Can wr get jabber x reader where the reader is usually kind if a bit blunt at times but push them or under the right circumstances thye get just as crazy and unhinged as jabber. Not a masochist just unhinged
a little upfront
summary: jabber with a direct reader whoâs just as crazy if provoked.
warning: softened but still realistic bf jabber, jabber himself, you are a raider, you/youâre pronouns, reader matches jabberâs vibe, jabber finds you interesting, genuine adoration, pet names, jabber thinks you two are dating, mentions of torture, crazy reader, reader has a vital instrument, pushy jabber, im sorry to my fu fans (including me), uncomfortable topics
a/n: yesâŚ.. keep em coming fellasâŚâŚ
also I had my own way with this a little but i tried my best to maintain your req! hope you like it!
Jabber loved the way you answered him. It was a stark contrast to his more âlovingâ demeanor.
You had made your presence known to the Raiders a bit after Jabber failed to capture Rudo, the Sphereite that the Cleaners adopted. You werenât a new recruit, nor were you a Raider for a long time. You were simply hidden away for a short while, partaking in missions Zodyl sent you to do in the meantime.
When Jabber happily introduced himself to you, he had leaned in really close, his odor slapping you in the face. As nice as possible, you scrunched up your face and said, âYou smell awful. Please step back from me.â which caused him to freeze and genuinely blank at your words.
Cthoniâs seriousness was one thing, but your brutal honesty was something else. It threw him off so bad he almost got turned on by it.
You thought heâd leave you alone after that.
A lot of people did whenever they encountered you, and it was all because you didnât sugarcoat anything. You were fine with that, since you were low on social awareness.
But noâ he was persistent.
Jabber was always glued to your side, even when he was supposed to be focusing on his opponent. It was almost out of character if he wasnât demanding you to fight him every now and then.
âYou look like you could beat the hell out of me, baby,â Jabber said one time, grinning. âI ainât gonâ lie, you should hit me. Itâll relieve your stress.â He added, as if it was convincing enough for you.
You avoided him after that. His masochistic tendencies frightened you, to be truthful. It was weird enough that he stank, but wanting to be hit? It was diabolical.
You wouldâve called him crazy.
But here was the thing: you were just as insane as he was.
You kept your craziness fossilized, only expressing it when you were really feeling the moment. The first few times you showed it was when you were torturing a random Supporter Cthoni picked up from one of the Cleanerâs missions. Zodyl allowed you to interrogate him, as long as you were able to get information out of him.
You used every tactic you knewâ mocking, hitting, isolation without food for a couple of days, even going so far as to kill him in front of his family if he didnât tell them what the Cleaners were planning to do next. Jabber offered to use Mankira on him, but you ignored him, as always.
When the Supporter still didnât budge, you snapped.
âYouâre so fucking rude.â You spat, tugging his hair angrily. You pulled out a match and lit it with fire in one take, watching the manâs face twist into horror.
From a distance, Jabber watched you.
The way you pressed the tip of the match deep into his skin, the way you didnât stop, the way you smiled as the Supporter screamed, and the way the glint in your eye burned with satisfaction.
He liked you like this. It made him grin like mad, knowing you could literally be able to keep up with him if you continued being just as unhinged.
You got the information needed, though you returned back to your normal, blunt self. It completely ruined his mood, however, it wasnât going to stop him. Not until he died.
Jabber poked you in every annoying way possible. He was also more touchy than usual. Every time you found peace, he was there to fuck it up.
The more you were manic, the more it pushed him to do stupid things. He believed that you two were soulmates, though it seemed like he was just throwing the word around like an excuse.
One day, you lounged around the opening of the sewers. The other Raiders werenât around, so you made use of the time by practicing the use of your vital instrumentâ a pair of bracelets that tightened around the wrists of your opponent, trapping them into your hold. They wouldnât be able to move with it on.
You sat down, unaware of Jabberâs hovering presence behind you. Not until you felt something shift beside you.
âWhat are you doing?â You furrowed your brow at him when he laid his head down onto your lap. Stiffening at his sudden cozy state, you crossly said, âI donât appreciate being touched, Jabber.â
âOh, but youâre not really doinâ anything to stop me right now, ma.â He chimed, a bright grin on his face, âJust thought youâd want to know how it feels like to have me as your boyfriend.â He said theatrically.
Your face remained blank.
âWeâre not dating.â You said flatly, pushing him off. He yelps, landing on the ground with a âoof,â then sat up. âLeave me alone.â You added with a bite so sharp it couldâve cut someone.
âBut baby, weâve been through so much together!â He huffed, âAm I not romantic enough? Do you want me to beg?â
Your eyebrows twitched, but he continued. âIâll let you hit me if youâre really mad! Isnât that boyfriend material already?â He smiles with his entire teeth, âIâm really good at being a stress-ball, baby. Just oonneee hit.â He gets on his knees and leans in. âThen maybe Iâll leave ya alone..â
âYouâre a bad liar.â You said, shoving him away again. You stand up, looking down at him without tilting your head, before finally turning to leave.
And he let you.
For now.
âââââ
You were growing extremely agitated.
It had been a couple of days since your last mission (which failed extraordinarily), and it was slowly pissing you off the more you recalled. You didnât call it out loud, in case Zodyl or Cthoni heard, but it was obvious in your face expressions.
You hated feeling useless.
So, you did what was logical: relieving every tension in your mean body.
You found Fu by a dark corner a few minutes later. The latter was scared of you, since youâve said some really uncomfortable truths about him and his benefits for the Raiders. Nevertheless, that didnât stop you from approaching.
âHey,â You called to him. âHow good is your pain tolerance?â
Fu flinched, wide eyes blinking vigorously. âU- uhm,â He started. âI- it depends? I donât really feel anything ifââ
âGreat.â You say, grabbing a long thread with a sharp needle, âI can try my sewing skills on your skin.â
Fu froze in horror.
You were quick to pounce onto him, pinning him to the ground as your bracelets tightened around his wrists. You watched him tremble while preparing the thread.
You were close to cutting a long piece of his skin when Bundus appeared in front of you, eyes staring down with judgement.
âGet yer ass off of him.â He grunted, towering over you, âOr âm reporting this to Zodyl.â
You hissed, but before you could answer, a drawl came from behind the big manâ
âEh? Whatâs this-?â Jabber peeked from behind, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you with a needle in between your fingers. âDang, mama! You can do that to wimpy here, but not me?â He pouted.
Fu scrambled up the moment you let him go, still glaring at Bundus. You had respect for the man, but he really needed to mind his own business.
âDonât worry, baby.â Jabber wrapped an arm around you, âA real man ainât scared of no needle.â He grinned, âTry meââ
âNo thanks.â
You growled, pushing him away violently. âIâd rather poison myself.â
Then, you walked away, clenching the needle and thread in your hand. Only silence filled the sewers, the three men watching your marching figure fade.
âFu, you lucky as hell.â
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can you wrote a minific of dazai borderline flirting w another girl but being with the reader. He knows what he's doing â trying to get his beloved jealous it's the cutest thing. But they make him sleep on the couch as revenge
đłealousy, đłealousy
âŻâ˛ this will have to be my last one for the evening, then i should go to bed lol. the moment i saw this pop up in my inbox, i was like yes finally someone asked me to write this! cw: both reader and dazai are slightly unhinged.
His laughter, that very specific laugh, flies right into your ears, and your pulse jumps at the sound. Fight or flight kicks in, worry, stress. You're standing at the counter, looking over the bakery selection for a small gathering you two were invited to, something for your family that you were hoping to get out of, but they mentioned how much they missed you and hadn't seen you in so long - plus they wanted to meet this apparently handsome new man in your life.
However, this man in your life seems to be working to become single here in a few seconds. A weird feeling is overcoming you, something you aren't quite sure you've felt before, and your breathing shallows as you try following the melodic sound of that siren's soft laughter. When you turn the counter, you see Dazai leaning against the counter, the girl on the other side twirling her hair around her finger and batting her lashes at him, and your jaw drops.
He couldn't be paying any less attention to her if he tried, mouth moving but the words falling out one hundred percent meaningless, carefully selected to avoid anything that would land him in huge trouble, but meaningless nonetheless. He was bored, and to be entirely honest, was feeling a bit neglected. He noticed long ago, way before you two officially dated, that you weren't really the jealous type - he tried playing his silly little games to see how you'd react, but you never noticed. At first, that was refreshing, since he was so used to girlfriends and ghosts of lovers past getting jealous, envious, and violent whenever he was around someone else. Now, he sometimes lets the voices in his head win, believing when they say you don't like him nearly enough as he thought.
"Can I get your number then?" The clerk attempts, sliding a pen and slip toward him, and, without thinking, reaches out for it.
"Sure," he beams, that calm yet alluring confidence peeking through as he jots down Atsushi's phone number instead, sliding it back to her. As if I'd actually go out with you; Atsushi might like you though. Your jaw couldn't be any more on the floor after this, the foreign emotion stirring up, mixing with rage, and your fists ball up at your sides, and you actually start having hateful thoughts about how this bakery clerk is prettier than you, and you're about to have to hail a taxi home to pack your things and live on the street.
You don't know what to do. Should I go over there and start clinging to him? Should I bark like a chihuahua? Should I threaten- okay, no, too far. You've never experienced whatever is happening to you right now, seeing him flirt it up with this random girl at the bakery when he came here with you is messing with your brain chemistry.
Your feet move on their own, swallowing, and approach his side as normal as you possibly can, but suddenly something overcomes you as a giant, sweet smile breaks out on your features, arm linking through his, and you hold onto him for dear life. "Hi, Osamu. I've been looking everywhere for you." You bat your lashes, the clerk's face dropping instantly, and he merely gives you a smile - the smile he reserves only for you, when he's so happy to see you because he's so in love with you.
"Hello, my darling," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you're suddenly shaking - not with that usual anticipation you get when you're near him, but with immense violence. Your cheek gracefully rests on his arm, still looking up at him with this strange innocence, before your eyes dart in her direction, and she takes a step back from the malicious, wordless death threat you have sent toward her. Also very unlike me. "I was just talking with the clerk here about the best thing they recommend we bring to your family's get together." He tells you, which isn't necessarily incorrect information.
"How about her head?" You say in the most soft and decadent voice you can muster, gazing up at him, and he has to hide his shock at your morbid words - but his smile tilts into a smirk as his eyes mildly widen.
"My... what?" She squeaks. You look back at her, that weird reactive grin frozen on your face, before you break out into a giggle.
"I said 'how about her idea'!" You lie, sneaking a glance at the slip on the surface, recognizing that is not Dazai's number. Your grip on his arm tightens, nails trying to dig through his bandages, and the only thing he can think to do is dance around in his head that he successfully got a reaction out of you after all this time - he also can't hold back the triumphant but devious smirk he wears as he directs his attention back to the incredibly shocked and unsettled clerk.
"You're in a relationship, and you still flirted with me?" She asks, incredulous, and your face drops, feigning cluelessness, as if you didn't see exactly that happening. You turn to look up at him, seeing the side of his face, and notice something in his expression shift - something you haven't seen before. His head cocks, suddenly looking at her as if she is crazy, his brows coming together.
"Flirting? No, I wasn't flirting with you," he responds, his eyes flashing as he continued pretending to not understand what she was referring to. "I'm happily married, why on Earth would I waste my time with you?" He says this as if there is something foul in his mouth, making you both stare at him - you unblinking, confused, wondering who he is actually trying to gaslight; she looks like she's been shot and is on the verge of tears.
"You gave me your number..." She holds up the paper, and he looks at it for a long moment before slowly shaking his head.
"Nope, you asked for a number, so I gave you my colleague's," she gapes, eyes darting between the two of you before crumpling up the paper, stomping her foot, and storming out of sight with a frustrated groan. "Ready to go, my darling?" He asks you, as if none of that just happened, and you drop your impression to a glare. He smiles, placing another kiss on your cheek before guiding you out to the entrance and along the sidewalk.
You two didn't speak the entire walk home, mostly because you still couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong with you, and why Dazai said you two are married when you aren't. He hummed to himself, happier than ever that he can put his mind and devious voices at ease that you do in fact like him as much as he thought you did, content you haven't released his arm, letting everyone else know you are his and he is yours.
The moment you two step inside, the door closing behind you, your arm slowly recoils, hand resting on your hip, and he stops to turn and face you. That smile plastered on his face and eyes loving and adoring as always. "Did you like her?" You bluntly ask, and his face drops.
"What?" He looks at you, dumbstruck, as if that's the most absurd question you could be asking right now.
"Did you like her?" You repeat, the rage starting to boil up. "Did you think she was prettier than me? Did you want to date her? Kiss her? Fuck her-"
"Whoa," he cuts you off, hand coming up to stop you from continuing, your mouth moving a mile a minute, and the anger is prominent in your shaking eyes vibrating in your sockets. "Whoa, no, none of that. I didn't think anything of her other than some person working at the store." He explains, that joyful, triumphant high he had been riding all crashing into a giant brick wall.
"Oh? Really?" Your voice pitches, cocking your head and staring at him with a wide and - admittedly - scary stare. "None of that? She's just... someone working at the store?" You echo, this side of you he's never seen, and he isn't sure if he should be turned on or running away. Both, maybe?
"Darling," he finally lets out an anxious, uneasy chuckle, taking a step closer to you, but your brow raises and he stops in place. "I don't want anyone other than you. I just wanted to see if I could make you jealous." He soothes, his hand daring to come out and touch your shoulder, and you stare at it before going back to him. Your eyes narrow, and he gives you another wary smile, trying to be cute to earn your forgiveness faster.
"Alright, Osamu, it finally worked," you tell him, forcing a smile on your face. "I was very jealous. So jealous, in fact, I forgot to get something for that stupid thing tomorrow!" You stomp your foot, voice raising, and his eyes veer off elsewhere.
"Ah, shit, yeah," he mumbles to himself, finger coming up to tap his chin. "No big deal, I can run and get something tomorrow morning while you-"
"Oh no. No no no no!" You wag your finger at him, and he immediately snaps his mouth shut as he looks down at you. "As if I am going to let you scamper off to the fuckin' bakery again alone with that girl working there!" His eyebrow arches, actually finding it a bit unbelievable you're still on this. "You'll probably find another one and try chasing after her while I'm not around. No, absolutely not." He stands there in silence with you for a long time, his hand carefully withdrawing, before leaning down to nuzzle his nose into your neck - you having to fight giving him any sort of positive reaction.
"Awh, I've really upset you," he murmurs with true sympathy, continuing his nuzzling up to your ear. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I just felt like you didn't like me. I know that isn't true now." He explains, sincere with his apologies, and his arms sneak back around your waist.
"No, it's true, I don't like you right now," you tell him, slipping from his embrace, and his jaw drops. You fold your arms, nose wrinkling, and let out an exaggerated huff. "You hurt my feelings!" You yell out, like a child getting bullied on the playground.
"That wasn't my intention!" He argues with you, reaching out but you sidestep him again. Your nose turns up, emphasizing your pouting more, and let out a harsh 'hmph!' "Oh, don't be like that my beloved darling. You know you're my only one. No one else in this entire existence is good enough to even begin comparing to you." He is already starting on his compliments, trying to dig himself out of the hole he threw himself in, and his nose is back to nuzzling into your neck while he holds you close. You mull his behavior over, tapping your finger on your arm, letting him continue assaulting you with his apologetic affection.
"You mean it?"
"Of course I mean it," he reassures, starting to pepper kisses along your jawline. "Lemme show you." He whispers, kissing to your lobe, his thumb caressing your hip under the material of your shirt. You think to yourself some more, the way this all made you feel, and how you did not like it in the slightest, that he thinks his sweet nothings and soft kisses will get him out of this.
"Yeah?" You match his tone, turning around in his hold to rest your arms on his shoulders, him wearing a light smirk as he stares at you with a daze. He offers a nod and a kiss on your nose. "Then show me by sleeping on the couch!" You crush down on his foot before turning off in a huff to your shared room and slamming the door shut. A yelp is caught in his throat, realizing you kept your shoes on while he is barefoot, and painfully peers over his shoulder at the couch that will be his bed for the night. Then he remembers why he is sleeping there, and he just cannot help himself from smiling and internally celebrating.
"Worth it," he grits, strained, the piercing pain bringing him back to the reality that you are mad at him and will be even more mad tomorrow when you two show up empty handed to your family's get together. "Yeah, still worth it."
stole this dynamic from an existing one i have because i literally couldn't resist.
- ghxst
minific masterlist
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @starr3i
Dark!Bucky this, Possessive!Bucky that... what we need is more unhinged reader!!!
So bear with me... Bucky becomes awfully distant one day, and reader is worried that he's growing tired of her and is secretly meeting someone else behind her back. So she figures that if she has his child, he'll stay with her, and she baby-traps him (spoiler: it works). Anyway, in actuality, Bucky was âdistantâ because he was busy looking for a house for them to live in so they could start their family.
He doesnât kiss her goodbye anymore.
Not like he used toâslow, lingering, like heâs memorizing her mouth for the day ahead. Now itâs a distracted brush of lips, a hand already reaching for his keys, eyes somewhere over her shoulder. Heâs late more often. His phone is always face-down. He smells like the outside world when he comes home, not her sheets.
Bucky Barnes is pulling away.
Thatâs the truth her brain feeds her at three in the morning while she stares at the ceiling, counting every way sheâs ever been too much. Too needy. Too intense. Too eager to build a future with a man who spent most of his life running from one.
He doesnât touch her in bed some nights. He turns onto his side. Breathes evenly. Pretends not to feel her staring holes into his back.
So she does what any rational, deeply unstable woman in love would do.
She panics.
The thought crawls in quietly at firstâsoft, poisonous, irresistible.
If I had his child⌠he wouldnât leave.
It blooms into obsession frighteningly fast.
She watches the way Bucky softens around kids at the grocery store, how his shoulders loosen when a toddler waves at him, how his eyes go distant and aching when he sees fathers lifting their children onto their shoulders. He never says anything, but she knows that look. Itâs the same one he wears when he thinks sheâs asleep.
Longing. Fear. Want.
So she stops taking her pills.
She doesnât tell him. She tells herself sheâll only do it once. Just one month. Just to see. She times it meticulously, reads everything she can, tracks her body like itâs a mission briefing. Thereâs something darkly empowering about itâabout deciding her future with a certainty sheâs never felt before.
When Bucky finally touches her again, itâs desperate.
Like heâs been holding himself back for days.
He pulls her into his lap on the couch, mouth hot and hungry against her throat, hands gripping like heâs afraid sheâll disappear if he lets go. She clings just as hard, nails digging in, heart racing with a secret that feels too big for her chest.
This will fix it, she tells herself.
This will make him stay.
Weeks pass. Bucky is still distantâstill distractedâbut now heâs gentler. Watching her closely. Asking if sheâs feeling okay. Rubbing her back when sheâs nauseous in the mornings, brow furrowed with concern.
She almost breaks a dozen times.
When the test turns positive, she sits on the bathroom floor and laughs until she cries. Itâs manic and hysterical and terrifying all at once. She presses a hand to her stomach, something feral and triumphant blooming in her chest.
Mine. Ours. Forever.
She waits three days before telling him.
Three days of rehearsing every possible reaction. Rage. Betrayal. Silence. Walking out the door.
She tells him in the kitchen, hands shaking, voice too bright.
âIâm pregnant.â
The world stops.
Bucky stares at her like sheâs spoken a foreign language. His face drains of color. His hands brace on the counter.
âYouâre⌠what?â
Her heart slams against her ribs. âIâI know itâs a lot. And I know youâve been distant and maybe you donât want this and maybe I messed up andââ
He crosses the room in two strides and grips her shoulders.
âDistant?â he repeats hoarsely. âYou think Iâve been distant because I donât want you?â
Tears spill over before she can stop them. âI thought you were leaving. I thought there was someone else.â
His expression crumples.
âJesus Christ,â he breathes.
He pulls a folded packet of papers from his jacket pocket with shaking hands. Mortgage listings. A printout with a little house circled in red. A sticky note in his messy handwriting: extra bedroom. nursery?
âIâve been trying to surprise you,â he says quietly. âI wanted it to be right. I wanted to be sure I could give youâgive usâsomething stable. I didnât want to say anything until I knew I could do it.â
Her stomach drops.
âOh.â
He presses his forehead to hers, eyes wet, voice breaking. âI was gonna ask you if you wanted to start a family. I just didnât know how.â
Guilt twists in her chestâbut beneath it, something darker hums with satisfaction.
She cups his face. âYou donât hate me?â
He lets out a broken laugh and sinks to his knees in front of her, pressing his ear to her stomach like he can already hear something there.
âHate you?â he whispers. âIâm terrified. Iâm in love. And Iâm not going anywhere.â
He looks up at her thenâsoft, reverent, ruined.
âIâm yours,â he says. âBoth of us are.â
And as she cradles his head against her, fingers threading through his hair, she thinksâ
summary: Azrielâs known about his mate for years. At first he was overwhelmedâsomeone for him? But time passes, and the bond doesnât click for her. He canât bring it up on his own. (What if itâs wrong, what if heâs gotten his hopes up over nothing, what if, what if, what ifâŚ?) Thereâs no way sheâll have him. Not a female like her. So sweet. So kind. So easily flustered by the slightest of his remarks. The heat that warms her cheeks nothing more than discomfort. But if he can get her to accept it⌠it doesnât matter after. She can run. She can leave. She can love someone else. But sheâll always be his.Â
All he has to do is catch her.Â
a/n: Donât look at the plot holes, theyâre shy. Based off this ask.
warnings: stalker/manipulative Azriel, a smidge of angst that is resolved, kissing in the woods as rain washes away the blood and dirt
word count: 2,058
~~~~
Your palms slip in the mud, sandals lost from your feet as you try to scramble backwards, something hard digging into the base of your spine. Youâre caught at the base of an oak.Â
Sweat slides down your temples. Chest heaving. Nausea stirring. Thighs trembling from exertion.Â
Sabre teeth flash before you, claws gouging mud from the ground, tongue flicking saliva from its mouth.Â
Youâre going to die. Thereâs sweat cling to your body. Mud and grit lodged beneath your nails. A cloying damp digging into your spine. Lungs searing, aching for breath, more, more, moreâŚ
The creature rears on its tail, serpentine body coiling tight as fangs flash and your knees pull to your chest, arms covering your face.Â
Steel hisses through scales, a bubble bursting as liquid gurgles. Mud splats on your bare shins as a heavy weight hits the wet earth. Copper bleeds through the forest air.Â
No teeth chew your flesh.Â
Cool, silken darkness slithers down over the bark, wrapping your shoulders, swirling round your waist. Paces squelch in the damp mud, pausing nearby.Â
Then, âYouâre okayâŚâÂ
That voiceâŚÂ
Your arms fall away, staring at the male knelt before you, the massive serpentâs head laying decapitated by his side. Blood flecks his brown skinâred ink scrawled on parchment paper thatâs been posted through your letter box day after day. Possessive words that fall deaf on romantic ears, while intensity glitters in the dark eyes before you.Â
ââŚAzâŚrielâŚ?âÂ
He nods, his black, inky hair grown long enough to flop over dark brows, soft and spiky in his eyes.Â
âItâs me.â He tells you. âYouâre okay.âÂ
Breath shudders through your chest, at once suctioned into your lungs with such force you nearly wind yourself.Â
You tip yourself forward, uncaring for the gritty mud slicking your bare knees as you struggle forward, arms flying over his shoulders as you shudder. The serpentâs thick throat lies severed at his back, and your fingers clutch at the dark linen of his shirt, staring at the bleeding red hole of its throat you could have been swallowed down.Â
His wings shift, pulling taut at his back, and the gore is hidden from sight. Warm, stable hands spread across your back, his fingers curling around the side of your ribs, thumbs softly strumming the bones.Â
âYouâre alright,â he reminds, soft and low. âYouâre okay.âÂ
âYou killed-⌠You savedâŚâ Breath stammers, lungs stuttering. âAzrielâŚâ
âItâs okay,â he whispers, distant enough his breath wonât frighten your ears. âEverythingâs okay.âÂ
But the moment hasnât ended yet for you. Youâre still curled against the tree, the serpent rearing over you. Azriel hasnât arrived yet.Â
âY-youâŚâ Heâs here.Â
You can feel him.Â
Heâs just beneath your fingers, holding you together.
âAzrielâŚâ
Fierce, familiar hands brace the front of your ribcage, ever so gently pushing you to a distance where your eyes can meet.Â
Quiet spreads light through the air, time falling away as he engulfs your world. His gaze is grounding, hauling you out from your mind, soul spreading swift through your limbs now itâs been dragged, timid, from your skull.
âYou saved meâŚâ You breathe, at last having the sense to push tears from your eyes. âYou⌠You-âŚâÂ
His eyes soften, stroking your sides, a small, disarming smile gentling the edges of his mouth. One hand lifts to cup your cheek, securing your gaze. âI never thought it would be you in need of saving,â he murmurs, eyes twinkling.Â
Itâs beyond you how he can manage such kindness in a moment like this. How he can be so patient, and forgiving despite the terror in your veins.Â
A laugh cracks from your lips, hurried, and more than a little frantic. âGuess I owe you,â you force out, hands trembling, forcing yourself to swallow the fear lodged in your throat.Â
It doesnât budge.Â
His eyes glitter like black diamonds. Shining coal. Spilled ink.Â
Amusement plies his lips into a slow smile, teeth hidden in his mouth. âPromise?âÂ
You heave down another breath, trying to swallow past the lump blocking your oesophagus.Â
You try to laugh. Try to roll your eyes at his teasing.Â
Itâs no help to your nerves, how much heâs touching you. So delicately. Like youâre something sweet and fragile.Â
Itâs making you want him to reach his fingers in, and peel back your petals. Flourish with colour and pollen, and tempt him closer. Find out just how sweet your centre is.Â
For a moment you forget about bargains. Forget about deals, and the magic that leaks from your mouths.
Somehow.Â
You manage a shaking smile, âI promise.âÂ
Pain stamps itself on your back, a billion needles swiftly pricking your skin, seeping ink inside before withdrawing, leaving your flesh poked and seething.Â
Stupid, stupid decision.Â
Azrielâs pupils expand, then breath is fluttering from his lungs, offering a breathless smile before resting his brow on your shoulder. Relief clears his scent of its remaining tension. Tension you had presumed was the symptom of the serpent.Â
Heâs murmuring something. Murmuring something too soft for you to hear. His mouth brushes your skin in the same pattern over and over. Repeating endlessly.Â
His shoulders slump, wings turning lax and youâre once again confronted with the violence of his care. The gaping throat, raw and crusting in places.Â
Your fingers shake as you clutch onto him. His fingers stroke the sides of your waist, meandering across your back, exploring the curve of your shoulders and tracing up the nape of your neck. His fingers are free and wandering, traveling with a curiosity and greed heâs never once acted on. Those fingers sink into your muddy hair, and he lifts his head to gaze at you, close enough to feel breath against your still mouth. Close enough the tip of his nose brushes your own. Close enough his lashes send a fluttering breath ghosting your cheek when he blinks.Â
âAccept it,â he whispers. âAccept me.âÂ
You blink, not understanding his words, periphery coming into view again.Â
âAcceptâŚ?â You whisper, scanning his face. âAccept what?âÂ
âMe.â He breathes. âOur⌠The bond.âÂ
You blink, body pausing, ââŚwhat?âÂ
He swallows, shifting your body in his armsâso delicate; youâre so fragile. âThereâs one between us. I can feel it. Iâve felt it for years.â
âAâŚâ You donât know what to say.
âA mating bond,â he whispers, âfor us.âÂ
Your skin cools, remembering parchment shoved through your letter box, riddled with carefully curled letters, sketched in bloody red ink. Delicate and beautifully scrawledâyears of practice to perfect the jagged kicks in his fried nerves.Â
A bouquet left on your kitchen table, found after a long night out, coming back to a locked door that must have been tampered with while you were away.Â
Torn pages slid between the iron of your windows, trapped between the panes, containing short passages from stories you sometimes recognise. Passages you love; passages youâve never read before; passages that make your hairs stand on end.Â
ââŚYouâŚ?âÂ
You stare at him. Breath trembling.Â
Itâs him?Â
It canât be.Â
But his eyes show a hunger youâve never seen in him before.Â
At least not one youâve noticed.Â
âYou donât have to stay,â he whispers, voice hoarse, and itâs real. Itâs him.Â
âI wonât force you into anything,â he swears, attention briefly dropping to your mouth, then lifting back to your eyes. He swallows. âExcept this. This is it. âŚItâs all I want.âÂ
âYouâŚâ you stammer, lungs panicking. âYou- You sent the letters. The notes.âÂ
He nods.Â
âYou left the flowers? The pages?â He nods.Â
You stare at him. âWhy didnât you say anything?âÂ
Itâs softer than a whisper.Â
Revulsion fills his eyes. He looks away. âIâd neverâŚâ His throat rolls. You hear it move. âI wouldnât do that to you. Itâs not yourâŚâ He looks back at you, and your heart stutters. âIâll deal with it. You donât have to⌠Iâll keep out of Velaris. Iâm leaving you alone. Itâs not your problem.âÂ
Fear filters through your blood. Panic slipped into your drink.Â
âAccept it,â he repeats.Â
His eyes are imploring. Intense. A gravitational pull all to themselves.Â
Words catch in your throat. âI donât know how.âÂ
His features pale. Hands stiffening. Fingers falling away from your hair; your skin.Â
âPleaseâŚâ His breathless pleaâs not directed at you.Â
âDonât disappear,â you choke out, sinking fingers into his hair, smearing crusted mud against the crest of his cheek, flecks of blood flaking away.Â
âYou shouldâve-â Told me.Â
âWhy didnât you-â Tell me.Â
âPlease-â Donât leave me. Donât be so cruel to yourself.Â
You kilter into him, and his eyes widen, arms catching you as his back hits the serpentâs dead scales. Blood pumps out into the mud, and your knees and hands mix it well as you struggle over him, struggle to pin him down so he wonât leave, struggle to correctly find his mouth amidst the panic.Â
A sound catches in his throat as your wet fingers splay across his shoulders, mouth pushing down atop his own.Â
You taste him, swipe across his lips, pry him apart with your teeth and tongue.Â
You recall the hunger in his eyes, the desire he had. For you.Â
His hands shake, then theyâre gripping your waist, slow at first, then rough, slipping beneath your top, spreading muck and blood up your bare back. Overhead the clouds converge, dark and heavy and ripe with rain, the first few droplets spitting onto the serpentâs scales; wetting the dried dirt on his cheek; cooling the burning heat of your skin.Â
Azrielâs wings shift, readjusting himself in the mud, sitting upright so youâre over his lap, knees deep in the mud either side his hips, and heâs hungry again. All over again. Fingers creeping and crawling while your own stroke and squeeze, pushing your mouths so close together thereâs no room for fresh air.Â
You pull away panting, clutching back to one another before youâve reset, and the rain falls heavier, pittering into already gathering puddles. His mouth is hot and everywhere, and your lungs burn but youâve never been so desperate and starving with the solution already before you.
Water streaks down your back, soaking your clothes, wind whipping at wet linen as the trees hiss, rain pelting his wings that flare then draw in close, shielding from the slanting rain.Â
Youâre coming undone.Â
ââââ
Her mouth is persuasive in a way even his own twisted imagination couldnât comprehend. Luring him in, seducing him, convincing him she wants him.Â
It canât be true.Â
Heâs spent so long convincing himself otherwise, wallowing in freezing misery and endless hunger that having her on top of him, open-mouthed and touching seems impossible. He wouldnât have made the effort to lure the serpent so far from itâs home if heâd believed he had a chance. Wouldnât have aggravated it so it would chase the first scent it caught. Wouldnât have hounded her with notes and love letters detailing the affection he wished he could give her.Â
But sheâs here, a weight in his lap, a pushing heat against his skin that soothes every place she touches. A single, mellow flame stolen from the sun, coddled by darkness and brought down overnight just so he can drink her in and warm his hands without fear of burns.Â
The bond glitters in his chest, pulsing like a river preparing to flood its banks. Brimming with molten gold searing at the dam blocking its path.Â
His hands grip her waist, lifting her so they can be equal on their knees, so his arm can push at her spine so she can push into him, front flush to his chest and when their mouths collide again, the dam dissolves.Â
Nails rake through his hair, clawing at his shirt as her body noticeably heats, her legs shaking in the cocoon of darkness theyâre sharing, the roaring of the wind kept far enough at bay he can hear when she whispers, âthe bond⌠I can feel it.âÂ
Azriel feels it too. Feels the pent up pressure finally release, met with surging waters that hiss and boil on contact, rising to share temperature.Â
Never did he think heâd experience the relief of mutual adoration.Â
Never did he think the Mother would deem him worthy of love.Â
Maybe she doesnât.Â
But the female on top of himâhis mate⌠In her eyes, heâs worthy.
Summary: Once the ever doting lover of Emperor Geta, you have now been cast aside and betrayed. Marked for public execution, you make one final attempt to cement yourself into the memory of the man you love. (No use of y/n)
Warnings: angst, character death, blood, violence.
Word Count: 1k+
Authorâs Note: honestly I had an idea for a scene and my friend said do it. So here ya go!
AO3 || Masterlist
You bide your time quietly, in the shadows of your former loverâs room. The guards will be coming for you soon, but they won't look here. At least not at first. By the time they find you, it will be too late. You will not let anyone else decide your fate. Not after the years you spent, bending over backwards in these very chambers.Â
And then suddenly he is here, alone. He storms into the chamber, slamming the door behind him. You watch him silently as he stumbles about the room in a blind rage. You wonder briefly what has angered him; you wonder if it is about you. He grabs a vase and throws it, screaming out into the silence of the night and yet still no guards come rushing in. Then you truly are alone, you know. Only when he has quieted do you emerge from your hiding place.
âSo itâs finally, just us then? Geta?â Your voice is low as the shadows melt away to light.Â
He whips around to face you, the shock evident on his face, before it steels to a blistering anger.
âWhat are you doing here?â He hisses at you, then glances about the room as if searching for any others who may hide in his shadows. You stalk towards him predatorily, eyes narrowed and hungry for blood.
âSurprised to see me? After you so callously threw me away?â The threat in your voice is thinly veiled and his eyes widen in surprise. Most donât have the courage to speak to him in such a manner. The ones who did are all gone now. Thrown to the lions and gladiators for public entertainment. The fate he would have befall you for some imagined transgression. Your death warrant has already been signed in a familiar pen, and here and now, you have nothing else left to lose. You know nothing of the fear those men faced. âI am not a possession, Geta. Not anymore. In your betrayal you have freed me from any idolization you had previously claimed. I am nothing but a woman scorned now.â
You draw a blade from behind your back and his eyes catch on it immediately. It glistens a glorious gold. It was a gift, from him nonetheless, and you watch as recognition, then fear, flash in his eyes. You take a step forward and he takes one back, bumping into another side table and knocking something else free, to shatter against the floor.
âGUARDS!â He calls out, but you know they are too far away now. He is the one responsible for sending them so far away, in fact. Certainly there is some lowly, expendable attendant, close enough to hear any distress, likely running off as you speak, to get them. They will be there soon. But, not soon enough. You watch as tears form in his eyes and you sneer.
âAre you going to cry for your betrayal? You are pathetic Geta! Face me like a man if you are to condemn me to death!âÂ
He turns on you suddenly, vicious and snarling, teeth bared in barely contained emotion. There he is, you think, the other side of the coin. The other face to this man you love. This is Emperor Geta.
âWho are you to address me as such? I am your emperor! I am your master! I am your god!â Briefly, the fear leaves his eyes and he is suddenly upon you with fast steps and his hand closes around your throat. He squeezes and you allow him this last assault on your person. You lean into the grip and watch as his eyes darken ever so slightly. You let your eyes fall close. His voice is dripping with bravado and venom, it demands respect. And you almost lose yourself to the memory of what it was like to be his. But you can hear it. You can feel it. The underlying tremble of a man who knows he no longer has power over you. A man who understands deep down that he is mortal.
Slowly you open your eyes and look at him, the resolve of what must be done blazing anew within you.
âYou are nothing to me any longer. Do not speak to ME as though I am one of your whores. You have lost the right.â You spit back, low and dark and sad. The hand around your throat tightens. His face comes ever closer and you feel his hot breath fan over you. Â
âAnd how should I speak to you? You are NO ONE! YOU ARE NOTHING! HISTORY WILL KNOW NOTHING OF YOU!â He sounds desperate as he yells at you. Like it isnât you heâs trying to convince.Â
You rush him then. Your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, knocking him from his feet. He reaches out, but his instinct is untrained. He canât seem to decide whether he should grab hold of you or brace his fall. He chooses wrong as his hands circle your wrists. You keep pushing further still and you both tumble to the floor. You land on top of him, weighing heavily upon him, pinning him down.
âI have never cared whether history remembers me. I have only ever cared about you.â Your eyes burn hot with unshed tears but you donât waiver in your actions. You maneuver your wrists around, despite his struggle against you, until you hold his hands in yours. His fingers are cold. You wrap them around the hilt of the blade and hold them there, hold him there. âI have only ever had loyalty to you! Iâve only ever loved you!â
You looked deeply into his eyes. This close you can see the depths of his brown irises, and a sense of almost peace comes over you. There is something comforting about knowing your final moments will be with him. And then you push, and feel searing pain as metal pierces through skin, muscle, and organ. As blood spurts from your wound onto his chest and bile and blood rises in your throat. It is acrid and metallic on your tongue and you spit it out. You watch in slight amusement as he flinches when red splatters across his delicate features. You lean down, barely holding yourself against the gravity that threatens to drag you into darkness, the edges of your vision fading fast. Your lips graze upon his, just shy of one final kiss.
âNow-â your throat produces a wheezing sound and more blood gurgles onto your tongue. It continues to drip out and onto his face. His eyes stare up into yours in unabashed horror. You relish the pain that swirls there, feeling a sick sense of joy that this hurts him too. âTry⌠and forget me.âÂ
And with your final breath finally passing from your lips, you collapse upon him fully. Finally accepting the fate he has dealt you, and sealing it for yourself. In the blink of death, you might have sworn his arms close tight around you, that he might have even shed a tear. You will never know.
The look within your eyes haunts him for the rest of his measly, pathetic little life. It wasnât anger or hate, but love so unconditional that he had no choice but to feel the depths of his betrayal against you endlessly. It torments him and he lies awake at night and wonders why you had looked upon him so tenderly as you enacted something so cruel. Only in his final moments staring into the face of his brother as blade sliced through flesh, did he finally understand. Why, even in death, you had been too kind to him.Â
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Hiiii, i have a request, what if we walk on the members of p1harmony cheating on their partner.
Sorry if i wrote something wrong, english isn't my first language
thank youđŤśđť
pairing: P1Harmony x reader
warnings: Cheating, angst, p1Harmony being cheaters, hard cursing
disclaimer: not my pic!
Okay, I usually don't like to write stuff like this but my ex cheated on me as well so I decided to make the reader a fierce and badass woman who just FOUND OUT she got cheated on! Because none of you deserve to get cheated on!!!!! You hear me? NONE OF YOU
Keeho
You had heard the rumors before. Whispers on social media, blurry photos, and that one fan account that swore they saw Keeho and another idol together after a music show. You brushed it off every time, trusting him. Keeho was always open, always reassuring. âDonât believe everything you see online,â he had said once, smiling like the truth lived in his dimples. And you believed him.
Until tonight.
You were watching a livestream from some award eventâjust background noise while you folded laundry. The camera panned across the red carpet, catching a glimpse of idols mingling, waving, laughing. Then, for half a second, there he was. Keeho. Hand in hand with her. Not holding hands like friends. Holding hands like people who had forgotten the world existed.
Your body went cold first. Then the burn cameâslow, crawling from your stomach to your throat, until you couldnât breathe past it. The phone trembled in your hand. You replayed that half-second over and over, hoping the angle was weird, that maybe she had just brushed his hand. But no. Every frame screamed the truth you didnât want to face.
You sat there for a long time, staring at the wall, feeling the quiet twist tighter around you. Then the sadness curdled into something darker. You started movingâgrabbing the hoodie heâd left on your chair, the toothbrush next to yours, his favorite mug that youâd pretended to hate because it was chipped. Everything of his went into a box. No tears this time. Just silence and a steady, shaking rhythm in your chest.
By the time he arrived, headlights cutting across your porch, the box sat outside like a waiting verdict. You didnât plan to see himâbut curiosity was cruel. You peeked through the window as he climbed the steps, confusion spreading across his face. He looked tired, still in his event clothes, hair tousled from the night.
He knocked once, then called your name. You opened the window instead.
âOh hey,â you said, voice calm in a way that scared even you. âYou might want to be more careful at events. Cameras are everywhere, you know.â
He froze, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. âWait, what are you talking about?â His voice cracked, the kind of crack that begged for a chance to explain.
You laughedâa sharp, tired sound. âYou know exactly what Iâm talking about.â
He stepped closer to the window, guilt already written all over his face. âItâs not what it looked like, I swear. Sheââ
You cut him off. âStop.â The word sliced through the air. âYouâre lucky I only threw your stuff out instead of setting it on fire.â
His eyes softened, the way they did when he was trying to fix something with words. âY/n look....Iâm sorry,â he said, and for a moment, it almost sounded real.
You shook your head, the anger keeping you upright. âYou can take your sorry and shove it up your ass.â You leaned against the window frame, folding your arms. âNow, if you donât want another livestream catching you picking through your exâs porch at midnight, I suggest you take your things and fuck off."
He didnât move at first. Just stood there, looking at you like he wished he could rewind time. Then he bent down, picked up the box, and whispered your name again, quieter this time.
You shut the window.
His car engine faded down the street, leaving only the hum of the night and your heartbeat, still pounding against your ribs. You stared at the empty porch, the ghost of him already dissolving into the dark, and told yourself this was revenge enoughâletting him see exactly what it looked like to lose you.
Theo
You thought the night would be sweet.
A small surprise, nothing hugeâjust coffee the way he liked it, the one with too much caramel syrup, and a box of donuts because you knew heâd been living off studio vending machines again. Theo had texted you earlier that heâd be âworking late.â You imagined him humming behind the mic, headphones askew, lost in melody. So you thought: why not show up, be the warmth in his long night?
You even smiled to yourself on the walk there, picturing his reactionâhis wide grin, the soft âYou didnât have to, babe,â before stealing a sip of your drink like he always did.
The door to the studio was slightly open, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. You raised your hand to knock but froze when you heard itâhis laugh. Not the polite one. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. A girlâs laugh followed, softer, close.
You leaned closer to the door. Through the gap, you saw them. Theo, half-turned toward the producerâs assistant, his arm looped casually around her waist. Her hand rested on his chest, fingers playing with the chain he always wore. They were whispering, faces too close, the air between them heavy with something youâd once thought belonged only to you.
Then he leaned in.
So did she.
You cleared your throat. Loudly.
Both of them flinched apart like guilty kids. Theoâs eyes went wide when he saw you standing there, coffee cup in one hand, donut bag in the other. The assistant mumbled something and fled the room like smoke.
You stepped inside, your smile sharp enough to cut glass. âHi,â you said, voice bright, cheerful, wrong. âLong night?â
âBabeââ he stammered, running a hand through his hair. âIâit wasnâtâshe justââ
You held up a hand. âRelax. Everythingâs fine.â The fake smile didnât waver, even as your heart clawed at your ribs. âI actually brought you something.â
He blinked, confused, eyes darting between you and the coffee cup. âWhat?â
âYour favorite,â you said sweetly. âExtra caramel right?â
Before he could move, you tipped the cup forward, watching the liquid pour across his laptop keyboard in a slow, hissing wave. The smell of burnt sugar and electronics filled the air. Theo just stared, frozen, mouth slightly open.
You set the empty cup down beside the puddle, turned to the box of donuts, and launched them against the wall. Frosting splattered across the soundproof foam in pale pink and chocolate streaks.
For a moment, the only sound was the quiet dripping of coffee from the table.
Theo pushed back his chair, standing. âOkay, I know youâre angryââ
You met his eyes, your voice low now, steady as a loaded gun. âDonât,â you said. âDonât come any closer.â
âCan we just talkââ
âI said donât.â You took a step back, shoulders squared. âBecause if you touch me, Theo, your face is going to be the next thing I smash against that wall.â
The words hung between you, sharp and final.
He stopped.
The studio light flickered, catching on the ruined laptop, the donuts sliding down the wall like melting ghosts. You turned to leave, the door creaking behind you.
Theo called your name onceâsoft, desperateâbut you didnât look back. Youâd brought him something sweet, and heâd ruined the taste himself.
Jiung
You were curled up on the couch when your phone rang. It was late, the kind of late where thoughts got louder and the room felt too big. Jiung had texted earlier that he was going out with friends, told you not to wait up. You trusted him. You always did.
Your friendâs voice came out rushed, uneasy. âListen....I didnât want to be the one to tell you, but⌠Iâm at the club right now. I saw Jiung.â
Your chest tightened. âOkay,â you said slowly. âAnd?â
There was a pause. Too long. âHe was kissing another woman. Likeâmaking out. Iâm so sorry.â
For a moment, everything went quiet. You thanked your friend, hung up, and just sat there. Your hands rested uselessly in your lap. The hurt came first, heavy and suffocating, pressing down until your eyes burned. You pictured his smile, the way he promised loyalty so easily, like it was a given. You felt stupid for believing it.
Then the sadness snapped.
Anger rushed in, hot and electric. You stood up so fast the couch creaked behind you. You didnât cry. You didnât hesitate. You went to your room, pulled on something sharp and confident, something that made you feel tall. You fixed your hair, your makeup deliberate and bold. If Jiung was going to embarrass you, you would not arrive broken.
The bass of the club hit you the second you stepped inside. Lights flashed red and blue, bodies pressed together, sweat and alcohol thick in the air. You scanned the room once, twice, until you saw him.
Jiung stood in a dark corner, one hand tangled in another womanâs hair, her mouth on his like nothing else mattered. He looked careless. Comfortable. Happy.
Your jaw tightened.
You walked straight toward them, every step steady. When you reached him, you tapped his shoulder.
Jiung turned around, already smilingâuntil he saw you. His face drained of color. His mouth opened, probably to say your name, probably to lie.
You slapped him.
The sound cracked through the music, sharp and clean. The club seemed to inhale all at once. Jiung staggered half a step back, hand flying to his cheek, eyes wide with shock. The woman beside him froze, her hand still half-raised, lipstick smeared.
You didnât say a word.
You turned around and walked toward the exit, heels striking the floor in time with the pounding bass. Behind you, the crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, laughter. Someone shouted approval. Someone clapped. The club carried you forward like a wave, loud and unapologetic.
Jiung called your name, his voice lost in the noise, cracking with panic. You didnât stop. You didnât look back. He didnât deserve that last glance.
The cold air outside hit your face, grounding you. Your hands shook now, the adrenaline fading, but your spine stayed straight. You had walked into the fire and left without burning.
Inside the club, Jiung stood frozen, cheek red and stinging, surrounded by noise and strangers. For the first time that night, he looked small. And you kept walking, heart pounding, knowing the slap wasnât just angerâit was the sound of the door closing behind you.
Intak
You had always felt it.
The way his phone tilted away from you sometimes. The way his voice shifted when a certain name came up. Intak swore he didnât talk to his ex anymore. Promised it, hand over heart, eyes wide and sincere. You wanted to believe him. You told yourself that trust meant swallowing the ache and calling it nothing.
Then one afternoon, boredom got the better of you. You checked his location, half-expecting to see the practice room. Instead, a restaurant pin glowed back at you.
Your stomach dropped.
You called him. No answer. You grabbed your keys and drove, knuckles white on the steering wheel, your thoughts racing faster than the traffic. By the time you arrived, you already knew what you would find. Still, the sight hit like a punch.
Intak sat in a corner booth, her body pressed close to his. His arm wrapped around her like it belonged there. She laughed into his shoulder, and he leaned down to kiss her like it was muscle memory. Soft. Familiar.
You walked straight to the table.
âWow,â you said. âPractice mustâve changed locations.â
Intak jolted like heâd been electrocuted. His face drained of color. âWhatâwhy are you here?â He pulled away from her too late.
You looked at him, really looked. âSo you lied to me,â you said, calm in a way that scared even you.
He stood up so fast the table rattled. âOkay wait I can explain. Itâs notââ
âDonât,â you cut in. âYou already explained when you told me you were somewhere else.â
His mouth opened and closed, apology scrambling over itself. âIâm sorry. I messed up. Pleaseââ
You laughed quietly. âDon't worry honey. I mean I lied to you, too."
He froze. âWhat?â
You crossed your arms. âI lied every time I told you everything was perfect. I lied every time I said I was happy. I lied every time I told you I had a GROUNDBREAKING Orgasm thanks to you."
His eyes widened, wounded pride flashing through the guilt. âWait, what the fuck?"
âUh huh,â you said coolly, âAnd I'm not even done! Your last solo? It SUCKED!"
The words landed harder than you expected. He flinched.
You tapped your chin, pretending to think. âWhat else...ooh right! Remember before we started dating and I promised you that San and I had just been friends?"
His breath caught. âYeah.â
You met his gaze, unblinking. âOh well, I lied.â
Silence swallowed the table. Even his ex shifted uncomfortably.
âHe did fuck me,â you added, voice steady, deliberate. âAnd unlike you, he made me cum for real.â
Intakâs face crumpled, shock giving way to something raw and helpless. âWhy would you say that?â
You picked up your bag. âBecause apparently we both are huge fucking liars."
You looked at both of them then, offering a polite, venom-sweet smile. âEnjoy your dinner. I hope itâs worth it.â
You turned and walked out, heels striking the floor like punctuation marks. Behind you, Intak called your name once, desperate and cracked. You didnât slow down.
The night air hit your face, sharp and cleansing. Your hands shook, but your chest felt lighter. You had said everything you needed to say. And this time, none of it was a lie.
Soul
You were tipsy in the good way, warm and buzzing, packed into a booth with your girls. The music was loud, the lights low, and for once, life felt light. Someone asked about your love life, and you smiled before you could stop yourself.
âYou know,â you said, stirring your drink, âI actually just started seeing someone.â
They leaned in immediately. You talked about Soul, about how strange and sweet it felt, how new everything was. How he was quiet but attentive, how you liked the mystery of him. You laughed, cheeks warm, heart stupidly hopeful.
When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, you were still smiling.
You didnât expect to see him.
Soul stood near the hallway, half-hidden by shadows, leaning close to another girl. Her hand rested on his arm. He bent down to say something in her ear, and she laughed, fingers tightening like she belonged there.
Your smile fell apart.
For a second, you thought you were wrong. That your brain was glitching. Then Soul looked up and saw you.
His eyes widened.
He stepped away from her immediately and walked toward you, meeting you halfway before you could even move. âHey,â he said, voice too careful.
You stared at him, your confusion slowly turning sharp. âWhat is this?â you asked. âAre you on a date or something?â
He hesitated. Too long.
ââŚYeah,â he said quietly.
The sound that came out of you surprised even yourself. You laughed. Loud. Broken. It echoed down the hallway, turning a few heads. âYouâre kidding me, right?â
He frowned. âI didnât meanââ
âWe literally just started dating,â you said, laughing harder now, disbelief curling into anger. âLike, days ago. Did you forget that part where we said that this is an official relationship?â
He opened his mouth, closed it, rubbed the back of his neck. âI was going to tell you, I just didnât know how toââ
You tilted your head and mimicked him, exaggerating the pauses, the nervous gestures. âI just didnât know how toââ You dropped the act instantly. âWow. Incredible performance.â
âPlease, let me explain,â he said, stepping closer.
âFuck off,â you snapped.
The word landed hard. He froze.
You took a step back, pointing at him. âDonât do that thing where you act confused. You knew exactly what you were doing.â Your voice shook now, but you didnât stop. âYou donât get to have me and shop around at the same time.â
âIt wasnât like that,â he said, panic creeping in. âI justââ
You cut him off. âDonât get near me again. Ever.â
The finality in your voice made his shoulders drop. He stood there, silent, watching as you walked past him toward the bathroom, then straight past that too, back toward your table.
Your girls saw your face and stood up instantly, questions spilling out. You shook your head. âWeâre leaving.â
As you walked out, you didnât look back. You didnât need to. Soul stayed rooted where you left him, surrounded by noise and lights, realizing too late that new beginnings were fragile things. And heâd broken this one before it even had time to breathe.
Jongseob
Morning crept in quietly. Pale light slipped through the curtains, painting the room soft and harmless. You woke first, as you often did. Jongseob slept beside you, face relaxed, lashes resting against his cheeks like nothing in the world could touch him.
You leaned over and kissed him quickly, a habit born from affection. He shifted but didnât wake. You smiled faintly and slipped out of bed, padding into the living room.
That was when his phone lit up.
The vibration was small, almost polite. You told yourself to ignore it. You really did. But then you saw the name on the screen.
Minji.
Your chest tightened. You picked up the phone, hesitation buzzing in your fingers. One message. Short. Clear.
Thank you for last night. I had a really good time.
The room felt suddenly too bright. Too loud. Jongseob had told you he was at practice. Complained about how tired he was going to be. Apologized in advance for not texting much.
Your hands went cold.
You didnât cry. You didnât scream. You just stood there, staring at the words until they burned themselves into your head. Then you set the phone down carefully and walked back to the bedroom.
Jongseob was still asleep.
You sat on the edge of the bed and watched him for a while. You memorized the rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly when he breathed. You wondered how easily heâd slept after lying to you.
Then you stood up.
You grabbed the vase from the dresser, flowers drooping lazily inside it, and walked back to the bed. Without hesitation, you tipped it over.
Cold water crashed down on him.
Jongseob jolted awake with a shout, scrambling upright, hair plastered to his forehead, sheets soaked. âWhat the fuckâwhat are you doing?â
You crossed your arms, your voice steady and sharp. âDid you have a good time with Minji?"
Confusion flickered across his face before panic rushed in. âWhat? No, you donât understandââ
âYouâre disgusting,â you said flatly. âA lying, cheating motherfucker.â
He shook his head, water dripping from his chin. âI didnâtâsheâs justââ
âI read the message,â you cut in. âSo cut the bullshit.â
His mouth snapped shut. His eyes darted around like he was searching for a version of reality that would save him. âWhy were you even going through my phone?"
You laughed once, bitter and short. âDon't you dare make me the bad guy here.â
You didnât hold back then. Every insult youâd swallowed came spilling out. You told him how small he looked now. How trust evaporated when lies piled up. How disappointing it was to realize that the person you defended so fiercely wasnât worth the effort.
âI want you out,â you said. âNow.â
He stared at you, stunned. âYouâre serious?â
You nodded toward the window. âDonât forget your phone.â
He turned just in time to hear the distant crack of plastic against pavement. His eyes widened as he rushed to the window and looked down.
You met his gaze, unflinching. âGo get it,â you said. âAnd donât come back.â
He stood there, drenched and silent, as you opened the bedroom door and waited. The morning light no longer looked soft. It looked honest.
"I got ninety-nine problems but you won't be one, like what ?"
Summary : a racist detective clearly made a mistake by being a little too misogynistic but also provoked someone he shouldn't have. Pt.3 of unhinged BAU reader
Warnings : Sexism & misogyny. Workplace discrimination / microaggressions. Implied racial and cultural bias. Emotional abuse / verbal hostility. Harsh interrogation tactics. Distress involving a missing child. Parental shaming / accusations of neglect. Dark Humour and sarcasm.
The local detective cleared his throat. Loudly. Too loudly.
âWell,â he said, arms crossed, eyes sliding past her to Hotch, âwe usually have our own agents asking to be apart of telling the parents but maybe one of your female agents could help..â
She turned slowly at the detective. She didnât look at the detective yet. Hotch noticed. His jaw tightened.
Derek raised an eyebrow. Emily folded her arms. JJ went still.
The detective continued, digging his own grave. âYou know, someone who wonât escalate things. This familyâs already emotional. And no offense y'all are a little too muchââ
âNo offense?â she echoed pleasantly, finally facing him. âThatâs new. Please proceed, tho I'd recommend with a lil caution.â
The detective smiled thinly. âI feel like your male coworkers wouldn't give the same attention to the parents. Maybe Agent Prentiss could take point. Or Agent Jareau. Even you too.â
Emily scoffed. âWow.â
JJ blinked. âAre you serious right now?â
The detective waved a hand. âIâm just sayingâthis is a sensitive situation. And sometimes cultural differences can make things⌠tricky.â
That did it.
Hotch stepped forward, voice ice-cold. âExplain what you mean by cultural differences.â
The detective hesitated. âWellâmales are considered as very⌠direct. Families like this respond better toââ
âTo what,â Hotch cut in, âa white female officer speaking over them?â
Silence.
Derek smiled like a man enjoying a show. âCareful,â he muttered. âYouâre almost saying the quiet part out loud.â
The detective bristled. âNow hold onââ
âNo,â Hotch snapped. âYouâve interrupted Morgan twice, dismissed Prentiss entirely, spoken down to Jareau, and now youâre questioning my other agentâs competence because she doesnât fit your idea of agreeable.â
He turned to her briefly. âAre you okay to proceed?â
She grinned. âOh, Iâm thriving.â
Hotch looked back at the detective. âGood. Then you go inside.â
The detective muttered, âFigures,â under his breath.
Hotch heard it. âSay that again.â
Nothing.
Hotch nodded once. âDo your job,â he told her quietly. âHowever you see fit.â
She saluted lazily. âYour funeral with HR.â
Inside the interview room, the parents sat rigid with fearâthe mother red-eyed, hands clenched; the father vibrating with anger. She didnât sit.
She leaned against the table, arms crossed. âAlright,â she said calmly, âwhat exactly do you want me to do.â
The mother sniffed. âFind our daughter.â
âOkay. Then hereâs the truth,â she replied. âYour daughter didnât disappear. She left. With a man.â
The father slammed his hand on the table. âThatâs impossible!â
âIs it,â she asked, tilting her head, âor is it just inconvenient.â
The mother sobbed harder. âHow can you talk about her like that?â
âMy parents wouldâve beaten my ass into a new personality if I pulled this,â she said evenly. âBut judging by how shocked you are? Parenting scoreâs going even lower this time.â
âThatâs cruel!â the mother cried.
âNo,â she said. âCruel would be lying and say you're doing a wonderful job as parents.â
The father stood. âThis is unacceptable. Youâre supposed to help us!â
âI am helping you,â she said. âI just donât do comfort lies.â
The mother screamed, âOUR DAUGHTER IS MISSING AND YOUâRE STANDING THERE JUDGING US?!â
She checked her watch. âWhat Iâm doing is budgeting my patience. Also? I havenât had coffee today.â
The father stared at her. âYou care more about coffee than our child?!â
âWell, duh,â she replied. âI canât solve crimes dehydrated.â
Then, casually: âAnd sheâs still in the city, an emergency at a time â favorite motto.â
Both parents froze.
âWhat,â the mother whispered.
âWhere is she,â the father demanded. âIs she alive?â
She nodded. âVery much so. Sheâs with a man. Voluntarily. And right now, the worst thing you can do is interfere.â
âI WILL SUE,â the father shouted.
She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table. âGo ahead. HRâs on the line.â
The call was active. And we could hear an annoyed voice on speakerphone.
She stepped back. âIâve got a briefing. And then coffee.â
Outside, the detective scoffed. âUnbelievable. Thatâs how the FBI operates now?â
Hotch turned slowly. âYes,â he said. âAnd if you undermine my team again, youâll be explaining that attitude to your captain.â
She handed Hotch a piece of paper. And the rest of the team went to search the missing girls.