was running out as he was approaching his high. “I’m gonna—” His words sputtered as he released his grip on my throat and grabbed the chain again with his other hand. He pulled at the clamps as he thrusted into me, cumming deep inside of me with a loud groan.

With the vibrator still pressed to my clit, I was only seconds behind him, the feeling of his cock twitching inside me practically pushing me over the edge. My legs shook and I stopped pulling against all of the restraints as I tipped over the edge and screamed his name. But Hotch didn’t relent. He pressed the toy against me with more pressure, and his hips started slowly thrusting again, but not too fast because he was still sensitive.

He released the chain, but pinched the end of the clamps to open them and pull them away from my nipples. He started with the left side, catching me off guard. Without time to prepare myself for the shock of the pain that would follow, I screamed as the clamp left my breast. Hotch smirked and leaned down to take my nipple in his mouth. I cursed a thousand times, forgetting that the vibrator was even pressed to me because there was too much focus on my sore breasts.

When the pain subsided, Hotch leaned up and pulled the right clamp away, earning another scream, this time just not as loud. He immediately sucked on my nipple again, flicking his tongue over the sensitive and sore nub. With there no more pain to distract me, and the sudden awareness of the pleasure pressed to my clit, I came again without warning. Hotch wriggled the vibrator up and down, and side to side as I rode out my second high with him still buried himself entirely inside of me.

“Good girl,” he cooed, as I came down from my high. He pulled the toy away and turned it off. “Color?” he asked sincerely, not at all angry anymore. Exhausted, I knocked three times on the headboard, then slumped entirely. He groaned quietly as he pulled out of me, and I sighed, unable to keep moaning or cursing.

When we had both calmed down and caught out breaths, Hotch reached behind my head and undid the ball gag, carefully pulling it out of my mouth to make sure my jaw wasn’t strained or sore. Hotch reached over my head and unclasped the handcuffs with the safety button on the back. After my hands were freed, Hotch carefully grabbed my wrists with his hands and kissed them gingerly. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and waited for him to lift his head so that I could kiss him. The second his eyes were on mine, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his eagerly, and when he relaxed and released my wrists, I brought my hands to his face and held him close. “I love you.”

He smiled against my lips, “I love you, too.”

“Feel better?” I laughed. He nodded and kissed me again. “I’m sorry I made you mad.”

He kissed me delicately and wrapped his arms under me so that he could hug me. “We still need to talk about it later.” I hummed an agreement. “But I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” I pecked his lips. “Sir.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines

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absoluteindulgence · 3 years

Text

Paradise (BNHA POC!CUTIES COLLAB)

Happy Black History, Honeys!!! I’ve spent the last 12 hours working on this and I’m still unsure of the finished product, please if you like what read don’t be shy to comment (or if you didn’t DM me, constructive criticism. I haven’t written a story in a while so have mercy lol) Characters are Aged Up🆙 but it’s fluff? I tried my hand at Ludus but can’t say I executed it right lol. Thanks in advance to everyone that reads it! I’m gonna go pass out now, respectfully.

The time you spent together always resorted to some kind of new fun. Always smiles and laughter, learning something new about each other. You didn't spend a lot of time together during your days of being highschool kids, but after some time apart and rekindling something most may call "Puppy Love," you've been finding more reasons to get out of bed.

Kirishima was strong and kind-hearted when you knew him back at U.A., Giving off the proper sentiment that would make you believe in yourself. It's kind of embarrassing how hooked you were to each other's personality, painstakingly apparent to your other classmates wishing for you two to just date but never doing so. Resulting in the classic 'Will They, Won't They' trope annoying everyone; Only to continue like that in your young adult years. Pushing your childlike fun on each other, date after date.

You woke up early, just to get a sense of the mid-winter weather. Still wearing your pajamas, you opened the window near your bed; the brisk air immediately greeted your room with little atonement to your mildly groggy body. You shivered right away, knowing that even though the sun was high in the sky, the wind would be unforgiving until the afternoon. Promptly doing your beauty routine, you dressed warmly and threw your hair under a cute beanie Kirishima had bought you for Christmas. Eager to meet at the station with your Red-haired date. It would be the first date you would've had in weeks, and ironically enough, on Valentines' Day.

As you reached the meetup station, he was already there, fifteen minutes earlier than when you two were supposed to meet. This was typical for him, and many times you had tried to beat him to the punch, but he was always one step ahead. As you got closer, he raised his head from staring at his phone screen, reciprocating the smile plastered on your face as you hugged him.

"Hey, Little Miss Cozy, you look great!" His sharky grin made your heart pulse.

"Aw, thank you, you don't look bad yourself, Kiri" You glanced at his outfit; he looked so stylish! His PR team has really helped him with his image since he graduated, and now he looks like he belongs in a sophisticated J-pop group. "I'm so glad we're hanging out today!"

"Yeah, me too. Too much work and not enough play are bad for the body!" He dramatically sighed as you playfully pursed your lips in agreeance, and in return, he held your hand through your winter knitted mittens, "Plus, I missed my partner in crime."

Your face heated up from the sweet confession just to retort with, "I feel the same way, Handsome."

His raspy chuckle coming right after as he casually brushed his red hair back with his fingers. Kirishima had promised to make it the best day you could ever have on the holiday. Planning something you didn't even expect; an indoor Ice Skating rink. It would be your first time engaging in the sport, and you were anxious. Unsure about your own elegance and precision to be the best on ice. But he reassured that it would be a fun experience nonetheless, and you believed it would.

"Don't worry, Cutie, if at any point you think you're gonna fall, just hold me tighter." With his graciously, flirtatious wink, you were blushing, with a demure grin.

After traveling to the venue, Kirishima greeted the clerk who would be taking your admission tickets. Right after, you two went to the counter where you get sized up for the Ice Skates. After getting them, you were slightly frantic on how to tie them, bewildered by the laces and hooks. Kirishima saw how confused you were, lightly chuckling at your frantic fingers working so hard to figure it out on your own.

"Hey, don't stress yourself out before you get on the ice, let me help.'' He squatted close to your feet just to help settle your feet into the rented skates. They were a perfect fit, and as he helped, he looked up to beam at you. "You know I feel like the Prince of your story, ready to whisk you away after knowing that the shoe fits you so perfectly."

How smooth, you thought to yourself. Physically flustered and speechless, you had no cheeky rebuttal. Which only made the buff redhead break out into laughter. So many times, did his bold flirts silence you and make your heart flutter. But it was one of your favorite traits that he had. After getting your shoes on, you held his hand the whole way to the rink, continually repeating, "Don't let me fall, okay?"

"Of course, My Princess" He nodded kindly, taking on his role of 'Prince' too seriously. Bringing you to almost trip as you tried to hide your face. "Hey, at least wait till we get on the ice."

Another carefree chuckle leaving his toned body, making you happy to enjoy this experience with him. Getting to the rink may have been a battle, but now you were finally getting onto the ice, working your legs slowly to steady under the frozen ice. Not wanting to move too fast and create an inconvenience for anyone enjoying the rink. Gradually, you took a breath, calming down, as you held Kirishima's hand tighter. He smiled so warmly the whole time you focused on getting comfortable on the ice. The patience he carried just to keep you feeling safe and secure made its way into your heart, knowing that there was no malice energy.

"Are you ready, Princess?" Finally finding your footing, you nod. "Okay, then I'll teach you the basics."

His skating directions are so thorough and straightforward that you're able to follow them and feel like you can execute each move flawlessly. He politely assists you with your stances, placing his big, callous hands onto your waist gently just to help you find the proper posture to keep you from falling. It's fun learning how to do it, but now you're eager to start, and Kirishima can tell.

"Okay, Princess, that's all I have to share. Let's have some fun!" He holds your hand firmly as you slowly glide around the skating rink, feeling your legs space out naturally to create the best gliding and position one leg in front of the other. "See, you know what you're doing!"

Your childlike smile shoots Kirishima straight in the heart as you make the first steps to skating like a pro. He knew you were a fast learner and always admired that. Your persistence to learn something new was fascinating to him. You would start off anxiously and felt as if you didn't know what you were doing. But once you had the chance to shine, you left no skill invalidated.

"Hey Kiri, you think we can go a little faster? I wanna get some more momentum and see if we can do a trick!"

"W-what, you sure you want to try that on your first time at a skating rink? Certain moves require being a professional figure skater… Which we aren’t."

"You have a point, but we should still try anyway," You smile with reassurance, "We didn't graduate from U.A. not to be durable in various conditions!"

You raise your other arm showing off the muscle you gained from being a student at the number one school. Kirishima looked a little bewildered, thinking that your ideology doesn't equate to ice skating whatsoever, but he agreed that you weren't wrong. U.A. definitely had their trials, and you were put through many of them as a first-year.

"I mean, just look at that couple; they're so graceful, and I think we can do that!"

You pointed to a couple of what looked like professional ice skaters making a move you had never seen before. Your eyes sparkled as their chemistry was unmatched by everyone else in the rink. They spun so gently and romantically that you felt like you had to try to do something just as beautiful as that. Kirishima took a couple of Ice skating lessons on the side only to gain more flexibility and agility to become a better defense hero during his agency apprenticeship. It worked well, and he learned many things that he didn't expect to use in his daily life.

Looking at the skilled ice skaters, he felt like that could be him and you, and so he looked back into your eyes, reciprocating your glittery gaze. With a pure and toothy grin, he said, "Okay, let's give it a try."

Excited by his answer, you almost jumped for joy, forgetting where you were, and almost slipped and tumbled into the Red-haired hero. You laughed off the blunder, and you both kept trying to reach the speed it would take to get into any ice move. Having the fundamentals of chemistry be explained had made you even more pumped. Learning the basics of a spin and how to get the most out of sticking your leg out and balance. Kirishima praised you every time you got further into the rotation. You felt good knowing that you were trying and learning something different, respecting the art of figure skating.

Surprised that you were doing so well, you lost focus for a second and accidentally bump into Kirishima, resulting in him falling to the ice-cold floor. Horrified that he's injured, you kneel close to him to inspect, but instead, he laughs, looking at your worried face.

"I'm okay, Princess; this isn't my first time falling on the ice."

"Are you sure? I mean, it looked like you fell kinda har-"

To avoid a freakout and reassure you, he stole a kiss from your lips, lasting more than three seconds as you didn't want it to stop, but he pulls away with a light chuckle, "This floor is cold as hell, though."

"I-I'm sorry," You slightly pout, not knowing what else to say.

"But hey, I'm here with the hottest girl, so this makes up for everything."

Your goofiest smile was starting to form as you reached out to help him up. "Okay, Mr. Flirt, you got me there."

His laugh was highly pleasing to your ears, and you laughed with him. As he stood up, he patted himself down and checked his skates, making sure everything felt the way it did before the fall. After the check, he wanted to leave the rink, it made you anxious, thinking that something else was wrong with him, but he laughed again, "I know you wanted to try a pro move today, but I actually have something else planned."

"Something else?" You tilted your head to the side, confused as to what he could be mentioning.

"Yeah, but it's a surprise, so I'm not gonna say anything until we get there." His shark-like grin came back, making you grin in return.

"Okay, but can I have a hint?" You imitated puppy dog eyes but couldn't keep your face straight, laughing at your own face.

"Hmmm, I'll think about it" He smiled. "Maybe when we're closer, but let's return these skates and go."

And with that, you returned the skates getting your cute and comfortable platform sneakers back. You had even forgotten what shoes you wore since you were in the rink skating for a long time, Feeling like you had sweat enough from the body-induced activity. You were excited to figure out where you might be going. You tried your best to make guesses as you rode the bus to get there and passed by each stop. Still not able to put the finger on where you might be going.

"Here's your hint, Princess," You turn from looking out the window to look back at him. "It's as sweet as you."

Even with such a cute but corny remark, you still didn't have a clue. But you were getting off at the next stop. No dots connected as Kirishima grabbed your hand, guiding you off the bus with him. He smiled the whole way, eager to see your expression on the date's secondary location. The walk may have lasted for five minutes until he stopped, turning to look at you, "We're here."

The building looked a little shabby but still had a colorful banner saying 'Welcome.' A little creeped out, you wondered what was being welcomed. Ghosts maybe? Not humans, maybe clowns, though. You were reluctant to step further, but you looked into Kirishima's eyes, and his expression looked pure and unaltered by the outer appearance of the building. You feigned a light smile, unsure what to expect inside the establishment but prepared for what's to come.

Intertwining your hands, your date tightened the grip, caressing your hand. As if doing his best to comfort you as you walked closer to the entrance, his toothy grin never leaving. As he opened the door for you, you entered the building, the floor looking just as bland as the outside, but you had to be admitted in to get to the specific base, and as you got to your final destination, Kirishima let you walk in first to scope out the scene.

In an instant, you're blinded by beautifully bright colors, pleasingly happy music that didn't sound creepy and candy-like decor from wall-to-wall. Shocked by what you're seeing, candy hung from the ceiling while numerous candy stations were on the floor. Your eyes became huge, looking at what could only be considered a candy paradise. Kirishima stood next to you, nodding at the beauty of the atmosphere filled with gleefulness and sweets all over.

"Well, Princess, welcome to Sugar Sanctuary."

He presented the place so nonchalantly, and yet his energy about the place said otherwise. Your jaw had dropped, not even knowing a place like this had existed. Your eyes couldn't even focus on what was in front of you; you just wanted to explore the floor and eat as much candy as possible.

"We burned so many calories skating, I think we should reward ourselves. I remembered out of the blue that you used to have a sweet tooth, and I wanted to see if that still holds true now."

You turned to hug him tightly, almost jumping into his arms. His eyes widened as you held him, " Of course that's still true! Let's leave here with a dump truck worth of sweets!"

His chuckle reverberated through his body and onto yours as you held him; without protest, he nodded. "Let's do it!"

And with that, you venture into the venue, reading fun facts about the candy, playing the video games that gave out real prizes. Kirishima had a point to prove, his goal was to win you whatever you wanted, and he did it so well, surprising you at his gamer abilities. And his claw skills were something to see too! You never thought you would have this much fun on a date, and yet, here you were having the time of your life with the man who was your highschool sweetheart.

Although your relationships would continue to confuse your friends, you always looked at the bigger picture to smile and have fun. Avoiding all the complicated politics of your connection, taken at your own pace, and not listen to others' opinions as you enjoyed Kirishima's company and vice versa.

You spent every moment tasting different sweets and fresh pastries from the floor that you almost forgot to take photos of the unique location. You spotted a photo booth, and with no hesitation, You lightly tugged your redheaded date to follow along. The booth itself was spacious when inside and looked like it had enough room to fit half a dozen people. But because there was so much space, you tried to create a wonderland of candy surrounding you, bringing you closer to your date.

Kirishima happily obliged to set up what seemed to take a while but eventually, ready to pose for the flix. Unironically, you two looked gorgeous, making quirky faces as the camera flashed, focusing in on the memory. However, the moment was just perfect enough to steal a kiss from him and to thank him for all that he’s done to help you celebrate a holiday that you usually overlook. After caressing your lips onto his, you say, “You know what, Kiri, you truly delivered. And I want you to know that I appreciate you.”

He goes in for another kiss, just to rest his forehead on top of yours, “No, thank you, I’m happy to rescue my Princess from a boring any time of the year.”

With a couple more photos taken in the booth, you leave heading to their lounge area to share a complimentary cake with a candle to grant a special wish together, hoping to have endless moments and to keep smiling together.

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #mha imagines #bnha imagines

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Note

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” + ThanZag feels very fitting <33

<3333333333

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment on Ao3!

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It was when the door of the cheap motel room closed behind him that it really sunk in.

Just what he’d done. How alone he was now.

The silence pressed in on him from all sides and it was all Zagreus could do to lean back on the wall, sink his fingers into his hair and take long, slow breaths. If he tried to move, if he tried to let the thoughts in, he felt for sure he would break into a thousand pieces.

He’d done it. He’d left the old man, he’d done what he’d threatened to do for years and years, he’d thrown as many of his possessions as he could into a bag and he’d left. It had been one argument too many, a poisonous comment that had struck too hard, too many words that just couldn’t be taken back. He hadn’t even been planning on it, he hadn’t known this would be the one that broke him. He’d just gone into his room, slammed the door, packed as quickly as he could and left out of one of the mansion’s windows.

Zagreus had done what he’d fantasised about since he was a kid, over the long, hard years of his relationship to Hades becoming more tense and more strained. And it was only now that he realised he’d never once thought beyond that moment. He’d never decided what would come after the deep, deep breath he took once he was beyond the armoured gates.

It was bitterly funny. Hadn’t people always told him he never thought things through?

He’d driven here in a daze, paid for a room with too much of the money he’d been carefully hiding away for years, just needing to put something between him and the rest of the world even if that something had to be some filthy, moulding motel walls.

And now he was alone. He was alone and he hadn’t even said goodbye.

Zag’s phone had been buzzing like an angry insect since ten minutes after he’d left. Unable to face it, he’d shoved it deep into the pocket of his hoodie and let it rattle away accusingly. But it must have stopped at least for a while because now it sprang back into life and he jumped a mile.

Before he could think better of it, acting on reflex without driving to occupy his hands, he pulled it out and looked at the screen. No text, just a single emoji of a skull. Zag felt his heart squeeze painfully.

He didn’t want to be alone. He really, really didn’t. So, feeling wretchedly pathetic, he skimmed Thanatos’ simple, straightforward text- where are you- and answered with just the name of the motel he’d checked into. And he hated himself for how much he hoped.

While he waited, Zag busied his hands by making a truly awful cup of coffee. Probably not a good idea to give himself more stimulant but that's what was laid out in a little sachet next to a mug with a smudged rim and if he stayed still another moment he was going to start bleeding from the eyes.

He was sat on the bed, sipping it and at least getting some comfort from the warmth if not the flavour, when he heard the knock on the door. Rapped, precise, to the point. Just like everything else about Thanatos.

“Yes?” Zag looked up, biting his lip, “It’s, uh, it’s open.”

He looked like he had just come from work. His suit showed no wear, of course, it was neat and crisp and grey as it always was, his ornamentation fixed in place, the clasp collar around his neck, the single earring all catching the low streetlight from outside. The tiredness was only in his eyes, more hollow that usual, his mouth more downturned. He had known Thanatos his whole life and could read when that usually perfect, placid face was hiding exasperation and tiredness. Usually it was his fault.

“Was I even going to get a goodbye, Zagreus?” he murmured sadly.

Zag took a shaky breath, pushing his fingers through his hair, “I...I’m sorry...I didn’t think…please don’t tell anyone else where I am.”

“You know I won’t,” Than sighed, almost like the fact he needed to ask stung him, “What happened?”

“My mother,” Zag admitted, the word alone feeling heavy on his tongue, “I just couldn’t take it any more.”

“Is that why you left?” Than’s expression had gentled a little, he knew what a sore spot this was, “Are you going to go look for her?”

Zag opened his mouth before closing it helplessly and shaking his head, staring down at his hands, at the dried blood under his fingernails from where he’d scraped them down the tree he’d scaled to get from his window to the ground, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can.”

There was a moment where the space between them seemed to grow before Thanatos lifted his head and stated simply, “You can. We can. I’ll help you.”

Zag’s eyes snapped up, wide and hopeful but scared to be. He swallowed and shook his head, “No. No, Than, I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t ask you to go against him, your job is everything to you!”

“It was,” Than admitted, unfolding his arms and resting them at his sides, though his eyes struggled to settle on Zag’s, “It used to be, I mean. Before...”

Zag frowned, not sure he wasn’t understanding because Thanatos was being obtuse or because he was being stupid or because his nerves were jangling with stress and too much coffee, “Than. I’m not asking my best friend to risk his whole life because I can’t sort out my shit.”

Now there was real hurt in Thanatos’ voice as his expression tightened and he groaned, “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it, Zagreus. So please don’t give me that. I came here for you, didn’t I, I went against a direct order from my boss and from my mother for you. I lied to them for you. Gods, the least you could do is not doubt me now.”

Zag’s mouth fell open. However he had thought this might happen, if this really was happening, it had never been like this. He was the impulsive one, he was the one who launched into things without thinking and ran his mouth off and ruined whatever he was trying to build with his recklessness. He always thought he would be the one to blurt out what had been happening between them for a while, when it became too much to bear or he didn’t keep his brain on a tight enough leash.

And the most he’d dared hope for was that Thanatos would kiss him back.

His friend flushed, shoulders coming up protectively, “I’m sorry, Zagreus. I shouldn’t be putting this on you right now, not after everything you’ve been through tonight, forget I said anything-”

“No, don’t you dare,” Zag stood, feeling everything in him ache across the gap between them, “Don’t take it back. This...Than, this is perfect.”

“Oh.” He’d never seen his friend surprised before, not like this. He’d never seen Thanatos lost for words but he was now, that small, soft noise apparently all he could muster in response to that.

Suddenly he was grinning, “I’ve felt so lost, I had no idea where to go or what to do or what to want next. But now I know.”

“You do?” There was the Thanatos he’d always suspected no one else got to see, written plain upon that lovely face with no armour to hide behind.

“Yes. I want you.” And it really was that simple.

They both surged forward together but Than was faster and they collided close enough to the bed that Zag was knocked back onto it. They were kissing immediately, hungry, messy, frantic kisses borne of wanting to do this for so long and unable to bear a second longer. It was like all their teenage years going up like flash paper, all the glances where they’d wondered maybe, if only, what if turned into pure need. Something tore as Thanatos pulled Zagreus’ clothes away, Thanatos’ jewellery was flung to the floor without a second thought for it’s expense. None of it mattered, just the sharp, wanton inhale of finally.

“My bag,” Zag panted as Than’s teeth grazed his nipples, skated along the neat, thin scars there.

“Mm?” Clearly his lover wasn’t listening and Zag found it hard to pull him away from what he was doing. But it was going to be hard to progress without the right equipment.

“My bag, on the ground,” Zag’s voice wavered as Than sucked and nipped, “Condoms, lube, it’s in there.”

Than’s golden eyes flickered up to him cautiously, he pulled up a little, lips swollen, “You’re sure? That’s what you want?”

Zagreus could have kissed him for thinking to ask, before he realised he could do that now. So it was practically into his mouth that he whispered, “Yes. I’ve wanted it for a pretty fucking long time.”

He was grateful for Thanatos’ ruthless efficiency, it was less than a minute before he was rolling the condom down his erection, crouched over Zagreus. He felt his eyes on him and looked up, smirking.

“Hope I’m living up to expectations?”

“Oh yeah,” Zag grinned shamelessly, not hiding where his eyes were focused, “You’re exactly as...well, impressive as I imagined”

“You’ll tell me more about those imaginings one day,” Than promised, though his cheeks were flushed as he leaned close and kissed Zag, hands sliding across to move his thighs apart.

It was those golden eyes’ turn to wander and Zag couldn’t deny he felt relief at the fervour he saw in them.

There was no more waiting after that. Than wrapped his arms around Zag’s chest and drew him close as he pressed against his entrance. Zag whimpered, shifting lower against the pillows, holding Than’s shoulders tightly.

“I’ll go slow,” Than promised, inching forward, eyes searching Zag’s face for any sign to do anything but move forward.

“Oh gods,” Zag choked out, breathing heavily, doing everything he could to signal for yes and more as his words failed him.

Eventually he was in him to the hilt and everything felt right. He loosely wrapped his legs around Than’s slim hips, as if to keep him there, not that Than was entertaining any thoughts of doing anything but fucking him, slow and deep and indulgently. As he rocked him against the thin mattress, Zag could only whine and beg nearly incoherently, one hand coming down to play with his cock as Than thrust. He always needed something to do with his hands after all.

Between that and the years of pent up pining, it wasn’t long before Zag was tipping his head back and gasping, “Fuck, Than, I’m there…”

Than nodded, kissing at his jaw, mumbling, “Yes. Gods, yes, Zag, with me. Together.”

“Always,” Zag whined before he felt everything tense almost painfully, paralyzed as his orgasm rolled through him. Thanatos was a moment behind, sighing his name as he came, whispering it like a prayer.

Afterwards the silence was back but this time Zag welcomed it. It was comfortable, safe, as long as he had Than’s arms wrapped around him. It was a moment he could live in without worry, without having to think about what came before and what would come after. There was only now and now was Thanatos.

Eventually they had to disentangle themselves and all the awkwardness that came with that, shifting the sheets below them so they weren’t lying in the damp spot, tossing the condom in the trash. But there was something a little giddy about it, they must have caught each other’s eye and giggled almost hysterically five times before they were cuddled up again, catching their breath in each other’s arms.

“Ah Zagreus,” Than murmured, kissing the top of his head, “Maybe I should think less. Good things always seem to happen when I do.”

Zag chuckled, “Don’t change too much. I’m going to need you.”

The arms around him tightened, “You have me, Zagreus. I promise.”

And it was then that it really sunk in.

Zag was never going to be alone again.

#hades game #modern au #thanzag #thanatos #zagreus #trans zagreus #smut #please reblog and comment!

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spicyfoodboi · 3 years

Text

born to make history

Genre: fluff

A Kenma Kozume x reader

A figure skater AU

Synopsis: at first glance, Kenma may not look like he enjoys competing on the ice but you know he works hard to get gold in the Grand Prix final. Will being there to support him in the final stretch really up his game, or will he start to drown in the pressure of the competition?

a/n: Hello everyone! I finally rewatched Yuri on ice so I could write this with a bit more experience. I also searched up the different jumps and how to do them just so I could describe them better, hopefully, it isn't that inaccurate. I actually got the inspiration to write this and rewatch the series was because of this kuroken fanart I found on Pinterest along time ago! I can’t really use it here since I cannot find the artist ;-; Hope you guys enjoy it!

He was used to the bite of the ice.

He always felt it pierce his skin when he touches it. It felt cold to land on it, to slip on it. But that didn't stop him.

The thrill of performing on that harsh, unforgiving surface made things worth it.

He didn't care about medals or trophies, he was there skating in front of thousands maybe millions of people because he loves seeing the audiences' expressions when he does a quadruple toe loop-triple axel combo or hearing the cheers from his fans while he glides through his step sequence. It might not look like it, but he was hooked on the cheers and claps from the stands, not only from his fans, from you as well.

You were always there beside him. You were there while he practiced and practiced the quadruple lutz for his routine, making sure he took breaks and he didn't beat himself up when he falls time and time again. You were there next to him in the kiss and cry, looking at his scores, from the lowest of his career to breaking a world record. You were there to send him off the ice to start his short program with his coach, Kuroo.

You were always there.

It was time to pay you back. His final routine was dedicated to you.

"hey ken-ken, relax okay? This is the finals, you've come a long way, you don't have to stress," you said, kissing his cheeks while you knead the knots out of the boy's shoulders. His heart flutters, feeling you next to him for his final routine of the season, the only thing separating you was the wall surrounding the rink. He knows you're watching him proudly whether he wins or he fails and for the first time in his life, he wants to take home the gold.

A gold medal for you to bite into and leave an indent in it.

He skated to the middle of the rink and listened to the music carefully, starting his routine off flawlessly. You hummed along to the tune, seeing him pull off a triple loop, the crowd growing wild as he glides through the ice.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready for the second half with his routine. He sees you in the corner of his eyes, giving him the last jolts of energy he needs to finish his routine with a perfect quadruple salchow. He gets in his final pose, facing you, a big smile on his face. He's done it. He finished his routine with flying colors.

He skates off and ran into your arms, hugging you tightly. You could feel his chest heaving up and down but he was emanating a happy aura, making you smile too.

"i-i did it kitten! I finished it!" he whispered in your ear, pure joy in his tone. He pulls away only to kiss your plump lips. This kiss lingered longer as a good luck charm on the scores, hoping that it was high enough to place first. You didn't doubt that he wouldn't reach that spot. You knew for a fact that this was his season. He deserved this medal and with that performance, he might've just sealed the deal.

You sit next to him along with Kuroo in the kiss and cry, Kenma sitting in between you two, waiting for the calculations of the total scores. Your hand was entangled with his, letting him squeeze it as many times as he needed. He was nervous, he could feel it. Kuroo was holding onto some of the cat plushies that were thrown out from the stage, squeezing it tightly when on the big screen, the score flashed, revealing he got a total of 319.54, a new record for Kenma. That record thrusting him into first place.

He looked over at you, eyes filled with tears that he's been keeping in before the relief washed over him. He uncharacteristically jumped out of his seat and hugged you and Kuroo tightly. "you did it Kenma!" Kuroo was yelling out, hugging back tightly. You couldn't keep your tears in as you sobbed into the skater's shoulder.

The three of you get up from the kiss and cry and let Kenma go on the ice to receive his shining gold medal with the biggest grin the world has ever seen. He waved the medal in his hand before bringing it to his mouth and lightly biting on it, leaving an indent.

He gave one last goodbye to the audience before skating towards you into the sidelines. You bring him into his arms again, letting him relish in the warmth of your embrace. He pulls away, taking off the gold medal from his neck and slipping it around yours. "if I'm a winner, you are too." he said with a smile, kissing your cheek. You let out a small giggle "thank you ken-ken. May I?", taking in the sight of the glimmering plate. He smiles at you, pulling you beside him, shoulder to shoulder. He gazed at you as you brought it to your lips for you to bite softly.

Kenma might be used to the bite of the ice, but he could never forget the feeling of winning the Grand Prix with you beside him.

Bonus:

Kuroo walked over to both of you, wearing a pleading pout on his face. He smiled at Kenma, a smile that shows he has something to ask, an ulterior motive.

"can I bite the medal too?"

"no Kuroo."

Hey everyone! Hope you guys enjoy this lovely fic! I really enjoyed writing this since yuri on ice was one of my first animes and after rewatching it, some things never really change. Hope you guys enjoyed this! Requests are open so if you guys have any more ideas like this one, please don't be shy in leaving anything in my inbox! Love you guys 💞💕❤❤

taglist (don’t be shy to comment your tumblr @ below!): @tokyoghoose @macaronnv @brainwqshed @reogou @cadekagi @feedmewires

This is a reupload!!

#bea's self-indulgement #bea's self-indulged fluff #Haikyuu x reader #Kenma x reader #Kenma kozume x reader

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cherry3point14 · 4 years

Text

One Helluva Car

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Minor car fetish, one paragraph of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut, a little jealous!Dean, this is crack babes’, I can’t stress this enough: car fetish Word Count: 3,500. Summary: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world and then one day she sees Baby... A/N: @alexwinchester23 hit me up a THOUSAND years ago with the prompt: dean x reader where she is more “in love” with deans car and it makes him a little jelly lol. And I was like, ha ha ha sure I’ll write it. It’s been half written ever since. So, I finished it. Someone please be proud of me for finishing. (Not like that you animals.) This also fills Driving In The Impala for @spndeanbingo

It’s Monday lunchtime when you see it. Her? It looks like a her. The best cars are ‘hers’ and even from a distance, she has curves that only a good woman could possess.

You’ve had a morning of shitty, old trucks that have been run hard for too long, and new cars that you plug into the computer to diagnose, which takes all the fun out of life. It’s easy to see a mile off that she isn’t shitty or bogged down with modern tech. She’s a well looked after classic. A thing of beauty. A freaking masterpiece. She’s polished enough that the sun bounces off of her black surface like she’s made of glass.

If only your arms weren’t laden with brown paper bags of food you’d take a detour to get a closer look. You could ghost your hand over her hood and take a look at the interior. You bet it’s the softest fucking leather your ass would ever hope to feel.

You’d generally drool over her without actually drooling because God knows spit is not good for the paintwork. Unfortunately, you do have bags filled with hot, meaty subs intended to feed your workforce. And you’re wise enough to know that making a garage of hungry mechanics wait for their lunch is not a good move. It’ll only result in some sort of unnecessary disaster this afternoon that you, their boss, will have to fix or pay for. Or both.

The only thing you can do is take one last look at her, memorize that beautiful shape while you heft the bags closer to your chest and carry on walking. It’s not like you’ve never seen a good old fashion American muscle car before, you have your own ‘70 Mustang at home.

It’s just… this is a Chevvy Impala, arguably the first car to flex its muscles. You don’t see one of those every day.

Your hobby is like a much cooler version of birdwatching. You have an appreciation for cars, classics in particular. The craftsmanship, the design, and the sounds they make as they tear through the world like moving time capsules. Nothing generated by a low emission engine compares.

That’s how you spot her for the second time, on Wednesday.

Well, you hear her first.

You’re closing up for the night. Everyone goes home early on Wednesdays, the shop closes at three, except for you. There’s always paperwork that needs to be done and you hate the idea of taking it home if you can help it. Taking a car home you’re always happy to do, but paperwork? You refuse to dirty your private space like that.

It’s just before six when you’re locking the doors and thunder screams in the distance. At least you think it’s thunder, you wonder where the clouds are until it moves too fast to be a weather condition.

The closer it gets the more the sound transforms into pure, uncut horsepower. It’s the deep rumble of an engine that demands to be heard. It tears your attention to it whether you like it or not. An announcement of the coming vehicle before it arrives.

Then she glides around the corner of Maple and Third before peeling down the street past you. It’s her again, she’s still in town. You know it’s the same car, she isn’t a vehicle made for stealth and your little ol’ town isn’t exactly heaving with beauties like her.

You know she’s not a local, it must be a flying visit, you’re lucky enough to have seen her again before she left. Not just seen her though, heard her. Heard her engine and the screech of her tires on the tarmac. Experiencing her in action is breathtaking enough that you gawp at her like an idiot as she zooms away.

It’s not a fetish or anything. You don’t exactly cuddle an exhaust pipe in bed. You appreciate cars more than your job requires you to, simple. It’s a respect that was drilled into you from a young age. Your dad owns a franchise of shops across the state and never had the boy he always wanted. He didn’t mope about it, he taught you to fix an engine instead. To appreciate every individual piece like an unsolved puzzle. And because your dad is a big ol’ softie he taught you that classic cars can’t be beaten, he favors Camaros in particular. He gave you a garage to work in until you’d labored enough to earn it for keeps and manage it as your own. Your dad raised you to bleed motor oil and sweat gasoline.

Cars are your life. Ok, maybe you’re a bit of a gearhead is all. You can’t help it if that Impala is a fine wine you want to uncork.

You watch the street lights make a hazy path for her to follow, another corner and she’s gone.

At home, you curl up on your sofa and scroll through your usual sites to see how much your own Impala would cost. In good condition, you’d have to sell one of the two cars you already have but there’s this smashed up ‘68 in New Jersey that might be worth the drive for the price. It would basically be a new car by the time you rebuild it but that doesn’t matter. All you needed were the bones of the thing and you never shy away from a project that involves weeks of hunting down original parts, that’s half the fun. For tonight at least it gets bookmarked. The decision left for another day, if it still seems like a good idea in the morning then you’ll make the call.

Hell, maybe tomorrow you’ll see something else and forget all about her. Maybe.

Good looking guys come through town from time to time but Dean is a rare treat. He’s the picture next to ‘handsome’ in the dictionary. He’s got these full lips that you’ve stared at, without an ounce of shame, while he sucks on a beer bottle. A jawline covered in scruff that you’ve already imagined between your thighs. And then there are those hands of his. It could be your line of work but you always loved a man with hands like his. Broad hands and thick fingers. Mechanic hands you’d call them, you half wish they were covered in oil and grease.

He was tapping away on the bar for a while, drumming aimlessly while you drank, but now he’s toppled in your direction. He’s standing between his barstool and yours, while you're still seated, which makes you the perfect height for him to slip an arm around you. His thumb has settled in on tracing the edge of your jeans while he talks to you, tickling your back where your tank had ridden up.

Honestly? He doesn’t even need to be a good lay to be worth the trip to bed.

“I know you said you’re in town with your brother…”

He winces at the start of your sentence, “with the things I’m thinking about doing to you honey, you can’t go mentioning Sammy at the same time.”

Underneath the stained overalls, you’re still a woman and you’re not sure if there’s anyone alive who could resist Dean’s charms. When you laugh at his ridiculous propositioning, you don’t even try to fight when it tails off into a giggle.

“I was going to ask if you had your own room? Or are we going back to my place?”

You’d almost think he’d been playing it cool up until this point. Everything had been measured and smooth. But you ask him that and he finally cracks, urgency slips through that charm offensive. He tilts his head forward as his face hardens into something intense, eyes hooded under the light of the bar. His hand slides up underneath your top enough that his whole palm skates against your skin. “How about a compromise? My car, your place?”

You lean in until you’re almost touching his lips, your tongue peeks out to wet them and flicks against his, taunting. “Deal."

He doesn’t need to know that you walked here and needed a ride home anyway. That's irrelevant.

Stumbling out of the bar is messy. Not because of the alcohol, neither of you have drunk that much, it’s his hands on your waist. They’re possessive and so there.

Maybe he’s not so bad in bed. Maybe he’s actually, pretty good in…

Oh fuck. It’s her.

You’re stopped in your tracks by the sight of your very own white whale. Well, black and shiny Impala but the metaphor stands.

You stop and Dean bumps into you, not expecting it so soon. For a brief moment, you’re frozen in awe, reverence. Even in the dark, she’s perfect. Street lights bouncing off of her smooth exterior. The night is chilly and there’s a hint of condensation creeping around the edges of the windshield which only serves to make her sparkle.

“Wow, she’s-”

“Mine?” Dean finishes, a wry grin on his face and keys dangling from those fingers you’d been drooling over moments ago. Fuck him and his fingers now.

“Shit, Dean. I’ve been seeing this car all week. She’s beautiful.” You walk towards her, carefully, in case you spook her. She’s an old soul, probably jumpy. Your hand reaches out but doesn’t touch her yet because you’re being respectful.

You’d have thought Dean might have appreciated your care. Instead, he laughs and it catches you off guard. You whip your head back around to glare at him and he encourages you, “she won't bite.”

When you finally make contact she’s cool and glossy under your touch, but even so, you don’t run your hand over her like you want to. You can feel the waxed surface that you don’t want to ruin. You know how much effort goes into a good wax job like this. Instead, you trade your whole hand for your fingertips and trace her edges as if trying to remember her shape for when you rebuild your own.

“Ahem.” In the distance, Dean clears his throat. Sucks for him. You’ve got a new love interest.

“Sweetheart?” He asks again, stepping up closer to you as if you didn’t hear him. He sounds needy like he wants you, but it’s edged with this vulnerable envy. You already noticed his bright green eyes in the bar, now you're wondering if there’s a different green-eyed monster at play.

He needs to understand, you saw the car first. She’s held your heart all week, Dean piqued the interest of your lady parts about half an hour ago. You might say age before beauty but this Impala has Dean beat on both fronts, older and more beautiful.

“Where’d you get these rims, if I didn’t know better I’d almost say they’re original,” you spare him a glance over your shoulder. “But I do know better.”

He looks like he’s struggling with not having your full attention, you’d almost say he’s pouting. Then he sticks out his bottom lip and he's definitely pouting. He shuffles from foot to foot and steels his jaw. It makes it even more difficult for him then when you ask questions that he wants to answer. You can see the cogs turning where he’s trying to work out if he should encourage your interest or not. As much as he wants sex, in the end, the gearhead wins out.

“Fixed her up a lot over the years, found those in a junkyard if you believe it.” He steps up next to you now with a proud smile.

“I can believe it. I’ve seen the stuff people throw away. They’re perfect. Can I?” You slide out your phone and wave it at him.

He nods, although a little dumbstruck.

You bend down and snap a picture, explaining. “I was looking at a sixty-eight to rebuild, maybe. Actually, yours gave me the idea, saw her and couldn’t get her out of my head. I have a friend who might be able to help me out with these.”

“You wanna build one?” He sounds interested but not enough to get him off track. The track being you.

“Yeah. I told you I’m a mechanic. Building these things is in my blood.”

The air is cool and you start to feel it, not having intended being outside this long. He sees you shiver and steps behind you running his hands up and down your arms. “Sixty-eight ain’t a sixty-seven though, is it?” He asks, voice dripping with cocky arrogance about his car.

Oh, fuck. He’s figured out the way to your heart. He’s got you all turned around and leaning against her. Back pressed against her metal and glass enough that you’ll be feeling her for weeks.

“No, it’s not…”

“Wanna ride my Baby?” Dean presses his lips to the corner of your mouth with the question, leaving enough space for you to let out an almost inaudible gasp.

You’d be inclined to say men name their cars the dumbest shit sometimes but ‘Baby’ fits somehow. It’s perfect. She’s Baby.

“Yeah,” you nod. Right now, it's all you’ve ever wanted.

He walks you to the passenger’s side door and opens it’s for you. It’s not even romantic, it’s a fucking turn on.

Maybe you do have a car fetish. You should probably figure that out, like, another day.

In the time it takes Dean to strut to the other side you have sunk into the leather and just as you imagined, it’s soft. Worn and loved, like everything else about this beauty. This is what’s makes her special and that’s why you would have to love your own extra hard. To make up the years of neglect.

“Ready to go?”

He’s looking at you, smirking in your peripheral, and you’re looking at his fingers on the keys. You know what’s going to happen when he turns them. You’re still not prepared.

“Let’s do it.” A grin slides onto your face.

She rumbles to life beneath you. The vibrations from her engine shudder through the seat straight to your core. From there you swear the horsepower zips to every nerve ending in your body like electricity powering a city. And the sound could strike you down. She somehow purrs and roars at the same time. Each rev is a scream but her engine sings between each turn.

“Two eighty-three?” You ask, bottom lip caught behind your teeth.

“Get out of here with that two eighty-three crap. She’s a three twenty-seven.” He snaps, but not really, pressing his foot on the gas again just to see you quiver. Another rotation of the engine, her power, rolls through you.

He pulls out onto the road, leaving the dive behind, and drifts a little as he does, the back of her floating into the road. You slide over the seat an inch and he’s half focused on you, half focused on driving, so you're not even sure if he planned it. You scoot closer to him and he weighs his arm, the one not currently steering, around your shoulders. You’re becoming increasingly aware that the car smells like him, or he smells like her. Leather, sweet and spicy, musky. It’s a complicated mix where you’re not sure whether it's more her or him. You want to wrap yourself up in it all the same but Baby can’t wrap you up, Dean can.

“Dean I… Next left… I really, really love this car.”

He licks his lips as he looks down at you, his pupils wide, probably has a clear view of your chest, “yeah? How much, sweetheart?”

“A lot.” You pant in his ear, teeth grazing his lobe. “Second right, then it’s the third house on the left.”

A growl comes out of him. Determined. And you’re not so sure you care about fucking Dean anymore but each time you work him up a little higher, he revs that gorgeous engine and you get to feel that thunder. It’s the best circle jerk you could imagine, everyone is truly happy.

He pulls up in front of your house in record time because Baby is gunning 285 horsepower, so she’s not exactly going to be beat.

The problem, that you hadn’t really planned on, is arriving at your destination. As soon as he cuts the engine you puncture. Missing the everything about her straight away and wishing you’d kept driving for hours. Still, you have the scent of leather everywhere, burdening your senses with the smell of a bygone era. You hike a leg over Dean and sit in his lap. A knee either side of his thighs, denting her seats and Baby’s steering wheel holding the curve of your ass. Your hands skip Deans’ shoulders in favor of the seat behind him, the cushioned bench under the pads of your fingers, as you attach your mouth to his. Sandwiched between Baby and Dean, and you never want to leave the spot.

Your tongue curls into his mouth at the same time that he presses his fingers into your hips so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises. You’ve never worried about a tight grip on you before but he starts pulling you towards him and away from where you’re wedged on Baby. The more you lean your body into Dean, the less you feel his car.

“Baby.” You murmur into him. Dean must mistake it to be a pet name you’re borrowing, calling him, because he pulls you again. Actually you’re telling him where you want to be, to stay.

Here. With Baby.

“This is a nice neighborhood.” He hums in this tone that’s deep but it doesn’t go through you like the sound of a turbo V-8. “We should take this inside.”

He’s right. Carl from the damn neighborhood watch is probably already doing just that, watching. The pervert.

“Right, sure.” You agree despite the way your stomach drops at the thought of leaving her.

You’re all untangling limbs getting out and he kisses you once more against Baby before you allow him to drag you away. It already feels different, normal, boring.

Dean’s fine, he’s good, he’s handy. Like you’d thought he would be.

You wrap your mouth around his dick because you’ve always liked looking up through your lashes and seeing the way a guy goes breathless on your tongue. He works you open on his thick fucking fingers until the pressure in your stomach snaps with his thumb circling your clit. He pushes into you and the stretch, the burn, is perfect. Dean is better in bed than you’d expected him to be.

And yet, it’s empty. Dulled. It doesn’t scratch the itch like good sex used to. The whole experience dampened compared to what you’d felt sitting in the front seat of his 1967 Chevy Impala.

You slip on some oversized shirt from your floordrobe to walk him out when he leaves. Neither of you under any impression that he’s staying the night. He’s got this satisfied grin on his face that he hasn’t been able to wipe off since the first time he came. He stops at your doorstep, “thanks, sweetheart. This was fun.”

“Sure was,” you agree, not giving him the full story. Standing at your doorway you’re looking at Baby instead of Dean, again. “Let me know if you’re still in town tomorrow, I’d love to go for another ride.”

He nods and backs away a few steps until he’s in your line of sight along with his car, “will do, baby.”

He must think you mean sex. You wouldn't be opposed to it but you mean a drive. A real drive with wide roads, and opening the taps. You can break that to him tomorrow if he does give you that call. If he doesn't then there's only one thing you need to say before he leaves. One thing you can't let her leave without saying.

“One helluva car you got there, Dean.”

Second A/N: Look, this didn’t start out as a full on car fetish but I was writing it and SOMETIMES I HAVE NO CONTROL. Sometimes these characters they say, “fuck you!” and do what they want. I was going to write a nice little jealousy thing. Dean wants some attention. That’s all. You only have yourselves to blame readers!

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 @jesseswartzwelder Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer @iamabeautifulperson18 @erins-culinary-service

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gasp-iwrotesomething · 4 years

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So glad your requests are back open. I panicked when I saw they were closed!! I hope everything’s ok with you? I know things like this can get pretty stressful because once people see how good you are at writing the more requests you get haha I use to do a lot of writing myself but haven’t for so long now! It can be stressful sometimes. Anyhow can I please request A22 and A23 together for Helena and mc. Hope I haven’t accidentally picked ones that have already been done. Thanks sweetness

Thank you for your concern, anon, but I’m doing fine now! I just had an allergic reaction and lost motivation for a short period of time; but I’m back in black! When you mention that this can become extremely stressful because people love my writing, I’m glad that you can understand what I experienced. Starting this up was a big step for me because I’ve never released my writing publicly like this, so it was absolutely delightful to receive wads of requests every single day. The excitement and elation of it persuaded me to pump out as much as I could in one day which wasn’t the smartest move. As time went on, I realized that I couldn’t keep up--that I had limits and that those limits had been crossed. My inbox kept growing fatter and fatter and I was getting less and less motivated to write, which resulted in me having to close down my requests for the sake of catching up and finding my own rhythm. I’m glad that I did; now I take my time and write only when it’s possible for me to. Alongside my lack of motivation, my allergies started getting in the way of writing and the medication that I took to alleviate the symptoms made me really drowsy and sleepy. I just didn’t have a good reason to write in general. Then I caught up, posted completed works, and got back on my horse. I just have to remember that I need to take it easy and not stress so much about completing requests as soon as they’re sent it. Hearing this from someone who knows the feeling and knows how it can affect you is super reassuring. You seem like a very nice person, I’d love to read what you’ve written someday 😊

ANYHOW, sorry for the long-winded vent--I just needed to spill some stuff that’s been clogging up my head. Your request hasn’t been done yet, fortunately for you, so I’d be happy to write this for you, anon! Thanks for your request and I wholeheartedly hope you enjoy, sweetness!

A22: “Keep your eyes on me, okay? Everything’s fine now.”

A23: “I can’t live without you, you have to understand how important you are to me!”

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Helena was a pale flame in the battlefield, her power evident even from miles away. She was powerful but she was using her power the wrong way--the Witch Queen way, as MC dubbed it. Any soldier bearing the Witch Queen’s icy emblem of colors was splashed with her magic and sent sprawling across the woodland floor, their faces contorted with pain as they screamed in total agony. MC watched with horror as Helena whirled around and shot magic at almost any person who dared near her. Helena’s going to kill someone if I don’t do something about this! Despite the chaos unfurling around her, MC rushes towards her sorceress, simultaneously dodging the trivializing soldiers attempting to slice her down. “Helena!” Helena turns her back to MC just as she nears her, giving MC a prime opportunity to approach her without the risk of being taken down like the soldiers scattered around them. “Helena, stop!!” MC exclaims as another burst of magic collides with a soldier, renewing the air of more agonizing screams. Helena spins around, her eyes cold and amiss as they find MC’s... Then an expression of cool recognition fades into her features, delicately softening the furrow in her brow. Is she... calming down? Helena’s pale face is blotchy with fury and her chest is jumping with heavy breaths but the reign of merciless anger in her eyes dies down--a slow demise, falling dimmer and dimmer the longer MC stares desperately into her eyes. “That’s it, Helena,” MC coos as the hand bearing the nefarious magic slowly lowers, the blue effervescence faltering into her pale skin, “calm down. You need to calm down before you hurt anyone else.” Her hands frame Helena’s taunt shoulders softly as the sorceress regains her sense of reality, her expression twisting into something saddened and extremely disappointed.

Only then does MC realize that the entire world had seemed to fall away--the cognizant war cries now silent. She glances around only to see a bubble of cerulean surrounding them, encasing them safely like a shield. Wait... it is shield! It’s Helena’s. MC turns back to Helena to see that her blue eyes are glassy with unshed tears and her lips are drawn into a scowl dripping of rancor. “I lost all control, I almost killed after I said-after I promised that I’d never again-!” Her voice quavers and MC’s heart buckles in her chest. Soothingly, MC shushes Helena and pulls her into a tight hug, cradling her as close as she can manage. Her palms skate up and down the sorceress’ back slowly. “It’s okay, Helena. You didn’t mean it--I know that wasn’t you.” MC murmurs into Helena’s ear gently, her own ashen eyes brimming up with commiserating tears. She hated seeing Helena so upset--seeing how it took a toll on her to lose herself. Helena had tried so hard to change, to alter the monstrous persona the Witch Queen had forced her into and with this... It dilated the progress Helena had worked so hard to build. That fact alone was enough to crack MC’s heart in two. “It doesn’t matter if you believe that wasn’t me,” Helena argues grimly, her eyes woven with saddened luster, “that doesn’t stand for the people who do not know me as you do. To them, it’ll seem as though I’m a bloodlusted murderer even without the Witch Queen there to beset commands to me.” Her gaze wavers to the infuriated soldiers striking the shield, trying their hardest to break through and attack them. A look of disdain and gentle fear crosses her eyes.

MC takes hold of Helena’s jaw and gingerly tilts her head towards her. “Keep you eyes on me, okay? Everything’s fine now.” She assures tenderly as her arms slides around the sorceress’ waist, pulling her in closer to her body. “You’re fine now, Helena. You regained your senses and you stopped yourself from going any further. We’re together.” She adds the final sentence to appease the apprehension curling her lips. Even if Helena can’t find comfort in the fact that she was able to stop herself from certain murder, I want her to take solace in the fact that we’re together--that I’m still with her. Helena seems to mirror MC’s train of thought and she exhales shakily, nodding. “I suppose I cannot deny the blessing I’ve been gifted over and over,” a hand approaches MC’s cheek and presses against it affectionately, “your everlasting presence.” Her plum lips brush the curve of MC’s brow and the Chicagoan sways into her further, enjoying the warmth that Helena emanated. All around them soldiers slapped the bubble in hopes of bursting through but just like the thumping of Helena’s melted heart, it remains strong and impenetrable. Just me embracing her is strengthening her shield. MC remarks, her smile becoming wry with an unseen victory. “Same thing here too. I love you... so much, Helena. I can’t live without you, you have to understand how important you are to me!” Her voice pitches higher as the sentiment of her heart bleeds up her throat, choking her slightly with emotion. All of it was settling in: the battle raging on around them, the vulnerability of Helena, the goal she had almost failed within one moment of frenzied anger... I wish I could just ward the world away from her and keep her from harm--that’s all I want.

Helena clones her look but doesn’t have a welsh of tears climb out of her eyes; instead she wraps MC up tighter in her arms. She whispers ghostly into her hair, the raven strands consuming her gentle voice. “I understand completely, my love. And I wish I hadn’t caused this grievance for you--it saddens me to see you so hurt. Especially by my own doing.” Helena rubs soothing circles into the expanse of MC’s back, cradling her close as if her mere presence was to solve the soldiers who were ordered to kill them--to leave them in tatters for the Witch Queen’s pure entertainment.

Encased in their glistering bubble of sky-blue magic, Helena and MC bathe in each other’s presence as dozens of weapons slam into the shield--earnestly trying to end their moment of bonding.

But there was nothing that could shatter the moment between them except themselves--and they weren’t going to break it anytime soon.

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Thank you for your request! And a huge thank you for expressing your concern for me, anon, it makes me feel amazing!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#helena klein #love and legends

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atrabiliousse · 5 years

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uh,, hello,,, if the prompt request Is still open,, could I request the carnation one with Eric from tbz? Thank you so much lovely and I hope you have a good day or good night 💗 (I'm so shy, rip)

my squishy lil shy baby!! i’m so so sorry it took me this long to finally complete and post this, i honestly hope you enjoy it, ily 💓

Carnation with Eric

The skate park was most certainly not your territory.

Not even in an alternative universe could you imagine yourself being a frequent there, much less making use of the facilities. Alas love made you do crazy things, well puppy love to be exact.

That’s what your older sister had called it when she finally confronted you. You had been running out of the house at exactly twenty five minutes past three every afternoon to just about make it in time to meet with him. Your entire face had turned red when she mentioned his name, a tell tale of your little escapades for sure.

She cooed, grabbing your cheeks and continued to tease you until you broke free. It didn’t take much after that to finally run right out of your house, both angry and embarrassed. For goodness’ sake, she was only two years older than you, and you weren’t a child anymore. University was lurking around the corner and (although you do admit to being slightly childish about your crush) he was but your only sense of escape from the inevitable change you were not in the slightest ready for.

Eric Sohn was a breath of fresh air in your large, suffocating city. So refined and pure compared to the polluted stuffy air you seemed to have been choking on for years prior to his arrival.

He had transferred to your school two years ago and since, you had been hopelessly in love with the boy.

Eric had the ability to make everyone smile with the least amount of effort and it made him happy to make others happy. He had strong qualities that without his boyish charm would’ve made it really hard for people to approach him, but with his smile and friendly aura, people flocked to him.

And because of that crowd, it was so much easier to disappear and hide your ever present feelings that overcame you when you were beside him for too long.

Your first ever encounter with the boy had been rather embarrassing but he was charming enough to overlook all of that to talk to you and cheer you up. You had fallen asleep in physics after a stressful night of studying for a test that you had forgotten about. But in true fashion of your absolute favourite teacher, Mr Jameson had called you out to answer a question. Of course, you had no idea what the old man was talking about, so you kept quiet. He then went on to give a much needed speech with you as an example and some rather unpleasant things were said.

Eric sat behind you and watched as you sunk further into your seat as the teacher continued to humiliate you on one of your rather worse days. It was after class had ended that he chased you down the hall, a hand on your shoulder and a warm smile greeted you when you turned around.

“Hey, he had said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before, “what Mr Jameson did in there was really messed up and not necessary. Don’t take anything he said seriously. I heard he’s been particularly bitter since his wife left him.”

You only nodded, more shocked that he even approached you than you were focused on the dry tear stains on your face. “Yeah,” was all you could muster as a reply. Eric seemed disappointed however, because the boy frowned then, looking around before he turned back to you.

“Do you have anything to do after school today?”

That one question left you almost completely breathless. Where was this coming from? Why was Eric even talking to you, did he even know your name? Did you really look that pitiful that he felt the need to do something?

Because your lack of response, the boy turned sheepish, the classic hand coming to the nape of his neck, a smile so bashful that you felt like you were watching a screening of every teen romance male lead come together to form a super boy.

“I was thinking we could grab some ice cream and maybe go feed Ms Park’s cat to get your mind off of everything. You don’t deserve to be sad because of that old man.”

You couldn’t do much other than nod, your heart threatening to break through your chest or jump right out of your mouth. And you blamed that very day for your silly lovesickness.

Eric waited by your locker when the day ended, a bright smile when he saw you offer him a less vibrant one. You couldn’t deny being self-conscious as you walked out beside him, too many eyes watching as he spoke so excitedly at your side, insisting you pass your bag to him. Luckily trying to convince him that you were more than capable of handling your bag distracted you the rest of the walk to the big gates. It was only then that he gave up, a small smile on his face as you realized that it had been his plan all along to stir you away from the onlookers.

That afternoon, you laughed enough to feel like you had overexerted your stomach muscles with exercise. He spoke excessively, his voice picking up in pitch every time he got a positive response from you with his outrageous stories. You learnt about his life before he moved to your city, learnt about the friends he still kept in contact with and learnt more about his likes and dislikes and fragments of his personality that you promised yourself you would treasure for knowing.

Besides his enthusiastic appearance, Eric was but a tender soul, he had a heart so precious that you feared the world would do much harm to it. He was the perfect mix of childlike and mature and he had a knack for leading, something you could tell he wasn’t aware of. Seeing the boy in an environment other than school only made you so much more susceptible to his charm.

It was only after hours of playing with Ms Park’s cat that the two of you noticed the deep violet wrapping up the sky, not having realized how long the two of you had sat with the cat that was all too famous in your neighbourhood.

Eric walked you home then, standing on your doorstep with a smile and a pleasant light in his eyes. You thanked him shyly, not really sure what more to say after having talked so much about yourself all afternoon, but you thanked him for completely lifting the bitterness that dwelled in you after that physics lesson.

“It’s no problem, I’m just happy to see that smile again. It’s the reason why I’ve always wanted to talk to you. I’ll see you tomorrow at school yeah? Good night.”

After that, you were surely screwed over with your growing feelings for the boy that sat behind you in physics and left chocolate milk on your desk every morning in homeroom.

You two had become quite close friends since then, him always dragging you out with him to places and you making sure he had his maths homework done so you didn’t have to wait outside the detention room for him.

For months and then a year, you remained by Eric’s side, never brave enough to voice the tiny desires that nagged at you everyday. Never once did you gran his hand like your heart urged you to, never did you initiate the hug when the two of you parted like you always imagined yourself doing. Never did you tell him that your feelings haunted you worse than the supposed ghosts in Ms Park’s building.

You were a coward but it never bothered you. Somehow you were content with the friendship as it was, you preferred the genuine care and happiness Eric always told you he associated you with. It made you happy to be someone he valued in his life, it was more than enough.

So whenever you accompanied him to the skate park, a place you had never been to prior to your friendship, you allowed yourself that hour or two to just indulge in your feelings while he was blissfully unaware of it, skating around and messing around with his friends. There was nothing wrong with admiring him from your seat, smiling like a fool by yourself; it was all you needed to suppress the silly daydreams.

The first time the boy dragged you along with him, you were nervous and slightly uncomfortable with the new environment, but his friends were as accommodating as he was and they were quick to put you to ease. Something your friends had a hard time processing, you almost never left your house unless it was dire.

Eric really had you wrapped around his finger and the boy couldn’t be any less aware of it, too busy making you laugh with his silliness to notice the pink in your cheeks.

It was on this specific day that you were late, your sister having delayed you with her antics, but as soon as you got the chance to, you ran out, your bag still unzipped and spilling its contents. With a heavy sigh, you finally made it past the convenience store and well away from your house to start walking instead of running, already irritated from your sister’s unneeded input. The last thing you wanted was to overthink the feelings you had been hiding.

When you got to your destination, you threw yourself down on the grass bordering the bowl, leaning back on your bag as you watched Eric and Sunwoo make their way towards you. “You’re late,” was the first thing he said to you.

Glaring at him, you threw him the can of iced tea you always brought along for the two of you, another little ritual the two of you had developed.

“It’s okay, at least you showed up.”

“I don’t see why it matters, all I do here in any case is watch you idiots skate and majority of the time, fool around.”

Eric smiled then, a smile you had come to know and despise, the smile that always called for trouble.

“Funny you should say that actually,” and when he pulled you up from your seat and all but towed you past the bowl to the mini ramp, you started aggressively shaking your head, trying to root yourself into the cement.

“Eric no, no! This is not happening.”

Sunwoo snickered behind you, his hands on your back to help his friend push you along to what would ultimately be your death, “It’s not as bad as you think.”

You turned around in your spot with the last of your resisting strength to face Sunwoo, “Are you kidding me? You know that I can’t even walk without hurting myself, now the two of you think it’s wise to put me on wheels? A joke!”

“I’m going to be with you the entire time though! I don’t trust you alone with anything with wheels.” Eric countered.

The bewildered expression on your face made both boys laugh as they gathered the necessary gear they never used but were going to force you into.

“Sunwoo! We need some help over here,” Jaehyun laughed from somewhere behind you and the boy excused himself with a goofy smile, half running to the supposed crisis he was needed for.

“This is a bad idea and you know it.” Eric was adjusting the strap of the helmet he had argued you into, his lips parted with concentration, tongue just barely sticking out as he buckled the straps and patted the top of the helmet. You almost lost all your defiance watching him focus so hard to tighten the helmet for you. God, he wasn’t good for your wellbeing.

“Would you relax and trust me?”

“No, because whenever you say exactly that, chaos ensues.”

He tilted his head slightly as if in thought, eyes catching yours, “Fair point.”

There wasn’t much left for you to say after that, the boy having a steady hand on your back and leading you to the base of the ramp, your nerves keeping you quiet besides for heavy breathing. Eric helped you balance on the board, his hands keeping you steady and continuously praising you for basically doing nothing as he moved you forward, walking beside you.

It absolutely terrified you; you could feel yourself wobble every now and then, your feet uncomfortably placed on the board and your legs threatening to cramp up, but you endured it. Seeing Eric encourage you and feeling his gentle guidance on your hip and arm, his eyes switching between you and the slight incline ahead of you, it didn’t help the bubbling adoration in your chest.

After a couple of minutes however, you couldn’t deny, that it was pleasant and for the briefest moment, you smiled. You brought your free arm up and let a laugh tumble off of your lips, gleeful despite all of Eric’s demands to be careful beside you. His hands were strong, warm and comforting; in stark contrast to the breeze against your exposed skin. You got braver, putting a foot down (as you had seen the others do) to propel yourself forward, barely bothered with Eric having to jog to keep up with you.

“Look at you, what happened to not being to walk without falling flat on your face?”

You laughed, looking at him with a smile you didn’t plan to show, “Shut up and make sure I don’t fall.”

The boy returned your grin, “Yes Your highness.”

You allowed Eric to talk you through balancing yourself, nodding haphazardly, more focused on your feet staying on the board and your attention on moving forward without tumbling over.

The experience, you found to be ever so amusing. Much like your feelings, you were so excited to explore, to go full throttle and leave caution to the summer breeze, but there was a part of you, holding you back. Wrapped in all the protective gear you could get your hands on, there was fear pulling you back. What a mess, you thought.

“Why are you so hasty?” Eric chuckled, stepping forward as you let out a frustrated grunt as you lost your balance.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” he reminded you gently, his grasp on your elbow.

Maybe it was because of this revelation that you felt like being reckless because despite all of the boy’s warnings and instructions, you did your own thing, going for a more trial and error approach. Which you admit to be one of your lesser knowledgeable strategies.

You couldn’t precisely pinpoint what went wrong, things escalate too fast for your head to process when things turn bad, but the board wobbled along with your legs and then you were falling forward. Multiple of shouts distinguishable behind you but there was one that was more urgent than the rest.

So when you fell to the ground, it was lumpier than what you had imagined behind your tightly shut eyelids. Your upper body was slightly higher than your legs that had dragged against the ground. Opening your eyes, you were more than surprised.

Eric’s eyes were wider than your own, but in them floated more emotions than you could keep count of without your head spinning. His hands braced your shoulders and his eyebrows were furrowed. You felt a bit ashamed seeing the slight anger in the frown his lips were pulled into.

“Why are your eyes so pretty? Your eyes are gorgeous and I’m intimidated.”

You basically choked on your spit from the shock, not sure if you were hallucinating from a possible concussion or maybe you were dehydrated, but you found Eric’s words hard to digest, especially when his eyes didn’t waver for even a second.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked, looking for any way to get out of the situation you found yourself in.

“I should be asking you that, do you have a deathwish I should know about?”

You finally looked away from his face, your eyes rather moving to the blood on his elbows from the impact. And here he had forced you into the elbow pads when he was wearing a damning muscle tee.

You pushed yourself off of Eric, sitting down beside him before you offered your hands to pull him up, which he took, “We should disinfect that.”

“It’s just a scratch,” he laughed, turning his arms awkwardly to assess the wounds, but still you shook your head.

“Let me do that at least seeing as I’m the reason you got hurt in the first place.”

Luckily he didn’t argue with you further as you two stood, gathering his board and your backpacks, deciding it was best to call it a day in any case.

The walk to your house (which was much closer to the skate park than his was) was slightly awkward, you presumed that the two of you were trying to think of something to say without mentioning his very abrupt statement in the midst of the chaos.

You, alone, were still trying to decipher if it had been real. It felt like something out of your dreams, where your suppressed feelings usually lived out your silly fantasies. The way he looked at you, eyes bright and wide and a slight flush in his cheeks and his ears two shades darker, lips parted almost as if he was amazed.

You shook your head aggressively, almost scoffing at your audacity. What would be so amazing about your face basically pressed into his.

Entering your home, you were happy to avoid your sister, only having to run into your mother with a brief summary of what happneded when she fussed over Eric’s elbows. She shook her head at Eric telling her that you had been on his skateboard, reminding the boy that that would always be a disasterous idea.

You couldn’t deny it as you pulled out the first aid kit from the medicine chest in the downstairs bathroom, Eric sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

He was quiet as you disinfected the wounds, not even being exaggerate as you imagined he would be. Instead the boy was much too quiet as he watched you patch him up with slightly shaky hands and a bit of hesitance.

It was only when you were throwing away the wrappers and dirty swabs that he grabbed for your wrist,

“Wait, I wanna say something.”

You tilted your head, “Okay? I’m just gonna throw this away and put away the kit.”

“No!” His voice was unexpectedly loud and hurried and it made you jump in your spot.

“If I don’t say it this right this second, I never will,

“I like you. I like you more than a friend would deem normal. I like you so much that I’d rather endure a thousand of these scratches before I saw you endure one. I like you so much it’s crazy,”

The boy finally tugged you closer, his eyes taking on a sentimental and warm sheen when he gained the courage to look up at you, “Please tell me I’m not the only crazy one.”

#prompt list #requested #my squishy shy anon 🥺#thank you so so much my bby #eric the boyz #eric sohn #sohn youngjae #eric tbz #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz oneshot #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz #the boyz

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black-kitten-imagines · 5 years

Text

Scary on the Outside but Soft on the Inside ~ Monroe x reader

Word count: 3,746

Warnings: swearing, violence, mention of abusive relationship

Summary: Nick and Monroe help the reader out of an abusive relationship.

A/N: Don’t get into cars with strangers!

Once upon a time, in a faraway city in the United States of America, there lived a cop. A cop with a gift – with the gift to see. And oh boy the things he saw.

After a long day of hard work Nick finally left the precinct. It was already dark and it was pouring when he walked down the steps and over the street. With hunched shoulders the Grimm made his way to his car. Just as he wanted to open his car door he heard a weird noise – it sounded like quiet sobbing. Nick looked up. There a few meters away he saw a young woman standing next to the door to an apartment block. She was completely soaked, her (f/c) dress clung to her skinny body. Her arms were tightly wrapped around her body trying to stop the shivering. (H/c) hair hung into her from crying and the cold reddened face.

Filled with worry Nick walked up to the girl. “Hey, are you okay?” “Not really.” “What happened? Can I help you in any way?” The girl sighed. “I really don’t want to bother you with any of this. It’s just... it’s just...” She started sobbing. “It’s just that I’ve lost m-my keys. A-and now I can’t get in ‘c-cause my b-boyfriend won’t let me in.” Sniffling the girl continued, “And now I don’t know what to do. I... I’ve been standing here for hours.”

“Well, your boyfriend sounds like a dick”, the Grimm replied. Nick started taking off his jacket. “What... what are you doing?”, the young woman stuttered. “Here, take this. You’re completely soaked.” He handed her the jacket. “Thanks a lot.” “Hey, this might sound creepy but... but would you like to come to my house, you could warm up and have dinner with me and my girlfriend. Being a cop I would feel horrible leaving you out here and my girlfriend won’t mind you coming over and staying the night.” “Well... I don’t have anywhere else to go so... okay”, the girl replied.

She hesitantly followed the Grimm to his car. While opening the passenger door for her he asked: “So what’s your name?” “Oh... I’m (Y/n) (L/n).” “Well, nice to meet you, I’m Nick Burkhardt”, he said closing the door for her

A few minutes later Nick lead (Y/n) up the steps to his front porch. The light turning on as he knocked on the door. A few seconds later the door was opened by Juliette. Her happy smile quickly turned into a look of pure confusion, her eyebrows knitted/knotted downwards, when she noticed the girl accompanying her boyfriend. Nick stepped forward, hugging Juliette and giving her a kiss.

“Hey Juliette! How was your day? This is (Y/n). I found her out in the rain.” The three of them stepped into the house while Nick was retelling the story.

“Oh god! What a dick! You know you are welcome to stay the night if you want to”, Juliette replied. “Thanks a lot. I would really like that”, (Y/n) answered gratefully. “Good, but first of all let’s get you dry”, the red haired woman continued cheerfully, “come with me.” Together the two women went upstairs. (Y/n) followed Juliette who showed her the shower. “Here are the towels and I’ll quickly bring you some fresh clothes. Mine should more or less fit you”, Juliette explained hurrying out of the bathroom and returning a few minutes later with some black, warm sweatpants and a purple long sleeved shirt in her arms.

“Here you go. I’ll be downstairs making dinner. If you need anything just call me”, the red haired woman said passing on the dry clothes. Leaving the room she closed the door behind her. As (Y/n) stepped into the shower she turned on the water. Sighing as the hot water met her bare skin, she was finally able to let go of all the fear and stress that the day had held for her.

Later that evening the three of them sat at the wooden dining table, a plate of spaghetti in front of each of them. After a few moments of eating in silence (Y/n) spoke up. “I can’t thank both of you enough for letting me stay the night and I truly hope that I am no burden to you.” “Of course not. We’re happy to have you”, Juliette replied with a kind smile. Setting his fork down Nick commenced talking : “I don’t want to intrude into your personal life, but may I ask you if your boyfriend is so horrible to you, why don’t you just leave him?” “Well”, the girl sighed and looked down at her plate. Looking up she continued telling the story. “He’s the only person I really know here. I don’t have any family or friends living close by. You know, I’m not originally from Portland, I was raised in (y/h/t). And with the job I have would never be able to afford an apartment.” “And why did you get together with him in the first place?” (Y/n) smiled dreamily while drifting off into the past. “He wasn’t always like that. He used to be so friendly. It was love at first sight.” Juliette gave the (h/c) haired beauty an understanding look.

When everyone was finished with eating and the dishes were in the dishwasher, the Grimm’s girlfriend showed their visitor the guest room. Getting some extra blankets and pillows and putting them into the arms of (Y/n), Juliette noticed a faint bruise the size of an apple just below the girl’s collar bone. “What happened?”, the red haired woman asked while nodding towards the discoloration. “Oh that”, the girl said shaking it off, “It’s nothing. I just fell down the stairs a few days ago.” “Well, I hope it doesn’t hurt too much”, with those words she turned to retire to bed.

Later on, lying in bed, the situation of their guest was still occupying the minds of the hosts. “What kind of person do you have to be to let such a petite girl alone in the rain?”, Juliette put an end to the silence. “Her life with him must’ve been hard.” Turning around in the cop’s arms so that she could look at him more easily, she worriedly asked: “Did you see the bruise on her chest?” “You think he hit her?” “I don’t know but I’m happy you found her.” With that the two of them finally fell asleep.

The next morning when Nick awoke he made his way downstairs. Passing the guest room, who’s door was open he saw the bed tidily made and the extra clothes nicely folded lying at the foot of the bed. He continued his journey to the kitchen where he found a note on the counter-top standing next to a pot of freshly made coffee.

Reading the note Nick started to smile and poured himself a cup of the pungent liquid. The message was from (Y/n) thanking them for letting her stay the night. As a sign of gratitude she made them breakfast. Just as the young man finished reading the last few words his girlfriend walked into the kitchen. Coming up from behind Juliette hugged Nick kissing him on the cheek. “What d’you got there?”, she questioned curiously. “It’s a note from (Y/n). She made us breakfast, which is keeping warm in the oven.” “Aww, that’s so sweet of her.”

A few days later Hank and Nick were once again busy with a suspicious case. “So, what do you think of this? Any Wesen that could fit the profile?”, Hank asked as he closed the passenger door of Nick’s Toyota. “Honestly... no idea”, the Grimm sighed, “but I’ll head back to the trailer later on. Wanna join me?” “Sure thing, anything to catch this killer.” The two of them walked towards the new crime scene surrounded by the typical yellow tape when a person that was walking in their direction caught Nick’s attention.

The girl was looking downwards, (h/c) hair hiding her face. The detective thought that she looking oddly familiar. As the girl came closer he recognized her. “(Y/n)? Is that you?”, he asked making the girl look up. It actually was (Y/n). She looked really sad and like she had been crying for a while, her eyes red and puffy. Nick could clearly see some quite horrible, blueish-greenish bruises that had formed on the delicate face, neck and even decolleté of the young woman.

As soon as (Y/n) laid her eyes on the familiar man her eyes started to tear up. Noticing this the Grimm quickly rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting way. “Oh god, what happened to you?” While crying onto his shirt she tried to explain it to him interrupted by a few more violent sobs. “It... it was him. It’s ne... never been this bad and this... time I just couldn’t stay... and... and I’ve been sleeping at work for the past few days but... my b... boss noticed and said I couldn’t sleep there any... anymore and I don’t know what to do!” At that last part the girl started to full out cry salty tears streaming down her beautiful, (s/c) cheeks.

Patting her on the back to calm her back down Nick replied: “Shh... shh... calm down. Everything is going to be fine. Shh.” He then hugged her once more tightly before he turned around to his colleague who had been watching the spectacle curiously from farther away. “Hank, carry on to the crime scene with out me. I have to get her home to Juliette!”

After Nick had brought the sobbing girl to his house, Juliette had patched her up and the two of them were sitting on the couch. (Y/n) was cuddled up in a comfy green blanket, her knees pulled up to her chest and a cup of steaming tea in her hands. After a few minutes of silence during which Juliette intently watched her guest, she spoke up. “So (Y/n), tell me about your boyfriend. How did you meet?”

Leaning back against the pillows the younger girl started to tell her story. “Well, Tray and I, we met at school, we shared some of the classes. It was love at first sight”, she sighed thinking of the wonderful time they had together, “We went on a lot of romantic dates – pick-nicks at the beach, candle light dinner, ice skating under the starry sky – and he was such a loving and caring guy. The both of us originally lived in (y/h/t) but Tray received an amazing job offer here in Portland, so we moved. The first few months everything was amazing, life in a big city was unknown and exiting to us.”

The girl’s face fell as she continued: “But then he lost his job. It was a horrible time for the both of us. I had to earn the money to pay all the costs, we had to move from our nice house to a tiny apartment.” (Y/n) inhaled deeply and then exhaled shakily trying to keep calm. “Tray started drinking a lot more frequently and after a while he often brought other women home. Most of the time I ignored them. He then started to act abusive towards me, hitting me, screaming at me.” At this point tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Juliette moved to pull her into a hug as (Y/n) sobbed out: “And the worse thing is that I can’t leave because I have no where to go!”

Meanwhile Nick had made his way to (Y/n)’s apartment. He stormed in finding her boyfriend sitting on the couch a beer in his hand and pointed his gun at him. This of course made him really angry and unfortunately and to Nick’s surprise he started to woge into a Siegbarste. “Don’t you dare move!” The mutual surprise that Nick was a Grimm was evident in Tray’s eyes but was quickly overshadowed by rage. Nick moved closer to the guy as he spoke furiously but still unusually calm. “Now listen closely, if you ever lay another hand on (Y/n) or any other girl for that matter in an abusive way I will know and I will come back and do what my ancestors would be proud of. So don’t you dare!” Leaving the threat hanging in air Nick left.

The next day the Grimm went over to his Wesen friend’s house. Nick and Monroe were standing in the tidy kitchen talking about the current case that the two detectives were working on. “Thanks, I’ll check that out.” Nick thanked his friend for his help and was about to turn away when he remembered something.

“By the way, I need to ask you for another favour.” “What?”, Monroe replied after sighing and rolling his eyes. “I need you to look after someone for me.” “Really? After what happened the last two times?”, the Blutbad replied surprised, “I don’t think I’m the right choice.” Monroe held his hands up apologetically and moved back a step.

“You’re the only choice. She’s a friend of mine... or rather an acquaintance. At the moment she has no place to stay ‘cause at the moment she shares an apartment with her abusive boyfriend”, Nick tried to convince his friend, then quickly added: “Who’s a Siegbarste by the way.”

At that comment his friend’s eyes widened in shock. “Really? You’re kidding me, right? A Siegbarste. Come on”, Monroe said disbelievingly. The cop tried to reason with him. “I can’t let her stay at Hank’s – he has no idea how to handle Wesen, and I have the feeling her boyfriend might come and look for her even though I warned him. She can’t stay at my place ‘cause I want to keep Juliette out of all of this.” “You still haven’t told her?”, the Blutbad asked. Nick nodded as a response. “Man, and now I have to deal with a Siegbarste.” “Please?”, the young man plead. Sighing Monroe replied: “OK, fine. But you owe me one!”

A few hours later that day Nick and (Y/n) stood on the porch of the blue house knocking on the door with the stained glass window. Shortly after the door was opened and Monroe welcomed them in, hugging Nick and politely shaking hands with (Y/n). “So... (Y/n), this is my friend Monroe”, the Grimm addressed the young woman pointing at the other male/man who had just closed the door behind them. “He has kindly agreed to let you spend a few nights here.”

“Thank you very much. It is very kind of you to let me stay”, she thanked smiling. Monroe who was a little struck by her beauty replied: “No problem, I’m happy I could help.” Taking her jacket and hanging it on a hook the Blutbad then showed his guest to the living room. “Make yourself at home. I still have to quickly discuss something with Nick and I’ll show you around afterwards.” (Y/n) nodded understandingly and then settled in on the sofa while the two men made their way into the neat little kitchen.

As soon as the two of them were out of hearing distance Monroe turned to look at his friend. “So you say she was hit by a Siegbarste?”, the brunette asked disbelievingly. “Yeah!” “Surprises me that someone that petite would survive those hits”, he remarked looking through the open kitchen door at the girl sitting on his sofa. Turning back to his companion he then let out a whisper. “So does she know about... you know? Does she know... about us?” “About Wesen? No”, Nick shook his head, “and I’d like to keep it that way. She’s been through enough lately without knowing.” “OK, good.”

After their short talk the cop quickly said his goodbyes and left.

The two of them spent the next hour touring the house and talking about the old clocks that Monroe had restored. “So, would you like a cup of tea?”, Monroe kindly asked his guest. “Yeah, sure”, (Y/n) answered happily. While Nick’s friend was busy in the kitchen making them a pot of tea, the young woman was setting a plate of cookies on the coffee table in the living room.

Just then the door bell rang. “I’ll go get it”, (Y/n) called out to her host? Walking towards the wooden door. But before she reached it the door was kicked open violently, broken parts of the door flying into the room, revealing a big muscular man – Tray, (Y/n)’s boyfriend – who was seething with anger. (Y/n) ran into the kitchen, pulling at Monroe’s beige knitted jacket. “It’s him! Help me! He’s here!”, she cried out terrified tears starting to pool in her beautiful eyes. Monroe couldn’t stand her looking like this and everyone who would cause this state on being.

That was when Tray came into the kitchen breaking some stuff on his way over. Stepping into the kitchen the burly man grabbed (Y/n)’s arm and forcefully pulled her towards him but before she was too close to him Monroe intervened by punching his opponent. This resulted in Tray loosening his grip on his ex-girlfriend, who Nick’s friend immediately pushed behind himself further into the kitchen.

Suddenly the intruder woged and turned into his true form as a Siegebarste. Seeing this elicited a noise of shock and fright out of the girl. Tray started attacking Monroe aggressively. As the Blutbad didn’t want to scare his guest he at first fought back in his human form. Obviously he stood no chance against the brute power and force of his taller opponent.

“Quick! Call Nick! The phone’s on the table”, he hurriedly advised (Y/n), who followed his orders. As soon as she heard the detective pick up on the other end she gushed: “He’s here! We need your help! Monroe’s fighting him!” “I’m on my way!”, was all she received as an answer before Nick hung up.

Right then a loud crash was heard caused by Monroe being thrown into a wooden table, which collapsed under the weight of the man. Now being as furious as Monroe was he as well woged. This caught Tray off-guard which the Blutbad used to his advantage by immediately throwing his rival across the room which resulted in a shelf with some cookbooks toppling to the floor.

That was when loud footsteps and car doors getting slammed was heard. Both Monroe and Tray turned back into their human forms just as a heavy armed police squad followed by Nick ran in through the broken door only a few pieces of wood still hanging from the hinges. While the rest of the police squad circled Tray, two officers tried to put him in handcuffs, but of course this didn’t go well and because of his Siegebarste nature Tray knocked them out cold with ease. One of the police men was quick-witted and shot him in the leg which resulted in him crumpling together, loosing his strength through the pain. Now they were able to put him in handcuffs and move the attacker out of the premises.

As the other police officers moved out of the house and left Nick stayed behind. The detective moved over to his friend and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry about this. I had hoped he wouldn’t find her. You are alright though?” “Yeah, Nick. I’m fine. Everything is fine”, the Blutbad answered exhausted. “Is she hurt?”, his friend inquired. “No”, Monroe shook his head, “she’s fine.”

Once Nick had left Monroe moved over to (Y/n) who was sitting on the couch staring into thin air. “Hey, I’m really sorry about what happened there. And I totally understand if you are scared of me because of what you’ve seen. I’ll ask Nick if you can stay at his place or maybe Hank’s”, he ended the silence a hint of sadness lacing itself into his voice.

“Hey, hey. Slow down. I’m fine with staying here.” “Really?” “Yeah! Now come here”, she assured him with a smile. (Y/n) stood up grabbing Monroe’s wrist and pushing him to sit on the sofa. “We gotta get you cleaned up.” “No. I’m fine. I can do it by myself”, he said and started to push himself up off of the chesterfield. “No!” The girl sternly looked at him making him sit back down.

She got up and went into the kitchen. Coming back with a clean and damp cloth she sat down on the coffee table in front of Monroe, one of his legs on either side of her. (Y/n) leaned forward wanting to dab his wounds but Monroe stopped her. “No, don’t do it. I know you’re scared of me! You don’t have to do this!” “Monroe! Stop defying me! I’m not scared of you!” She swatted his hand, that he had raised to interfere with her plan of helping him, away.

“You’re not?” “No, why should I?” “But... but... you saw me.” “Yeah. And?” The two of them went silent. Monroe stared at his guest filled with curiosity and surprise. (Y/n) turned her head away out of embarrassment. When she turned back she looked at the floor.

After a few seconds of debating she shyly looked back at the older man in front of her. “Can I...? Can I... maybe see you do that again?” “You sure?” “Yeah.” “Okay... uhm... remember this is just me and that I would never hurt you.” He took a deep breath and nervously muttered a ‘here goes nothing’ under his breath.

Then he woged.

At first (Y/n) moved back a little in surprise but then a big warm and friendly smile made its way onto her face. Leaning forward she carefully put her hand on Monroe’s furry cheek and quietly whispered: “You’re beautiful.” Without noticing the Blutbad turned back. His eyes were starting to water in appreciation. The two of them were only a few inches apart from each other. Their eyes were locked into each other. Monroe carefully put his big hand onto (Y/n)’s soft cheek making her lean downwards towards him. In seconds their lips were upon each other. At first the kiss was shy and gentle but it grew more and more passionate.

That night panting and howling was to be heard from the Blutbad’s house but not because of his true nature as a Wesen (if you know what I mean ;) ). And they lived happily ever after.

The End

#monroe x reader #monroe #grimm monroe #grimm #grimm fanfiction #grimm imagine #x reader #x you #reader insert #fanfiction #imagine #nick burkhardt

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