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sometimesanalice · 4 months ago

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Save Your Midnights for Me

Summary: This year has thrown you through a loop. You lost your job, you moved to San Diego, and you reunited with your summer crush from all those years ago who still is just as handsome as ever. As the clock ticks down, you can’t help but wonder what the new year might have in store for you.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 9k

Warnings: fluff and two pining idiots in love

(Author’s note: this one is for the hopeful romantics! Happy New Year, friends!)

You’ve always loved New Year’s Eve. The excitement, the fun, the champagne, the confetti. Everyone riding the high of the hope and potential of the new year ahead.

But tonight, you were on the clock instead of watching as it inched closer and closer to midnight with every tick of the second hand.

The evening has been a whirlwind of cheerful faces as you pour pint after pint of frothy, cold beers. Your arms were definitely feeling the burn of all the margaritas and whiskey sours you’ve been serving up. You were putting all your well-earned practice from the last four months of working at the Hard Deck into good use for the steady stream of Naval patrons who had come to gather and celebrate.

But you liked the steady flow. It kept you focused; it kept you busy. With your head down and your thoughts occupied with tasks and orders and drink recipes and tabs, it spared you from having to see Bradley with the girl in the silver dress who was making it more than clear whose midnight kiss she was after.

Bradley Bradshaw had been the star in all your daydreams growing up. You just never could have anticipated that you still wouldn’t be able to kick that summer crush on him, even all these years later.

This year… hadn’t been the greatest.

The meeting you’d thought was going to be the start of a new chapter in your career with that promotion you’d been hoping and working so hard for had ended with you clearing out your desk and turning in your ID badge, but not even the decent severance package they sent you out the door with could have cushioned that blow.

You’d been laid off from your tech job just in time for your industry to be hit with hiring freezes so glacial it felt like there must have been a breakthrough in global warming, as if the ice caps weren’t melting.

You spent days then weeks then months applying and interviewing on repeat like a groundhog’s day from hell, only to encounter more closed doors than open ones. Had enough ever-so-casual networking coffee chats that you were pretty sure you’d need to switch to decaf if you still wanted to have some functioning adrenal glands by the time you were fifty.

Coming close- so, so close- so many times. Having the final decision come between you and another candidate only for your fingertips to slip off the edge at the very last moment.

Still freefalling the same way you’d been since you’d first been let go.

With your savings dwindling and spirits low, you’d decided that what you needed most was to decompress and reassess. And where better than the place where some of your favorite memories had been made.

All it had taken was one call to your Aunt Penny for the little strands of silver lining to peek out from behind the gray clouds that had filled your skies lately.

By the end of the conversation not only did you have a place to land- the furnished loft above the garage with an ocean view from the tiny kitchen- but also a just-for-now job too, getting to work with her at the bar. Something to help get you back on your feet while the dust of your imploded life settled around you as you figured out your next move.

You weren’t known for staying in any place too long as it was, so it had been easy to pack up and leave the city you’d been living in for the Southern California sun, feeling lighter than you had in ages.

Your mom’s longtime best friend was quite possibly one of your favorite people on Earth. And still is.

There was nothing you looked forward to more than those summers you got to spend in San Diego, when you got to trade your textbooks for days out on the boat. Your family would rent at home near the Benjamin beach house and for almost two months it was carefree days of endless blue water and sand between your toes.

But without a doubt, the highlight of your summer was always Bradley Bradshaw.

A few years older than you, he’d been the cute boy who was the object of all your daydreams. You couldn’t remember who you first celebrity crush was, but you definitely remembered the boy with the curly brown hair who was responsible for giving you butterflies in your stomach for the very first time.

While your brother was more than fine trying to ditch you at every turn, Bradley had always made you feel like you were right where you were supposed to be. He always made you feel included. He had been the one to teach you how to wakeboard, gave you his free dole whip when he made a hole-in-one at Tiki Town, and sat next to you the first time you ever rode the Giant Dipper Roller Coaster.

Even though Penny and Mav’s relationship had been on and off for years, Bradley had remained a steady presence in your life every July and August.

Until the one summer when he didn’t show up.

You’d sat on the stairs with your arms wrapped around your knees that first night and listened on as your mom and Penny talked, piecing together the explanation for Bradley’s absence and why your aunt was dating the uninteresting man you’d met earlier that night at dinner.

The sun, the sand, and the sights were all the same. And yet everything had changed after that.

That had been your last San Diego summer.

You moved on, you went to college, you grew up. But you had never forgotten the boy who had made you feel like sunshine.

You’d always hoped he remembered you just as fondly.

When you heard that Penny and Mav were back together, you thought there might be a chance to see him again, you were always curious about how things had turned out for you. You just never expected for him to quite literally crash back into your life.

Or for all of those sun-warmed feelings came rushing back.

It was your third day of working at the Hard Deck.

You were still getting use to the lay of the land- and announcing corner whenever you made your way out of the stockroom- when you’d come out of the back with your arms full of refill napkins packs only to collide with a wall of muscles with a less than dignified oof.

“Oh, shit!” The hand that reached out to grasp your hip was probably the only reason you hadn’t landed on your ass, even as the napkins went everywhere. “Sorry, that was my- wait, Bee?”

The nickname from your younger years was exclusively reserved for close family and friends. Shortened over time from busy bee, a name your mom still wrote in your birthday and Christmas cards, because of the way you were always pursuing new activities with the kind of intense tenacity only found in the most precocious of kids.

Although, no one who’d known you squarely post-braces had ever called you that before. And definitely not anyone so solidly built with such a masculine, raspy voice.

But you knew those rich brown eyes and sun-streaked curls.

Just like you knew that under the soft looking linen blend shirt there’d be freckles dotted along his shoulder. Just like you knew that he was left-handed but preferred to throw a baseball with his right. Just like you knew he rode the Beach Blaster four times in a row that one time, not because he liked it, but because he was trying to get over his fear of heights.

“Bradley?” The right side of his mouth pulled up in a smile, seemingly pleased you recognized him. “Bradley Bradshaw?” you repeat, because even though he was standing less than three feet away from you, your brain was having a hard time processing the boy you’d known was now the man in front of you.

You hadn’t seen him since you were fifteen.

Although, you did try to look him up once in college when you and your roommates were tipsy off cheap sparkling wine and talking about first crushes. Giggling over poor choices and high-fiving over the ones who still Had It. Only when it was your turn, you’d found out pretty quick that he wasn’t on any socials- at least none that the four of you could sleuth out drunk on sheer determination and peach Andre. They’d let you have the rest of the bottle as a consolation prize when you’d all come up emptyhanded.

Bradley Bradshaw had remained a mystery to you, until that moment.

Gone was any trace of baby fat from his familiar face, replaced with a defined jaw and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. There were scars on his cheek and neck that hadn’t been there before, but the smile underneath that mustache was the same one from those summers all those years ago.

“It’s been a long time, huh?” Bradley said.

The only difference was the cute boy you’d known growing up was now quite possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

“How’d you get even hotter?” you blurted. It only took a split second for your brain to catch up with your mouth, wincing at the words that hung in the air unable to take them back.

Bradley’s eyes widened in surprise just for a moment before he laughed. Loud and unguarded and amused.

Mortified and flustered you drop down to your knees to pick up the scattered brown craft paper wrapped bundles of napkins that littered the narrow hallway. His presence- and bulk- filling up the already small space.

He kneeled down next to you, helping to collect the packs. “I don’t know about ‘hotter’, but probably taller since that last time I saw you.” You couldn’t help but notice how big his hands were as he reached for the furthest one that was sent flying as victim of your two-person Big Bang.

And broader, you think.

“We’ve been doing a lot of push-ups lately,” Bradley chuckled, “I keep telling the squad to stop underestimating the old man, but they never learn. They’re still just as competitive as ever.”

“Jesus,” you muttered under your breath, needing a rock to crawl under. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that ruffled around a man before. So caught off guard that all semblance of casually cool had left the building. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, and attempted to diffuse the situation with some self-deprecating humor, “Well, I wish second puberty had been as kind to me as it was for you.”

“From what I can see, it looks like it was pretty damn kind to you too.”

You’d pressed your lips together and fought back grin as you shook your head, reaching for another bundle. The last thing you’d needed was for him to be charming too.

You felt his gaze on the side of your face, like he was trying to catch your eye, and when you couldn’t avoid it any further without making it weird you met those warmer than cinnamon brown eyes.

“It’s good to see you again.” There was an earnest smile still in place on his face as he passed you the napkins he’d collected from his side of the hall.

He looked at you- probably the same way you’d been looking at him only a couple moments ago- trying to reconcile the carefree girl with the stunned woman in front of him, seeing what changes could be picked out on a face that hadn’t been seen in over a decade. You didn’t dare call it interest that was flickering in his eyes, but you could safely say there was at least some curiosity reflected in them.

You knew he wasn’t flirting, just trying to make you feel better less awkward about your earlier slip. Playing along the same way he did when he’d sabotage your brother at the water gun war game at Belmont Park so that you could stand a chance at winning a stuffed animal prize.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you replied, meaning it as you gave him a smile of your own for the first time and watching as his own grew a little wider.

“Bee? Did you find them? The napkins should be-” Penny came rounding the corner, taking in the scene in front of her and who you’d been delayed by. Your whole body jolted like she’d caught you playing 7 Minutes in Heaven instead of crouching on the floor. “Oh, I see you’ve found Rooster. And the napkins.”

“It was my bad, Penny, I plowed right into her,” Bradley- Rooster?- said standing back up, wrapping a hand under your elbow to help guide you up to your feet.

“Sorry, I’ll be right there,” you told her, gesturing with your napkin filled arms. He was quick to reach out and catch one of the slipping packs from the top of the pile before it could fall to the ground again, helping you to get them better situated and less like a Jenga stack waiting to collapse.

“There’s no rush. I just wanted to make sure you were finding everything alright.” Her eyes drifted back and forth between the two of you, before landing on him and flicking down to the hand still on your elbow. “Hey, since you’re here, would you mind grabbing a fresh keg of the Stone Brewing lager for me?”

He nodded, letting go of you and hooking his thumbs into his front pockets. “Sure thing, can do.”

“Thank you, Bradley. And Bee,” she continued, turning back to you, “You can just bring those up when you’re ready.” You didn’t know what to make of the smile she gave you before she’d set off back to the bar.

The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, although it hadn’t been the uncomfortable kind.

Bradley cleared his throat, his mouth quirking to one side. “I feel like there’s some kind of ‘the birds and the bees’ joke here. One I’m not qualified to make since you were always the funnier one of the two of us.”

That time it was your turn to laugh. You were more than a little pleased when his deeper one mixed with yours.

You warred with yourself- still holding those damn napkins- whether or not to wrap things up and go take them to Penny, but you wanted to know more.

“Rooster?” you’d asked, tilting your head at him in question.

“Believe it or not, I finally got past that fear of heights,” he explained, “I’m a pilot now.” You felt your smile grow on its own, it was something he’d always talked about. You were happy to learn he’d made it happen for himself. “Rooster is my callsign.”

It was a name you’d heard a few times since moving into the loft above the garage. The way Penny said it always made it seem like you should know who she was talking about, you just hadn’t taken a moment to ask, figuring that you’d meet this mysterious ‘Rooster’ eventually. You just never would have guessed you already knew him.

You told him as much, adding on, “Maybe she thought we’d kept in touch.”

“I would have liked that.” You ignored the fluttering low in your stomach. There was something in his voice that made your mouth go a little dry. “What’re you doing later? Are you here for long? I’d like to catch up, if you have time for an old friend.”

Friend.

The word shook you out of whatever Bradley Bradshaw induced haze you’d found yourself in.

You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, but one thing was for sure, all the two of you were ever going to be was platonic. It was a necessary reminder before any coconut sunscreen scented daydreams tempted you off course.

A smile stayed plastered to your face, one that felt more forced than it had been a few heartbeats ago, “I’m behind the bar until midnight, but I’ll be your friendly neighborhood bartender for the foreseeable future.”

Bradley grinned. “Guess, I’ll be seeing you around then, Bee.”

“I guess you will, Rooster.”

And you did.

You went from not seeing Bradley Bradshaw for over a decade to seeing him multiple times a week.

He kept you company at the bartop, swiveling on his stool, on slow nights as you found little projects to keep yourself occupied, like polishing and reorganizing the Hard Deck’s glassware collection. Filling each other in on the important things and people that had helped shaped the two of you into the adults that you’d grown into.

Rooster introduced you to his friends and teammates, making you feel not only included but liked you belonged in that same way he had when you were kids. Seamlessly bringing up common interests you shared with the people closest to him, giving you something to connect with them on your own outside of him. Always taking the initiative to extend invites your way to hang out at the beach or to check out the best spot for breakfast or to experience a Padres game complete with an unofficial culinary food tour of Petco Park.

He helped you paint the kitchenette in the loft a soft blue- with your aunt’s permission, of course. Meticulously taping off the countertop edges and cabinets, yet somehow ending up wearing more paint on an old, tightfitting UVA shirt that had seen better days than he got on the wall.

And on Sunday nights he was seated across from you at the oak dining table with Amelia, Penny, and Pete for the weekly dinner the five of you all had together. They’d been back together for over a year now, and it seemed like it was for good this time based on the way they looked at each other. Your aunt was noticeably happier than she’d been even just a few years ago, that spark back that had been dimmed from an unhappy marriage.

You were happy for her and Mav.

He’d even taken you for a spin on his motorcycle. It was a one and done event, reaffirming what you already knew, that you were more of a four-wheel girl than a two-wheel one.

When you weren’t at the bar or working on the few remote side gigs you’d taken on to keep your skills feeling fresh, you were helping Amelia learn to code. It wasn’t your forte, but you were having fun spending time with her and teaching her what you did know. And in return, she’d help you to revamp your wardrobe a bit. You thought California cool looked good on you.

There had been a brief moment when you’d been packing up your old apartment when you’d worried about being lonely in San Diego not knowing anyone outside of your family, but you were the furthest thing from lonely and you had Bradley to thank for that.

It was nice to have friend.

However, you were finding that crush on him harder to get over than you anticipated.

You still get annoyed at yourself when he smiles at you a certain way making your cheeks heat up and your stomach flip. Although, you try not to be too hard on yourself because he’s genuinely kind and good looking and you’re only human. God knows you’ve seen enough people notice him too from your perch behind the bar.

But there were worse problems to have.

You had spent that morning getting the Hard Deck decorated for the big New Year’s Eve party.

As the first to arrive, you’d gotten the coffee going on the ancient coffee maker that you were trying your hardest to get Penny to replace when a big hand skimmed the side of your waist, reaching past you to steal the cup you’d just poured for yourself.

You turned to see a sleepy looking Bradley standing behind you, his curled looked more like they were fresh off his pillow than the way you usually saw them styled.

“It’s too early for this.” You watched as he took a big swig from the cup, wincing as he registered just how hot Jimmy’s machine had brewed the coffee, just a couple degrees below scalding.

You gave him an unimpressed look, “Says the man who routinely wakes up at 5am for a sunrise run.”

“It’s the weekend, Bee,” Bradley said like it explained everything.

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Schematics.” He took another deep sip of your coffee, but not before you caught the mischievous way his mouth was curved upwards. “Everyone knows the days between Christmas and New Years Day are the Wild West of the calendar year, every day is a weekend day from the 26th to the 1st.”

You actually hadn’t seen Rooster since Christmas.

You’d decided to spend the holiday in San Diego since your parents had decided this was the year they were finally going to check out the Christmas markets in Europe like they’ve always wanted too. And you didn’t want to crash your brother’s first Christmas as a dad, instead you’d sent the most obnoxious baby toy you could find online in addition to a silky soft stuffed rabbit with your niece’s name embroidered on the ear.

When you opened the front door with the pretty stained glass sailing boat picture window, you’d been surprised to see Bradley standing there with a white faux fur trimmed Santa hat and holding a bag with unexpectedly well wrapped presents in one hand and a creamy, cranberry-colored pie in the other.

Your hand stayed glued to the doorknob as his eyes trailed over you. The house had been warm but a shiver still worked its way through your body as he took in your festive pajamas.

Before he could say anything Amelia ever-so-helpfully pointed out the mistletoe you’d conveniently forgotten about that had been hung above the wood door. Frankly, she sounded a bit too enthusiastic about it.

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like little punk, although his tone was so affectionate that you thought you must have misheard him. But you didn’t get to think on it for too long because then he was leaning in, in, in.

Your heart shot straight into your throat at the first prickle of his mustache and then the slightly dry lips as they brushed against your cheek for the briefest of moments.

And then he pulled away all too soon.

Friend. Friend. Friend. You tried to remind yourself, but your heart was too aflutter to get the message.

He looked you straight in the eyes as he stepped back, “Can you do me a favor, Bee?”

You must have made a sound that was close enough to an mhm, because then he passed you the bag of presents and the pie waiting only long enough to make sure you had a good hold on them both before darting around you to chase after Amelia.

Amelia squealed when Bradley caught her, ducking his head down to drop a playfully chaotic kiss on her cheek.

He ended up giving Penny and Mav the same treatment too. Although Pete shoved him away good-naturedly when he tried to plant a particularly sloppy one on him.

All while your feet stayed glued to the same spot they were when he kissed you.

But that was six days ago. Probably the longest stint without seeing him since you collided with him that afternoon a few months ago.

The smell of strong coffee and cinnamon had coaxed you back into the moment, and you’d shook your head a bit like that would help you clear your mind with Bradley standing so close to you again.

“I don’t think it’ll take us too long,” you declared, trying to get focused back on the task at hand- that being the unofficial head of the NYE decorating committee, “I even made us a schedule.”

“Of course you did. Is it color-coded?” he asked over the rim of the chipped mug.

“And if it is?” you countered, unashamed of your planning. And then there was that damn smile of his.

“Then I’m really going to need this coffee,” he winked, and poured you a cup of your own.

You’d been right though. With everyone pitching in things came together rather quickly.

The morning moving steadily as the Christmas decorations were replaced with classic the gold and white and black color scheme you’d went with for the party. The silver tinsel tree covered in beach themed shaped ornaments with a few planes hung about by the front door might have stood out at odds with everything else, but metallic was a neutral in your book so you’d opted to keep the cheerful tree up just a little bit longer and tucked a few party blowers into the branches to tie it in with the rest of the space.

It was easy for you to get in the zone, delegating and divvying up the tasks on your color-coded schedule, putting all your project tracking skills to use. There were dozens of strands of string lights that had to gone up on the ceiling and along the walls. All of the windows with the snowflake cut outs you and Amelia had made for Christmas were framed in a metallic fringe. There was a station with hats and headbands and glasses in case anyone was feeling particularly festive. The tables and booths had been stocked with noise makers and confetti poppers in addition to the mirrorball centerpieces and confetti scatter.

Everything sparkled and shined, the light bouncing off everything gave the bar a wonderfully hazy glow, it was the perfect ambiance for the most hopeful night of the year.

At one point, you’d been working on hanging up some dangling golden stars from one of the ceramic mug rounders only to find Bradley standing there at the base of the ladder behind you with a well-defined arm stretched out just in case you lost balance.

And then just like that, your focus went out the window. Because then he was everywhere. He made it impossible for you to not notice him, especially since so many of your jobs and his overlapped, something you’d come to regret more and more as the hours went by.

You’d been working on tying off balloons and lamenting the fact you didn’t order another pump with the tying tool, when you’d decided to take a break to massage your numb fingertips. You looked up to check the progress made with fresh eyes, to see Rooster on a ladder helping Mav to get the netting set up for the balloon drop.

The athletic shorts he’d been wearing were hanging low on his hips. And as he reached up to hand Pete another nail it caused his t-shirt to ride up giving you a glimpse of toned stomach and tantalizing v-lines. It was just as tempting as it was taunting.

You’d switched to ice water after that.

The image was seared into your mind for the rest of the afternoon. Not even the freezing cold shower you’d hopped into the second you made it back to your loft to freshen up before the party had helped. Neither had the rushed orgasm to take the edge off, because it wasn’t your own fingers that you wanted.

He’d found you before the party well and truly started.

You’d been double checking all the prep, making sure you had the bar stocked up as was possible without losing any valuable space, when you felt a hand on your back. Bradley was dressed up in a navy suit that fit him in all the right places, looking more handsome than you knew possible. All broad shoulders and thick thighs. The top button of his pristinely pressed white shirt undone, giving you a peek at the divot base of his throat.

You weren’t sure what made you more flustered, that hint of his neck or the skin under his bellybutton that you’d seen only a couple hours ago.

A soft smile coasted over his face as he took in your New Years’ Eve finest. “You look-”

“I know, rhinestones for New Years’ Eve, how groundbreaking,” you joked, cutting him off and giving your best Miranda Priestly impression.

You were wearing a black velvet jumpsuit for the party. You loved the way it fit the curves of your body and the way the halter top made your collarbones and shoulders look. There was just a hint of skin with the keyhole near the bust. But it was also practical- right down to your plain black no-show panties you had on- so you could move easily without worrying about giving anyone an eyeful. It wasn’t the flashiest of outfits, there’d be more than enough sequins later on, but the way Bradley was looking at you made it feel like your off the rack might as well be haute couture.

“I was going to say, you look good. Really good.” Bradley takes his time letting his eyes drag down your body, his cheek kicking up when he lands on your shoes. “I especially like the birks, they tie the whole look together.”

The clogs you were wearing were decidedly unsexy, not many people could pull of the potato shoe, but you weren’t there as a party guest, you still had work to do and your night was just getting started. “I don’t think stilettos and stouts would mix together very well,” you said by way of explanation.

Bradley chuckled and reached out taking an end of the little rhinestone bow that dangled from right beneath your neck where the straps met and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. “I think this might be my favorite part though,” he rasps lowly. There was an intensity in his eyes directed at you that you hadn’t seen before.

For a moment it looked like he was about to say more, and then a glass shattered.

The sound of it caused you to crash back into your body.

“And so it begins,” you announced, taking a half step backwards and out of his touch, that rhinestone cord falling back against your sternum with a gentle thud that you felt reverberate in your chest.

You heard him say your name, but you were already setting off for a broom.

So you’d kept your head down and your hands busy.

It felt like for every drink you made, two more were ordered. Barely noticing as the final minutes of this year flew by while you garnished drinks with bright cherries and slices of lemon with a flourish before handing them off.

Offering smiles and well wishes to those here to celebrate. True to your namesake as you swiped cards and counted bills and mixed and poured and served the drinks to the ever-rotating people in front of you.

You made eye contact with Rooster a couple times throughout the night, the same way you usually did when you were behind the bar and he was there. Eyes drawn to him like a magnet against your will.

He hadn’t come up to you at all since before the party started. You’d seen him with the Daggers when you went to refill the water tank, heard the keys of the upright piano when you grabbed more ice from the back room, saw him talking with the girl in the shiny dress and her interested eyes as you put the freshly washed glasses away.

Just like he’d been the best parts of your San Diego summers, he’d become the best part of your year.

You’d spent the last four months trying to convince yourself that it was a silly crush, that you could will it away or get over it. But now just a couple moments shy of a new year barreling towards you, it was time to face the fact that Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t someone you were ever going to get over.

Although if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure you wanted to get over him.

You’re giving the counter a quick wipe down, taking advantage of the brief lull when the music cuts off, startling you out of your thoughts.

Twelve!

The countdown had snuck up on you. Just like everything else had this year.

Eleven!

You’d had your fill of unexpected surprises, some for the worse and some for the better. While it felt like you’d had more downs than ups, you were ending the year feeling the most content you have since you were laid off. And that was more than good enough for you.

Ten!

At the beginning of this year, you never would have guessed that you’d end it in San Diego. This year had taken from you, but it had also given you a lot. New friends, new places to explore, new memories, new hopes.

Nine!

You were still figuring things out and that was ok. Even though you still weren’t sure what was next for you, you knew everything would work out. One way or another you’d find yourself on the other side of this and able to look back with pride for making it through all the challenges that had been thrown your way.

Eight!

And while things didn’t shape out the way you anticipated them to, with goals still yet to be achieved and a vision board of ideas that you’d carry into the new year, you had so much to be grateful for.

Seven!

You liked San Diego- and not in the just-for-now way. You liked the life you were building here. You liked the beach and the sand and the sun. You liked you Sunday dinners with Penny and Amelia and Pete. You liked the people you were surrounded by. You liked the stories you’ve collected from your side of the bar. You liked the diner down the road with their perfectly shaped coffee cups. You liked your new normal while you got your feet back under you. You liked the potential you felt was here.

Six!

And then there was Bradley.

Five!

You were avoiding looking in his direction, too worried about what you might see, not wanting to end this year with another disappointment. You’ve come to accept that he had a piece of you that you weren’t sure you were ever going to get back. But that was something for you to deal with next year.

Four!

For now, you are right where you are supposed to be.

Three!

Because what is meant for you will never pass you by. Not in life and not in love. And that was something you could count on, something you could hold onto.

Two!

You smile to yourself and close your eyes.

The crowd chants One!

You breathe out and let go.

And when the cheers of Happy New Year! ring out, you breathe in and open your heart up to all the possibilities.

Enjoying the moment for what it was- exactly as it was- as the party noise makers started going off all around you.

As New Years’ kisses were traded.

As people greeted a fresh, bright New Year with wide-open and welcoming arms.

Where anything could happen.

Where anything was possible because the year was waiting to written.

You tip your head back and open your eyes, watching as the balloons you’d spent the afternoon tying knots in started to fall, slowly at first and then more until your view was a cocoon of black and gold and white and clear blocking out the rest of the world from view.

Time seemed to slow a bit as the confetti poppers joined the mix adding to the echo of fireworks going off nearby. The glints of gold and little shiny dots of sparkles and streamers seemed to hang in the air. There was a cacophony of cheerful noises, from the poppers to the people to the familiar sound of Whitney Houston being piped over the static-y speakers.

A moment of magic for you and you alone, as you pocketed the hope and optimism you felt rippling around you.

Over the next couple of hours pass just as swiftly as before. As you got back into the groove of serving people, your brain snagged on the sound of Aud Land Syne being played on the upright piano at the other end of the bar, and the only person it could be playing it.

It wasn’t long before people steadily started to trickle out the front door.

You’d made sure to shoo Penny out to the dance floor with Pete as the lineup of people slowed down enough for her to have some New Years Eve fun.

No one had gone too crazy, but even so, you helped arranged people rides to get home safe between closing out tabs and announcing the last call for the few people who wanted to stick it out until the very end. Waving to your new friends as they all slowly but surely made their exits.

You’d lost track of Rooster along the way, it would have been nice to wish him a Happy New Year, but it was probably for the best. It was easier on your heart to not know whether he left with some of the Daggers or with the girl with the silver sequins.

You just locked the door after the last couple stragglers had left for the night. You’d sent Penny away a little over a half an hour ago- along with Mav- since there’d been only a handful of people to look after.

She’d made you promise not to stay behind after locking up, but you didn’t see the harm in tidying things up a bit more. You were collecting the empty glasses that had been scattered about and abandoned on window ledges and tables when you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye, nearly causing you to drop the bus tub you were holding on to.

“Bradley! Jesus.” You set the plastic tub down on a table with more force than necessary, the glasses rattling against each other, and press a hand to your chest where your heart is rapidly knocking about. “What are you still doing here?”

You figured he left already, so you’re more than a little surprised he’s still here. And not just because he startled you half to death.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, putting his hands up. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, I was taking out some trash and then got held up talking to Jake for a few minutes. I didn’t realize everyone else had left.”

“I just locked the front doors,” you say, waving towards the now closed front door.

Bradley takes a cautious step closer. “So, it’s just us then?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look like he’s been partying for the better part of five hours, he looks just as handsome as he did at the start of the evening, whereas you’re sure you probably look as ruffled as you felt.

“We’re the last two standing,” you confirm, putting your hands on your lower back to stretch out the tightness that had settled along your spine over the course of the night, “But just barely, on my end.”

“You’ve been busy tonight.” You hum in agreement and reach for a foam-covered glass that was left between the coaster holder and napkin dispensers. His big hand closing around it first and he pins you with a look, leaning a hip against the table, “So tell me, why are you still cleaning when you and I both know for a fact Penny hired a crew to take care of this in the morning?”

You don’t have an answer for him, at least, not one you were willing to share. That even though the ball had dropped and the confetti had fallen you weren’t ready to have the night be over yet. Knowing that the moment you locked up for good and got in your car and headed home, that the bottle of champagne you’d bought for yourself and plans with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal wouldn’t hit quite the way you’d hope it would.

Instead, you offer him a shrug.

Bradley’s eyes search yours for a moment before he gives you a gentle smile. “C’mon, busy bee, I think you’ve more than earned yourself a glass of champagne.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, already making his way towards the bar, not that you put up much of a fight. The ‘Greatest Hits’ playlist that Penny had queued up for the night is still playing in the background, you recognize opening notes of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” as you trail after him.

You lift an eyebrow as he pulls out a stool for you, but he just mirrors you by lifting one of his own and gestures to the seat. You think you feel his thumb sweep over your hip as he helps you into the stool before stepping into the front bar. A little sigh of relief slips out of you, finally off your feet for the first time all night.

You’re tired, but it’s a happy kind of tired. You’d had a nice time all things considering. Seeing the bright faces of everyone tonight had made all the work you’d put in feel worth it, all the planning and prep and decorating made it worth it if tonight ended up being a fond memory for someone.

Bradley grins at you from over his shoulder mischievously, “You know, Penny’s never let me behind the bar before.” He says it so conspiratorially, like he’s getting away with something and you’re an eyewitness to his delinquency, as if he wasn’t a decorated golden boy of the United States Navy.

You laugh, endeared by the boyish smile on his face. “Probably because you’re never wearing the right shoes,” you tease, wiggling a clog towards him.

And he chuckles, warm and affectionate.

Rooster finds the freshly washed glasses easily- Pete had done a great job as the designated dishwasher of the evening, loading and unloading glasses as quickly as they came with speedy efficiency. You see as his hand hesitates for a moment eyeing the already open bottle of champagne on the counter warily, and you point a glossy cranberry coated fingernail to the fridge under the counter, where you knew a few uncorked ones were still stocked knowing that Penny won’t mind if you pilfer a celebratory bottle to share between yourselves.

With your help he finds the chilled bottle and shoots the cork across the room with a cheerful pop! You make a mental note to pick it up later marking the spot in your mind, which he must notice because he says, knowingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll grab it later. You’re officially off the clock.”

He pours you a glass and then one for himself with a flourish, clearly showing off as the bubbles fizz to the top of the rim without spilling over. You’ve spent all night catering to everyone else, it’s nice to have someone looking out for you now.

Rooster holds out a glass for you, “Cheers, Bee.”

You smile and clink yours against his.

The bubbles burst across your tongue, refreshing and crisp. The two of you sip on your glasses of champagne in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm after a busy day and busier night.

“Did you have a nice time tonight, Bradley?”

“It was nice enough, I guess,” he says, giving you a half smile, “I’m having a much better time now though.”

You take another little sip, attributing the fluttering in your chest to the bubbles.

“It feels weird to be sitting on this side of the bar,” you muse, changing the subject, “You know, I don’t think I made you a drink at all tonight.”

He takes the bottle and pours you a little more. “People kept hogging my favorite bartender.”

You grin into your glass.

“I would have made time for you,” you say.

He leans down and fold his arms in front of him, so that your faces are level. “You would have?”

The answer comes easily. “Of course.”

Bradley gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret, like reading your face isn’t enough that he wants to know what’s going on inside of your head. You always kind of thought your cards had been on the table the whole time, but maybe you’d been keeping them closer to your chest than you’d realized.

“It was nice of you to make sure Penny and Mav got out on the dancefloor earlier.”

“You saw that?” It hadn’t been an easy feat, but it had been worth it to see them looking at each other in a way you hoped you’d find someday.

His gaze is steady when he replies, “I did.”

Flustered now, you feel your cheeks heat up. “Amelia and I had a bet about if he was going to propose tonight, and I thought I’d do my part to try and help her win twenty dollars. I didn’t think he would, at least not here in front of a crowd of people, but I hope he’ll do it soon.”

He nods, taking a sip of his own, the tips of his ears getting red.

You lean forward on your elbows, “Tell me what you know, Bradshaw.”

“I’m a vault,” he says, shaking his head.

“Does he have a ring?” you ask, elatedly.

Bradley takes another deep sip of champagne, giving you nothing, at least not with his words. But you don’t need him to confirm, not with the way his lips are turned up, clearly happy for his uncle and your aunt.

Good, you smile to yourself, that’s good.

“I also happened to notice that you didn’t get to dance at all tonight.”

“No, I didn’t.” You could have. Penny had tried to get you to take a few minutes to enjoy yourself, but you kept finding excuses to stay planted where you were. “There’s always next year,” you add, circling your finger around the base of your champagne glass.

Bradley steps out from behind the bar and takes the half full glass from your hand, setting it on top of a coaster in a move that you find entirely too appealing. And holds out a hand out for you, “We should fix that.”

His large fingers wrap around your hand- strong and sure- as he guides you towards the old jukebox, the two of you walking over the confetti covered floor and though the sea of balloons that bobbed in your wake.

He lets go when the two of you have reached the middle of the makeshift dancefloor that had been cleared of the tables that were normally there for the night. Your feet stay put as he makes his way to the sticker covered jukebox and starts flipping through the options.

“I keep trying to get Penny to get a new one that takes a card,” you say nervously, filling the quiet, the air now charged with something new between the two of you. “Or one with an app, where people could pay and pick things from their phone.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he teases playfully, still scanning through the CDs, clearly on a mission to find a particular song.

“She keeps a couple spare quarters on the ledge behind it- but uhm- I’m not sure if they’re still there or not, or if people have already used them. I could grab some from the register-”

You take a half step back, but Rooster stops you.

“Don’t go flying away, Bee.” He pulls out his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket and fishes out a couple coins, holding them out on his flattened palm for you to see. “You see, I’ve been saving these ones for just the right girl.”

You didn’t know your heart could beat so fast.

Bradley slips them into the machine with a metallic plink, once and then twice. The corner of his mouth pulls up as his eyes drift over you. “Yeah, you’re definitely an N24 kind of girl.”

He punches in the code and walks purposefully back to you.

The gentle sound of an acoustic guitar crackles to life over the old speaker system of the Hard Deck, the song much slower than you were anticipating. The opening notes are familiar ones to you, but different than what you were used to hearing. This rendition was delicate and atmospheric. Intimate. Almost like the music was wearing its heart on its sleeve.

Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you in. His eyes are heavy on yours, you feel the weight of them everywhere. He coaxes your hand onto his broad shoulder and takes the other one in his, drawing it to his chest.

He holds you close as he leads you in a dance.

No one has ever looked at you the way he is looking at you.

“Ask me about my night again,” he murmurs, invitingly.

You swallow. “Did you have a nice time earlier tonight?”

“No.” Your breath stutters in your chest and you miss a step, but he easily guides you through it. “No,” he repeats, “I didn’t because I couldn’t spend it with the only person I want to.”

Your voice has escaped you, not that you’d trust it not to completely give you away.

“This is the part where you ask me how it’s going now.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, encouragingly.

“This doesn’t feel very friendly,” you whisper.

Bradley presses you even closer to him. Every part of you is touching him, and you’re warm everywhere. “That’s good,” he rasps, “Because I’m not really going for just ‘friendly’ here, honey.”

You see everything there plain as day, written all over his face.

All you can say is his name.

“Bradley.”

And he says yours in return, so gently like it’s precious to him.

“I kept hoping you’d look my way during the countdown. But then you looked so thoughtful and all I wanted was to see that moment through your eyes. I couldn’t look away, you’re so beautiful.”

Feeling brave, you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, combing your fingers through the short hair at the base of his head. He hums, pleased and content.

“You didn’t get a New Years Eve kiss.” It’s a statement. Like he knows because he was paying attention.

Your stomach swoops, and it’s like you’re fifteen and riding the Giant Dipper again.

“Neither did you, it seems.” His eyes drop down to your mouth.

“No, I didn’t,” he confirms, raising a hand up and skimming his thumb along your lower lip. “But now I’ve got a whole year to practice.

Bradley brings both hands to cup your face. His eyes traveling from your eyes to your nose to your mouth, a soft smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you.

When his lips meet yours it’s like time stops. You can’t hear the music over the rushing in your ears or the beating of your heart. In that moment, all there is only Bradley.

There’s no hesitation in the way his mouth moves against yours. Or in the way his teeth grazes your lower lip, right before he follows it with his tongue. It’s as if he has played this moment in his head so many times before.

Like there was never a question in his mind about if it was ever going to happen, but when.

There’s a surety in his touch, in the way he cradles your face in his big hands, in the way he angles your head just right.

The way Bradley kisses you makes you feel like this is the moment he’s been waiting for the whole night.

That it’s the moment he’s been waiting the last four months for.

His kiss is sweet like cinnamon and you know you’ll never be the same now that you’ve had a taste of it.

Your first one of the year. And it belongs to Bradley Bradshaw. Just as you always hoped it would be.

He pulls away just enough to skim his lips teasingly against yours. “Happy New Year, Bee.”

“Happy New Year, Bradley.”

You grin and he dips back down to kiss you again.

Time ticks on, but this time there isn’t a countdown. Only his mouth against yours and your arms wrapped around his neck.

After a while, he pulls away again, looking entirely and thoroughly kissed. It’s a good look for him.

He smiles at you. “My mom used to believe in ‘beginning as you mean to go on’. Taking time on the first of a new year and doing something that you want to make a part of your year going forward,” he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “So if you’re up for it, honey, I’d like to take you out to breakfast at that 24-hour diner. Because I mean to go on with you this year and the next one after that if I’m lucky.”

“I’d like that,” you say, taking a snapshot of this moment and the way those warm, brown eyes are gazing at you. “Just as long as we leave some time for mine. I have an idea of how I’d like to ‘begin as I mean to go on’.”

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

You don’t answer, instead you just lean in close until you feel his smile pressed against your.

The two of you eventually lock up for the night, for good this time. But only after Bradley finally stops kissing you long enough to grab that cork he’d shot across the bar earlier, pretending not to see the way he tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket.

He takes your hand in his warm one, his fingers slipping easily between yours like he’s done it hundreds of times before.

The sunrise is still a couple of hours away, but you can see the promise of dawn and all the possibilities it’ll bring.

Bradley turns his head back to look at you and grins, it’s wide enough that the corners of his eyes crinkle.

A new day, a new year.

And you can’t help but think that this really will be the best one yet.

Happy 2025, tgm friends! I hope this is your year! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

If you want to know what song Bradley played for Bee 🥰

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #Bradley Bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x female reader #Bradley Bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster Bradshaw x you #Bradley rooster Bradshaw x reader #Bradley rooster Bradshaw x female reader #Bradley rooster Bradshaw imagine #Bradley rooster Bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction

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peppermint-toads · 1 year ago

Text

you don’t like doctor’s offices. especially not now. you don’t like the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights, the cabinets that’ve been there since the late 80’s, the pamphlets sitting in an acrylic holder telling you that you have options.

options. not anymore. because you’re sitting on the examination table about 16 weeks pregnant, waiting for the doctor.

“the baby looks healthy,” the doctor tells you, barging into the room without a knock. “i’m prescribing zofran for the nausea. the nurse will see you out.”

thank fucking god. you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of this place. the best part about these visits was the walk home. they are usually quite pleasant. being pregnant in the summertime has its downfalls, but feeling the breeze in your hair and through your thin dress is your saving grace.

it’s just another bonus that you pass your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. you think you’ll have an affogato today, decaf, of course.

it smells like heaven in the shop, that cool, sweet smell from the coolers. your favorite. this is your saving grace, this affogato will solidify the day as a good one, despite the lingering feeling of doctor on you.

ice cream in hand, it’s finally time to go home. the walk is clearing your head already. you eat a spoonful of vanilla and sigh. maybe you ought to stop by the pharmacy for those meds. on second thought, that can be tomorrow’s task. you’ll be alright.

actually, maybe not. because you see simon riley’s stupid, bulking form walking towards you about a block away. fuck. shit fuck. you should hide. duck into the closest shop before he can come after you. but it’s no hope, you’re looking up and you’ve already made direct eye contact. nausea meds sound so good right now.

may as well keep going forward. it’s not like he’ll notice, anyway. you’re barely showing, but your white dress isn’t doing you any favors right now.

you’ll give a polite smile, duck your head, and all will be well. no stopping, no small talk, no—

simon is physically cornering you to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and there is nothing you can do about it. maybe if you curl your back in a little bit, the bump won’t be as noticeable.

“what are you doing? stop that.”

he is so gracefully referring to your posture.

“i don’t have time for this simon. i’ve got things to do.”

you walk sideways around him, and he follows.

“where are you coming from?”

you can’t help it. “you lost the right to ask that question when you fell off the face of the planet.”

you hear him grunt behind you and smile. great, no snide comments yet.

“you look different.”

shit. he’s jogging, catching up to you and walking by your side now. the breeze is picking up and you shift uncomfortably. the fabric of your dress is clinging to your stomach.

simon looks down, his intent is to see what you’re eating, but he catches a glimpse of your swollen stomach and freezes. he’s nearly swallowed by all the foot traffic.

“simon?” you feel the loss of him by your side. he’s stood still, strangers bumping into him and jostling his shoulders.

great. now you’re backtracking, when really all you want is to be at home, in bed.

“simon, what’s your problem?”

“you’re pregnant.”

time stops for him. he’s the father, no way he couldn’t be. unless you were cheating on him, which he highly doubts considering your heart is the purest thing he’s ever encountered during his time on this earth.

you let out a long, long sigh. “yeah.”

then you’re swaying, trying to keep upright and simultaneously swallowing down vomit. simon watches as the life drains from your face a bit. his hands are gripping your shoulders to stabilize you. his touch feels nice, warm.

“i need to get home,” you tell him with a sad smile, pained to be leaving his soft touch behind yet again.

“i’ll walk you.”

you nod. you don’t have the heart to ask him to take his hand off your waist, feels too good. and he’s keeping the world right side up.

it’s only a short distance home, and soon he’s ushering you up the stairs to your flat. you don’t stop him from doing that, either.

you also don’t stop him from pulling your favorite blanket over you after helping you lie down on the couch.

you don’t even get the chance to tell him to leave because you’re just so tired, and his presence makes you feel so safe. you’re falling asleep and quickly. he lets you.

he sits and watches you sleep for the better part of an hour. when you stir, he’s there, staring.

he’s in your lounge chair, chin resting on his folded knuckles.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re barely awake and what’s he saying? “huh?” you say stupidly, wiping your eyes of sleep.

“i said,” he swallows, “i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re sitting straight up now, definitely more awake now. “i couldn’t have told you. even if i wanted to. you disappeared, simon.

he did. but he doesn’t have the time to explain that now. so, he ignores you.

“how far along are you?”

you tell him. he stands from the chair, sitting down right next to you. he asks if he can feel your stomach. you guess so.

things are getting a little too serious for you now.

“right, well. i had a lovely nap, and i’m feeling much better. thank you for walking me home, but i need to stop by the pharmacy and—”

he interrupts you, tugging your wrist when you try to stand. “i’ll go for you. i’ll do it, please. i’ll do anything you ask me to.

you frown down at him. “simon, there’s no point to this. please just go. it’s just… too late.”

simon’s heart is breaking. he didn’t think it could break anymore than it already has in the last few months.

“let me stay.”

he begs. you think there are tears in his eyes, and if you let them fall you know there’ll be no going back. so you sit with him, you let him kiss you with his hand on your stomach. you let him lay you down on the beat up couch he was always pestering you to replace. you let him pull your dress over your head and kiss his way down your stomach. you let him sink into you slowly and pull your calves up to rest on his shoulders. you let him cum inside of you, again.

you even let him go to the pharmacy for you.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x pregnant reader

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

Text

The Three Cs: Frank Langdon x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @julessworldd @yousigned-upforthis @dizzybee03 @nowandajenn

Companion piece to:

Hypocrite - Frank struggles to make amends for a past wrongs.

Crash - Almost getting you fired wasn't the lowest point of Frank's addiction.

Rock Bottom - Frank hits rock bottom when he sees the devastation his addiction's caused.

Every Damn Day - A drunk text leads to a confession.

Wet Dream (NSFW) - Frank sometimes dreams about you.

War Stories - A realisation about your coping habits leads you to Frank's door.

There are three Cs in Al-Anon.

I don’t cause it.

I can’t control it.

I can’t cure it.

Frank hits every single one of them as you sit across from each other in his kitchen, nursing cups of decaf tea. It’s something he’s been drinking to wind down after work, to offset the caffeine that he consumes during his shift. The act of switching to decaf signals that it’s time to relax, which in turn has helped him to develop a better sleeping pattern. It’s just one of the healthier changes he’s made in his life since rehab.

“You didn’t make me an addict.” He assures you as your fingertips tap out an anxious tune upon the surface of the table. “It started after I helped my parents move, remember I tweaked my back?”

You do remember that, you also remember the opiates they put him on, your concerns about the addictiveness of them. He’d laughed it off because he was a doctor, he knew better.

He had… until he hadn’t.

“There was nothing you could have done to stop it.” He tells you, his thumb tracing over the Steelers logo on his mug. “I was in complete denial until the investigation. I didn’t believe I had a problem, not when I almost killed us both in the car, not when I was crawling out of my skin from withdrawal, not until the night…”

He pauses and looks away and you know he’s talking about the overdose, the one that fucked you up so badly you still re-live it in your dreams.

“You scared the fuck out of me that night.” You find yourself saying. “I thought you were going to die, that I’d killed you by leaving. I carried that guilt around with me for so long…”

“You have nothing to feel guilty for.” Frank asserts, setting his mug down. He clasps his hands together on the surface of the table, his blue eyes meeting yours. “You couldn’t have cured me Ivy, even if you had stuck around. I needed to hit rock bottom, to see the hole I created, I needed to dig myself out.”

“And how’s that going?” You ask, cradling your own mug to your chest. The heat radiates against your skin, warming you from the inside out. “You must have hit your year right? Don’t they give you a coin for that?”

“It’s a chip.” He says, picking up his wallet. He flicks it open, withdrawing a gold chip before he hands it to you. You grasp it tightly in your palm, your gaze coming to rest on photograph still residing in the see through pocket. It’s from the day the two of you went hiking in Frick Park, you’d watched the sunset from a grassy knoll and Frank had told you that he loved you, that he would always love you.

“I’m trying to let go.” He tells you with a sad smile as you give the coin back. “I know you’re moving on and I’m happy for you-”

“I’m not moving on.” You say, shaking your head in response to his words. “I go out on dates but they don’t mean anything because they’re not the man I want to be spending time with. They don’t light that fire in me that you do, even now with so much distance between us, there’s still so much chemistry, so much love, I can feel it everytime I look at you…”

You swallow hard against the ache that’s growing in your chest, your eyes stinging.

“I’m still in love with you Frank and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to get past it.”

“Maybe you don’t get past it.” Frank says reaching out to take your hand. His fingers entwine with yours and it feels like you can breathe again for the first time in over a year. “Maybe it’s time we take a step forward and try something new.”

Love Frank? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#frank langdon #frank langdon x reader #doctor frank langdon #doctor frank langdon x reader #dr langdon #dr langdon x reader #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt 2025 #the pitt fanfiction

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tikitakatia · 10 days ago

Text

Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Write to Me and Escape"

WC: 5.5k

Summary: You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you just had to see them even if it wrecked you. But what you find changes everything, and nothing feels the same anymore.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 , Pt.4

The rhythm with go4goald2 fell back into place quicker than you expected.

Alexia had warned you about the media days, press events and tight schedule. You’d nodded to yourself, thanked her for the heads-up, and tried not to be disappointed when she used the words “a few days.” It had taken months for her to remember how to tell you things before they hurt. You gave her credit for that. Quietly. Without saying it out loud.

But now with her occupied and off your screen, off your mind in a way that felt both guilty and relieving, you opened Chattr without hesitation. No wince. No weighing what it meant.

Just you. And them.

The message was already waiting.

[go4goald2]: Okay, important: If your life had a laugh track, what moment would it play the loudest?

You grinned before you even started typing.

[lostinthecrowd]: When I waved back at someone who was waving at the person behind me, then tried to cover it by swatting a fly that didn’t exist.

[go4goald2]: Oh my god, I’m cringing in solidarity.

[lostinthecrowd]: It haunts me weekly. Specifically at 11:47 p.m. when I'm trying to sleep like a normal person.

[go4goald2]: Good, it keeps you humble.

You laughed and felt something in your chest unspool just a little.

[go4goald2]: Okay, but now I need more. What's the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on purpose?

You didn’t overthink it. You didn’t try to be cool. You just told the truth.

[lostinthecrowd]: I once tried to flirt with a barista by ordering “whatever you think matches my vibe.”

[lostinthecrowd]: They gave me a decaf oat milk lavender latte that tasted like sadness and dirt.

[go4goald2]: Nooo. Did you drink the whole thing??

[lostinthecrowd]: Yep. Smiled through it then tipped five bucks out of pure shame.

There was a pause. Just long enough to notice.

Then:

[go4goald2]: You´re such a dumbass.

[go4goald2]: I love you.

You froze.

Not because you thought they meant it.

Not really.

But because it hit different, even as a joke.

Because the part of you that was still clawing for something real? It wanted to believe it. Even just for a second.

You didn’t reply right away.

[go4goald2]: I´m so sorry. That was too much.

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It wasn’t. I just... didn’t expect it.

A pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: I think about you a lot when I'm not talking to you. When something dumb happens. When I see something and wonder if you’d laugh at it. That's normal, right?

You stared at the screen.

Felt your chest clench in that stupid, hopeful, terrified way.

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe not normal. But... not bad.

Another beat.

[go4goald2]: Have you ever fallen for someone just by how they see you?

That was… something.

Because yes.

Because that’s exactly what this was starting to feel like.

You typed slower this time.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think I'm scared of how much I want to say yes to that.

You waited.

And waited.

Then finally:

[go4goald2]: I won't ask you to say it. Not if it’s not the time. I just want you to know you’re seen exactly as you are. You don’t have to change anything around me.

You closed your eyes. Let the words settle.

Alexia was trying. She was.

But this?

This felt like being chosen in real time.

And you didn’t know what to do with that yet.

So instead, you reached down, scratched behind Tofu’s ears, and whispered, “You’re not helping, you know.”

He snorted. Rolled over like he disagreed.

Your phone buzzed again.

[go4goald2]: Are you still with me?

You hesitated.

Then, without thinking too hard, you typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, I’m still here.

And god help you, for the first time in a long time, you meant it.

[go4goald2]: If I asked you something kind of dangerous, would you answer?

[lostinthecrowd]: That depends. Are we talking dangerous like “eat expired sushi” or dangerous like “emotional vulnerability at midnight”?

[go4goald2]: The second one, obviously.

[lostinthecrowd]: Then maybe, ask.

[go4goald2]: Do you think some people are meant for us… But not meant to stay?

[lostinthecrowd]: Jesus.

[go4goald2]: Too much?

[lostinthecrowd]: Not too much. Just… accurate.

[go4goald2]: I think about it a lot. How sometimes you meet someone and they wreck you. Not in a bad way. Just… Like they rearrange everything inside you. And then they’re gone. But you’re still left shaped like them.

[lostinthecrowd]: And then you meet someone else, and they touch that same part of you, but gentler.

[go4goald2]: Yeah. Like maybe the first person cracked you open so someone else could find you.

[lostinthecrowd]: I don't know if I believe in fate.

[go4goald2]: Me neither. But I believe in timing, and maybe we don’t always get to choose what hurts.

[lostinthecrowd]: Sometimes I think I was supposed to love her, just not forever.

There was a pause.

Not the bad kind. The kind that means someone is breathing slowly before saying something that might change everything.

[go4goald2]: And now?

You stared at the screen. Tofu shifted against your thigh. You started typing, fingers shaking.

[lostinthecrowd]: Now I'm scared, because I think I'm falling again. and I don't know whose arms I want to land on.

You didn’t get a reply right away.

But the typing bubble flickered.

Flickered.

Then it disappeared.

Then..

Your phone rang.

Not Chattr.

Not go4goald2.

Alexia.

You froze. Let it ring once. Twice. Four times.

Your thumb moved before you could talk yourself out of it.

“...Hey,” you said, your voice paper-thin.

There was a pause. Then:

“Sorry,” she said, exhaling like the air had been punched out of her. “I didn’t mean to call. I mean, I did. I just…”

You waited.

“I’m at the hotel,” she said, too fast. “Patri and Pina were curled up on the couch watching some stupid romcom, and she was laughing so hard she had to hide her face in her hoodie. It made me think of you. Of us. Of how we used to be when everything still felt easy.”

She paused.

“And I just.. God, I missed you so much it hurt. Like physical, actual pain. And I didn’t know what to do with it, so I called.”

You didn’t say anything and allowed the silence to wrap around both of you like fog.

Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that it’s 1am and I heard your laugh in my head and I realized it’s been months since I heard it for real. And that’s my fault.”

She sniffled. Not trying to hide it. “I spent so long trying to prove I could be everything to everyone. I didn’t realize I was becoming nothing to you.”

You swallowed hard.

“I miss you,” she whispered. “Not just the version of you that laughed with me. The quiet parts too. The hard days. The mornings when you hated everyone but me. I miss you. All of it.”

She laughed, watery. “God, I sound drunk. I’m not. I’m just tired, being a little stupid. And a lot in love, still.”

A beat. Then she said, almost childishly soft,

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to call before I got too scared to.”

She hung up.

No goodbye. Just a breath. Then gone.

You stared at your phone like it had short-circuited your brain.

And then it buzzed.

Chattr.

You opened it.

[go4goald2]: Hey, you okay?

Your fingers moved.

Paused.

Then:

[lostinthecrowd]: She called.. She cried and then said things I didn't know I still needed to hear.

A beat.

Then:

[go4goald2]: And what do you need right now?

You blinked. Let your eyes close. Let the weight of that question settle into your ribs.

And then you typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: I don’t know, but I think I need to find out without disappearing again.

Because that was the truth.

You weren’t running.

But you were on the edge.

And you didn’t want to fall without knowing where you’d land.

For two days, you didn’t text Alexia. You didn’t open Chattr either. The silence just settled in, uninvited but familiar, like it had a key. You moved through the apartment like your skin didn’t fit right, trying not to look at anything too long. Everything in here had her fingerprints on it, some literal, some worse.

Tofu had no such crisis. He charged through your day like he owned it. Like this was his apartment and you were just lucky to live in it. He leapt onto the couch without asking, claimed the sunny spot on the rug like a seasoned diva, and barked loudly when you took too long filling his water bowl. He had no patience for emotional spirals. He had toys to destroy and treats to extort.

And still, somehow, he made your chest ache.

Because she gave him to you.

Just a few weeks ago, the night before she left for international break, she showed up with a bag full of supplies and said, “He’s yours now. I think you need each other.” Like he was a peace offering. Like he was a bridge. Or maybe a way to say I still love you, without the risk of hearing it back.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

But she’d remembered the kind of dog you always paused to pet on the street. She picked a leash in your favorite color. She said, “His name’s Tofu,” with a smile so soft it was like an inside joke you hadn’t caught yet. And then she kissed your forehead like she didn’t still live in the ache of your throat.

Now Tofu was sprawled across your lap, toy half-chewed between his paws, utterly unbothered by your entire existential crisis. You ran your fingers through his fur absentmindedly, blinked at the ceiling, tried not to think too hard.

But it was impossible not to think of her when he was like this.

So sure of you. So certain you’d hold him, feed him, love him. No hesitation. No fear.

He trusted you more than you trusted yourself right now.

And God, what did it mean that she’d given you something this soft? This loud? This real?

You missed her. That was the truth. You missed the girl who used to dance in the kitchen while brushing her teeth. The girl who always pulled your hand into her lap when you were anxious, like that was enough to ground you. The girl who said “I love you” like it was a fact, not a performance.

You missed her so much it made your teeth hurt.

But missing someone didn’t erase what they did to you.

Tofu snorted in his sleep and shifted, shoving his back against your stomach like he was trying to merge your atoms. You laughed, quietly and bitterly. Even the dog didn’t believe in personal space.

You were trying so hard not to fall into the same shape you used to hold with her. But everything in this apartment: the blanket, the coffee mugs, this ridiculous little gremlin she gifted you, was a memory dressed like comfort.

And then there was go4goald2.

You hadn’t talked since the night Alexia called. Since everything broke open and left you standing in the middle of the mess, holding pieces of two different people who both made you feel too much.

They hadn’t messaged. Not since that quiet, careful question:

“And what do you need right now?”

You didn’t know if your silence had said too much. Or not enough.

You wanted to miss them. That would’ve been easier. Cleaner. But what you felt instead was worse:

You wanted them. Present-tense. Fully. Still.

Their steadiness. The way they listened without grabbing at your pain. The way they never asked you to perform softness, but you just found yourself being soft anyway.

And maybe it was good that they hadn’t texted. Maybe they sensed the edge you were standing on. Maybe they didn’t want to crowd it.

But God, part of you wanted them to fight for the space they’d carved into your chest.

Just a little.

Not with declarations. Not with pressure.

Just something. Anything. To say:

I’m still here. Even now.

But they didn’t.

By the third day, you still didn’t check your phone.

Not out of resolve, not even out of strength. But just because you didn’t want anything to answer to yet. You got dressed slowly. Took a real shower. Let the hot water hit your neck long enough to make you feel human.

Then you leashed Tofu and left the apartment.

No headphones. No destination. Just a slow walk through streets that didn’t ask anything of you. Tofu trotted like he owned the world, occasionally stopping to sniff something so thoroughly you almost apologized to the sidewalk.

You passed the bakery where Alexia used to make you pick out the pastries because she “couldn’t be trusted around sugar.” The coffee place you found together by accident. The crosswalk she once danced across in the rain.

You didn’t linger.

Not because the memories weren’t still in your chest. But because you finally understood something:

You don’t owe every memory a place in your future.

Tofu barked at a pigeon, almost dislocated your shoulder, then looked up at you like did you see that??

You laughed. Just a little. Just enough to count.

You kept walking.

Past the part of town where the noise softened. Past the old bookstore with the spray-painted sign. Past the bus stop where you used to wait for her, headphones on, heart in your throat.

And at some point, you sat down.

On a bench. Sun on your face. Tofu curled at your feet like a tiny guard.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t spiral.

You just let yourself feel the space in your chest. The one where love used to hurt, but now just… waited.

You didn’t know what you were choosing yet.

But for once, it didn’t feel like something was being chosen for you.

When you finally opened your phone, it buzzed to life with the weight of unread words. First, Alexia. A string of messages you hadn’t seen, each one longer than the last. No guilt, not this time. Just softness. Apologies that sounded real. Updates that sounded like effort. Hope that didn’t demand anything in return. She said she missed you. That she was proud of you. That even if you didn’t say it back, she’d keep trying to be someone worth coming home to.

You read every word. Didn’t respond. Not yet. Your chest was already full.

So you opened Chattr instead.

One message.

[go4goald2]: If we never talk again, I’ll still be glad I got to know this version of you.

You stared at it for a long time. Not because it hurt, but because it didn’t try to make you feel guilty. Just seen.

You blinked. Typed slowly.

[lostinthecrowd]: I missed this. You. I was scared to come back, and I didn’t know if I deserved to.

The reply came fast. Like they’d been waiting.

[go4goald2]: You never had to earn this. Just had to be you.

Something tugged behind your ribs. You let the words linger. You thought about who you were when you talked to them. How safe it felt. How easy. And how terrifying it was to want that ease somewhere real.

Then:

[go4goald2]: You ever feel like... If someone actually saw you, not your texts, not your voice, but you. They’d change their mind?

And after a beat:

[go4goald2]: I’m not as charming out loud. Not as easy to love in real time.

You felt that one like it had hands. Like it gripped the version of you who’d been broken open too many times and still wanted to be seen. It knocked the breath out of you, soft and brutal.

Because Alexia saw the real you, and still drifted.

And here was someone who hadn’t even looked at your face, and already thought they weren’t worth being loved back.

You sat with it. With the ache and the clarity and the ridiculous, inconvenient spark of hope.

Then you typed, slow. Barely breathing.

[lostinthecrowd]: What if I want to see you anyway?

You stared at the screen like it was holding its breath for you.

That message, “What if I want to see you anyway?” felt like too much and not enough, all at once. A confession. A dare. A quiet leap off the edge of something you weren’t sure you’d survive.

No reply came right away.

You waited, chest tight, thumb hovering like you might take it back.

And then, finally:

[go4goald2]: Are you sure?

[go4goald2]: I can tell you where. Or I can come to you. Doesn’t matter how far. I’d show up.

You didn’t know what to do with that. The certainty. The promise. It slid under your ribs and settled there, warm and terrifying.

Your thumbs hovered.

[lostinthecrowd]: Barcelona.

You hit send and stared at it like it might echo back at you.

The typing bubble flickered.

Then:

[go4goald2]: No way! I’m not far from there. Funny how small the world gets when you want to find someone.

[go4goald2]: There’s a park not far from the center. Quiet, not a lot of people this time of day. Benches near the pond. Friday? Afternoon?

Friday.

You glanced at the calendar. That was tomorrow.

Alexia wasn’t due back until Saturday.

You chewed your lip.

Typed:

[lostinthecrowd]: Okay. Friday. 3PM. I’ll be there.

Your stomach flipped.

[go4goald2]: You don’t have to dress up. I just want it to be real.

And god. That hit harder than it should’ve.

You let the words sit for a while. Then replied:

[lostinthecrowd]: I’m nervous. Like… really nervous.

[go4goald2]: Me too. I keep thinking… What if I ruin the version of me you made up in your head?

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe we’re both scared of being seen.

[go4goald2]: But I still want to be. Even if it’s messy.

That was the one that pulled your chest open again. Not in a loud, devastating way. Just quiet. Steady. Like something soft demanding space.

You smiled. A little.

And then, because the universe couldn’t leave you alone for five seconds, your phone buzzed again.

Different thread.

Different gravity.

Ale: Can we go on a date when I’m back? Just one. No pressure. Just us, somewhere soft. I miss seeing you happy.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

It felt like the floor shifted beneath you. Like the walls of the apartment tilted, just slightly. Everything inside you paused, holding its breath.

Of course. Of course she’d say that now.

When you’d already agreed to meet someone else. When your heart was already being pulled in two directions, and you weren’t sure who was holding it tighter.

You opened the message. Read it again.

“Somewhere soft.”

She remembered.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw your phone out the window and pretend none of this ever happened.

Instead, you typed. Slowly. Carefully. Erased it.

Typed again.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. It was honest.

And right now, that felt like the only thing you could give.

You stared at your phone like it had just exposed you. Like it had read your thoughts out loud.

Your fingers hovered. Then curled. Then pulled back entirely.

Because this wasn’t innocent anymore.

This was a plan. A place. A person waiting on the other end of a meet-up that you said yes to.

While your wife started making the effort of trying to mend your marriage.

You pressed the heel of your hand against your chest, like you could quiet the storm happening underneath.

“I’m not a cheater,” you whispered to the quiet. To the dog. To no one.

But god, it didn’t feel like the truth.

Because something in you wanted this.

Not to hurt her. Not to run.

But to be chosen, just once, without the history attached.

You swallowed hard.

And for the first time since this all started, the shame didn’t come from what she did to you.

It came from what you were about to do to her.

That evening, the apartment went quiet in that way that didn’t feel peaceful, just still. Like the world had pressed pause and forgotten to hit play again.

You didn’t cook. Didn’t clean. You couldn’t even remember if you’d eaten.

You sat on the floor instead. Cross-legged in the warm patch of light near the window. The carpet was soft under your fingertips, Tofu a few inches away, belly-up and blissed out like none of this was his problem.

And he was right. None of it was.

You watched the dust float in the air, caught by the last of the sun. Tried to match your breathing to something, anything, but every inhale felt offbeat. Too shallow. Too loud.

It should’ve been simple.

You loved her. You did.

Even when she let you fall apart quietly. Even when you stopped asking her to notice. You still wanted to believe that the good version of her, the one who used to wrap her arms around your grief like it was something she could carry too, that version still existed.

And maybe she did.

Maybe she was coming back.

But then there was them. The stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. The one who never saw how you looked like, never watched you shut down in real time, but somehow knew exactly where to speak light into your dark.

And that scared the hell out of you.

Because it felt safe. Because it felt new. Because it felt like something you didn’t have to work so hard to keep.

Your gaze landed on the edge of the couch where Alexia’s blanket was still folded. You hadn’t washed it. Part of you wanted to. Scrub it clean of her. Make it smell like detergent instead of memory.

But you didn’t.

Because the truth was: you still curled up in it on the nights that felt heavier than they should.

You leaned your head back against the couch and let your eyes close.

Am I the bad guy now?

You didn’t say it out loud. Just let it echo.

Because wasn’t that the worst part? That you didn’t even know who you were rooting for anymore?

Yourself?

Your marriage?

Your undoing?

Tofu let out a dramatic little huff and pressed his nose to your ankle, like he could sense the unraveling.

You reached for him without thinking, hand sliding across his soft side, grounding yourself in the simple fact of his presence.

“She gave you to me,” you whispered. “And now I don’t know what to do with any of it.”

He didn’t answer. Just blinked at you with that dumb, unconditional loyalty you were starting to envy.

You picked up your phone.

Didn’t open it.

Didn’t scroll.

Just held it. Like a secret. Like a lit match you were scared to put down or use.

What if seeing them changes everything?

What if it ruins the version of yourself that’s still trying to believe you can fix this?

What if it makes you want something you can’t explain?

The idea of going back to who you were before felt impossible. But going forward, without knowing who would be standing next to you?

That felt just as dangerous.

The sky outside bled into lavender. The room got colder. You didn’t move.

Not yet.

Just sat there in the quiet, heart in your throat, phone in your lap, dog at your feet.

You must’ve dozed off at some point.

When your eyes blinked open, the light had shifted again. Warmer. Golden. The kind that made everything look softer than it really was.

Your head was tilted against the couch, your hand still curled around Tofu’s back, and your phone… still sitting untouched.

But the moment you closed your eyes again, you weren’t in the apartment anymore.

You were in a kayak. Red. Wobbly. Drifting down a lazy river somewhere in northern Catalonia, back when the heat clung to your skin and love felt like it could conquer everything. Alexia was behind you, her paddle mostly useless, feet kicked up like this was a goddamn vacation and not a couple activity. Her hair was stuffed into a crooked braid, her shoulders already pink from the sun she swore "wasn't that strong."

"You’re gonna burn," you told her without looking back.

"Impossible," she said. "I’m invincible. Also I have olive skin, remember?"

You rolled your eyes. "Sunscreen doesn't care about your bloodline, babe."

She laughed. Loud. Carefree. The kind of laugh that made your chest crack open a little wider every time.

Later that night, she lay face-down on your bed, moaning into the pillow like a dying Victorian orphan.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," you said, smirking as you dabbed aloe on the back of her neck.

She groaned. "I regret everything except loving you."

You paused. Only for a second.

Because she said it like it was a joke. But it didn’t land like one.

And in that moment, her skin hot, her hair a mess, her voice low and unguarded, you knew. Not the lightning-bolt kind of knowing. Just soft. Obvious. Like looking down and realizing your hands were already full.

You loved her.

Not the polished version. Not the public one.

You loved this Alexia. Burnt and bratty and too proud to admit it.

The memory hit hard now.

Your eyes opened, throat tight, guilt curling low in your stomach.

Because you hadn’t stopped loving her. Not really. Not even through the worst of it. The silence. The distance. The ache of not being chosen.

She was trying again.

And a part of you still wanted to believe in the version of her who once said I regret everything except loving you.

But then there was go4goald2.

Someone who didn’t carry your history like a weight. Someone who made you feel seen in real-time, even if they didn’t know what your voice sounded like out loud.

You sat up slowly, wiped the sleep from your eyes, and looked at your phone.

You still wanted to meet them.

Maybe not to fall in love. Maybe not to escape.

But to say thank you.

For holding space when you couldn’t hold yourself. For reminding you what it felt like to laugh without fear. For showing you that there was still a version of you left worth loving.

You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow.

But you knew one thing, at least.

You weren’t choosing between love and loneliness anymore.

You were choosing between two kinds of hope.

You woke up before your alarm.

Didn’t check your phone. Didn’t need to. Today was already sitting in your chest like static, too loud, too charged, too much. You made coffee with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. Brushed your teeth twice. Put on a playlist and turned it off before the first chorus.

Tofu stayed close, like he could sense the storm under your skin. He followed you from room to room, tail wagging, expression confused. You kept petting him like that would settle something. Like you could tether yourself to the day through his fur alone.

You showered. Washed your hair. Put on your favorite jeans, the ones Alexia used to tease you about for being “aggressively soft”, then changed into different ones. Stood in front of your closet like maybe it would whisper instructions. Settled on something neutral. Safe.

Breakfast was two bites of toast and a glass of water you forgot to finish.

You didn’t let yourself think about what the meeting would feel like. You just kept your head down. Focused on the little things. Zipping the jacket. Filling Tofu’s travel bowl. Making sure your phone was charged. Reapplying lip balm for the third time, like it might protect you from whatever this was turning into.

You clipped on Tofu’s leash. Reached for the doorknob. Exhaled.

Then you heard it.

The key.

Turning in the lock.

You froze, heart jamming sideways in your chest.

The door opened slowly, hesitant, like the person on the other side didn’t know if they were still welcome.

And then you saw her.

Alexia.

But not composed, camera-ready Alexia. Not the confident girl you used to trail behind like sunlight. This version looked destroyed. Her hair was half-tied, frizzed at the edges, cheeks blotchy from dried tears. There were shadows under her eyes that hadn't been there before. Her hoodie was stained, clinging to her shoulders like it couldn’t decide whether to hang on or fall off. The duffel on her back was lopsided. Her laces were untied. And she was breathing like she’d run every step from the airport to your door.

You blinked. You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating.

“You’re back early.”

She didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything soft. Just stood there, swaying slightly.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, like it physically hurt to speak.

Your hand clenched tighter around Tofu’s leash.

She looked down. Saw the bag. The keys. The phone still lit in your other hand, half a sentence still unsent.

You didn’t mean to say it. But it slipped out, sharp and trembling.

“I’m meeting someone.”

She blinked. Like it stunned her. Like she hadn’t let herself believe it was real until now.

“You don’t have to go.”

You stared at her. “You don’t even know who it is.”

“I think I do.”

You stepped back. Confused. “What?”

Alexia reached into her hoodie, pulled out her phone with shaking hands, tapped something. Then she stopped and looked at you, not as a wife. Not as a lover. As something closer to a stranger asking for a chance.

Your phone buzzed.

Chattr.

One new message.

[go4goald2]: Just say the word. I’ll be there.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look up right away. Couldn’t.

You stared at the message, willing it to be a joke, a glitch, anything but what it was.

Then you looked at her.

And the look on her face told you everything.

“It’s you,” you breathed. Not a question, but a realization clawing its way out of your throat.

Alexia didn’t nod. Didn’t move. She just stood there like her bones couldn’t take the weight of it either.

“It’s always been me,” she whispered.

And then everything inside you, every cell, every thread, recoiled.

“No.” You backed up further, voice rising. “No, that’s not.. It can’t be.”

“I didn’t lie,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t say”

“Didn’t say?” you cut in, a half-laugh cracking out of your throat.

“You tricked me, Alexia. You let me think someone else cared about me.”

“I did care about you,” she said, voice breaking. “Every word was real. I didn’t know how else to talk to you without hurting you again.”

“So you catfished your wife?”

She flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?” You threw your arms up. “What?! some twisted experiment? You wanted to see if I’d fall in love with you blindfolded?”

“No!” She stepped forward, and for once, she looked scared. “I just... I missed your voice. I missed being someone you trusted. And I knew if I showed up as me, you’d never let me in.”

“You’re right,” you said, and your voice was colder than you’d ever heard it. “Because I trusted you. And you used it.”

She was crying now, full-body crying, not bothering to hide it. “I thought maybe if I gave you space to choose me without the pain, we could start over.”

“But you didn’t give me space,” you said. “You gave me a lie.”

The words hit her like a blow. Her knees almost buckled under the weight of them.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“And yet,” you snapped, “here we are.”

You looked down at Tofu, who was watching both of you with ears pinned back, tail thumping slow and uncertain.

Your throat was tight. Like grief trying to turn into fire.

“I opened up to you,” you whispered. “Whoever you were. I told you things I never got to say to you. And you just... stood there. Letting me think I’d found someone new.”

“I was someone new,” she said, barely audible. “Someone trying. Someone who never stopped loving you.”

You shook your head. Everything inside you was loud now. Blistering.

“I don’t know what the hell I feel right now,” you said, and you meant it. “But I know I can’t feel it here.”

You crouched down, unclipped the leash.

“Tofu, stay,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

He whined, tail sweeping the floor once before going still.

You straightened and looked at Alexia. Not angry, not bitter, just… Tired. Worn through at the edges.

“I’m leaving you,” you said, steady now. “But not alone.”

She blinked. Confused.

You gestured toward the dog, your throat thick. “Because I don’t ever want anyone to feel the way you made me feel.”

You walked to the door, opened it, and left.

Not because you stopped caring.

But because for the first time in months, you needed her to feel what it meant to be left standing in the wreckage alone.

Tofu stayed by the door.

Still. Watching.

Like even he understood that this type of forgiveness doesn’t come with words.

It has to be earned. Step by brutal step.

Pt. 6

318 notes · View notes

takes1 · 11 months ago

Note

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

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homeofthelonelywriter · 10 months ago

Text

Your lips | Pt. 2

(A/N) Good god, I love the scottish translator. Also, thank you for all the notes on Part 1. 🥺

Pairing: Simon x fem!pregnant!Reader

Warning: mutual pining, medical stuff (nothing graphic), mention of scars, pregnancy, kissis

Synopsis: Simon makes sure to take care of you. Especially when a certain someone comes back into your life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Two steps out of your house and you almost dropped your decaf coffee. Not that that wasn’t a common occurrence, not since the baby had started kicking and you started getting Braxton Hicks contractions. But this time, you almost dropped it because of the man standing in your driveway. The man and the car behind him.

“Simon?”

He wasn’t wearing his standard uniform, instead sporting grey sweatpants, which hung dangerously low on his hips, and a very, very, very tight black compression shirt. You couldn’t decide if he looked as if he had just rolled out of bed or as if he had just gotten done working out. Secretly, you hoped it was the second option.

“How long have you been waiting for?”

As quickly as your state allowed you to, you walked towards him, but ever the gentleman, he met you halfway and immediately grabbed the bag from your shoulder, before offering you his arm, just like the day before.

“Only a few minutes.”

(He had been standing in that one spot for almost 40 minutes, waiting for you to come out.)

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow once he turned his head to look at you as well.

“Already told you, you shouldn’t be on your feet this much.”

He quickly turned his head, instead focusing his eyes on the car he was leading you to, but you would swear on your life that you saw a little bit of pink peeking out from behind the mask he was wearing. Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt your own cheeks heat up.

Within ten minutes, Simon parked the car right in front of the clinic doors. You frowned slightly, watching Simon round the car and open your door to help you out.

“Don’t worry, I just want to get you inside, then I’ll leave.”

You chuckle as you link your arm with his.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Once you realized what you just said, you slapped your free hand over your mouth.

“I-I mean I…ahm…I mean thank you. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to get rid of you. Not after everything you’re doing for me.”

You could tell by the crinkles surrounding his eyes, that he was smiling.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not trying to get rid of me.”

You grinned at him, ignoring the stares from your colleagues as he slowly guided you to your office. Once inside, he made sure you were sat down and had everything you needed before he bid his goodbye and swiftly left.

Within seconds of his departure, one of your favorite colleagues entered the office, a stupid grin on her face. But you held up your hand before she could say anything.

“No, nothing is going on between us. He’s just being nice and taking care of a lonely, pregnant lady.”

You stopped for a second, looking her in the eyes before a grin took over your lips.

“Do I wish something was going on? Definitely.”

This caused your colleague to squeal in excitement as she rushed towards you. On her way, she grabbed the stool on wheels, sitting down midway and using her momentum to slide and stop right next to you.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

So, you spend the hour you usually took to prepare for the day, recounting everything that had happened so far for her. She listened as if you were telling the most amazing tale, asking questions at the perfect moments and nodding along.

Once it was time for your first patient, you had to usher her out of your office, promising to tell her more during lunch break.

A few days later

You smiled at your phone, a new text from Simon popping up.

“Got a long lunch break. Anything you’re craving?”

You quickly typed your response, naming a few items from your favorite fast-food restaurant. Simon sent back a thumbs-up emoji and you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling up in your stomach. Or was it butterflies?

But before you could focus on lunch, you had one more patient. Although you didn’t know who it was, you knew that it was a check-up for an old injury. All you had to do was check it out and either prescribe further treatment or give them the clear for duty.

When the awaited knock sounded out from your door, you called out to enter without looking up from your screen. You heard the door open and a few steps, before they stopped abruptly. Confused, you lifted your head and locked eyes with a person you thought you’d never see again. Your name left his lips as a whisper. A few months ago you would’ve smiled, jumped to your feet, and hugged him, but now, hatred filled you instead.

Slowly, you got to your feet, never taking your eyes off of your ex.

“Leave.”

He repeated your name this time louder and took a few steps in your direction.

“Stop. I said leave. Go.”

He shook his head.

“Please…I’ve been trying to reach you for months. It was a mistake to leave you, I-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about your stupid excuses. The fact is, you left me. You left me knowing I was pregnant with your child.”

His eyes immediately flickered to your swollen stomach. He started moving in your direction again, his hands held out as if he wanted to touch your stomach.

“I said stop-!”

Before your ex could take another step, he was pulled back by the scruff of his shirt. A dull thud echoed through the room as his body hit the floor, Simon quickly pinning him down. While the man on the floor struggled to throw Simon off, he just looked back at you, brows furrowed with concern.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, but Simon noticed the way your body was shaking. He needed to get rid of that prick, so he could take care of you. While keeping your ex pinned to the floor, he grabbed his phone and dialed a number, raising the device to his ear.

“Got a muppet causing trouble, can you come in here and take care of him?”

He quickly hung up and a few seconds later, the door to your office opened and a man with a mohawk entered. As soon as he caught sight of you, a low whistle escaped his lips.

“Ah see whit ye'r talking aboot L.t.”

“Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

With practiced ease, Simon pulled your ex to his feet and handed him off to the other man.

“Wha would've guessed? a recruit o' ours. Ah will tak' him tae Price.”

Simon nodded, watching until Johnny and your ex left the room. Then he quickly closed the door, before crossing the room to reach you.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You started to nod before reality came crashing down and you started to shake your head as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I-I thought he was gonna hurt me. And the baby.”

Simon gently pulled you into a hug, holding you as tight as he could without squishing you. You leaned into his touch, the shaking slowly subsiding as Simon gently stroked your back.

“It’s okay. I got you.”

You stayed, wrapped up in his arms, until you calmed down. Well, actually your feet started to hurt and you wanted to sit down. So, you slowly peeled away from Simon, before grabbing his arm and leading him over to the bed, where the two of you sat down next to each other.

After a few moments, Simon asked you to wait for a second, before he got to his feet and left the room. Alone, your mind kept flashing back to your ex. He looked just as he had when he left you. Like a coward.

With a dry chuckle, you wiped the tears off your cheeks. He would and could not affect you like this. Not anymore. You stood up and started walking back to your desk when the door opened again and Simon walked in.

“What are you doing?”

You frowned.

“Getting back to work?”

Simon shook his head and walked up to you, pressing his lips to your hairline, through his mask, before pulling back to look at you.

“Just talked to your supervisor. You got the rest of the day off.”

As if nothing just happened, he walked around you and packed your bag, before throwing it over his shoulder. Once he was done, he walked back to where you stayed, rooted to the ground. He looked confused, waving his hand in front of your eyes. You snap out of your stupor, your eyes finding his.

“Can you do that again? Kiss me?”

Your cheeks heated up under his slowly darkening gaze as your words sank in. Your bag hit the floor with a quiet thud as Simon leaned down until his face was right in front of yours. With one hand, he gently grabbed your chin, lifting it slightly, while he used the other hand to pull his mask down.

And then his lips met yours.

When you were a child, you read all these books where kisses were described to feel like fireworks going off. But when you had your first kiss and felt…nothing, you were disappointed, thinking that all these books just lied. But now, here, you felt it. Fireworks going off in your stomach as your lips moved against Simon’s.

All too soon, he pulled back and your eyes fluttered open. And for the first time, you saw his face. All of it. You couldn’t help but reach out, gently tracing over a scar that ran from his chin to his cheek. Simon closed his eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips as you carefully touched him.

“Sorry, I-”

Simon shook his head and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back and moving his mask back over his mouth and nose.

“Don’t worry, love. Nothing to be sorry for.”

You nodded with a small smile and watched as he picked your bag back up, before threading his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Now, let’s get some food in you, huh?”

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @brinteylovesaliens @m3ntally-unstable

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

#ghost #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #cod #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #fanfiction

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squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame · 15 days ago

Note

(For every character that you write) HOW ARE THEY DURING YOUR PREGNANCY

Little Belly

Character: Hyunju, Thanos, namgyu, Gyeong-Seok, Young-Il, Gi-hun, Dae-Ho, Min-Su, Sang-Woo, Salesman

Gdragon, T.O.P., Daesung

Namjoon, Yoongi, Hope

Mingi, San

Kim Seo-Wan

Roh jae won, Gong yoo

Summary: Above✨️✨️

Warnings: none!

Hyunju

Hyun-Ju stirs from a nap on the couch, groggy and wrapped in the soft warmth of a throw blanket. The living room still smells faintly of chamomile tea and the gentle hum of the heater buzzes through the apartment like a lullaby. She blinks and stretches, careful not to overextend—her body is still healing, still sore, still learning its new rhythm. But she feels good. Better than she’s felt in years.

From the kitchen, you appear, glowing in that way she’s been obsessively noticing since you told her the news. Your belly is just beginning to show, a slight curve beneath your loose shirt. There’s a mug in your hand—decaf, of course—and you give her a smile that makes her feel like the luckiest woman alive.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you tease softly, settling beside her and tucking your legs beneath you. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” Hyun-Ju murmurs, brushing hair from her eyes. “Especially when I wake up to you.”

You chuckle, placing the mug on the coffee table before reaching for her hand. Your fingers intertwine like always—so natural, so right.

It still blows her mind that this is real. That just a few weeks ago, she was in the hospital for her bottom surgery, terrified but ready. And just a few weeks before that, you were holding her in the bathroom, shaking and speechless with a positive pregnancy test in your hand.

“I still can’t believe it,” she whispers, like the thought might float away if she says it too loud. “I’m going to be a mom. We’re going to be moms.”

You shift, guiding her hand gently to your stomach. “You already are.”

Her fingers tremble slightly as she rests them there, feeling nothing yet but knowing that inside, a tiny heartbeat is pulsing. A heartbeat that came from both of you. From love. From a moment before everything changed, before she stepped fully into herself

.“I was so scared I wouldn’t get to experience this,” she admits, voice cracking just a little. “To be a woman. To be a parent. To be loved like this.”

You lean your forehead against hers, heart full. “You deserve all of it, Hyun-Ju. Every beautiful, messy, magical part of it. Our kid’s going to grow up with two moms who love each other so much it spills out everywhere.”

Hyun-Ju smiles through her tears. “Do you think they’ll have your eyes?”

“Hopefully your stubbornness.”

“Hey!”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that leaves your ribs aching but your heart lighter. Outside, snow starts to fall gently. Inside, two soon-to-be moms are curled up on a couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, dreaming of the future.

And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel scary.

Thanos

You found him on the balcony again. Bent over the railing, shoulders tense, smoke curling from his lips like a confession he didn’t know how to make. You recognized the way his fingers shook—not from the cold, but from everything else. The little baggies, the pills under his tongue, the moments where his pupils blew wide and he suddenly had the energy to clean the entire apartment at 2 a.m. and then collapse an hour later like he hadn’t touched the floor in weeks.

You rested a hand on your swollen belly and leaned in the doorway.

“You said you’d be clean before the third trimester,” you murmured, not accusing. Just... tired.

Su-Bong didn’t turn around.

“I know,” he said, voice hoarse. “I know I said that.”

You waited.

Eventually, he tapped the joint out against the railing, flicked the remains into a glass of rainwater, and looked at you with bloodshot eyes that still managed to soften when they met yours.

“You okay?” he asked, gaze flicking to your belly like he could somehow talk to the baby through you.

You let out a breath. “I’m not the one getting high with a baby inside me.”

He winced, but didn’t argue. He never argued. That was part of what made it harder—he didn’t fight your words, just absorbed them like bruises he thought he deserved.

You stepped closer. “Do you even want to stop?”

A long pause. Too long.

“I want you,” he said finally. “I want this. The baby. The weird little life we’re building. But the drugs—” He rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. “They’re... part of how I exist. I don’t know who I am without them.”

That stung more than you expected.You reached for his hand, pressed his fingers to the swell of your stomach. “You’re someone’s dad, Bong. Even if you don’t know how to be, you are.”

His throat bobbed. For a second, he looked like he might cry—but he didn’t. He kissed your temple instead, then rested his forehead against yours.

“I’ll try again,” he whispered. “But you have to know... I might always fall back.”

“I know.”

Namgyu

You found him slouched on the floor of the bathroom, eyes rolling back in his head, belt still tight around his arm. The faint glow of a spoon still warm under the flickering fluorescent light made your stomach churn.

“Nam-Gyu,” you whispered, pressing one hand to your belly like you could shield the baby from this somehow. “Not again.”

He didn’t look at you. Or maybe he couldn’t.

You knelt down beside him, ignoring the way your knees screamed from the pressure. “Hey. Look at me. You promised.”

That got a reaction. He flinched and smacked the wall behind him, blinking hard like he was trying to focus on your voice.

“I promised?” he slurred, laugh sharp and broken. “You think I control this shit? You think I’d choose this if I could stop?” His voice was rising, filling the cramped room, and suddenly he was standing, fast and swaying, grabbing the towel rack for balance.

You backed up on instinct, heart pounding. He’d never hit you. But that line felt thinner lately. He’d scream. Break things. Slam doors.

And the baby inside you kicked.

“I need it,” he muttered, pacing now, pulling at his shirt collar like it was choking him. “You don’t know what it’s like, walking around with a hole in your chest that never closes.”

“I do,” you said softly. “It’s shaped like you.”

That stopped him. For a second. He looked at you like he didn’t recognize your face. And then—just like that—he looked away again, like it hurt too much.

“You knew what I was when you let me put that baby in you,” he said, voice low and ugly.

You flinched.

“I know,” you whispered, tears slipping hot down your cheeks. “I just thought maybe—maybe we’d be enough. Me. The baby. That you’d want to try.”

He laughed again. Cold this time. “There’s no ‘enough’ in this game, sweetheart.”

You walked past him carefully, not looking back as you stepped into the hallway, where the nursery still smelled like fresh paint and hope. Where tiny clothes waited in drawers. Where the crib was half-built, a project he never finished.

You closed the door behind you.

And locked it.

Just for tonight.

Gyeong-Seok

You didn’t blame him.

Na-Yeon’s tiny hand had grown even smaller in the last few weeks. Her cheeks no longer held the chubby softness they once did. The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and lemon wipes, and you had grown used to the sight of your fiancé with his head bowed at her bedside, unmoving.

But still. The baby kicked.And no one noticed but you.

You stood by the doorway of the pediatric oncology ward, one hand cradling your round belly, the other clutching a thermos you brought for him. Warm broth. You didn’t know if he’d even drink it.

Gyeong-Seok barely looked at you these days. His dark eyes were hollow, his hands clumsy when you passed by. He hadn’t touched your stomach in weeks. He hadn’t asked about the next ultrasound. He hadn’t held you through the night.

Only Na-Yeon.

You couldn’t hate him for it. But you hated how invisible you felt.

---That night, back home, you cried silently into your pillow, muffling the sobs. The baby stirred again — strong, rhythmic kicks like it was trying to remind you: I’m here too. You pressed both hands over the swell of your stomach and whispered, “I know. I know, baby.”

You didn’t hear the door creak open until the bed dipped beside you.

Gyeong-Seok’s hand hovered awkwardly at your back. “You weren’t at the hospital tonight.”

You nodded, still facing away. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

A long silence followed. Then, quietly, “You’re not.”

You finally turned to him. “You haven’t asked me once how the baby is.”

His face crumpled like paper folding in on itself. “I know. I… I feel like I only have space in my head for one child right now. And she’s slipping away from me, Y/N. Every day.”

A tear ran down your cheek. “And what about the one growing inside me? Do I have to wait until they’re dying to get your attention?”

He flinched.

The silence hung like fog. Then, slowly, his hand reached out — tentative, shaking — and settled on your stomach.

A kick.

His breath hitched.

“…Was that…?” His eyes widened.You nodded. “They’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks.”

And finally, Gyeong-Seok broke. He bent over your belly, resting his forehead there, crying. Soft, broken sobs that soaked through your shirt.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so afraid. Of losing one. Of not being enough for either of them. Or for you.”

You laced your fingers through his hair. “Just be here. With us. Even if it’s messy. And Na-Yeon will get to meet her sibling. And she will be healthy and happy again.”

He nodded into your skin. “I will. Starting now.”

And that night, the baby kicked again — and both of you smiled.

Even as Na-Yeon fought her battle in the hospital bed miles away, there was a flicker of hope here. Of life refusing to be forgotten, With him, you, Na-Yeon and the little baby.-

Young-Il

You loved Young-Il.

You did. Even now, sitting on the couch with your hands resting on the curve of your belly, watching him double-check that all the windows were locked again, you loved him.

But it was getting harder to breathe.He turned around, eyes scanning your face like he was looking for a reason to worry. “You didn’t answer when I called earlier.”

“I was napping,” you said quietly. “You call five times a day now, Young-Il.”

He didn’t flinch. He just walked over and knelt in front of you, resting a hand on your knee and the other on your stomach like he always did now. “I just want to make sure nothing happens to you. Or the baby.”

His voice was soft, but his grip wasn’t.

You tried to smile. “We’re not glass, you know.”

“You’re close enough.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I wanted to go to the café down the street today. Just for an hour. Fresh air would be nice—”

“No.”

That sharp, immediate answer made your heart sting more than you wanted to admit.He stood up, jaw tight. “You can’t go wandering around by yourself anymore. Not now. What if you fall? What if someone bumps into you? You don’t know how many careless people are out there.”

You stared at him. “You used to love walking with me.”

“I still would—if you’d wait until I was free.” His voice cracked slightly, frustration layered under his fear. “But you keep trying to do everything alone. Like you don’t need me.”

Your eyes stung. “I do need you. But not like this.”

Young-Il stepped back, running a hand through his hair. He looked like he was unraveling. “I’ve already lost too much in my life. If something happened to you—if something happened to our child—I wouldn’t survive it.”

You rose slowly, your body heavy and aching, and wrapped your arms around him. He held onto you so tight it almost hurt.

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered into his chest. “But you have to stop acting like love means control.”

His breath hitched.You felt him nod against your hair, but his arms didn’t loosen. Not yet.

Maybe tomorrow, they would.

Gi hun

(This made me cry oml)

The chair next to yours is empty again.

You don't blame him. You really don’t. Gi-hun has been through hell—more than anyone should ever have to survive. The Games didn’t just take people from him. They took parts of him. Pieces you sometimes feel like you’ll never get back, no matter how gently you love him.

You rub your belly as the technician glides the wand over your skin. “There’s the heartbeat,” she says softly.

And there it is. That fast, fluttering rhythm that’s half him and half you. You smile, but your eyes sting.

He promised he’d be here today.

The last time you saw Gi-hun was two days ago, when he brought you late-night seaweed soup in a plastic container and kissed the top of your head like he was afraid you might vanish. He said he needed to clear his head, just for a bit. Said he’d be back.

You know what "clear his head" means.

Another long walk. Another night sleeping on a bench by the Han River. Another quiet moment with his guilt.

He wants to be here. You know he does. But the man you love is drowning in invisible waves, and you’re both waiting to see if he’ll come up for air in time to be a father.

“Do you want a printout of the photo?” the technician asks.

You nod. When she hands it to you, you stare at the little bean on the screen and whisper, “That’s your daddy’s nose. Poor thing.”

When you get home, he's there.

Sitting on the couch with a bouquet of slightly wilted daisies. His eyes are red-rimmed. His hair messy. Like he sprinted all the way here once he realized he was late.

You don’t speak at first. Just stand there in the doorway, one hand on your stomach, the other holding the ultrasound photo.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “I wanted to come. I—I tried.”

“I know.”

He looks at you like you’re a miracle he doesn't deserve. “I don’t know how to be okay. But I want to be. For you. For them.”

You walk to him slowly and press the photo into his hand. “That’s your baby,” you say. “They already have your nose.”

Gi-hun smiles, and it’s shaky, broken, but real.

You sit beside him, and for the first time in days, he lets you hold him. Your hands rest over his, over the photo, over the tiny heartbeat that keeps thudding along inside you—hopeful, relentless.

Maybe he’s not fully here yet.

But he’s trying.

Dae-Ho

Dae-Ho sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at the piece of paper in his hand. The worn edges of the envelope matched the strain of the year he'd spent apart from you. Every letter from you was a small lifeline, a connection to the world outside the walls of the military base, but this one felt different. His fingers trembled as he carefully unfolded it.

It was a simple letter, written in your familiar handwriting, but what caught his eye immediately was the ultrasound picture peeking out from the fold. He pulled it free, staring at the black and white image of your growing child. His heart squeezed painfully, and his breath caught in his throat. He wanted so desperately to be there with you, to feel the baby kicking against your belly, to be the one to hold your hand through this journey.

But instead, all he had was this—this letter that didn’t seem to be enough.

His eyes drifted to the blue card that had been tucked into the envelope. He read the words printed on the front: It’s a boy. His heart raced as he carefully opened the card, reading the message you had written. The words were simple, yet they struck him deeply.

"I wish you could be here with me, but I know you’re with us in spirit. He’s going to be so proud of you, just like I am."

A sob escaped his lips as the weight of it all hit him. You were carrying his child, and he wasn’t there to witness any of it. The guilt, the loneliness, the longing—all of it rushed through him in a torrent.

Dae-Ho stood up abruptly, the letter crumpling in his hand as he paced back and forth. He couldn't take it anymore. He had tried to push these feelings down, to convince himself that it was just a few more months, but seeing this ultrasound, seeing the proof that you were carrying his child and he wasn’t there—it was too much.

With a shaky breath, he stumbled into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and sank to his knees, the sound of his sobs echoing off the walls. He buried his face in his hands, trying to choke back the tears, but it was impossible. He missed you so much.

He missed the way you smiled when you looked at him, the way you would rest your head on his chest at night. He missed the way you laughed when he told you stories about his day, and he especially missed the way your belly had started to show, how your hands would rest gently on it as if protecting the little one growing inside.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to hear anything right now. He just needed to grieve, to let it all out. But when he pulled the phone out and saw the missed call from you, his heart skipped a beat.

He hit the call back button without thinking, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N?" "Hi, love," your voice came through the line, warm and comforting, even though he knew you couldn’t be there with him. "I miss you so much."

Dae-Ho’s breath hitched. "I miss you, too... I—I can’t stop crying."

"Why?" you asked gently.

"I should be there with you. With our son. I should be the one you lean on, not just these letters." His voice cracked, and he fought to regain control, but it was impossible.

"Hey," you said softly, "it’s okay to cry. I know you want to be here, and I want you here too. But you’re doing the hardest thing right now, and I admire you for it."

Dae-Ho let out a shaky breath. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I hate that I can’t be there."

"I don’t want you to apologize. I understand, and so does he." You paused, and for a moment, he could almost feel you right there beside him, reassuring him. "He’s going to know how much you love him. And I’ll make sure to tell him about his daddy every day."

A tear slipped down his cheek as he whispered, "I’ll be home soon. And when I am, I’ll be there for both of you, I promise."

"I know you will," you replied softly. "But for now, just take care of yourself. You’ve already given so much, and we’ll be here waiting for you when you come home."

Dae-Ho wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to pull himself together. "I love you, Y/N. So much. And I love our son."

"I love you too," you said, your voice filled with warmth. "We love you."

He closed his eyes, imagining you there, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of your touch through the phone. And in that moment, he found a little bit of peace amidst the ache in his chest. It wasn’t enough to ease the pain of being apart, but it was something—something to hold onto until he could be with you again.

He hung up the phone with a deep breath, the crumpled letter still clutched in his hand. He placed it on the bathroom counter, next to the ultrasound picture and the blue card. For now, it was enough. It had to be.And he would hold onto that feeling, that promise, until he could finally come home to you and their son.

Min su

It was a quiet afternoon when Min-Su sat beside you on the couch, his hands nervously fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. The two of you had been together for years now, but there was something different in the air today—something softer, a little more tender.

You could feel your baby kicking lightly against your stomach, a small flutter that always brought a smile to your face. Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, rubbing gently. Min-Su glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his face flushed a soft pink. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to proceed.

"Min-Su?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity. You'd noticed his hesitation ever since you’d started showing, but you hadn't said anything. Now, the silence between you two felt heavier than usual.

He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze. "I... I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice almost inaudible.

You tilted your head, confused. "What do you mean?"

Min-Su took a deep breath, then finally met your eyes. "I want to... I want to be close to you and the baby. But I feel like... like I might hurt you or... I don't know." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, a clear sign of his anxiety.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached out, gently placing your hand on his. "Min-Su, you're not going to hurt me. You could never hurt me."

You guided his hand toward your belly, a soft warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of him finally touching the little life growing inside of you.

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over your bump. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he placed his hand gently against your stomach. You could see the way his eyes softened, the nerves still present but slowly giving way to something more comforting.

"She's kicking," you whispered, your voice full of affection. "You can feel it."

Min-Su’s face lit up with a mixture of awe and disbelief, his hand pressing just a little firmer against your bump. "I can feel her," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She's... so strong."

You nodded, feeling the small movements beneath your skin. "Yeah. She's getting stronger every day.

"Min-Su sat there in silence, his hand resting against your belly as the two of you shared this quiet moment. His shyness hadn't gone away completely, but he no longer seemed afraid. He was simply present, in the way only Min-Su could be.

"I never thought I’d get to do this," he said softly, almost as if to himself.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love. "We’re in this together, Min-Su. Always."

Sangwoo

Sang-Woo had always been a man of few words. He was practical, composed, and maintained a certain distance, especially when it came to emotions. You loved him for his quiet strength, but there were times when his stoicism left you feeling unsure, even when you knew deep down that his feelings ran deeper than he let on.

Now, as your pregnancy progressed, those moments of uncertainty seemed to grow. His eyes would flicker to your growing belly, but he rarely spoke about it. Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you, his face a mask of calm, but the slight tension in his jaw and the way he pressed his lips together left you feeling uneasy.

You had always wanted a family, and at first, the idea of being pregnant with his child had filled you with excitement. But as the weeks went by, you started to question whether Sang-Woo shared the same excitement or if he simply saw this as another responsibility he had to shoulder.

It was late one evening when the feeling reached its peak. You were sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking your stomach as you watched the rain pour outside. Sang-Woo was across from you, looking at his phone, the silence between you thick and uncomfortable.

"Are you... happy about this?" The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, and your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t meant to voice your fears, but now they hung in the air, undeniable.

Sang-Woo glanced at you, his expression unreadable, before returning to his phone. His lack of response felt like a weight pressing down on you.

"I know you don’t say much about it," you continued, trying to keep your voice steady, "but sometimes... I feel like you don’t want this. You don’t want the baby. You don’t want me like this."

The silence that followed was deafening. Sang-Woo finally set his phone down and met your gaze, his eyes dark, unreadable, but there was a flicker of something there—something that felt like guilt.

"I...," he started, but his voice faltered. He looked away, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "I’m not good at this," he admitted quietly, his tone unusually soft.

You blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. "Good at what?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "Good at being a father? Good at being there for me?"

Sang-Woo let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good at... showing what I feel. I never learned how to do that. It’s not... it’s not that I don’t want this." His words were careful, like he was weighing each one before speaking. "I just... don’t know how to be what you need right now. I don’t know how to be the person you want me to be."

The vulnerability in his words made your heart ache. You had never heard him speak like this, and it caught you off guard.

"I don’t need you to change who you are, Sang-Woo," you said softly, your eyes filling with tears. "I just need you to be here. To show me that you’re in this with me. That we’re in this together."

Sang-Woo’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might retreat back into his shell. But then he stood up, walking over to you. His large hands gently cupped your face, his touch warm and reassuring.

"I’m here," he murmured, his voice low but firm. "I’m not good at showing it, but I’m here. I want this baby. I want... us. But I need you to understand that I don’t know how to be perfect at it. I don’t know how to give you everything you need, but I will try. I will... try for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you looked up at him, seeing the raw honesty in his eyes. He wasn’t perfect. He never would be. But he was trying. And in that moment, you realized that was all you really needed. You nodded, a small, tearful smile forming on your lips. "I just need you to try, Sang-Woo. That’s enough."

He hesitated for a moment before pulling you into his arms, holding you close as if you might slip away if he didn’t. "I’ll try," he whispered into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. "I’ll try."

And in that moment, you knew that even though Sang-Woo might never be the man you imagined, he was still the one who would stand by your side, even in the quietest of ways.

Salesman

It was well past 3 a.m. when you returned home from the 24-hour CU convenience store, carrying a small bag of fresh strawberries. The street was quiet, the moon hanging low in the sky, and the cool air felt crisp against your skin. You’d had a craving, a need for the sweet, juicy fruit, and there was no way you were going to sleep without them.

As you approached the door to your apartment, you fumbled for your keys. That’s when you noticed a strange shadow near the living room window. Your heart skipped a beat. Your hands froze mid-motion. You stepped back, trying to peer through the slightly cracked blinds, but all you could make out was a figure standing in the dark.

You inhaled sharply, your mind racing. The house felt oddly still. Too still. You had expected the salesman, your boyfriend Gong Yoo, to be at home, but you weren’t sure what was going on in the moment of half-conscious panic.

The door creaked open. Then, without warning, a loud bang rang out, followed by a sharp, searing pain across your shoulder. You gasped, stumbling back, clutching your side.

“W-What?” you choked, eyes wide as you looked up.

From the dim shadows, Gong Yoo appeared, his eyes wide with alarm. “No, no! Y/N, what are you doing?! Why didn’t you call out?”

“Gong Yoo—” you hissed, dropping the strawberries to the floor as you cradled your bleeding shoulder.

He rushed to you, his heart racing. "I thought you were a burglar!" His hands trembled as he gently inspected your wound. "I didn’t think—I mean, I thought you were breaking in! I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you!" His voice cracked with panic as he helped you sit down on the couch, dabbing at the wound with a nearby cloth.

You winced but couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “A burglar? At 3 a.m., with strawberries?”

"I—I'm sorry," Gong Yoo said, his voice a mix of concern and guilt. "I thought I heard something outside, and I panicked. I thought someone was sneaking in." His hand shook as he tried to keep pressure on the wound.

You chuckled weakly, despite the pain. "Well, if you didn’t hear my footsteps, maybe the sound of a crinkling plastic bag would’ve tipped you off."

“I’m an idiot," he muttered, his eyes wide with worry as he gently traced your shoulder. "I didn’t even stop to think. You’re... you’re pregnant. I should’ve been more careful."

“Gong Yoo...” you whispered softly, looking up at him as he leaned over you, worry still etched on his face. "It’s okay. I'm fine. But next time... maybe just ask who’s at the door before you shoot anyone."

“I swear, I’m not going to live this down, am I?” he sighed, his voice softer as he continued to check on your shoulder.

“No,” you replied with a small smirk, “you won’t.”

The tension slowly began to ease, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Gong Yoo placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand resting gently over your stomach, as though trying to assure both you and the baby that everything was okay now. You could tell he was still processing what had just happened, the fear and guilt still weighing heavily on him.

“I’ll make this up to you,” he promised, his tone more serious now. "Anything you need. I’ll make it right."

"Start by getting me some bandages," you teased, holding back a smile. "Then we can deal with the rest tomorrow."

As he rushed off to fetch the first aid kit, you sighed, relieved despite the strange circumstances. With Gong Yoo, you always knew there was never a dull moment—though you hoped next time, the surprises wouldn’t be quite so... dramatic.

Gdragon

The soft hum of a lullaby played quietly in the background, filling the room with a calm that you hadn't felt in months. G-Dragon, or Ji-Yong as you called him when it was just the two of you, was lounging lazily on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His head rested on the armrest, and his eyes flicked between you and the screen.

You sat on the floor, a cozy blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you sorted through baby clothes. The little onesies were tiny and sweet, their colors soft and inviting. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Ji-Yong, who was now intently focused on a text message that had come through.

“Who’s that from?” you asked, your voice light but teasing. The curiosity was there, of course, but you weren’t jealous. You trusted him completely, and besides, the look of soft amusement on his face gave you all the answers you needed.

“Just the guys,” he said, tossing the phone to the side. “I was supposed to be meeting them tonight, but then I remembered I have this.” He reached for your hand, lifting it gently to his lips. He kissed your wrist, where the growing bump of your pregnancy was becoming more obvious by the day.

“Don’t you need to work? The album… the tour…” You trailed off, feeling a little guilty.

You knew how much the world had been waiting for him to return, how his fans loved him, but there was also something incredibly special about this time. His priorities had shifted. “I need to work, but this little one and you? You’re my priority now.”

Ji-Yong’s eyes softened, his usual cool demeanor replaced with the warmth that made you feel like the luckiest person on Earth. You couldn’t help but smile. “I think this one’s already spoiled, huh?”

“I think they’re already spoiled with love,” he said, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring the comfort of being with him. The rush of his touch, his closeness, and the knowledge that he would be there for every step of this new chapter in your lives made everything else fade away.

Suddenly, you felt a little nudge against your side. It was the baby. A kick. A reminder that, soon, there would be a little person in your arms, and Ji-Yong’s world would change forever.

"Did you feel that?" you asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. Ji-Yong’s gaze immediately turned tender. He placed his hand on your belly, waiting patiently for another sign of life. After a few moments, a little flutter came, causing his face to light up. "I felt that," he said, his voice low with awe.

You both sat in silence, his hand resting against the bump, both of you lost in the reality of what was happening. The world could wait. The studio could wait. Right now, there was nothing more important than this moment. Your little family.

G-Dragon smiled to himself. “I’m going to be the best dad in the world,” he said, almost to himself.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, glancing at him with a playful smirk. “I’m the one who’s going to need to learn the ropes.”

Ji-Yong chuckled, his hand moving to gently cup your face. “Don’t worry. We’ll learn together.”

The music played softly, a lullaby to remind you of the tiny person growing inside. There was no rush, no deadlines, no frantic schedule. Just you, him, and the future unfolding in a little bundle of joy. And for now, that was enough.

T.o.p

The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. You sat on the couch, cradling your swollen belly with both hands, watching the flickering light on the walls as you waited for T.O.P. to come home. The last few months had been a rollercoaster of emotions, mostly centered around the baby you were expecting, but also around him—his moods, his distance, and the secret weight he carried.

T.O.P. had been smoking again.At first, it was just an occasional thing. He’d been stressed, overwhelmed by the pressure of his career and the world watching his every move. But over time, it had become more frequent, more of a crutch he couldn’t seem to let go of. You understood, in a way—you knew he carried heavy burdens—but the worry gnawed at you, especially now, when there was more at stake than just his well-being. There was your baby, your future.

You tried not to confront him too harshly, but every time he smoked, it felt like a silent, insidious barrier grew between the two of you. And now, the heaviness in the air was palpable.

You heard the familiar click of the front door unlocking, the sound of his steps slowly making their way down the hallway. Your heart raced, unsure if tonight would be different.

When T.O.P. appeared in the doorway, his eyes were already distant. He didn’t meet your gaze right away, instead running a hand through his tousled hair as if deep in thought.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, your voice carrying a warmth you hoped would draw him in.

He looked up, and for a moment, you saw the man you knew—the soft glint in his eyes, the slight curve of his lips. But it was fleeting. He didn’t speak right away, only stepped forward and slumped onto the couch beside you, his posture hunched.

"How was your day?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light, to give him an opening.T.O.P. sighed deeply, leaning back and rubbing his temple. “Same as usual. Busy... overwhelming.” He paused before muttering, "But it’s fine."

You knew it wasn’t. The distance between you felt heavier every day, and you were desperate to bridge it before it became too much to handle. “T.O.P., we need to talk.”

His gaze flickered over to you briefly, but it was like he was looking through you, not at you. You saw the small tremor in his hand as he reached for his pocket, pulling out a half-rolled joint, his thumb running over it nervously.

“Not again, please,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You wanted to be understanding, but the frustration was beginning to bubble to the surface. “You promised me you were going to quit. We’re having a baby, T.O.P. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

His eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "I’m doing this for myself," he shot back, his voice sharp. "I need something to escape. Can’t you see that? The pressure is too much. I can’t breathe with it all around me."

“I know,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, but he pulled it away, running his fingers through his hair again. “I get it. But I need you. We need you here, whole, with us.” Your eyes searched his face, pleading, wanting him to understand that you weren’t just worried about him—you were worried about the family you were about to bring into this world.

He looked down at the joint in his hand, then back at you. His face softened, but there was something tragic in his expression. “I know I’ve let you down. But I can’t seem to stop, Y/N. It’s like I’m drowning, and this is the only thing that keeps me afloat, even for just a little while.”

You felt a pang in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You could see how torn he was, the internal battle playing out in his eyes. But there was something you couldn’t ignore—his addiction was starting to affect more than just his well-being. It was affecting your relationship. Your future.

“I love you,” you said softly, placing your hand over your belly, where the baby kicked gently. “But I need you to be here. For me. For us. This baby is going to need all of you... and so do I.”

T.O.P.’s eyes flickered down to your hand on your stomach, and for a moment, the façade broke. His eyes softened, and the weariness of his addiction was laid bare in his face.

“I... I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice low. “But I don’t know how to stop, Y/N. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You took a deep breath, fighting back tears. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, that the road ahead would be long and full of challenges. But you also knew one thing for sure: you weren’t going to give up on him, on the man you loved, no matter how hard it got.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Together.”

T.O.P. rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone.

Daesung

It’s 11:42 p.m. when you whisper, half-embarrassed, “Babe… I want banana milk. Like, now.”

Daesung barely opens one eye before he breaks into that boyish grin of his. “Banana milk?” he says, already sitting up. “Anything else, my queen?”

You hum, sheepish. “Maybe shrimp chips too?”Daesung presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Done. Be right back.”

He’s already pulling on his sweats and hoodie—no complaints, no groans. Just that same wide smile he’s been wearing since the day you showed him the positive test.

---He comes back ten minutes later, arms full like he robbed the convenience store.

“Banana milk,” he announces proudly. “Shrimp chips. Chocolate pudding. A stuffed duck because it made me think of you. And… baby socks! They had a baby aisle, how could I resist?”

You laugh so hard you almost cry. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely in love,” he corrects, gently rubbing your swollen belly.

---Every night, his hands find your aching back and swollen feet. And somehow, he knows exactly where to press, always so gentle. "My poor baby," he murmurs as he massages, kissing your shoulder, "You're doing all the hard work. Let me take care of you."

On Saturdays, he’s dragging you to baby stores, a whole checklist in his hands, even though you only came for one thing. “We need the diaper caddy with compartments,” he insists, holding up a pastel blue organizer like it’s holy.

You don’t argue. Not when he’s beaming like that.

---The nursery slowly becomes a little wonderland—hand-painted stars on the ceiling, a bookshelf already filled with fairytales and picture books. “The baby has to love reading,” he says. “Like you.”

And the baby name list?

Oh, the name list.

It started as a neat little note in your phone. Now it’s a chaotic doc with Daesung’s random 3 a.m. additions:

- Moonbeam (???)

- Tofu (no.)

- Peach Blossom (…daesung.)

- Skyler Sparkle (STOP.)

- Jellybean (you’re lucky you’re cute.)

Still, every time you shoot him a look, he just shrugs with that blinding grin. “Hey, I’m just trying to give our baby options.”

---One night, curled against his chest as he hums softly to your belly, you whisper, “You’re going to be the best dad.”

He kisses your hair and smiles, still tracing lazy circles on your skin. “I just want you both to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I ever want.”

And in that little quiet moment, with your heart full and the baby kicking softly between you, you know: you already are.

Namjoon

(he's in military)

The night was quiet, save for the low hum of the fan and the steady ticking of the wall clock. You shifted in bed, one hand resting on your belly, the other holding your phone to your ear.

“Can you hear me okay?” Namjoon’s voice came through, a little staticky but warm. Familiar.

“Mm-hmm. Loud and clear, soldier,” you teased softly, your voice thick with emotion.

He chuckled on the other end, the sound like a balm to your aching chest. “How’s my little universe doing? Both of you.”

You glanced down at the swell of your belly. “Your daughter’s been practicing her kickboxing again. I think she knows your voice. She moved the second you said something.

”A pause. You heard him exhale—slow, shaky. “I hate not being there,” he admitted. “Every time I picture you at that check-up or falling asleep alone, it’s like this... weight in my chest. I just want to hold you.”

You closed your eyes. “Me too. But hearing you now—it helps. It really helps, Joon.”

Silence stretched between you, thick but comforting.

“I wrote a letter,” he said suddenly. “They might give me time next week to video call, but just in case, I wanted you to have something real. Something to read when she kicks too hard or you feel like crying.”

You smiled, tears gathering. “You always think of everything.”

“I’m trying,” he murmured. “I want her to know that even if I’m not there at every moment, I love her. And you. So damn much.”

“She’ll know,” you whispered. “Because I’ll tell her. Every single day.”

Another pause.

“Can you do something for me?” he asked, voice low.

“Anything.”

“Put the phone close to your belly.”

You adjusted it, holding the speaker just above your bump.

“I love you,” he said, voice cracking. “I love you, little one. Appa’s gonna come home soon, and I’ll read to you and hold you and fall asleep next to you and Mommy every night. Just hang in there a little longer, okay?”

The baby kicked again, strong and sure.

You laughed through your tears. “She heard you.”

“I’ll write again tomorrow,” Namjoon promised. “Goodnight, my love. Kiss her for me.”

“I will. And Namjoon?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. Come home to us.”

“I will. No matter what.”

Yoongi

You were almost asleep when it happened again.

A sharp little kick against the inside of your belly had you groaning and shifting under the blanket. You reached down, resting your hand on the bump, rubbing small circles as if you could soothe the tiny dancer inside.

Yoongi stirred beside you. “Kicking again?” he mumbled, voice gravelly from sleep.

“Like clockwork,” you said with a soft laugh. “I think she’s plotting to keep us awake for the next 18 years.”

Yoongi turned over to face you fully, eyes barely open but his hand instinctively reaching out to join yours on your belly. “She gets it from you. You’re the dramatic one.”

You gasped. “Excuse you! You’re the one who almost cried when we ran out of your favorite ramen.”

He scoffed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “That was a legitimate crisis.”

You laughed, head resting back against the pillow. His hand stayed warm over yours, both of you feeling the little thumps beneath your skin. She kicked again, and Yoongi’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“Whoa,” he whispered. “That was a strong one.”

“She’s going to be a dancer,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “Or a drummer.”

Yoongi leaned in and kissed your temple. “I wouldn’t mind that. A little musician running around here.”

“You’ll have to share your studio,” you teased.He gave a mock sigh. “Fine. But only if she promises not to touch my limited edition vinyls.”

“She’s not even born yet and you’re already making deals with her.”

He grinned lazily and gently pressed his lips to your bump. “You hear that, baby? Appa says no touching the vinyl.”

She kicked again in reply, as if answering him directly.

Yoongi laughed softly, pressing another kiss against you. “We’re doomed.”

“You love it,” you whispered, half-asleep now.

“Yeah,” he murmured, resting his forehead gently against you. “I really do.”

The room went quiet again, filled only with the soft hum of the heater and the rhythm of your breathing. Yoongi stayed there, one arm around you, the other still resting on your belly. Every time she kicked, his smile grew a little more.

Jhope

J-Hope’s energy filled the room, as usual. He was bouncing around, practically glowing as he set up a cozy corner in your shared living room. The soft music from the speakers added to the peaceful atmosphere, and your heart swelled with love as you watched him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyes filled with concern as he crouched down to place the baby’s tiny clothes in the basket.

His hands, so careful and precise, smoothed over the fabric, though his own energy made the simple task seem like an excited dance. You rested your hand on your swollen belly, smiling softly. "I’m fine, babe. Just tired. You’re so cute when you’re excited."

J-Hope's face lit up, his dimples deepening as he flashed you a wide grin. "I’m just so ready to meet our baby. I can’t wait to see what they're gonna be like! I hope they have your eyes," he said with a laugh, his eyes already sparkling with love. He sat beside you on the couch, gently lifting your feet onto his lap as he massaged them. His touch was so tender, so caring, and it made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

"You know," he started, eyes locking onto yours, "I’m gonna be the best dad, right? I'm already planning how to teach our baby how to dance."

You laughed, the sound so genuine it filled the room. "I’m sure they’ll love it."

J-Hope winked at you, then leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"They’ll probably be a little dancer just like me. But even if they’re not, I’ll be proud of them."

His hands rested on your belly now, his warmth spreading through you as he whispered, "I can’t wait for us to be a family. Just you, me, and our little one."

Mingi

Mingi could tell you were exhausted. You had barely made it through dinner, letting your head rest on the table as you tried to will yourself not to fall asleep in front of him. He, on the other hand, was full of energy—too much energy for your tired body to keep up with.

“Y/N,” he whined, his voice low and soft. “Come on, baby, just a little attention, please?”

You let out a tired sigh, your eyelids heavy as you tried to push yourself up. But the ache in your back and the weight of your belly made it so much harder than it used to be. “Mingi... I’m so tired,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion.

Mingi leaned down, brushing his lips over your temple, his hand gently rubbing your swollen belly. “I know, I know, but I just need you right now,” he murmured, nipping at your ear as his hand slid down to your side.

His words were teasing, and there was something in the way he touched you—gentle, but insistent—that made your heart race. You knew what he wanted, but your body was so drained, the idea of moving or being even the slightest bit more active felt impossible.

But Mingi wasn’t giving up that easily. “Please, baby, you know I’ve been waiting all day,” he whined again, voice cracking with need. He nuzzled your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Just let me love you, even if you’re tired.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. You didn’t have the energy to do much of anything, except let him tug you gently into his arms. He settled you back onto the couch, his hands roaming over your tired body, whispering sweet nothings that only made you feel more worn out.

But there was something about his needy tone, his insistence that made you weak in the knees. Even exhausted, you couldn't deny the pull of his touch, the way he made you feel loved and wanted, despite how tired you were.

“You're such a tease, Mingi,” you whispered, finally giving in as you slid your hand into his hair, tugging him closer. Mingi smirked, his lips brushing against yours as he kissed you deeply, the softness of his touch a stark contrast to the desperation in his voice. "I can’t help it," he murmured against your lips. "You’re my everything. And I need you now, tired or not."

San

It had been a whirlwind few months. Your pregnancy was now at its halfway point, and though the days were filled with excitement, they were also filled with curiosity. You and San had been talking about the baby constantly, making plans and imagining what your little one would be like. But there was one thing you both couldn’t decide—whether you were expecting a little boy or a girl.

That’s when San came up with the idea for a gender reveal party.

"We could just have a small gathering with close friends and family," San suggested one evening, his hands gently resting on your growing belly. "It’ll be fun to finally know, and everyone can celebrate with us."

You smiled at the thought. "That sounds perfect."

The day of the party came, and you were feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Your close friends, including the members of ATEEZ, were all gathered in the cozy living room of your apartment. Decorations were scattered around—blue and pink balloons, a table covered in sweet treats, and a huge sign reading "He or She? What Will It Be?" with a countdown clock ticking down to the big moment.

San, ever the charmer, had been pacing back and forth in anticipation. He looked absolutely radiant in his casual outfit, but there was a nervous excitement in his eyes that you couldn’t help but love.

"Are you sure you want to do it this way?" you asked, as you held onto his arm.

"Of course!" He flashed you a smile, though you could tell he was just as nervous as you. "I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they find out."

Your friends chatted and mingled, the room buzzing with energy. Finally, the moment arrived. San took your hand, leading you to the front of the room, the lights dimmed to heighten the suspense. He stood next to you, radiating confidence despite the tension that lingered in the air.

"You ready?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, squeezing his hand tighter. "Let’s do it."

With a dramatic pause, San pulled out a large black box from behind him. Everyone turned their attention to it, and your heart began to race in anticipation. The box held the secret—the reveal of your baby’s gender.

"Here we go!" San announced, grinning widely as he opened the box.

Inside, a small, heart-shaped balloon floated to the ceiling. It was... pink. You gasped, your eyes wide with joy.

"It’s a girl!" San exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. The room erupted into cheers and applause, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. Your baby, your little girl, was on her way.

San pulled you into his arms, lifting you off your feet in a sweet hug, his face full of happiness and excitement. "A little princess," he murmured softly in your ear, his voice full of love. "I can’t believe it. I’m so lucky."

You giggled, resting your head on his chest. "We’re both lucky, San."

Your friends swarmed around you, offering congratulations and sharing in your joy. San couldn’t keep his hands off your belly, gently caressing it as he talked excitedly about the future. You both shared a glance, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

The party continued into the evening, with laughter, dancing, and everyone celebrating the news. But amidst all the excitement, you couldn’t help but focus on one thing—your future with San and the little girl you would both raise together.

And as the night ended, with everyone heading home and the decorations still up, you and San sat down on the couch, a soft silence settling between you.

"I can't wait to meet her," San said, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled, leaning into him as you placed your hands over your belly. "Neither can I."

Kim seo wan

The hospital room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of machines. You sat by Seo-wan’s side, your hand gently resting on his, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a reality you could barely keep hold of. His eyes, when they weren’t clouded with confusion, would flicker with brief flashes of recognition, but for the most part, he was lost in a world of dragons and fantasy—far away from the love you once shared.But you weren’t going to leave. You couldn’t. Not with the baby growing inside you, the baby he had helped create.

“Seo-wan?” You spoke gently, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. When they did, you saw the familiar glint of recognition buried beneath the fog of his mind. He blinked, then smiled faintly.

“Do I know you?” His voice was soft, almost childlike, as if he had forgotten, just for a moment, the life the two of you had built together.

“Of course you do,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “Im your girlfriend. And i know you dont remeber but we have a little babg on the way.”

The words hung in the air, and for a second, his expression flickered—uncertain. And then it happened. A look of pure joy spread across his face, and before you knew it, Seo-wan was sitting up in his bed, his hands reaching out to gently touch your swollen belly.

“You’re… pregnant?” he asked, a huge grin spreading across his face as his eyes met yours with the kind of wonder you hadn’t seen in months. “Our baby?”

You nodded, smiling widely. “Yes, Seo-wan..aaand its actually a little boy in there.”

He laughed, an adorable, almost childlike laugh that sent a rush of warmth through your heart. “How did I get so lucky?” His hands hesitantly pressed against your belly, as if trying to feel the life inside you, his eyes shining with awe. "I have a baby dragon warrior in there...?”

Your chest tightened with emotion, but you smiled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Yes love, you'll meet him in a few months”

He grinned wider, his joy infectious, and without a second thought, he jumped to his feet—stumbling slightly as if he hadn’t quite figured out how to use his body again. “This is amazing! I’m going to be a trainer!” He spun around, laughing like a child who had just been given the greatest gift in the world.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He looked so carefree, so innocent in that moment, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from his shoulders. “Yes, you’re going to be a father and a trainer. And you’re going to be a great one.”

Seo-wan stopped spinning and looked at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “How did I aquire you?” he asked, shaking his head as if he couldn’t fathom it. “I don’t have high enough level for you...You’r such a faire maiden. And now… we’re going to have a baby knight.”

You felt your heart swell with love. “You aquired me with your great charm, Seo-wan. You’ve always been on my level. Even when things were hard, even when you forget me at times, I knew this was where home is. With you.”

He looked at you, his face softening, and he took your hand in his, holding it gently, like a treasure he couldn’t bear to lose. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how..., but I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I always will.”

Roh jae won

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where time seemed to slow down. Roh Jae-Won sat on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, his eyes glued to his phone. You were in the kitchen, attempting to make something simple for lunch, though every time you reached up or bent down, a sharp discomfort reminded you of the weight in your belly.

You had just begun stirring the soup when Jae-Won’s voice floated in from the living room, playful but tinged with concern.

"Are you okay in there?" he asked, his tone light yet thoughtful. He could always sense when something was off, even in the smallest way.

You smiled, though you knew he wouldn't be fooled. "I’m fine, just a little tired."

He didn't miss the hesitation in your voice. Setting his phone down, Jae-Won stood up and padded into the kitchen, his soft steps barely making a sound. He stopped behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders, gently massaging.

"Are you sure?" His voice was warm, full of the quiet affection he always showed you. "You’ve been on your feet a lot lately."

You let out a soft sigh, the familiar weight of pregnancy pressing on your back and making every movement feel just a little more difficult. "I’m just... tired," you admitted, turning your head to look at him, your hand instinctively resting on your swollen belly.

Jae-Won’s face softened as his hand instinctively reached to hold yours, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach. "I know it’s been tough, but I can help with things around here. You shouldn’t push yourself too hard."

You tried to protest, but the sincerity in his eyes made it hard to do so. "I don’t want to be a burden..."

He interrupted with a gentle laugh. "You could never be a burden to me." He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his hand still resting on your belly. "We’re in this together, remember?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. "I remember." Just then, your stomach gave a little lurch, and you both froze. You felt the gentle flutter of the baby moving, and instinctively, you placed your hand over your belly. A soft, tender smile spread across your face as you looked at Jae-Won. "The baby just kicked."

Jae-Won’s eyes lit up in surprise, and he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands carefully resting on your stomach. He was never this emotional, but in this moment, with you carrying both his child and all his hopes for the future, he felt everything more deeply than he’d ever imagined.

"Can I feel?" he asked quietly, his voice shaky with emotion.

You nodded, and he gently placed his hands on the roundness of your belly. There was a small moment of stillness, and then it happened again—the baby kicked. Jae-Won’s face lit up like a child at Christmas, his fingers pressing a little harder to feel the movement. His grin was so wide, you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Wow," he whispered. "This is... amazing."

"I’m glad you think so," you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

He leaned his forehead against your belly for a moment, closing his eyes, overwhelmed with love and the weight of this new chapter in your lives. He had always wanted to be a great partner, but now, he was going to be a father. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet, except that it scared him in the best way.

Jae-Won pulled back after a moment, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling. "I think we're going to be great at this."

You smiled warmly, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. "I know we will."

He stood up, his hands gently brushing over your shoulders as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, his head resting against yours.

"We’ve got this," he whispered, as if the words were more for him than for you, reassuring himself as much as you. And in that quiet moment, surrounded by love, you both knew that this was only the beginning.

Gong yoo/Gong Ji cheol

It had been a few months since you found out about the little one growing inside you, and every day with Gong Ji-Cheol felt more magical than the last. The way he held your hand so gently, the way he whispered sweet words to you every morning, and the way his eyes would light up when he felt the baby kick—it was all so heartwarming.

You were now in the middle of your pregnancy, your belly rounded and undeniably obvious, and Ji-Cheol had been doing everything he could to take care of you. His attention to detail was remarkable, and the moment you felt any discomfort, he was there by your side, ready to make things easier for you.

It was a cozy Saturday morning, the sun streaming through the curtains of your living room. Ji-Cheol was sitting on the couch, his head resting against the armrest, eyes closed, but he was never far from you. You were curled up beside him, one hand resting on your swollen belly, the other gently stroking your hair.

"How are you feeling today?" Ji-Cheol asked, his voice soft, as though afraid to disturb the peaceful moment you were both sharing.

"I’m good," you said, smiling as you looked at him. "Just a little tired, but nothing I can't handle."

He grinned, reaching over to touch your belly, his fingers brushing over the bump. "You sure? I think the little one is growing at an alarming rate."

You chuckled softly, pressing your hand to his. "Don’t remind me," you joked. "I can already feel them kicking around in there."

Ji-Cheol’s eyes softened, and he shifted closer, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it. "I can't wait to meet them," he murmured, his voice low with emotion. "I can't believe we’re going to be parents."

A rush of warmth spread through you at his words. "It’s a bit overwhelming sometimes, but I’m excited too."

He laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. "It’s going to be an adventure, isn’t it? But we’ll figure it out together. Just like we always do."

Your heart fluttered as you rested your head on his shoulder. Gong Ji-Cheol was the type of person who made everything seem so much easier, no matter how complicated life got. His unwavering support was a constant in your life, and now, with the baby on the way, you knew that he would be the best partner and father anyone could ask for.

The baby kicked again, this time stronger, and Ji-Cheol’s eyes widened with excitement. "Did you feel that?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You nodded, grinning as you placed his hand on your belly. "Right here."

His expression softened as he felt the tiny movement. "It’s amazing… I can’t believe there’s actually someone in there."

"I know," you replied, looking at him with love in your eyes. "It’s surreal."

Ji-Cheol leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead. "No matter what happens, I promise you, we’ll do this together. I’m here for you, every step of the way."

Your heart swelled with affection for him. You had always known he was a good person, but seeing the love and care he had for both you and your baby made you fall for him all over again.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You and the baby mean everything to me."

As the day went on, you found comfort in the simple moments, in the quiet assurance that you were building something beautiful together. And with Ji-Cheol by your side, you knew you would face the challenges of parenthood with strength, love, and endless support.

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panerasbox · 12 days ago

Text

—Could Be Worse; 16 Days To Go

Pairing: melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

Genre: fluff.

Word count: 1,350.

summary: Ava discovers a secret.

30 DAYS OF MELISSA SCHEMMENTI MASTERLIST

Most days, staying late at Abbott meant the usual grind: grading papers that blurred together, desperately trying to Tetris my lesson plans into some semblance of order, and silently praying the copier wouldn’t decide today was the day it finally gave up the ghost. But today? Today was different. Today, Melissa Schemmenti was leaning against my desk, arms crossed over her chest, and giving me that look. The one that made my stomach do a little flip.

"You gonna stand over there staring at me all day or are you coming over here?" Her voice was a low drawl, laced with that familiar hint of challenge.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I pushed away from my desk. I reached behind me, the soft click of the closing door amplifying the sudden intimacy of the room. "Someone's feeling bold," I murmured, my gaze locking with hers.

Melissa’s eyebrow arched, a silent dare. "Bold's the only way I know how to be." Of course it was.

This… thing between us still felt so new, a secret we were carefully cultivating in the hallways and during stolen moments at lunch. A brush of hands that lingered a second too long. Late nights that somehow morphed into something more than just shared work stress. I’d tried to convince myself it was just playful, nothing serious. Harmless flirting to get us through another chaotic school day. But then she’d kissed me. Really kissed me, like I was the only person in the world. Touched me with a tenderness that felt both unexpected and utterly right, like I was something precious she wanted to keep safe. That kind of care? That wasn’t casual. Not at all.

We met halfway across the classroom, the space between us shrinking until our lips finally connected. It was a familiar rhythm now, a language we were both eager to explore. Her hand found the curve of my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left. I didn’t fight it. I never wanted to.

"I could get used to this," she murmured against my lips, her breath warm and intoxicating.

"You already have," I whispered back, my fingers tracing the sharp angle of her jawline, the stubble there surprisingly soft.

It was sweet. Soft. And then it shattered.

"Oh hell no. Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?"

We sprang apart like guilty teenagers caught past curfew. My head whipped around, my heart hammering against my ribs. Ava stood in the doorway, her eyes practically bugging out of her head, her eyebrows doing that ridiculous disappearing act they always did when she was truly shocked.

"This is better than the time Janine tried to twerk during field day," Ava declared, her phone already in her hand like it was an extension of her arm. "Do I call HR or TMZ?"

Melissa stepped forward, radiating an almost comical level of nonchalance. "You do either and I’ll replace your coffee pods with decaf for a month."

Ava squinted, a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," Melissa said, her voice dangerously low.

My cheeks burned. I cleared my throat, trying to inject some sort of normalcy into the bizarre situation. "Okay, so… yes. We’re, um—"

"Making poor life choices? Clearly," Ava interjected, never one to miss an opportunity for dramatic commentary. "But go on, I’m listening. Intrigued, actually."

Melissa sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. "We’re seeing each other. It’s nobody’s business but ours."

Ava gave us both a long, considering look, her head tilted slightly. Then, her face broke into a wide, surprisingly genuine grin. "Damn. Good for you, Teach. Didn’t know you had that kind of game. And you," she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me, "didn’t think you had it in you. Sneaky."

I blinked, completely thrown off by her reaction. "Wait, so… you’re not gonna say anything?"

Ava just shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Girl, I’m the queen of secrets. Besides, this is way too juicy to waste on HR. I’m saving it for the staff party. Carry on."

And with that, she turned and strutted out, her heels clicking against the linoleum like she’d just secured a major victory.

Melissa sighed again, rubbing her temples wearily. "I liked it better when she thought I was into my branzino."

A laugh bubbled up from my chest, the tension slowly easing. I stepped closer to her again, the familiar pull undeniable. "Guess the secret’s out."

She looked at me then, her eyes softening, that earlier playful challenge replaced with something warm and real. "Guess it is. Still worth it."

The next morning felt… weird.

I could feel it the second I walked into the staff lounge. The air was thick with unspoken curiosity. Jacob, mid-sip of his green smoothie, paused and gave me a look that could only be described as deeply inquisitive. Barbara offered a tight, almost strained smile, the kind she usually reserved for particularly disruptive parent-teacher conferences. And Janine… well, Janine looked like she was about to burst with unexpressed thoughts.

Melissa strolled in a few seconds later, her usual coffee mug clutched in her hand, completely oblivious—or expertly feigning obliviousness—to the palpable tension in the room.

"Morning," she said, her tone infuriatingly casual.

Jacob cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. "So… anything new with you two?"

My insides froze. My gaze flicked to Melissa, and I saw her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly before she turned to Jacob.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice held a subtle edge.

Janine, bless her well-meaning but often misguided heart, jumped in before Jacob could inevitably dig himself into a deeper hole. "Not that we’re judging! I mean, love is love, right? And you two are—well, you’re both strong, intelligent, passionate women… and honestly? We support you." She beamed, clearly proud of her progressive stance.

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I buried my face in my hands. "Oh my god."

Barbara’s smile remained, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Though I must say, Melissa, I thought you weren’t the type to mix work and pleasure." Her tone held a hint of gentle disapproval, the seasoned educator in her clearly concerned.

Melissa finally put down her coffee, the clink of the mug against the counter sounding surprisingly loud. "I'm not."

Janine blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "But… you are dating Y/N."

Melissa shot a look at the ceiling, a silent plea for divine intervention. "Ava."

"Ding ding ding," came Ava’s voice from the hallway, as she leaned dramatically into the doorway, a triumphant smirk plastered across her face. "You’re welcome, everyone."

"You told them?" I asked, the words a mixture of a groan and a reluctant laugh.

"Please. I didn’t tell them. I inspired curiosity. Big difference," Ava corrected, her tone smug.

"Unreal," Melissa muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a weary sigh.

Gregory, who had been a silent observer in the corner, finally looked up, his expression surprisingly neutral. "It’s not really a big deal. You two seem… happy."

Melissa glanced at me, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips. "We are."

A beat passed, the initial shock slowly dissipating as everyone looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them.

Then Jacob, ever the master of the awkward and inappropriate, piped up. "So, like, are we pretending we didn’t walk in on Janine and Tariq making out in the music room two years ago, or—?"

"JACOB!" Janine hissed, her face turning a shade of red I hadn’t thought humanly possible.

Chaos erupted. A flurry of protests, embarrassed coughs, and knowing glances filled the room.

I leaned against the counter, watching Melissa try—and fail spectacularly—not to smile as the attention shifted away from us and onto Janine’s mortification. I nudged her with my elbow, a small, private gesture in the midst of the delightful pandemonium. "Could be worse."

"Oh, it will be," Melissa said, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "You’ve never seen this crew at happy hour."

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #panerasboxfic #gxg #fluff #x fem!reader #x female reader #wlw fanfic

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nahoney22 · 8 months ago

Note

Hi. I was wondering if you would write for Krennic? I liked how you portrayed him in your thrawn fic. If yes, please can I have the NSFW dominant prompt number 29 with a fem reader?

Perhaps he and reader had been eyeing each other up for a while and they can’t resist anymore? Thank you in advance. 😊😊

A Deal with the Director***🌊

🫧 Pairings: Director Krennic X ImperialFemale!Reader

word count: 8.7k

prompts:

• “Suck on my fingers, get them nice and wet for me."

Plot: When you find yourself locking eyes with Director Krennic more than once, you thought nothing of it. But when you find yourself rather close and personal… it’s a different story.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit Sexual Content & Language, Soft!DomKrennic and Light!SubReader relationship, Female Imperial, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Finger Sucking, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Desk Sex, Uniform Kink, Dirty Talk, Strangers to Lovers, Forbidden Relationship, Sex With Your Boss, Authority Kink, Spanking, Implied Creampie , Reader gets Anxious, Prompt Request. Brea, Rein, Ronhar, Ralson are just random made up characters btw and don’t exist in the Star Wars universe.

A/N: Thanks for being my first Krennic request, anon! I had so much fun doing this so no wonder why it’s 8k plus words long. I’m going to be posting this in ao3 too so if you don’t want to red it all at once I’ve split it up into parts over there. 🩵

link: AO3 Krennic

You leaned against the console, adjusting the stiff collar of your uniform while your colleague and friend, Lieutenant Brea, leaned in closer, her voice low but animated as she indulges you with the latest gossip during an otherwise quiet shift on the bridge.

"I’m telling you, Krennic’s been a complete nightmare lately,” she whispered, her eyes flicking nervously toward the corridor leading to the command deck. “I was on maintenance duty last week when he stormed in. He’s usually uptight, but this time? He was snapping at people for breathing too loudly.”

You smirked, suppressing a laugh. “Sounds about right. I bet it’s because someone replaced his caf with decaf.”

Brea snorted, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. “Or maybe he finally realised that cape of his isn’t as impressive as he thinks.”

You chuckled too but didn’t want to ruin the moment and say you actually quite like his cape…

The two of you shared a cheeky grin, but your amusement quickly turned to curiosity as you remembered something you’d overheard in the officer’s mess hall the day before. Leaning closer to Brea, you lowered your voice even more. “Actually, I heard from Lieutenant Ronhar that it’s got something to do with Tarkin.”

Brea’s eyes widened. “Tarkin? That explains it. I mean, who wouldn’t be in a foul mood dealing with him? Those two have hated each other for ages.”

“Apparently, the Governor’s been in direct contact with him, undermining Krennic’s authority on the Death Star project. You know how much Krennic hates being questioned…especially by someone like Tarkin.” You reply with a nod.

Brea shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’s a wonder they haven’t killed each other yet. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if Krennic’s bad mood is because Tarkin’s finally found a way to outmaneuver him.”

You were just about to add your own two credits when the sharp hiss of the command deck doors sliding open sent a chill down your spine. Brea stiffened beside you, her expression going from relaxed to rigid in an instant. You didn’t need to look to know who had just entered. There was only one person whose mere presence could kill the atmosphere in the room that quickly.

Director Orson Krennic. Just the topic of conversation.

Both of you snapped your attention back to your consoles, fingers suddenly busy typing away at meaningless data as you fought to appear as though you were diligently focused. You could sense him before you saw him, the air around him practically crackling.

His clipped footsteps echoed ominously as he stalked across the deck, barking orders at officers in his path. “Lieutenant Rein, is there a reason these reports are incomplete? You’re telling me the entirety of this ship’s command structure is incapable of following basic protocol?”

Rein, visibly flustered, stammered out a response. “Sir, the system updates delayed the transfer—”

“Spare me your excuses,” Krennic snapped, his voice cold enough to frost over. “I expect results, not delays. If you can’t manage something as simple as a report, I’ll find someone who can.”

You couldn’t help yourself as curiosity got the better of you. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you saw him standing tall, his white uniform a stark contrast against the gray walls. His blue eyes, blazing with intensity, locked onto Rein, who looked ready to melt into the floor. Which is a shame seeing as you always quite liked Rein. Despite his arrogance.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Krennic’s gaze shifted— and met yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes, sharp and calculating, held yours with an intensity that made your knees shake. For a brief moment, everything seemed to stand still. It felt like he was seeing right through you, peeling back layers with that piercing stare.

And quickly realising you had been staring, you quickly turned back to your console, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

Brea shot you a confused look. “What’s wrong?”

You leaned in, voice hushed and panicked. “I made eye contact.”

Brea’s eyes widened, “You what? Are you mad? He’s been chewing out anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way!”

“Believe me, it wasn’t intentional,” you hissed back, your heart still racing. “It just… happened.”

“Forget it,” Brea whispered urgently. “Just keep your head down. Maybe he didn’t notice.”

But you weren’t so sure. He definitely noticed. Even as you pretended to be absorbed in your work, you could still feel the weight of his gaze, as if it lingered for a fraction longer on the back of your head more than necessary before moving on. There was something unsettling, and strangely magnetic, about the way he’d looked at you. You shuddered, not trying to think about it.

The rest of your shift passed in tense silence. Even after Krennic finally left the deck, the atmosphere remained charged. Nobody even dared speak and you were certain that Rein was crying in a corner somewhere. Brea shot you a nervous look, but all you could do was shake your head, still trying to shake off the odd feeling that had settled in your chest.

One thing was certain; working aboard an Imperial vessel was dangerous enough without catching the attention of someone like Director Krennic.

The hum of activity aboard the ship fell silent as Commander Ralson began his inspection. You stood at attention in a perfectly straight line alongside your fellow officers, boots polished, uniforms crisp. These routine checks were a necessary nuisance, and normally, you’d breeze through them without a second thought. But today, an uneasy feeling gnawed at you. A cold knot of tension curled in your stomach.

You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was just nerves from being up late working through endless reports. But your palms were sweating, something that never happened, and you couldn’t shake the sense that something more was coming.

Or someone else.

The Commander walked down the line, sharp eyes inspecting every detail, pausing now and then to critique the smallest flaw. As he drew closer, you steadied your breathing. You could handle Ralson—he was stern, but predictable. But before he could reach your spot, the doors hissed open with an unmistakable whoosh.

There he is again; Director Krennic.

You felt Brea stiffen beside you, a silent ripple of unease passing through the line. The director’s appearance was enough to make even the most seasoned officers tense up. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was Ralson’s routine. So why had he decided to show up?

“Director,” Ralson greeted, snapping to attention as Krennic approached. “I was just—”

“Carry on, Commander. I’m merely observing.” Krennic’s tone was cool, but there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice that left little room for discussion. He moved with calculated grace, his white cape swishing slightly as he surveyed the room with a sharp, almost predatory gaze. “I want to ensure everything is… perfect.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he said the word, the emphasis sending a subtle chill through the air. Krennic began to pace slowly down the line, inspecting each officer with an unnerving precision. Unlike Ralson, who was concerned with the standard details, Krennic’s gaze seemed to dig deeper; as if searching for weaknesses beneath the surface.

You focused straight ahead, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as you felt the weight of his presence drawing closer. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you cursed yourself silently. You never reacted like this to any other officer, no matter their rank. But there was something about Krennic—something that got under your skin in a way that was impossible to define.

When he finally reached your position, he slowed down, pausing right in front of you. He hadn’t stopped for anyone else. Not a single other officer had warranted more than a passing glance, but now, he was standing inches away, studying you.

Did he remember you from yesterday? There were over 1,000 officers on this vessel and you never stood out, or so you think.

The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through you. You had caught his eye in that brief, charged moment, and now you couldn’t help but wonder if it had left an impression—an impression you weren’t sure you wanted to make.

You could feel the heat of his gaze as it traced the lines of your uniform, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes. Every instinct told you to keep staring straight ahead, to maintain discipline. But the longer he lingered, the harder it became to decide. Would it be disrespectful not to acknowledge him? Or was it more dangerous to meet his gaze and invite his scrutiny?

In the end, you opted for caution, keeping your focus rigidly forward. But Krennic wasn’t having it. He shifted ever so slightly, ensuring his line of sight intersected yours, forcing you into the dilemma you’d been dreading.

His eyes locked onto yours, and time seemed to stretch impossibly long. There was something unreadable in his expression, a mix of curiosity and calculation that sent a prickle of discomfort through your skin. It felt like he was analysing every thought behind your eyes. The air between you tightened with tension, your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

Finally, Krennic made a small, almost dismissive sound in his throat, something between a scoff and a clearing of his voice. The spell broke, and he moved on, continuing down the line without another word.

You exhaled shakily, realising only now that you’d been holding your breath. Brea, who had been standing to your right, leaned slightly in, her voice barely a whisper. “Relax. He’s just testing you. If he was going to tear you apart, he’d have done it already.”

Her attempt to calm you fell flat. You nodded minutely, but the knot of tension in your chest didn’t loosen. Instead, it twisted tighter, leaving you on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Krennic’s unpredictability was what unnerved you the most—you could never tell if his silence was a sign of approval or if he was simply waiting for the right moment to strike.

And the worst part? You still had no idea what he was thinking, what his intentions might be, or whether this was just the beginning of a game you were being drawn into.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

But you didn’t plan to think of him from then. Every single night.

The next few days blurred into a familiar routine. The ship hummed with the usual activity, the daily grind of assignments, reports, and inspections keeping you busy. Everything had returned to normal. Seemingly.

You hadn’t seen Director Krennic since that unsettling inspection, and life aboard the ship had resumed its regular pattern. But despite the return to routine, your mind remained troubled.

You’d hoped the lingering tension would vanish once Krennic was out of sight, out of mind. But it seemed he had carved out a space in your thoughts, one that you couldn’t quite push away. And Brea didn’t help either.

“Did you hear what I found out?” She asked, leaning over the console, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Apparently, Tarkin’s been stepping up his little power plays. He’s convinced the Emperor that Krennic’s lost control of the project. If Krennic’s mood couldn’t get any worse!”

You forced a half-hearted smile, normally ready to match her gossip with snarky quips or some dramatic theory. But today, you were quieter than usual, the usual banter falling flat. You could tell Brea noticed the change in your mood, but she narrowed it to exhaustion or a tough assignment. Which was not far from the truth.

You were tired but mainly because your mind was still rattled by Krennic’s staring. The sight of his eyes had stuck with you, replaying in your mind whenever you were alone.

You hadn’t told Brea about it and probably won’t, but you’d spent more than a few nights lying awake, wondering why he had singled you out. Why couldn’t you let it go? Worse yet, you caught yourself subtly scanning the corridors, half-hoping, half-dreading to see that white cape in the distance.

You were searching for him, and you hated yourself for it.

But as days passed and there was no sign of Krennic, you started to relax. You told yourself he had probably left on one of his shuttles, returning to oversee some other corner of his vast operation. It was for the best, you decided. Life was easier without the gnawing uncertainty his presence brought.

You were in the mess hall with Brea one afternoon, chatting over lunch, when a shadow fell over your table. Looking up, you saw Commander Ralson standing there, his expression stern.

“Commander,” you greeted, straightening slightly.

“Lieutenant,” he said, his voice formal, though you caught a hint of discomfort in his eyes. “Director Krennic requires your presence in his office. Immediately.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your heart lurched as a cold wave of anxiety surged through you. Brea shot you a wide-eyed look, biting her lip to keep from blurting out a comment, though you could practically see the questions swirling in her head.

“Understood,” you replied, keeping your voice steady despite the panic starting to bubble beneath the surface.

As you followed the Commander down the corridors, your mind raced, conjuring every worst-case scenario you could imagine. What could he want? Had you done something wrong? Was this some elaborate punishment for whatever offense you might’ve unknowingly committed? Maker, you knew you should’ve never looked at him.

You were ushered into Krennic’s private office, and the door slid shut behind you with a soft hiss. The room was sleek and cold, polished surfaces and sharp lines dominating the decor. It was almost clinical in its precision, every detail meticulously curated. But your focus was immediately drawn to the man seated behind the massive desk.

Krennic didn’t look up as you entered, his attention fixed on the datapad in front of him. His fingers tapped steadily on the device, the soft clicks echoing in the quiet room. For a long, agonising moment, you simply stood there, nerves prickling under your skin as you waited for him to acknowledge you.

You didn’t want to say it either but it was kinda rude he didn’t.

Finally, without lifting his gaze, he spoke. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here, Lieutenant.”

His voice was smooth, almost indifferent, but you could hear the faintest edge to it. You swallowed hard, your palms clammy as you tried to find your voice. “Yes, sir.”

Krennic paused his work, leaning back in his chair as he finally looked up at you, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with that same unnerving intensity from before. “The officer responsible for assisting me with project reports - what was it, Rein? - has… departed. Apparently, my expectations were too much for him.” There was a faint smirk on his lips, a mix of satisfaction and disdain.

He watched your reaction closely, as if weighing how you’d respond. You could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to stay composed.

“And that replacement is… me?” you asked, though the answer was obvious.

“Precisely.” He clipped. “I require someone competent, someone who doesn’t wilt under pressure. I’m told you fit that description.”

You forced yourself to nod, though your thoughts were spiraling. Reports? That couldn’t be all there was to this. Why you, specifically? You had to bite back the urge to question him further, to ask what he really wanted. But you knew better than to push.

“Understood, Director,” you managed, your voice steady, if a bit hollow.

He stared at you a moment longer, as if gauging something deeper. The silence stretched just long enough before he leaned forward slightly, returning his attention to his datapad. “Good. You’ll start tomorrow at 0700 sharp. Don’t be late.”

You could only nod in response, the knot in your chest tightening as he dismissed you with a casual wave of his hand. You turned on your heel and exited the office, the door sliding shut behind you with a finality that sent a shudder down your spine.

As you walked back to the mess hall, Brea was the first person you saw, her eyes wide with curiosity as she rushed up to you. “Well? What did he want?”

You swallowed hard, still trying to process what had just happened. “He wants me to help him with project reports,” you said flatly, your mind still racing.

Brea’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding. He’s putting you in charge of that? Sounds like a nightmare.” She paused, her voice dropping lower. “But I bet there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

You didn’t answer.

As Brea continued talking, her words blurred into background noise, your thoughts returning to that cold office, to the unreadable expression on Krennic’s face.

Tomorrow will be interesting, to say the least.

You barely slept that night, your mind spinning with scenarios, each worse than the last. What if you made a mistake? What if Krennic was testing you? By the time your alarm chimed, you were already awake, staring at the ceiling, your nerves frayed.

By the time you reached Krennic’s office at 0700 sharp, you felt hollow, running on jittery adrenaline and determination.

But when you arrived, the office was empty.

The pristine room was eerily quiet, save for the steady hum of the ship’s systems. You looked around, unsure whether to sit down or wait outside. After a moment’s hesitation, you decided you couldn’t just stand there doing nothing.

You’d seen the collection of data devices stacked neatly on the side of his desk, ready for the day’s work. You assumed they were intended for you, so you entered and gathered them.

The pile of devices was heavier than you expected, and you couldn’t help but wonder why all the data couldn’t be put onto one device. You gathered everything into your arms, careful not to disturb anything else, but the stack was awkward to manage. As you straightened, one of the smaller devices slipped slightly, almost falling, and you quickly adjusted it. Unbeknownst to you, nestled at the bottom of the pile was one of Krennic’s personal files.

A file that was not meant for you.

You set up your workstation at the small desk across the room, your focus shifting to the reports you were supposed to compile. Time crawled by as you went through the data, trying to maintain sharp attention despite your fatigue. You were lost in the numbers and projections when the door slid open and the familiar click of boots on the polished floor echoed behind you.

Director Krennic entered, his expression cool and unreadable as ever. A rush of relief washed over you as didn’t seem displeased to find you working already. You offered a polite nod of acknowledgment. “Good morning, Director.”

He barely spared you a glance, already focused on his own work. “Lieutenant,” he greeted curtly before settling into his seat. You were about to turn back to your task, thinking that perhaps things might be going smoothly for once, when his voice cut through the silence again.

“Where is it?” Krennic’s tone was sharp, irritation lacing his words.

Your fingers paused mid-typing. You looked up, confused. “Sir?”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned his desk, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the polished surface. “There was a file here—one I specifically left out for my use. It’s missing.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, anxiety flaring. You turned to face him fully, a sinking feeling creeping into your stomach. “I… I’m not sure, Director. I didn’t touch anything except the data devices you left for me.”

Krennic’s gaze fixed on you. “Then where is it, Lieutenant?” he asked icily, “I find it hard to believe a file would simply disappear.”

Panic set in as you racked your brain, desperate to figure out what could have happened. Your eyes drifted down to your pile of devices—and there, half-hidden beneath the stack, was a slim, black datapad. Your heart dropped. You gasped, recognising the insignia marking it as one of Krennic’s personal files.

You swallowed hard and immediately grabbed the file, stepping forward with shaky hands. “I’m so sorry, sir. I must have picked it up by accident when I was gathering my work.”

His eyes darkened as you held out the datapad, his expression unreadable. “I see,” he said slowly, his voice devoid of emotion. He took the file from you, his fingers brushing yours just briefly, but it was his gaze that made you shiver.

For a tense moment, he studied you with unnerving intensity. Then, with a deliberate pause, he asked, “Did you read it?”

Your heart hammered in your chest, the question hanging in the air like a death sentence. “No, Director. I swear I didn’t,” you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Krennic leaned back in his chair, tapping the datapad lightly against his palm, considering. “Good. Because if you had,” he said, his tone low, “I wouldn’t be nearly as lenient.”

You nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Understood, Director. It won’t happen again.”

There was another long pause as he continued to watch you, and you found yourself standing taller, somehow more confident as you held his gaze. Finally, he gave a small, almost dismissive nod, as though deciding you were no longer worth his immediate attention. “See that it doesn’t.”

With that, he returned to his work as if nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, feeling both relieved and shaken. You quickly returned to your desk, your thoughts racing. The encounter left a bitter taste in your mouth—a reminder of just how precarious your position was.

You tried to focus on your work, eyes fixed on the screen, or in your case many screens, in front of you, but it was impossible to ignore him. Across the room, Krennic sat behind his desk, absorbed in whatever task demanded his attention. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read, fingers idly twirling a sleek, black pen with a dexterity that seemed almost effortless.

Your gaze drifted over to him before you could stop yourself, drawn in by the sharp angles of his face, the crisp lines of his perfectly tailored uniform. His appearance was always immaculate, a reflection of the discipline and precision he demanded from everyone around him. But it was his eyes that kept you lingering, those striking electric-blue eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone in their path. They were colder than ice, yet held a certain allure, a dangerous charm that you found yourself being drawn too.

The realisation hit you like a blast of cold air: you found him attractive.

Ridiculously attractive.

It was a thought that sent a jolt of panic through your chest. Why him, of all people? He was your Boss. But there was just something about him; something about the way he commanded a room, the aura of authority he carried effortlessly. It was infuriating and fascinating all at once.

As if on cue, Krennic suddenly looked up, his gaze locking onto yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away, your face heating up as you pretended to be engrossed in the report. You held your breath, sincerely hoping he hadn’t caught you staring.

You risked a quick glance back, only to find his eyes still on you. But just as quickly as he’d looked, his attention returned to his work, and you exhaled, trying to convince yourself that it was just a coincidence.

But it wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Over the next few days, the strange game between you and Krennic continued. While you tried to focus on your assignments, your thoughts inevitably drifted back to him. It became a challenge—one that started to excite you. It was a dangerous game but Krennic seemed to be playing along.

When you stretched your arms, subtly arching your back, you could feel his eyes on you. If you stifled a yawn or let your teeth catch your lower lip in thought, his gaze would flicker to you, lingering just a moment too long on your lips. And you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you every time it happened.

There were moments when you swore he was watching you more intently than before, as if trying to unravel the thoughts running through your head. Yet he never commented on it. No reprimands, no acknowledgments—just that watchful stare.

You found yourself pushing the boundaries, testing the waters in subtle ways. Adjusting your posture, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, even letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh when you pretended to be frustrated with a report. Each time, his eyes would lift from whatever he was doing, and you could feel the weight of his gaze settle on you, lingering before he returned to his work as if nothing had happened.

It was maddening.

And intoxicating.

You knew it was risky to toy with someone like Krennic, but you couldn’t help yourself. The thrill of catching his attention, of knowing that beneath his stoic exterior, something in him was attuned to your every movement. You did wonder what was going through his mind. Was this just another power play for him, a way to keep you on edge? Or was there something more beneath the surface? Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny the thrill of having his attention, even if it came with a twinge of fear.

You had just returned from your break, a little more relaxed after stepping away from the unrelenting tension that hung between you and Krennic for the past few days. But as you walked into the office, your tranquility was shattered—literally.

The crash of something smashing against the wall made you yelp, your heart lurching in your chest. You froze, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Shards of shattered glass glistened on the floor beside you, the remnants of what was once a data device. Your gaze snapped to Krennic.

He was standing behind his desk, hair slightly disheveled, his usually impeccable composure nowhere to be seen. His hands were splayed flat against the polished surface of the desk, knuckles white, as he leaned forward with his shoulders heaving. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath, and the seething energy radiating from him was almost terrifying.

Your voice came out small and unsure, breaking the heavy silence. “S-Sir? Is everything okay?”

For a long, agonising moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze was locked somewhere distant, his usually sharp eyes now clouded with barely contained fury. You had never seen him like this.

But then you recall Brea’s gossip from earlier in the week; something about how Krennic was due for a transmission from Tarkin today. Given the state he was in, it was clear that conversation hadn’t gone too well.

Carefully, you moved toward his personal caf machine in the corner. The idea of making him a cup of caf wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was the only thing you could think of. Anything to diffuse the tension. You filled the cup, your fingers trembling slightly as you brought it over to his desk.

“I brought you some caf,” you said quietly, setting it down in front of him. “It looks like you might need it.”

For a long moment, Krennic didn’t react, his eyes still fixed on some invisible point far beyond the room. But then, almost as if he was waking from a trance, he blinked and his gaze slowly drifted to you. The storm in his eyes had softened, but there was something else there now—something vulnerable, almost unsure. His voice was low, barely above a murmur. “Did I hurt you?”

The sound of him saying your name, your real name, not “Lieutenant”, caught you off guard. The tension in your shoulders eased slightly as you shook your head. “No, sir,” you assured him, a soft sincerity in your tone.

Krennic exhaled a long breath, the tension visibly draining from him. He stood up straighter, his composure slowly knitting itself back together as he reached for the caf. It was only when he took a step closer to you that he seemed to notice how near you were standing. His eyes swept over your face, searching for something—perhaps fear or unease—but you held your ground, offering a small, genuine smile instead.

He took the caf you offered, raising the cup to his lips. As he took a slow sip, his eyes never left yours. “Nothing stronger?” he asked, an edge of dark humor with the question.

Your smile widened, and you shook your head lightly. “Not in this office, sir.”

There was a flicker of amusement, perhaps, or maybe even appreciation in his gaze. It was the first time you’d seen him like this, letting his guard slip, if only slightly. The man who usually carried himself with unshakeable control was showing you a crack in that armor.

Krennic sighed again, softer this time, and took another sip of the caf. The tension in the room had dissipated, and for a moment, it was just the two of you standing there, the usual unspoken games between you paused.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone quieter, almost reluctant, as though gratitude wasn’t something he often expressed. “For the caf… and for not running.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that you didn’t expect. “Anytime, sir.”

Krennic was just about to turn back to his desk when you moved without thinking. You stepped closer, your hand reaching out almost on instinct, fingers brushing through his hair, “here,” you whisper as you begin smoothing it into place. The strands of his hair were softer than you expected, slipping under your fingers with surprising ease. You straightened his collar next, tugging lightly to even out the fabric until it was perfectly aligned, followed by the collar of his cape.

But then the realisation hit you—what are you doing? Your breath caught in your throat as you registered the closeness between you, the warmth radiating off his body now that you were standing mere inches away. Krennic stiffened, only just realising what you had done as his eyes flicked down to your hands, then back to your flushed face.

Your mouth opened, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but the words came out in a flustered rush. “I—Sir, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could turn away and retreat, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with surprising gentleness. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with command. You froze as he pulled you closer, the gap between your bodies vanishing. His breath was warm against your cheek, carrying the faint, comforting scent of the caf you had just brewed. Your pulse raced as his eyes scan over your face, studying you with an intensity that made you feel like one of the blueprints on his desk—scrutinised, analysed, evaluated.

“You don’t understand what you do to me,” he said, his voice low and rough, like he was confessing something he’d kept locked away. His grip on your wrist loosened, but his touch lingered, sliding down to rest against your waist. The heat of his palm seeped through the fabric of your uniform, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since that day on the deck,” he continued, his tone dark and laced with something almost feral. “You caught my eye the moment you looked at me… and you haven’t left my mind since.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve ending buzzing with the tension that crackled between you. The way his eyes pinned you in place, the way his hand subtly flexed against your waist. It was too much, and yet not enough. You found your voice, shaky but eager to engage. “I thought it was just me,” you admitted, breath hitching as he leaned in even closer, so close that your noses nearly brushed.

The smirk that curled his lips was intoxicating, laced with satisfaction at your confession. “You’ve been teasing me,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill shooting straight through you. “Stretching… biting that lip of yours… do you think I didn’t notice?”

“I was hoping that you would,” you rasp as your eyes flicker to his lips. Your mouth went dry as you struggled to respond with anything, but before you could form anything, he surged forward and captured your lips with a dominant, demanding kiss.

The force of it stole your breath, his lips claiming yours in a way that left no room for hesitation. You gasped, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his hand tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You barely had time to respond before his hands were on you, strong and decisive, lifting you with ease. You let out a soft gasp as he set you down atop his desk, flimsi scattering beneath you as he stepped between your legs, slotting himself there with deliberate intent.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform as you kissed him back, just as fervent and needy as he was. “Director,” you whimper breathlessly.

The pressure of his lips against yours was intoxicating, a heady mix of desperation and desire that left you dizzy. One of his hands slid up your thigh, curling possessively around your hip as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing at your lips until you parted them with a soft moan; tongue wrapping around yours expertly.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were blazing, “You’re driving me mad,” he rasped, his voice hoarse as he trailed his thumb across your lower lip, eyes fixated on the way it trembled under his touch. “Every time I see you, it takes everything in me not to do exactly this.”

You could barely think, let alone form a reply. All you knew was that this was the breaking point—days, maybe weeks, of unspoken tension had led to this moment, and now there was no turning back. The thrill of it, the danger, was overwhelming. “Then don’t hold back,” you whispered, daring him with a gaze that matched his intensity.

A wicked grin spread across his lips, and before you could draw another breath, he was kissing you again—deeper, harder. His hand began to get tangled in your hair that had become loose from its tight bun as the other gripped your waist, pulling you even closer as you clung to him, your heart hammering against your ribs.

As Krennic stepped back, his eyes were heavy with lust and with intent. His gaze never wavered from yours as he slowly slid off his gloves, each movement deliberate, calculated. You shivered from the way he looked at you. It was like he was savouring every second, every inch of you.

He reached for your uniform, fingers grazing your shoulders as he began to undress you. The fabric slipped away from your skin with an excruciating slowness, leaving your chest exposed, clad only in your bra. His eyes darkened with admiration as his hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak that was protruding under the fabric, coaxing a soft gasp from your lips.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, as though in awe of what he was revealing. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the edge of lace before his other hand slid down to your waistband.

“Raise your hips, darling.” You do as he asks, completely in awe as he tugged your pants down, letting them pool at your ankles before carefully lifting them away. Now, you were left vulnerable before him, the cool material of the desk beneath you a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

He discarded his gloves completely, tossing them aside without a care, and held his fingers to your lips. “Suck on my fingers. Get them nice and wet for me.”

The desire in his eyes made your pulse quicken, and without hesitation, you parted your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around them, sucking gently as you let out a soft moan, your eyes fluttering shut in the process.

The taste of leather from his gloves was faint, but the sensation of his fingers in your mouth was overwhelmingly intimate. His gaze never left you, watching intently, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. The praise sent a flush of warmth through your body, and your moans deepened as you swirl your tongue over his fingertips.

He chuckled softly, a lustful, satisfied sound, before pulling his fingers free from your lips with a soft pop. He wasted no time as his hand slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding over the damp fabric of your underwear. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He sighs in approval before he hooked them aside. The moment his fingers made contact with your slick heat, a gasp escaped your lips, your body instinctively trembling.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice low and husky as he teased you with feather-light touches. “So ready… and all for me.”

He watched you intently, eyes half-lidded with desire as he explored you, fingers gliding with a smoothness that made you whimper. The way he looked at you—like you were the most exquisite thing he’d ever laid eyes on—had your heart racing. You couldn’t hold back the small whimpers and gasps as his fingers pressed deeper, slipping inside your pussy, you moan out every ounce of need that had been building up between you for days.

Krennic leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I want it so much… please,” you breathed out, hardly recognising your own voice as you begged him.

The smirk on his lips grew darker, and without another word, he curled his finger deeper inside you, his fingers finding that spot within you that made your back arch and your breath hitch. The rhythm he set was both maddeningly slow and utterly precise, like he was savoring every little reaction you gave him, drawing out your pleasure until it was almost unbearable. “So receptive, aren’t you?”

“D-Director, don’t stop.. oh fuck.. please don’t stop.” You lay your back flat on the desk, legs spreading wider as your hands move over your breasts, pulling them out the cup of your bra and begin to pinch at your hardened nipples, desperate for that extra edge.

You hear him let out something similar to a whimper as he watches you, his other hand that had been resting on your thigh moving to brush over your clit, his fingers making fast work. “There you go, there you go my beautiful girl. Give in to me.”

Each touch, each movement was deliberate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as he pushed you closer to the edge. But it was the look in his eyes-predatory and possessive- that had you crashing down with your high. You back arches from the table, panting his name as your legs tremble desperately with your release.

He doesn’t let up, chuckling as he pinches your sensitive clit as you cry out, unphased if anyone were to hear you. “F-Fuck! Please,” you cry, unsure what you are really trying to ask for.

Eventually, he lets go and takes your arms, sitting you up. You're dizzy, disoriented as he takes your chin between his fingers, making sure your gaze is on him. “You did so, so well.” He praises, moving his fingers to his lips and licking them, followed by him putting his fingers back into your mouth, tasting your aftermath.

You suck on his fingers like a woman starved and then lean into him, kissing him. He smiles against your lips, swallowing his small moans as you quietly beg him for more.

He began to undress, unfastening his uniform with practiced ease, but you suddenly reached out and took hold of his hands.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling with both anticipation and a daring excitement. “Can I have you… like this?” You gestured to his still-partially-clad form, your eyes roving over the impeccably sharp lines of his uniform. The thought of being taken by him while he remained in his authoritative attire stirred a deep, thrilling excitement in you.

Krennic raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Are you commanding the Director now?” His voice was a mix of amusement and curiosity, but there was no mistaking the gleam of intrigue in his eyes.

You flushed slightly, feeling a shiver of self-consciousness. “I didn’t mean to—” you began, but he interrupted you with a chuckle, clearly delighted by your boldness.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, his tone dropping to a low, seductive murmur, “then who am I to refuse?”

With a fluid motion, he released himself from his pants, the sight of his arousal makes you gasp. He stroked himself slowly, the motion smooth and controlled. Your gaze followed the movement of his hand, mesmerised by the way he seemed to effortlessly control his own pleasure.

“Sir,” you whispered, “you’re so…” you don’t even have the words, your mouth salivating as you watch him.

Krennic’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You like that, don’t you? The authority, the control?”

You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Yes, Director. I want you… now.”

He grinned, the expression a mix of pride and desire, and moved closer, positioning you carefully atop the desk. He guided you into a position that had you spread out in a way that made you feel utterly at his mercy. The cool surface of the desk was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body as he hovered above you, his uniform still immaculate.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart with deliberate slowness. You shudder under his touch, a small whine parting your lips as the tip of his cock settles upon your clit, his hips gently rocking back and forth to tease you. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs, “Is it fear… or something else, darling?”

You bite your lip, your breath catching as his voice sends shivers down your spine, watching his gorgeous swollen head starts to move between your folds this time. “You know exactly what it is, Director.”

“Such a clever girl. Always so eager to please.” His tone is teasing, but beneath it lies an edge of hunger, barely restrained. His hands trail down your body, brushing over your exposed skin, almost like he’s admiring a fine piece of art. He grabs his cock again and this time he pushes past the teasing and slips wonderfully inside you, filling you. There’s a wince on your tongue, eyes screwing shut as he stretches you. It had been a while.

“Mmmm,” he rumbles, his head tilting back as he settles inside you, allowing himself and you to adjust to his girth, “such a warm cunt.”

You whimper at his filthy words, watching between your legs as you prop yourself up on your elbows as he begins to move in and out of you, his cock glimmering with your arousal before he pushes back into you.

His fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I think you like being at my mercy,” he says softly, his voice laced with both challenge and curiosity. “You crave it, don’t you? That sense of submission… knowing that I’m in control.”

You swallow hard, feeling the truth of his words sink in just as his cock does. “Yes, Director,” you reply, your voice a whisper as your fingers grip the desk. “I trust you.”

For a brief moment, something flickers in his eyes—something more vulnerable, almost appreciative—but it’s quickly replaced by that signature smirk. “Good. Because I intend to take everything you’re willing to give.”

With that, Krennic presses you closer to him, his cock reaching that spot inside you with a heated jolt. “M-More, please.” You beg as he holds your thighs further apart as he starts to thrust with even strides, the pleasure like no other as you submit to him completely.

His groans are low and rough, his eyes fixed on watching his cock slip in and out of you with ease. He raises one of your legs, hooking it around his back as his hands begin to travel up your body.

Breath hitching, his fingers brush over your collarbone, tracing a line from your neck down to your chest where he then pinches and tugs gently at your nipples. “You look perfect like this,” he murmurs. “A picture of submission and beauty, being devoured by me.” His thrusts become rough, the flimsi on his desk scattering below you as you lay fully back, your body thrusting up and down the desk with every powerful grind.

He leans over the top of you, capturing your lips in a kiss, claiming every ounce of your attention. You respond in kind, hands curling into the fabric of his uniform as you pull him closer, both of your legs now wrapping around his body, tangled in his cape.

“Director,” you whisper against his lips, the title now carrying a deeper, more intimate weight.

“Say that again,” he commands, his voice husky as he brushes his lips along your jaw, his fingers tightening their grip on you.

“Director,” you moan softly, your voice laced with submission and desire. The word is like a key, unlocking something primal in him as his gaze darkens with raw intensity. “F-Fuck, you’re so good pleasing me. Your cock is so thick.”

“That’s a good girl.” His voice is a velvet growl, full of dark promise, and his hands slide back to your waist, lifting you and flipping you so your face was now pressed down against his desk, legs dangling over the edge as he takes you from behind effortlessly. “Now, let’s see just how well you can follow orders.”

You moan desperately as he spanks your arse, swearing out loud in pleasure as his cock drills harsher into you than before, his hand tangled in your hair as he grips firmly onto it as he takes you.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he confesses, in a desperate moan, pulling out and slapping his arse with his cock before fucking straight back into you. “Since the moment I saw you watching me—.” he growls with a roll of his hips, “thinking you were being so subtle, so discreet. But I noticed.”

You can’t help but smirk, remembering every stolen glance, every time you tried to hide how much you were drawn to him. “I couldn’t help it,” you admit, voice breathless as you move yourself back up onto his cock. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

You don’t see it but his eyes flash with satisfaction, your walls tightening perfectly around his cock with every praise sent both ways. After a minute of brutal fucking, he flips you so you’re on your back again, stealing a kiss from your lips as he seethes back inside you.

Your back contorts, rising off the desk in an effort to press your hips further down, to take him deeper even when you see Krennic almost bottoming out—his cock pressed almost painfully against your cervix. “Stars, you’re so beautiful.” He moans in a higher octave, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your hands wrap around his back, clawing at his cape.

Your head spins with the thought that he was going to cum and coat your inside with his powerful, seed. Your body has submitted fully to him and is desperate to take more and more of him, to take all of him.

He leans back suddenly, one hand grabbing at your waist and the other moving to brush over your clit. “You’re close aren’t you, hm? You’re going to cum with me-!”

You see how affected he is—the sweat that bundled trickled down the side of his temple, his blue eyes half-lidded and so full of desire, his brows furrowed with pleasure. He’s going to cum soon and you can read it all over his face. “Such a divine pussy, you’re so beautiful.” He gasps and you’re in complete awe as you watch him come undone as you soon meet your high as stars start to blur in your eyes. “Fuck, cum with me, I’m fucking-!”

The next moments blur into a series of touches, kisses, and desperate whispered words as the tension that’s been building between you for days finally finds release. Your body trembles with the shake of your orgasm, his fingers working perfectly against your clit as he pumps inside of you.

And Krennic doesn’t hold back, and neither do you.

By the time he finally pulls away, breath ragged and chest heaving, the desk is askew, flimsi scattered, but neither of you care. His uniform remains perfectly in place, while you lay back, utterly spent and thoroughly satisfied. His fingers trail down your arm, the touch almost tender now, as he studies you with a look that’s oddly affectionate.

“You did well, darling,” he murmurs, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve more than earned my attention.”

Krennic adjusted his uniform a touch and then took a seat on the chair behind his desk, closing his eyes with a content expression.

Meanwhile you stood nearby, suddenly feeling shy and unsure, the intensity of what just happened leaving you at a slight loss. The confidence you’d felt just moments ago just vanished. After all, this was Director Krennic. Your superior. How were you supposed to act now?

Sensing your hesitation, Krennic leaned back in his chair, his eyes taking in your expression. With a softness that was different to his usual sharp demeanor, he reached out and took your hand. “Come here,” he said, the command wrapped in a velvet tone. There was a tenderness in the way he guided you closer, a hand resting on your hip as he coaxed you to sit on his lap.

Blushing, you settled against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the firmness of his embrace. He reached for the collar of his cape and gently wrapped it around your shoulders.

You couldn’t help but ask the question that had been lingering on your mind, your voice softer than usual. “Why… why did this happen?” Your fingers toyed with the edge of his cape, nervous yet curious.

Krennic paused for just a moment, his fingers brushing against your back in soothing, repetitive motions. “Because I’m drawn to you,” he admitted, his voice lower, more honest. “This isn’t just a fleeting indulgence. You’ve captured my attention in ways I didn’t anticipate. And no,” he added, his tone firm but reassuring, “this won’t be a one-time thing. But it must remain between us. Do you understand?”

You nodded, a quiet sigh escaping your lips as his hand continued its calming path up and down your back. There was something comforting about the way he held you now. Dominant yet caring.

“Director…” you began after a few minutes of gentle humming and touches, unsure of how to continue. You wanted to ask if you should get dressed, if you should return to your duties.

He responded with a soft, knowing smile, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “When we’re alone, you may call me Orson,” he murmured, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

You smiled shyly against his lips, whispering, “Orson,” testing the name on your tongue. It felt strange but intimate.

He chuckles, liking the way you said his name. “That’s better,” he whispered, trailing his fingers along your jawline. “Now, let’s take our time, shall we?”

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#director krennic #director krennic x reader #reader x krennic #krennic x reader #orson krennic x reader #Orson krennic #nahoney22 writes #rogue one #andor

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 8 months ago

Text

Honey Cappuccino with Cinnamon

Kento Nanami x Barista! Reader SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

You get a new patron in your cafe, a dashingly handsome, well mannered, well spoken, Kento Nanami.

wc: 13k, whoops

Content: Smut, Fluff, comfort, kind of a slow burn, kissing (ooooo!!), sex, brief fear/violence (but not sexual), small curse appearance, cunnalingus, reader is female, smoking, swearing no spit (r u guys proud or disappointed), bad ending

Ao3, Masterlist, Coffee headcannons. dont reproduce my work or post it anywhere else. i came up with it out of my head. Enjoy.

You loved your morning openings, most people would have preferred to sleep in, enjoy their mornings at home, take their time getting ready for the day, all while the sun was settled in the sky. But you loved waking up in the misty dark, walking in the clean, morning air, and setting up the cafe before the sun found its way out of bed. The hour and a half before the cafe opened felt like you were the only person in the entire world, total serenity. You could make your own coffee, just how you liked it, luxuriate in the smells of last night's prepped pastries baking to perfection in the oven, work at your own pace while listening to an audiobook or a playlist that you chose. It was the time you looked forward to most throughout the week; your perfect hour of bliss. Uninterrupted bliss.

The ringing of the door chime was your indicator to return to reality and remember that the cafe didn’t exist solely for your own personal enjoyment, but was in fact a buzzing success. From 6 AM opening to 7 PM closing the cafe would see anywhere between 300-700 customers a day. The large majority of them just stopped in, ordering, and leaving upon receiving their coffee and scone or whatever it was they wanted. A handful you saw nearly every day. You, of course, knew their names, you were a professional. But your first rung of memory was always their orders.

The gentleman that comes on his bike with his canvas backpack -- a double espresso with equal parts hot water to the espresso.

The woman who comes with her daughters every morning -- two blended caramel frappes for them, three shots of espresso over ice in a large cup for her. (she pours a protein shake over it and mixes it together. She’s been trying to get you on it. You tried it once, she's onto something.)

The college kid whose eye bags have doubled in size since they first came in. -- Iced americano, one more shot than you feel is ethical each time.

Three shot soy latte guy, small decaf mocha woman with a fresh set of nails every time you saw her, long pull espresso always in a porcelain cup for the older woman with the faded purple lipstick, etc. etc.

The mental list of orders must have been a mile long but you kept them all in your heart. You have seen people before job interviews, between shifts, between jobs, on breaks, days off, first dates, break ups, going to work, coming from it, anything in between. Second only to your sacred alone time, was the way you got to know the people who continued to come. Your position as a customer service worker was not without the obvious dregs of complaints and entitlement from the comers and goers, who never asked your name or about your day, and always had something wrong with their drinks, but it was all overshadowed by the kind faces you recognized so well. And nothing could compare to seeing someone for the second or third time, knowing you had secured another person a favorite coffee shop where they could feel comfortable and know that this small, but vital, piece of their life would be taken seriously and made carefully, exactly to their tastes. You liked giving people that peace, a little taste of your own.

This morning when you opened, you got into the cafe at 4:30. Early for the 6:00 opening but you wanted to enjoy the languid morning hours a little extra today, and you did. You took your time setting the pastry display, straightening up the table, setting up the self service bar. Before you knew it, there was only a half hour left before opening. The large drip brewers were prepped, ready to fill the cafe with the rich smell of fresh coffee at the touch of a button, the last batch of lemon scones were in the oven, you had just finished counting the drawer for the register and were about to spend the last twenty minutes before turning on the open sign in sweet, perfect silence, enjoying your own favorite coffee when the bell chimed.

“We’re not open yet,” your eyes stayed closed, prepping for the first sip of your perfect morning indulgence.

“Oh, I’m sorry. The sign is on, I didn’t realize.” A rich, oaky voice filled the echoey cafe.

You opened your eyes and turned to face the voice. The owner of the voice was a tall man, over six feet, a full, broad figure clad in a tan coat over a dark blue button up. The outer layer couldn’t conceale the way his shirt stretched over his chest, buttons meeting, but just barely. A queer looking yellow tie spotted almost like a cheetah or a banana thankfully covered the higher up, more stretched gaps. But what struck you the most was his face, hard lined cheekbones, long, slender nose, hard set jaw, thin but full rosy lips, a set of unique green lensed glasses resting over his eyes. He was stunning, completely beautiful, the kind of beauty that could strike a god down to earth for the chance of love. You felt your throat tighten, your mouth fall open.

“I-uh, Sorry.” And yet you still couldn’t figure out how to respond.

He took a moment to look at you, then checked his watch, pulling up his sleeve for you to see the joint of his wrist. Behind him you could see the white neon light of the open sign shining through the front window. Your face heated, mortified at how unprofessional you were being, gawking at him.

“Oh. I am early-- I’ll come back. I’d hate for you to star----”

“No!” you interrupted, waiting just a touch too long before continuing, “You’re barely early, excuse my flippancy, please come in. What can I get you?”

You took your place behind the counter, he moved to the other side of the counter, he scanned the menu board above your head, turning his chin up slightly, giving you a view of the muscles in his neck. Your mouth watered. You brought your eyes down to the screen in front of you, desperate to quiet the thoughts in your mind.

“I really would hate for you to start work early. Especially for my sake I can wait outside.”

“Don’t be silly! I couldn’t have you out there waiting when I can help you now.”

You absolutely could, and had, on many occasions done exactly that. Letting the morning rush wait until operating hours no matter how early they wanted to “just squeak in super fast!”. But you wanted to keep him inside, bring him closer, give him anything he wanted. Hell, if he turned out to want all the money in the register you probably would have at least considered it.

The rich voice filled your ears once again, “A cappuccino, please. With just a bit of honey, please.”

Great order, and so polite.

“You got it.” You plugged it into the computer, the total appearing on his side of the screen, “dry or wet?”

He cleared his throat abruptly, eyes wide behind the thick frames, “uh…?”

You didn’t realize how it came out, “more milk or more foam?”

He collects himself, “uh wet, then.”

You nod, “any preference of milk?”

“Whatever you have is fine.”

You started the espresso grinder, the whirring filling the soundless air of the cafe, “this is a cafe, we have like six milks.”

He nods, “right. Um…whatever you use I’m sure is fine.”

You mirror his nod, “oat is, then. Anything else I can get you?”

“One of those croissants, please.” He gestured to the pastry case, ten perfect flaky butter croissants sitting beautifully.

“Great choice.” You smile, “I’ll get your drink.”

You turned back toward the espresso machine as he moved to start paying on his screen of the register. You were grateful to have an excuse to turn away from him, away from the magnetism of him, to have something to focus on and hopefully regain an ounce of your composure.

Nanami collected his breath, grateful to have your sparkling gaze out of his immediate eyeline. It takes more focus than would normally be necessary to complete his payment. Fingers trembling over the ‘no receipt’ button, his eyes drifted up again. The large espresso machine in front of you hissed and dripped the fragrant, rich liquid into the small espresso cup underneath.

“Is this your first time in?” Your voice rang like a bell in the empty cafe, you were pouring milk into a metal pitcher as you spoke to him, not missing a drop.

So much ease, precision, the routine of skilled work over years of honing, everything was perfectly measured, foamed, and stirred. You clearly took care in what you did, your hands were so still and even as you tipped the small fridge door open with your foot to slip the milk carton back inside. The brief scream of the milk knocked him back into his senses.

“Yes.” He answered, hoping to keep his internal chastisement out of his tone.

You nodded watching the milk whirlpool in its small silver pitcher, “I thought so. I don’t think I’ve seen you in before. I’m basically always here, and I think I would have remembered you.”

A blush heated your cheeks, but you discarded it as steam, pulling the wand from the pitcher and tapping its bottom against the counter. You poured the honey sweetened espresso into a small to-go cup, and topped it with a fair serving of water before meeting the lip of the pitcher with the liquid so the foam could slide perfectly across.

Nanami watched the smile slide across your lips, cheeks pulling upward, a satisfied sigh leaving you as you perfected the drink. His drink. His.

He shouldn't be acting like this, he just stopped in to get a quick coffee before returning to the school. The last assignment had been grueling, he was only just finishing it. Talk about Overtime. This was ridiculous, he had been in an awful mood before walking in, miserably dragging himself through the doors of the first lit up cafe he stumbled across. And yet here he was, his previously drained heart beating, no palpitating, in his chest at just a few exchanges. You finally turned back around to face him, presenting the drink to him without its lid, letting him see the perfect line of dusted cinnamon across the foam cap.

“Here you are!” You beamed at him, hoping to see a flicker of a smile or some kind of praise.

He didn’t smile but you thought maybe you saw something soften in him. He accepted it across the counter, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. Then he smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was perfect. Perfectly sweet from the honey, but still letting the robust bitterness of the espresso shine, the body of the oat milk complimenting the two perfectly, making the whole concoction taste like a cinnamon and oatmeal cookie that he’d indulge in in some private, anonymous, curseless cafe that he thought only existed in his mind. But he may have found it.

“Wow. It’s excellent.” His lens-guarded eyes warmed at you through their green filters, “Thank you.”

A chrysalis was twitching in your heart, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

A moment passed as you waited for him to speak again, praying this interaction wouldn’t be over yet. The chime of the bell at the door broke you away from him, turning to see the beginning trickle of the morning flood enter. He was a nice enough guy, same thing every morning: four shots of espresso with two brown sugars in a porcelain mug that he would sit at one of the back tables in and read the morning paper no matter how ungodly early it was, but right now you wished he never dared step into your shop in the first place. When you looked back and saw the end of Honey Cappuccino’s motion to check his watch, he met your gaze once again.

“Oh! Your croissant, I'm sorry.” You breathed out, kicking yourself for being foolish enough to think he was lingering to talk to you more, not waiting for the rest of his order.

“Right.” You heard from above you as you opened the pastry case.

You retrieved the biggest, prettiest pastry for him and put it gently into a paper bag, straightening up to hand it to him.

“No one going to work this early should go without breakfast.” You smiled, hoping to soften the blow of your unprofessional behavior.

He nodded, accepting the bagged pastry, “Thank you, for indulging me so early. Next time I assure you I will be within the operating hours.”

The chrysalis stirred again and you giggled its rhythm, “Don’t you worry. You come back anytime, okay?”

He nodded again, before moving toward the door. You couldn't help the way your rubbernecked his exit all the way past the edges of the large shop windows. Turning back to the register and seeing your early bird regularly standing before you. Thankfully you knew his regular order by heart and could plug it in and nod through polite conversation without having to stop your rumination

He had said Next time, implying he would come in again. You said a silent prayer to nothing that he would. At least so you could redeem yourself. So you could remind yourself and demonstrate to him that you were a consummate professional. The rest of your day was spent smoothly, that tapping, fluttering feeling in your chest was quiet and still. You made drinks, cleaned and stocked the store, were courteous and charming with customers and coworkers alike. But you couldn’t get the man from this morning out of your mind, you didn't even ask what his name was. He would only be Honey Cappuccino Guy, for now, and that would have to be enough for now.

Nanami entered the school still nursing the last dregs of the cappuccino, savoring the taste of honey and the memory of you in tandem. The high of your interaction was beginning to wane, the head and body ache of a night of reconnaissance and curse slaying an albatros growing denser and denser around his neck. He longed to finish his report and head home as soon as possible, already budgeting the allotment of time that felt appropriate for an early afternoon nap before resuming the chores he had left unfinished at home in a rare act of laziness. He hadn’t eaten his croissant yet, finding it rude to eat on the train, and his stomach felt barren, it seemed every part of him was echoing in discomfort. An echo that was seemingly non-existent in the warm light of the cafe.

He sighed, rounding the corner to the small extra room that had been designated as his “office”. Not being a member of the teaching staff at Jujutsu High, there was little necessity for him to have a space of his own on its campus. He could easily complete his necessary paperwork in the common areas, or even at home. But Yaga had insisted on marking one of the empty offices as his, with some encouragement from a certain white haired sorcerer. The dwindling number of active sorcerers in the area was certainly a motive to keep each other close. So Nanami obliged, stopping by for meetings, assignments; both at their beginnings and upon their completion.

This last assignment had been grueling, extending too far into the night, he almost felt dishonest filling out the time card associated with the final report. Nearly twelve straight hours of traveling, hunting, and fighting. It was a miracle he wasn’t delirious. He stretched back in his chair, the lactic acid that longed to settle in his back and legs crackling and redispursing. He found himself again remembering the lilt of your voice, the smell of lemon and sugar and fresh roasted grounds in the air of the cafe. The sense of peaceful indulgence carried him through the next two hours of work before he could drag himself home to shed the day and pass out, dreaming amorphously about flaky pastries and kind expressions.

It would be almost two weeks before you would see him in the cafe again. You were restocking the milks in the small fridge underneath the counter that housed the espresso machine when the bell rang. It had been a dreadfully slow morning, mostly regulars and single, simple drink orders. It had given you plenty of time to clean, and fantasize. The large, well dressed man from eleven days ago hadn’t yet left your mind. His voice, his stature, his odd clothing, his demeanor. You were positive your memory had to have been generous the more and more you recollected the meeting, surely no one person could be so handsome. So charming, so, in the truest sense of the word, attractive. But when he stepped through your threshold once again, you found that your memory was ironclad. Tall, broad, sculpted features, odd glasses, leopard print tie, pristine styled hair, every detail of him was perfect. Your breath caught in your throat, but even that couldn’t interrupt the smile that widened on your lips.

“It’s you.” you all but gasp out.

He crosses toward the counter, a faint smile showing itself only on the edges of his lips, eyes wide and set on you, an expression you couldn't realize was mirroring your own awe.

“You can say that about anyone. It’s always true.” His voice was just as smooth and even as before, you felt an all too familiar stirring in your chest.

You laugh, “Good point. I didn’t expect to see you back. Thought I might have scared you off.”

“Certainly not!” He can feel the burn in his cheeks, “You were kind enough to extend your hours for me. How could I not return to at least say thank you.”

“Oh!” you chastised yourself for the twinge of disappointment you felt realizing he wasn’t here with any motive other than politeness, “It was no trouble really, it’s like the easiest drink in the world to make.”

He nods, “well, Thank you nonetheless, your work got me through the rest of mine.”

You let out a low whistle, “That was one hell of a clock in time. Do you always go in that early?”

“I was finishing up actually. Long project, I…lost track of time.” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to provide you with more information, ordinarily he would dodge questions in their entirety. Truthfully he would ordinarily never be in this situation to begin with, never having been one for casual small talk.

“Wow…that’s intense.” you couldn't imagine working such a strange schedule, what extreme hours like that must do to a person, “what is it you do?”

This is exactly why Nanami does not engage in casual small talk, does not approach topics that could lead back to sorcery or jujutsu or anything related to his job, why he does not talk to the pretty girl behind the counter. Because now he has to lie. His heart sinks, but he steels himself.

“I'm a sort of exterminator.” He answers smoothly. Not technically a lie.

You hum, seeing him stiffen; you’ve seen this before, folks can be cagey about their professions, and particularly assumptions made about them based on what they do, you knew when not to pry, “Hm. You must have to be on your feet a lot.”

He’s grateful you chose a surface level observation instead of prying further.

“Well what can I get for you today? Got another long one in the books? Should I break out the hard stuff?” You smile warmly at him, catching his eyes.

It's then that you realize he isn't wearing those peculiar glasses that he had before. Thick green lenses absent, and amber eyes revealed in their stead. The outermost rings of his irises were dark, oaky brown, his lashes were long but faint, small freckles now visible across his nose and dappling the tops of his high, hollow cheeks. Not only was your memory not being generous, he had somehow become more handsome. You took in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the stirring inside of you.

“One cappuccino with honey, please. Just the same as last time.”

“You got it!” You tap the corresponding buttons.

He pays with a card, a chime sounding as he taps against the reader. He is grateful for an excuse to look away, it feels like every time he looks at you, you’re looking back at him, so intently. He feels studied by you, hot under your gaze. He wonders to himself if the blush he feels creeping up the back of his neck is visible to you. Your smile earlier made it begin its journey from the warmth of his chest up toward the tops of his ears. His harness feels too tight, his jacket feels stuffy and restricting. He reaches up as you finish up the payment across from him and tugs his tie looser, routinely unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. It's then that he notices his hands are sweating.

Fuck me. Pull it together. He pleads to himself accepting the receipt as you turn away.

Back facing him you begin weighing out the espresso, you can hear his footsteps as he steps off to the side. You catch your breath, gearing yourself up for your next move. The drink comes together quickly. Honey, espresso, steamed and frothed oat milk, a small dusting of cinnamon. You giggle to yourself about the cinnamon on the creamy foam mirroring the dusting of freckles along his face. God, you're pathetic. You roll your eyes at yourself and inhale. You turn back to the counter before stalling. He wasn't waiting at the counter and you had, once again, been too frazzled to ask his name.

“Uh…H-honey cappuccino?” Your voice wavered weakly.

He crosses over from the other side of the cafe where he had been admiring the community board, where local artists would hang their work, organizers would add flyers for local events etc. He traversed the room in three long strided steps.

“I’m sorry, I usually ask for a name, I forgot.” You explained.

He accepts the paper to-go cup between you, “It’s Nanami, thank you.”

“It's nice to meet you.” You smile.

“And your name?” He is quick to inquire.

You tell him, smile widening, he nods and repeats it softly. He sips from the black lid, ignoring the initial shock of heat. It's just as perfect as before, a small sound of approval resonates from his chest, you wish it had less of an effect on you than it does.

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented, thank you.” He offers a small, polite bow before sipping again.

“Like I said, it's an easy drink.” you shy away from his compliment.

“Well, I’m grateful.” He begins to step away from the counter.

“Thank you. Have a good rest of your day.” You put on your most professional and least loaded smile, “Come by and see us again Mr. Nanami.”

He nods at you, smiling as he turns and exits the cafe.

And he did come by again. And again. And again.

Beginning as once a week, then twice a week, soon he begins to factor a third visit into his weekly routine. Coffee the same every time, including sometimes a pastry; taking a particular liking to the ginger and poppyseed scones, and the oat and lemon frosted cookies, but more often than both leaving with a simple croissant. One some trips the conversation if brief; shallow, single day focused conversation topics: weather, traffic within the cafe, the pastry selection you had out that day. On other days he would ask you questions: when did you learn to make coffee? Have you always lived in this area? Etc. Some days you would be so bogged down with making orders upon his arrival that one of your coworkers would be the one taking his order instead. You quieted the rising jealousy as you heard your fellow barista giggle and swoon at his rich, staccato voice. On those days you would write his name cleanly on the side of his cup and make sure to linger at the drop off counter as you called his name for his drink.

“Busy in here, huh?” You baited, handing him the steaming cup.

“It seems my favorite secret cafe is not so secret anymore.” Nanami’s voice sounded truly disappointed.

You faked insult, “You think you discovered this place? I’ll have you know we’re a local staple!”

He let out a small laugh, sipping his drink and sighing, “perfect as always, thank you.”

“Of course Nanami, anytime.” You blush at his praise, it never gets old.

“WIll you be here next Wednesday?” He asked.

He had never asked for your schedule before. You tried your best to hide your excitement.

“I will! I’m opening. So feel free to stop by thirty minutes before if you're desperate.” you teased.

He let out a guilty laugh, “ Well, I'll see you then. Well within operating hours, I promise.”

You nod, a bit too quickly, “Sounds good.”

He smiled and nodded again, turning and exiting.

Your favorite coworker who had been working the register approached you, following your eyeline as it tailed him out of the cafe.

“Planning on asking him out soon?” She poked your side.

“No way, Nanami?” You dismissed, “Yeah right, he’s just being nice.”

“Right.” She begins, “because he comes here every week because the coffee here is just that good.”

Her tone is cutting and sarcastic, she pushes your shoulder lightly before returning to the register, leaving you to your own thoughts. You hadn’t considered the fact that he could actually be coming here for you, of course you hoped and fantasized about exactly that, but faced with someone else’s observation you felt…strange. Embarrassed and exhilarated. You wondered what would come on Wednesday.

“Thanks for taking me to coffee Nanami-san, You really don’t have to treat me!” Ino Takuma beamed as he walked into the cafe.

He was beyond excited when his mentor had asked him to have a meeting today after training to discuss the upcoming recommendations. Nanami held the door for Ino as he babbled his way inside, reciting his thank yous over and over.

“You’re welcome, Ino. I asked you here because I have something to discuss with you. Consider it an expensed lunch.”

“Still! Thank you so much. I’m honored that you would make time for me, I know how demanding the schedule of a grade one sorcerer can be!” Ino continued, wanting to showcase how prepared he was to take on the demand himself.

“Lower your voice,” Nanami chastized and pushed up his glasses, shielding his eyes as he scanned the population of the cafe. It must be a slow day, only three patrons to be seen. One sitting at the bar top, reading the newspaper, and a couple seated in the front corner, focused on splitting a pastry right down the center with a small butter knife.

“Nanami!”

Ino watched as the muscles in Nanami’s neck appeared. Not in frustration or exertion, the way he had seen so many times before, but a completely new reflex. Dare he think, excitement? He watched carefully as his mentor was urged forward by the woman behind the counter, the beautiful woman behind the counter. Nanami was quick to cross to the empty counter, Ino trotted behind with wide, watching eyes.

“Good morning! It’s still morning isn’t it?” You smiled craning to see the wall clock. When you turned back your gaze fell to the slightly younger man behind Nanami. He was probably twenty or twenty one, his frame similarly toned and cultivated, hair shaggy and smile twinkling, “You brought a friend. Wait! Is this your brother?”

You looked closely between the two men, both handsome, both well made men with cut features and toned, imposing bodies. A similar height, a similar build. The younger man’s coloring was slightly darker; Nanami’s eyes amber, where his were deep oak, Nanami’s blonde hair contrasted against the other’s shaggy brown hair, but you could see where a family resemblance would reside.

“No.” Nanami answers cooly, much to Takuma’s chagrin (despite its honesty), “Ino is an apprentice of mine, I’m treating him to lunch today because of his hard work.”

“Well, congratulations, it’s nice to meet you. What can I get you both?” You smile, side glancing at Nanami.

Ino blushes through his order, taken by how magnetic you feel when you talk to him. Privately watching how Nanami listens closely when you talk, uses his eyebrows more in his responses to you. You know his order, you sound flirtatious as you ask if he wants his “usual”, Ino sees as Nanami’s lips curl as he nods and selects two pastries from the case to accompany their lunch. Was Nanami…flirting? It seemed everytime you would turn your back, Nanami was catching his breath, and as soon as you returned he hung on your every word. Ino was beyond delighted, he had never seen this side of his mentor before. He watches as you complete the payment, fluttering your lashes and stringing your words together. When the order is complete he follows Nanami to a table in the back of the cafe.

“Ino, I wanted to ask you…”Nanami struggled with the next part of his request. He had found himself at a loss for what to do recently, feeling his standing with you plateau, “I hope you will forgive the candor of my question, In fact I- I am slightly embarrassed to even be asking you,”

“Go ahead, please. You have helped me so much, I’d be happy to try and help however I can. ” Ino had a growing suspicion as to what could have been the subject of his inquiry.

“The…barista, what do you think of her?”

Nanami prepared himself for anything that could come next. Ino could laugh at him, Ino could laugh in pity before explaining that it was pathetic for a man of his circumstance to be entertaining the idea of a relationship. Ino could chastise him for reading into the kindness of someone who is actively working customer service. Ino could express his disappointment of not talking about the recommendations. He could call upon Nanami’s embarrassment for his own inexperience with flirtation. Nanami prepared himself to be exposed, shamed and cursed.

“Oh! So you know she really likes you, I think she seems funny and smart. She’s really pretty, like really beautiful. I like her outfit, and hairstyle.” Ino began just as eager and delighted as he had been when Nanami invited him to lunch.

“Wait, what do you mean she likes me?” Nanami’s brows inched together, although subtly.

“Oh! Well, she smiles a lot when you talk and listens really carefully, and she called your name when we got here and…”

“That’s her job, she has to be polite and accommodating.”

“Sure,” Ino nodded, “But she seemed really interested in you, not so much with me. I don't know, I guess, but it just seemed like she liked you” Ino shrugged.

Nanami was lost in thought as Ino trailed off. Could you really like him? Your encounters were so brief, he was so stilted around you, or at least he felt as much. You were accommodating and kind because you were good at your job, it was only natural that he recognized it as charm. He missed your call of his name, signaling the drinks he and Ino had ordered were ready.

“I’ll get them!” Ino perked up, standing quickly and heading to the pick up counter.

You pushed the two fresh drinks forward as the shaggy haired mentee approached the counter. He had the floppy stride of a well trained dog, bouncy and excited as he hurried over.

“Thank you so much!” He beamed.

“You’re so welcome, enjoy. Your food should be out soon!” You smiled back.

“Hey, can I ask?” Takuma leaned in conspiratorially, “does he come in here a lot?”

You couldn't help but indulge the genuine curiosity in his voice, “A few times a week for about two months. How long have you been working with him?”

“About two years.” He answered, “I’m so glad too, he usually never takes someone under his wing like this!”

You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “So he’s a big deal at work, huh?”

Takuma nodded, “Oh yeah! He’s focused and hardworking, brave and careful.I hope to be half as skilled as he is one day.”

Your smile grew at the extrapolation. It was praise befitting of the man so dedicated to his work that he could be seeking out coffee at five in the morning at the end of his shift. The younger man nodded and couriered the drinks back over to the table. You thought you saw as Nanami’s eyes flashed over to you, but behind his glasses it was hard to be sure. You smiled all the same, just in case. You returned to your work, Ino and Nanami would both wave goodbye to you with mannered ‘thank you’s’ offered as they left after their meeting. You watched as Nanami held the door over his mentee’s head, ushering him out and looking back over to you. You looked away quickly, and when you looked back he was gone. Your lower lip settled in between your teeth, replaying your memories of him in a flash before returning your attention to the steaming milk whirlpooling in front of you.

You didn’t see Nanami for three weeks after that.

You were today’s closer, your shift already dragging far into the afternoon. The morning crowd was tired, desperate, and reliant upon memorized routine above all else. Simple orders, simpler conversations. The evening crowd was far more likely to experiment. They are unpredictable en masse in a way that your morning regulars were not, making it so that you had to be that much more attentive when discussing menu options. Not only that but you also had to clean and secure all parts of the cafe before you could leave. On a usual day this is fine, although a complicated and oft tedious dance, but today it is much worse. Your usual array of alternative milks were on backorder meaning you were running out more and more with every order, with now replacements on their way. Also dwindling in stock were multiple menu items, including both pastries and lunch menu components, flavors, even lids for to-go cups had started to wane faster than anticipated. You recalled a conversation with your manager that ended dismissively about the coming weekend and how poorly you were prepared to do your job effectively. Your concerns had been barely acknowledged at the best and outright discarded at worst. Over the course of the last three hours you had had eyes rolled at you six times, had to remake a drink four times, been asked why your stock was so low ten times, and had to give one full refund to a customer who took it upon himself to reprimand you personally for the lack of options available to him. You tried your best to push through but the orders kept coming, and the wait times grew longer and longer, you weren’t making nearly enough progress.

“Switch out?” Your coworker offers to you marking your wide, scared eyes gazing at the growing number of tickets.

“Please.” You nod turning to operate the register instead.

They nodded taking over at the espresso machine from where you left off. You approached the counter just as a woman stepped forward from the line.

“Hello! What can I get you?” You smiled brightly.

“Well, I don't know yet…”She was already frustrated, “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

She turned her gaze upward to the menu board above your head, rolling her eyes on the ascent. It shouldn’t have, but it brought a hot burn of tears to your eyes. Sure, she was being condescending, but you dealt with far more pointed forms of belittlement on a daily basis. Somehow though, after the day that had already transpired, you had to choke back tears. You felt yourself shut down in order to keep from crying at such a stupid remark. You took her order without incident, asking only the necessary questions and issuing the payment efficiently. Upon retrieval of her receipt she left the counter. The tears were threatening to spill over as you sighed in relief. In an example of the universe’s kindness you saw your coworker approach, indicating to you that it was time for you to take your lunch break. You passed her quickly as she entered the floor, grabbing your bag and rushing out the front door in embarrassment. Or rather, you tried to rush out of the door. As you scrambled toward the threshold you collided with something hard, it felt like you hadn't bothered to open the door at all, study and unmoving. You bounced back, feeling a rattle in your bones as you tried to gather your senses enough to turn your head upwards. Two strong hands gripped you in place. You gazed upon the face above you, looking down with wide, green guarded eyes.

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s hands moved up your arms to your shoulders.

You haven't ever seen his face so worried before, eyes carefully studying you, brows furrowed, hands hard on your arms, “I--i--Its been..”

Nanami sees the tears well up in your eyes, brimming and nearly spilling over, “Were you going outside? May I join you?”

You nod and he ushers you out quickly, holding the door before following in stride as you hurry down the sidewalk. He watched as you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your purse, drawing one forward, long and thin, and continued to dig inside the bag, growing more and more frustrated. Nanami pulled his own lighter from his jacket pocket, a pristine silver zippo with the characters of his name engraved at the base. He lit the end for you and watched you savor the first drag. Your eyes closed and your lips plump and pursed around the filter. When you opened your eyes and exhaled you offered him a cigarette from your pack, and he took one. Smoking the same cigarette as you made him feel close to you somehow. He lit it as you plopped down on a smoker’s bench two and a half blocks from the cafe.

“Bad day?” Nanami asked after a beat or two.

You groaned in response, resting your head on your hands and your elbows on your knees, cigarette dangling dangerously close to your hair. He nodded, suddenly feeling awkward and ill prepared to comfort you. You had probably left the cafe to be free of customers and work, and here he was following you. Shame rose in his chest as he realized his imposition. All the same, Nanami stood next to you, smoking silently, trying to offer you the space you needed, space he had already intruded on. The wind rushed past the both of you, the coming fall air carrying the cigarette smoke away. It seemed to trigger the raising of your head.

“Do you like your job, Nanami?”

He was surprised. Not by the suddenness of the question but by the sincerity in your voice, and the defeated look on your face. The tops of your cheeks were wet, your eyelashes damp, the usual casual smile you carried now replaced by a deep frown. The sight tore at his heart, until now you had been a consistent source of joy for him, he never expected to see you in such duress.

“No. I don’t.” He confessed, it was always relieving to be honest about his distaste for sorcery, he made no effort to conceal how he felt, but when he has to do it every day he finds himself pretending occasionally.

You nod, understandingly, taking the cigarette between your lips and sliding over, for him to plop into the seat next to you and continue, “Well I love mine. I know it’s silly, it's just coffee. But, I don't know, I like seeing people everyday, talking to them, providing something they can enjoy and indulge in, no matter what happens over the course of the day. Something they can rely on for comfort.”

You shook your head, already starting to chuckle at yourself for how stupid you must sound. Before that feeling could take root, Nanami cut in.

“It’s important. It isn’t silly at all. These people come to you to provide them with a service they can not provide themselves, something you have spent years perfecting for their benefit. You sustain people with energy, you allow them space to rest and stay cool, you offer a moment of kind conversation in a time when people feel more lonely than ever.” His voice stayed even, almost stern, as he spoke to you.

You watched his face as he spoke, similarly stoic. He was being overgenerous, far too complimentary of your work in something as brief as a coffee stop. You knew this to be the case, it had to be. But, his words echoed the same romanticism that filled you when you had first started in coffee, you did like the idea of providing for people, you liked having a specialized skill, you genuinely cared when your customers engaged you in conversations or told you their problems, human connection was the main draw of the job. And it was why you loved it. You were able to connect with hundreds of people a day, if only for a moment.

“What happened today?” He inquired further.

You sighed, “Not any one thing. Just one of the bad ones. I hate disappointing people, and I disappointed a lot of people today.”

“So what?” He responds flatly, taking a drag of the loaner cigarette.

You’re shocked, a confused laugh leaves you.

“So what.” He repeats, “if they are disappointed, then they can get over it. Surely the next time they stop in you will take the great care of them that they are used to.”

His voice is sincere; as though it’s the most obvious, logical line of thinking available. You wanted to defend how bad you felt, to slip into your habits of valuing the negative outlook rather than compartmentalizing. But you can’t, looking at Nanami, with his kind, intelligent eyes looking right back into yours, you’re struck by the heart of his words. You nod reflectively, considering all the situations today where you could feel the disappointment coming from a customer; each situation would be easily fixable when more resources or corresponding orders came in. You had plenty of experience diffusing situations like this, you would be able to fix them all eventually, and anything you didn’t get the chance to — was out of your hands.

“Thank you.”

Nanami watched as the smile returned to your face. Your eyes had dried themselves, your back stood straighter as you finished your cigarette and extinguished against the sole of your shoe. He had smoked much slower than you, he wasn't a frequent smoker anymore, an old habit that lingered from needing quick getaways from his former office, so the nicotine buzz was starting to swirl his head, he noticed a small tremor in one of his legs that he recognized as his limit.

You tucked the butt of your cigarette into a small outer pocket of your purse. Nanami followed your motions, extinguishing his own and handing the double checked no longer burning butt to you. You tucked it inside the same pocket, holding them there to dispose of properly later in a real trashcan. Smoking was bad enough for the environment, you didn’t need to add litter to the equation. Some silly, overly whimsical part of you treasured the idea that the remnants of his mouth and the remnants of yours were in there together, getting cozy.

He shared that thought with you, although privately.

“How long is your break?” Nanami asked, wanting to scrub his mind of the thoughts of the indirect kiss between the two of you occurring in your pocket.

You reached across his lap and took his left wrist in your hand pulling it over to you. His heart stopped, he didn’t dare breathe, immediately conscious of the smoke on his breath wouldn’t disturb you. You had never touched him before, excluding the collision that brought the two of you out here. Nearly three months of over the counter exchanges without a single instance of contact, broken here, with your warm, soft fingers touching the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He watched your face as you looked at his watch.

“About ten minutes left.” You sighed.

You looked back at him, your hold on his arm had brought him closer, much closer than expected. You still held his wrist, his face couldn’t have been further than eight inches, you had never been at eye level with him before. You could see his face so much closer and clearer, you could see the pores on his cheeks, the discoloration under his eyes from overwork and lack of sleep, you thought you saw some deeper discoloration around the side of his eye, but brushed it off as shadow. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, thin and shapely, a full bottom lip with a soft rosy hue. When you met his eyes again you could see through his glasses, seeing that his eyes were trained on you just as intently. You felt that familiar stirring and buckling in your chest that had become so synonymous with your feelings of excitement around him. He was so close, so focused on you, you felt intimidated, and observed. You released his rest, back into his lap.

“Thank you, Nanami. I needed that.” You sighed, looking away from him, trying to break the growing tension between the two of you, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, I promise I'm usually better at this.”

Nanami shook his head, similarly thankful for the severing of intensity, “don’t apologize, I understand. I’m glad I was here.”

You took in the sidewalk and the street, the cool early fall air around the pair of you, the weather was perfect. Beautiful sun, chilly air, the smell of coming evening rain. You stood, brushing the back of your pants off for any eager fallen leaves that you had been previously too frustrated to notice. He stood quickly to meet you, adjusting his coat and sleeves to busy himself. You two took another moment to adjust yourselves before locking eyes again. You offered him the kind smile he knew so well.

“Are you ready to head back?” Nanami cleared his throat.

You nodded, feeling much more grounded, and grateful for this moment of respite. You walked back together, not needing to exchange words, just simply walking side by side the all too short two blocks back to the cafe’s door. Once you reached the door Nanami stalled. Something in him changed, an aura you hadn’t seen in him before

“Would it be okay if I came by later today?” He asked, not quite looking at you, but over you and into the cafe behind you.

“S-sure, of course.” You felt yourself shrinking, the embarrassment of how vulnerable you had just been creeping in in a vignette, shading the moment of connection you had just shared with him.

Nanami gave a clipped nod, looking around once more before turning his gaze down to you.

“Okay. I’ll be back here tonight. Take care of yourself.” He nodded once more before turning and heading back down the street,

“W-wait, did you want your coffee?” Your sentence began as a call but faded into a whisper as you realized he wouldn’t be turning around.

You watched his silhouette descend the path, turning and disappearing into the city. You weren’t sure exactly what happened, what you had done or what had called him away. But before you could dwell too long you heard the voice of your coworker calling to you, asking you for help back on the cafe floor. You looked once more down the path that Nanami had left down, before returning inside to finish your shift.

The rest of the day passed as well as it could have, and regardless of how grueling it was moment to moment, the time passed anyway, and once the cafe had cleared itself and the hiss of the open sign was made silent, you found yourself alone. The bakers had completed their prep bakes for the next day, allowing them to cool in the large industrial freezers overnight, the other baristas had swept and mopped before clocking out and returning to their own homes. You stood behind the counter waiting on the espresso machine to complete its last cleaning cycle. Nanami hadn’t come back as he said he would, and while you were alone you didn’t feel like hiding your disappointment. You scanned through what you could have done wrong, everything you said, everything you did, suddenly all felt wrong and overly familiar. You’d scared him off. But scared him off from what, you couldn’t figure out. According to your coworkers, he was flirting, and you knew you were, at least to some degree, however fruitless you considered your efforts.

You were too bogged down by your spiral to hear the shlucking sound coming from the back. The espresso machine's routine of purging and clicking was too loud for you to hear the store room push itself open. It wasn't until you heard the broken, amalgamated voice calling out that you felt the fear slash itself up your spine. You couldn’t decipher the words, they were too garbled, like that of someone underwater trying to speak to you through an AM radio. The pitch was too high for your ears, and too low to even exist. You stood completely still, no one else should have been able to enter the building, the only unlocked door was the front, large lights and plenty of people making it safer than exiting out the back. Some instinct in you was holding you completely still, restricting you from being able to turn around and see where the sound has come from. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, the only thing you could think about was your coworker set to open tomorrow, and what ungodly nightmare was she going to have to walk into. Tears fell from your eyes, the wetness of your cheeks snapping you out of your paralysis, your body shaking as you started to turn and face what was coming.

“Don’t turn around.” Nanami stood in front of you, his usual tan jacket removed, moving his sleeves up his arms, his gaze locked behind you.

Your breath found you again, chin quivering with fear and relief at the sight of him.

“Close your eyes.” Nanami’s voice was darker than you had ever heard before.He looked completely different, intense and large and imposing, if you didn’t know him you could have been scared of him, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Close your eyes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, immediately missing the comfort the sight of him provided. You heard a thunk, a grunt, a slash, and then nothing.

“You can open your eyes.” Nanami’s voice came from right behind you.

You turned around quickly, seeing him standing over a pile of knocked over cups and pitchers, holding what looked like a butcher’s knife wrapped in cow print fabric. His yellow tie that you had grown to admire as a symbol of him was loose around his neck. He was still looking down at the ground. Once he seemed satisfied with whatever it was, he looked back at you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sheathing the paddle looking blade on the brown leather holster on his back, you had never noticed it before.

“What the fuck was that?” You couldn't help the tears that fell from you as your body started to shake harder and harder.

Nanami put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tight and soothing, “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it’s gone now, I assure you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you started sobbing falling against his chest. He held you tight against him, letting your tears soil his shirt and your body tremble in his arms as he held you firm. You wept until openly, feeling no shame, there was no room for shame with all the fear and adrenaline vacating your body. He made no move to quiet you or tell you to calm yourself, he simply held you close.

“Can I take you home?” Nanami asked, his voice resounding from his chest where your ear was pressed.

You nodded.

Nanami had started sensing the build up of cursed energy on his last visit before bringing Ino. It was faint enough that he couldn’t place if it was coming within or from the general street. On his subsequent visits he noticed it growing exponentially, building on itself in a way that was inching toward concern. His selfish motives for bringing Ino to the cafe were overshadowed when he picked up on it as well. Confirming Nanami’s suspicion that it was an internal problem, and one growing more and more dangerous by the day. Earlier today was the first time he had noticed its effect in action. You tear stained face, the disgruntled patrons, you fevered, overworked companions. He knew he had to intervene. He had come after closing hoping you had already gone home, hoping to take care of it quietly before it became a larger problem. It wasn’t until he saw you terror-stricken with a low level curse emerging from behind that he conceded he would have to tell you. He didn’t want you to have to experience any of this, you shouldn’t have to face the reality of this world, and the monster’s within it. You deserved the same ignorance as everyone else outside of sorcery. But it was no longer his decision.

He walked you home, which wasn’t far from the cafe, and up to your apartment. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, he hesitated briefly before following you. These aren't the circumstances he had anticipated for his first foray into your living space, but again, it was out of his hands.

“You said ‘it's gone now’, what is ‘it’?” You asked as you locked the front door behind you, check the peephole for anything out of order.

Nanami sighed, “It’s…a lot to explain, most of it would be incomprehensible right away. It would take me hours to make it all make sense. And that isn't a slight against you, it’s because I know you're smart that it would only take that long.”

Your voice was returning fully, the fear having left itself behind at the cafe, “Nanami, you knew. You knew that whatever it was was there, you…killed it? Drove it away? Would it show up here? Do I need to be worried about this thing coming here?”

“No.” he was quick to shake his head, “It’s dead. Well it wasn’t ever really alive, not really. But you don’t have anything to worry about, anymore. I’m sorry it got that bad.”

“Please just tell me.” You groan, “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

And he believed you. So he told you.

It took nearly four hours, one and a half pots of coffee, and a few crudely drawn diagrams on the back of a take out menu that he drew. But eventually you understood that what had attempted to attack you was a curse, and that curse had likely been building over a series of months or maybe years before it reached this form. He was a sorcerer, a kind of soldier tasked with the exorcisms of these curses in an intensely guarded organization dedicated to keeping curses secret and the public safe. The young man, Ino, who he had brought with him is a sorcerer as well. He explained the rank of threat, and how yours was incredibly low for any skilled sorcerer, which apparently, he was. He showed you the blade he kept on his back, the one that had been hiding just below his jacket for the entire time you had known him. He explained to you how he was able to kill the curse in a single strike, how his technique worked. When his explanations had been completed you felt strange. Stuffed to the brim with new information, most of which terrified you and made you feel powerless against a threat you could have gone through your whole life without knowing about. But a part of you felt good, knowing there were people kind enough and skilled enough to make this an insular problem, one that did not necessitate the knowledge of the general populace out of sheer humility.

“I understand that this must be a lot for you to take in. But, I promise you that what attacked you tonight will never show its face again. I can give you a talisman, something to keep in the cafe to keep it safe from future curse development.” Nanami had taken off his coat and harness, his blade lay on your coffee table alongside his glasses and your purse.

“Was that why you left so quickly today?” It may have been a silly thing to inquire about in the wake of so much life changing information, but you couldn’t hold your tongue.

Nanami nodded, “I had to run back to my..boss basically, and get a formal assignment to exorcise the curse. I’m sorry I left. I didn’t want to. When we got back the energy was too strong, I knew I would only have a few hours.” His apologized, setting his nearly complete coffee cup on the table, “But I had to make sure that nothing happened to you,” after a beat he adds, “or your coworkers.”

“So you, you saved my life tonight.” You whispered.

The front pieces of his hair had fallen out of their usual styling, they now hung in front of his face. Through the sandy strands you met his eyes, looking tired and locked with yours. The faint bruise on his brow suddenly made sense, the bags under his eyes, the serious demeanor, it was all recontextualized. You didn;t stop your hand when it traced your middle finger over a small, well healed scar along his eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nanami conceded, usually not one to accept praise for his work.

“Nanami you saved me.” Your hand cupped his cheek, “I would be a mess for someone to clean up tomorrow morning if you weren’t there.”

He was speechless, your hand on his cheek was warming as heat crept to his face. Your eyes were so big and beautiful, your lips looked so soft as they shaped your gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Was all he could choke out.

You had read about this. After near death experiences, or other instances of extreme adrenaline, the body could have all kinds of after effects; nausea, sleeplessness, exhaustion, arousal. The arousal coursing through your body was a natural side effect of what you had just been through, and what was right in front of you. He had been there watching over you, keeping you safe from threats you couldn't even imagine. Every day he returned was another day that he was caring for you, protecting you, trending to you. His skin was smooth and hot under your touch, the hair of his sideburns was soft under your fingers, it felt like every nerve in your body was turned up to a thousand. The quick hatching chrysalis was nearing its emergence, it was so still as you leaned closer to him.

“You must be tired. I can go, if you need to sleep.” His resolve was faltering.

“If you aren’t busy, I know it’s been a long night,” Your hand traveled down to his shoulder, the barrier of his shirt helping him regain some sense, “I think I would sleep better if you were here. Just for the night?”

The cock of your head and the flutter of your lashes made your offer clear. Nanami’s cheeks became more pronounced as he tried to swallow down the burning desire to have you right here. But he, too, had read about the aphrodisiac effects of adrenaline. He knew that there was a chance that your gratitude and your exhilaration were converging inside of you to make you feel like you wanted him, when you were actually just happy to be alive.

He put his hand on your arm, “Sometimes, when someone has been through something like what you have, they may look for…other forms of excitement to help with the adrenaline dump…it’s very natural..”

The back of his neck was hot, his shirt felt too tight, his pants felt much too tight, his mouth was so wet he risked drooling right in front of you. But he couldn’t take advantage of this moment, it would be wrong. He liked you. Ino claims you liked him, but he doesn’t know for sure, it would be deplorable for him to act on this offer without knowing if this is something your right mind wanted.

“I’ve read that before.” You nodded, looking at his hand wrapped around your forearm, he was so big, “I’ve never experienced a curse before.”

He nodded along with you, still watching your mouth move.

“But, I’ve experienced attraction before, Nanami. I know what it feels like to want someone. And I want you.” You told him, pulling your legs up under you on the couch.

A small shake from his head, “It’s just psychosomatic. You’ll feel better in the morning, or after a shower. It’s the adrenaline.”

“I don’t think I had excess adrenaline the morning you came in first. Or the next time, or earlier today outside. Nanami,” You dipped your head down to look up at his, “Nanami, please. I’ve been too scared to say anything, I didn’t want to seem unprofessional or scare you. But, I like you. I really like you, I think you're gorgeous and kind and funny. You’re brave and smooth and a little weird, but I like that.”

He scanned your face for signs of lying, twitching eyes, avoidant eye contact, swallowing, anything that he could rely on to keep himself from getting exactly what he wanted. But he found nothing. Nothing to let him off the hook of being honest about how he felt.

He let out a heavy breath, his hand on your arm growing tighter, “I fell for you the moment I walked in. Everytime I went back I went for you. To see you. I think you’re so beautiful and charming. I don’t want this to be wrong.”

You shook your head, your hands returning to his face, the one he had on you now moved to the back of your couch, “It’s not wrong. Nothing about this is wrong.”

He grips your hands, looking you right in the eye. You see his pupils have grown wide, you can feel the sweat on his palms, mixing with your own on the backs of your hands. He held you right in front of him, looking over every inch of your face. You were gorgeous, His heart pounded in his chest, like it was reaching for you. He let out a grateful breath.

“Thank god.” He couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you.

The both of you leaned forward in the same moment, meeting at the perfect center of both pursuits to press your lips together. The chrysalis inside of you hatched, the beating of your heart, the flapping of wet, quickly drying butterfly’s wings. He touched your neck, downy hairs at the nape of your neck soft under his fingers. He was quick to pull you by the waist into his lap. His tongue was smooth on its entrance into your mouth, tasting the underside of your own, the backs of your teeth, the coffee you had shared. The kiss was heated and smooth, personal styles learning to blend together. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair, over the back of the couch, anywhere to offer you stability. Nanami’s hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt and feeling the first of the body he dreamed of. Kicking himself in the privacy of his own home for thinking of you so disrespectfully. But in your home, on your couch, with you in his lap, he wanted to worship you. The hands he had cursed for pleasuring himself to the thought of you were not reverent as they felt your hips, your ribs, the sensitive flank inbetween. He could feel your shiver as he made his way back and forth, you were sensitive there. He was toying with you, relishing in your hissing inhales, and your breathy moans. But you were never one to be toyed with, you tested a personal theory of yours, one you had formulated with your hand in your panties on nights when sleep wouldnt come and you looked to your own devices to tucker yourself out. You scratched your nails across the cropped undercut at the back of his neck, gripping and tugging at the hair. Nanami let out a strangled moan underneath you, his hips bucking into yours, and his hands gripping you tighter. Just as soon as his mouth left yours, he found your exposed neck, kissing, practically lapping at the skin there. This pulled the more embarrassingly pitched moans out of you. High whimpers as you keened against him in his lap.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so good, fuck.” He peppered his praise in with kisses along the column of your throat.

You haven't heard him swear before now, the words fell from him so easily. He was clearly practiced, it made you wonder what other sides of him came easily that you hadn’t yet seen.

“Yu-you are,” You could feel your brain covering itself in honey, the saccharine sweet feeling of him under your, on you, all around you, consuming your ability to think.

You felt him smile against your skin, pulling off of your neck and sliding his hand around to the back of your neck.

“I-I don’t do this very often, it’s been a while, please don't tease me too much.” This was the softest you had ever heard him, his voice was breathy and it almost came out as a beg.

You looked down at him sweetly, his hair mussed across his forehead, buttons of his shirt seeming to have undone themselves, tie falling to either side, his chest flush in splotchy red patches. He looked stunning, the light of your living room you had previously considered unflattering, was golden hour.

“We can take it slow, if you want.” You offered, wanting to accommodate him, the way he had already for you.

He shook his head leaning forward and readjusting you on his lap. When he settled you back down you realized the reason for his frantic reaction. The very big reason. The pants tenting, hot, probably leaking, reason.

You nodded, quick to understand. You leaned forward to kiss him again, making sure to grind yourself down in his lap before pulling off completely and grabbing his hand, tugging him behind you. Nanami felt drunk following you to your room, found himself almost stumbling as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. He crossed the threshold to your bedroom where you had already pulled your work pants off, standing in only a thin tank top and your panties. You approached him with mock disappointment and your bottom lip between your teeth. You moved your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to be the one to take off your shirt,” You cooed.

Nanami’s hand found the lapels, “I can button it again if y--”

You giggled, “Next time.”

Before pulling him into another deep kiss by his neck. His hands found your hips, eager to slip one finger under the top of the waistband and feel the hidden skin. You slid his shirt down his shoulders, the tie falling along with it. Your lips smacked together over and over as you both tried to touch as much skin as was available to you. You pawed at the hard lines of his back, feeling ridges and valleys and muscles. He, similarly, was quick to find the hemline of your shirt and slip underneath. You both let out a haughty moan as he cupped one of your bare breasts. IF you had had your eyes open, you would have seen his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped his tongue between your lips once again, squeezing the tit in his hand. You freed your arms and pulled the shirt over your head as he undid his belt.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Nanami gazed over you.

“You’re gorgeous.” You echoed, hopping on to the bed and watching him pull his grey slacks down his legs. He wore a pair of navy colored briefs that hid almost nothing, especially the nearly black splotch of precum that had accumulated.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” You marveled at him, his body, the evidence of the effect you had on him, his face, him, all of him.

Nanami sucked in a quick breath, fighting his embarrassment by looking at the hungry look on your face. You were nearly naked on the bed, waiting for him. You had only your panties on, your chest exposed, nipples once puffy now hardening with excitement. Eyes trained on him, mouth panting and swollen from his kiss. He could see a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, he would apologize in the morning, flowers or breakfast, but for now it was all his to admire. He joined you on the bed, climbing over your body to do so. His torso caged you in completely, wide shoulders shadowing over your frame. He pulled you by your thighs. Taking time to stretch your legs and admire the muscle and skin and fat that made up your gorgeous form. He seemed impressed with your flexibility, at least the little click of his tongue indicated as much. His clothed cock pressed right against your panty clad pussy, both hot and begging to be aligned. He pressed his hips a little as he brought one of your ankles to his lips, kissing the ball, then up the calf. You moaned at the wet kisses, relishing in his affection. He looped his thumbs into your panties, releasing your leg so he could pull them from your legs. Nanami caught your eyes before spreading your legs in front of him, you gave him the go ahead and he sank before you, aligning himself to see your pussy spread open for him. If he wasn't drunk earlier, he was now. Sticky, dripping, gorgeous. He couldn’t hold back, he licked a long, wet stripe up you slit, tasting his first of you.

Your body was on fire, completely electrified, and weightless underwater all at once. His tongue made its home between your labia, sharp nose being buried in your mound. Your back arched off the bed as a wanton moan left your wet mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, finding a grip for you to cling to. Your other hand held your breast. Nanami’s tongue flicked itself up and down, kissing your clit, drawing out more and more arousal from your dripping hole.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He says, soft enough to be just for himself.

You can't respond, only mewl as he sucks at your clit. You release your breast and grip on to the headboard, accidentally pulling yourself away from him. Nanami grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his tongue.

“Come back.” He mumbles, again, almost to himself.

“N-Nanami, i-..”You are cut off by another harsh suck to your clit, his tongue circling inhumanly.

You were so close, it usually would have taken you much longer to orgasm but the excitement coursing through your body and his skill had turned you to keening, pathetic putty in mere minutes. He flicks his golden eyes up at you, watching you start to unravel. He knows what to do, or rather what not to do, he carries on exactly as he has been, every flick of his tongue pulling you down further. It became too much, and you bubbled over. You cried out in white out pleasure, pulling on his hair. Your legs clapped around his head. He drank up everything you gave, your moans upsettingly muffled by your flesh over his ears.

When he felt you relax again, he pulled his mouth from you, a thick, gossamer string of spit and cum connecting from his lips to your pussy. The hand from his hair fell to his face, pairing nicely with his blown out eyes and fucked out expression. He caught his breath while looking over your body, your full breasts, your tummy rising and falling as you caught your own. He moved over you once again, kissing you deeply. He tasted like you, his tongue was heavy and hot in your mouth, his hands were fast to rid himself of his underwear and pull your legs over his bare hips. You could feel the length of his cock pressing against your throbbing, overly sensitive cunt. Your outer lips, now much more sensitive from Nanami’s expert work.

“You’re amazing.” You gasped out against his mouth.

He hummed pridefully, kissing you again. He grinds his hips hard, hoping to prepare you further for what's to come, but he miscalculated, a rare occurrence. Both of you let out long, glorious moans as he pushes himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Nanami shudders briefly before gaining his strength back, you dig your nails into his back, but he cant feel anything except the pulsing of your pussy around him. He may never be able to think again, not of anything other than having the hot velvet muscle between your legs tight around his cock. You whimper at his penetration, feeling him press the deepest parts of you. Tip of his cock kissing your cervix, just as passionately as he kissed you. He was not a small man by any measure, and the entirety of his cock probably made up close to eight inches, with the girth to burn as it stretched you open.

Which he did again, catching your panting lips on his own, quick kisses between caught breaths as you both adjusted to the feeling of being joined together. He pulled his hips back, pulling a shaky moan from you, and pushed in once more. Somehow he reached even deeper than he did before, his cock arching up to press that beautiful, spongy spot inside of you, the spot that made you clit throb and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Look at me, baby.” Nanami pleaded, “I wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open, a drunken droop to the lids as he thrusted again. He found an even, well paced rhythm. Kissing you occasionally, when one of you wasn't gasping out in bliss. Your hand moves up one of his arms, gripping his taut bicep and his sinewy shoulders. He pressed his forehead to yours, looking down your body to see his pelvis meeting yours. His cock throbbed inside of you at the sight, in turn making your walls grip him tighter. You pull him back to your lips, wanting to be consumed by every sensation he could give you. His hand by your head grips the pillow hard, ripening a hole in the casing. You move your hand up to meet his, holding it and interlocking your fingers. His grip softened instantly, becoming as sweet and generous as ever part of him had been already. You felt him twitch inside of you once more. Followed by a choked moan.

“I-i, baby I,” Nanami struggled to get his words out as he drove himself further and further into you.

“Please, Nanami, please.”You held him closer with your thighs, purring out his name.

“I didn't put on a condom,” He struggled to collect himself, he knew he could be responsible with you, “I should..”

“Dont pull out,” You whine, sounding more pitiful than you intended, “please Nanami, cum inside me, please.”

He finds your eyes quickly, his heart melting at your big watery pleading eyes. You swollen lips, you drooping, drooling mouth. How could he deny you? Nanami made quick work of chasing his own climax, thrusting harder, fucking faster, holding your body still underneath him. You feel every thrust in your throat. His pace quickens and his thrust become shallow and choppy. Nanami lets out a delicious, languid moan as he cums. You can feel his thick cock depositing load after load of cum into you. An elongated, uninterrupted E sound. He holds you at your hip and when your hand still holds his. His face is now buried in your neck. Your legs are slung over his hips along with your other hand over his shoulder. He thrusts twice more before stalling, having emptied himself, but not yet gathered the desire to pull out. When he finally comes to, he releases your tender hip and pushes himself up from above you, looking down at you. You pant up at him, taking in a post-coital vision of him you never expected, and he, the same. He flushed, sweaty, messy, drool and cum drying on his chin, hairstyle ruined by your grasping. You imagine you looked just as disheveled by half as gorgeous. Nanami, would of course, disagree. He kisses you again, soft and deep. When he finally pulls himself out of you he takes the spot to the right of you in bed. You lie together, allowing your bodies to return to a blissful equilibrium. You roll onto your side, moving a hand over his stomach.

“So you’ll stay the night?” you gave a sly smile.

And he laughed. Truly laughed, before kissing you again deeply.

And he did stay the night. After a quick shower the pair of you returned to bed and slept soundly in each other's arms until he got up before the sunrise to make it back to his apartment with enough time to change before work. He kissed you goodbye and assured you he would come by the cafe. And he did, he met you right at the end of your shift, a bundle of flowers in one arm. He invited you to a home cooked dinner at his place. You were surprised at his determination to make you an established couple, but not even close to put off by it.

“I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I am about to start a new assignment and it’s shaping up to be a lot of work. I may be indisposed for a few days. I’d really like to see you again before then” He explained as he walked you home.

“I’d love to,” You giggled, kissing his cheek and admiring the bouquet he had picked out, “Where are you going for your assignment?”

“Shibuya.”

OOOOOOOOOOO SURPISE, anyway hope yall like it and came good. Love you all, thanks for 150 followers. Also im on my barista high horse a little, but just be normal and nice to people, and if you'd tip a bartender, tip a barista. it's the same job. I hope this was worth the wait. I have work in fiv ehours. -Doodle.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 11 months ago

Text

One Number Away

Summary: Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader -> Yourself and Colter have known each other for a long time, however when Colter says something he can't regret, you're both forced to live with the consequences.

Disclaimer: 18+ MDNI. This post contains Smut. Light swearing. Fluff. Angst. (I have not finished Tracker yet, but I wish to write a story for him) Not Proof Read.

God, he was so stupid.

“I could have told you that.”

Colter turned his head and found;

“Reenie.”

She smiled at him, taking a seat beside him before ordering a cup of coffee, decaf.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Well, considering she’s probably at the only nice bar in town, you’d be in the place furthest from her because, like you said, you’re an idiot.”

“I said I was stupid.”

Reenie just gave him a look.

“Okay, fair enough.”

“So, what did you do?”

“How do you know I did something?”

Reenie thanked the waitress before adding in her cream and sugar. “Because she called me and told me what happened.”

“So then why are you asking me?”

“Because I want to see if you know why you’re an idiot.”

Colter sighed. He should have known.

It was a few hours ago, but it somehow felt like it was getting fresher and fresher inside of him.

Colter had been working his case in town when he ran into you and asked for your help. Not that he needed much of it, but he enjoyed your company and two sets of eyes were better than one.

It was at this time he came to find out what you had been doing since he last saw you. It wasn’t often you both got to meet up, but when you did it was like no time had passed. And yet, a lot of time had passed.

You had been given a promotion at work, you had bought a home with a covered porch like you had always wanted, and you…were seeing someone.

Over the course of the next few days, Colter had a few run ins with this certain someone and he couldn’t shake the odd feelings in his stomach. They were like a mixture of protection, jealousy, confusion, and a couple of others he couldn’t put a name to.

If their first meeting had been icy, their second had been practically frozen in the Ice Age. Colter thought for a moment, stupidly, that you hadn’t noticed. However, the minute your…boyfriend? stood and kissed you goodbye, Colter felt his hand twitch and his back straighten, and walked out of the door, you turned towards him.

“You can’t even pretend to like him?”

“I do like him!” Colter was lying through his teeth.

Rick, your…boyfriend’s name, was a decent enough guy, but Colter couldn’t shake his feelings. The confusing pang of growing jealousy in his gut, and the knowledge that, from his point of view, you were way out of Rick’s league.

And this all came to a head just a few hours earlier.

“What?”

“What?” Colter replied.

“I can hear your judgement in the silence. What is it? Colter, if you have something you want to say, just come out and say it.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Colter.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’d be a scary teacher?”

“Yeah, you. All the damn time.” You laughed a little. “Colter, please. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He knew that much was true. Ever since you first met he’d felt like he could tell you anything. Of course, he still kept some things secret, but if he was ever going to spill them to someone, it would be to you. Colter liked you, but above all, he trusted you.

And that wasn’t something he admitted lightly.

Which was why, considering you were one of the few people in this world who he could call his friend, he told you the truth.

It just didn’t happen to come out the way he wanted it to.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

Or maybe it did. He just didn’t want it to come out…all the way he wanted.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just meant…” Colter sighed. “He’s good. He’s a decent guy, but he’s not…”

“Not…what?” You searched his face. “Not macho enough? Not smart enough? Not kind enough? Not able to quote some shitty movie off by heart? What? What is he not?”

“Forget I said anything.”

You hurried after him. “No, no. Go on, go ahead. What is it? Because I like him, shouldn’t that be enough.”

“You’re right. It is enough.”

“Not according to you.”

Colter said your name, but you wanted an answer.

“No, come on. Tell me. What could possibly be wrong with him?”

Turning around quickly, Colter faced you. “You’re too good for him. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but he’s not good enough for you. All your life, you said you wanted to laugh. You wanted someone who you could laugh with and be-be-be yourself with.” Colter said your name once more. “In the last few days, when you’re with him, you barely laugh. Sure you smile and you chuckle once in a while, but you don’t laugh. Does he even know you? Like actually know you?”

“What? Like you do?”

Colter couldn’t help it but he nodded.

You laughed. But it wasn’t a happy one.

“Colter. You can’t be serious.”

“What if I am?”

That was when you straightened and your gaze hardened as you looked at Colter. “There is more to life than just laughing. Rick, he makes me happy. You know nothing of my life, Colter. We see each other less than six times a year and you can’t just waltz in here-”

“Didn’t think I could waltz.”

“And act as if you know everything about me, because you don’t. Or you would see that Rick is more than just “a nice guy” or whatever you called him. So maybe we don’t laugh, but he does make me smile, and at least he’s here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, Colter.”

“Do I?”

Somehow, your gaze hardened a little more and Colter took a small step back. He knew exactly what you meant.

Nothing had ever actually happened between either of you, but you made a clear point to him. It was at the end of these meetings that he left. For the next state, the next job, the next adventure, the next trail.

“You deserve better,” Colter told you. “Someone more than Rick.”

“Who? Like you?”

That struck Colter because…

Because…

He wanted to say…

Yes.

You scoffed a little, crossing your arms and taking your gaze from his for a moment to look at your feet. “You are…unbelievable. You’re not my boyfriend, or partner, Colter. You don’t get a say in who I deserve.”

Colter was fixed on the spot.

“Come and find me when you want to apologise.”

Walking past him, you unlocked your car and soon drove away, leaving him standing beside his truck in the car park.

“Yep.” Reenie said, turning to bring her legs under the counter. “I’m on her side.”

“I’m on her side, too.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

“And I’m an idiot.”

Reenie took a sip of her coffee then placed the cup down. “So, what are you going to do?”

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

“Colter, you two have been friends for years. And knowing her, she won’t throw that friendship away over one stupid fight.”

“I don’t know, Reenie. Maybe there isn’t a way of coming back from this.”

“Of course there is. You apologise.” Reenie told him. “It’s that simple. Hell, she even told you so.”

“But what if I’m not sorry?” Colter asked. “I’m sorry that we had the fight, but I’m not sorry for what I said. She does deserve better.”

Then Reenie said something that shocked Colter.

She agreed with him.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. I like Rick, he’s a good guy. But she doesn’t…light up, the same way. She’s happy, but she’s not…her fully.”

“See, if we can see it, why can’t she?”

“Then show her.”

“I did.”

“No,” Reenie shook her head. “You told her. You told her that she’s not happy with him.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Maybe, but that isn’t what she heard. You told her she’s not laughing and that she’s not herself. Show her that she deserves butterflies and tell her the truth.”

“Butterflies?”

Reenie nodded. “Butterflies.”

“But-”

“No. No buts. I’ve had to watch this long enough. Colter, tell her how you feel. Before it’s too late. Don’t be an idiot.”

Colter didn’t have to be told twice.

By the time he pulled up outside of your house, Colter was shocked.

You were home.

You were meant to be on a date.

But Rick’s car wasn’t parked outside.

And from what he could see, you were home alone.

So, before he began to border on ‘stalker’, Colter got out of his car and knocked on the door.

When you heard the knock, you checked your doorbell camera.

Colter called out your name. “I know you’re home! I-I just want to talk, please.”

Walking from your kitchen and through your living room, you looked at Colter through the small window pane of glass before unlocking the door.

“What?”

“Can we talk?”

You took a moment before opening up the door and letting him inside. He might have pissed you off, but there was no point in making him freeze himself outside whilst letting the heat out of your house to talk.

“Thank you.”

“Okay. What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad you’re apologising.”

“But I’m not sorry for what I said.”

You scoffed. “Of course.”

Turning around, you walked back into your kitchen with Colter quickly following you.

“I know you’re mad at me and maybe I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I am sorry that we had a fight over it. And I’m sorry that you’re mad at me and that I upset you. Believe me, I didn’t intend for it to come out like that but-”

“But you’re not sorry for what you said.”

“You deserve so much more.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that he ended things with me, so it looks like I don’t even have that now.”

“What?”

“Rick.” You told him. “He saw us, today, in the parking lot. And in some way or another, he took our fight as proof that you had feelings for me and that I reciprocated them. I did try to tell him the truth but it seemed that his mind was made up.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“Oh, now he’s sorry.”

“I am. I might not have liked him but he’s an idiot for letting you go.”

“So are you,” you said. “An idiot, I mean.”

“No, you’re right.”

“What?”

“You’re right. I am an idiot. I’m an idiot for letting you go.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Colter, whatever you’re getting at…don’t bother. Just…go home and get some sleep.”

“No, I need to tell you. I should have told you. Years ago, in fact.”

“Colter.”

“I like you, y/n. Better yet, I trust you. Which is why I’m telling you the truth and if you want to never see me again after I tell you, then I will respect your decision. Hell, you can tell Reenie everything and give her permission to taunt me about it for the rest of my life.”

“Colter, go home.”

“I was an ass today.”

“Bit of an understatement.”

Colter chuckled. “I was a real ass today.”

“Better.”

“And I should have told you sooner. Rick is a good guy but the fact that he let you go without even so much as a fight makes him, possibly, a much bigger idiot than I am. But I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to let you go. And if he knew what was good for him, he would be here saying the same thing.”

“But he’s not.”

“But he’s not.” Colter repeated. “One of the first things I noticed about you was your laugh. How, even at the smallest things, you could laugh and light up a whole room. All you had to do was smile at someone and anyone in a ten mile radius could see you had helped brighten their day. You are kind, and genuine and deserve so much more than just “a nice guy”. You deserve the world and you deserve someone who wants to see you and hear you laugh. You deserve someone who’s willing to fight for you and know that they’d be an idiot if they let you just walk away.”

“What are you saying, Colter?”

“I’m saying…I know I might not be everything. But I’m asking you to give me a chance. Let me fight for you. I’m willing to try and be everything that you want, as well as what you need.”

“Colter…”

“All I’m asking for is a chance, because it has been killing me all week, watching you sit and smile and be happy when I have seen you light up at just seeing someone smile at someone else. It’s been killing me watching you hold his hand and let him kiss you and-”

Colter felt the air being kicked out of his lungs by his heart as your lips made contact with his.

Pulling at his jacket, you wretched him in closer to you, feeling his body heat warm yours despite how warm your house already was.

Colter whispered your name, your kiss like a drug pulling him back for more.

“Wait, I-I need to know something first.”

“What-”

“Would you have broken it off? Maybe not tonight, but would you have done?”

“Yes.”

You answered truthfully. Despite how much Colter had pissed you off when he said what he did, it made you think. Which only annoyed you more considering the fact that he was right. With Rick…you didn’t laugh. Well, you did. But not like you did with your friends, or your family or even Colter. Your smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was, and in complete honesty, when you were with Rick, it felt like you had to remain on your best behaviour. But there was one difference. Rick was here. You had seen him more in the space of four months than you had done with Colter in almost six years. And despite that…he didn’t know you. You thought back to all the times when Rick had ordered you coffee, instead of tea. And when he bought Sour Cream and Onion chips when they were your least favourite and how, in spite of how wonderful he could be, he never thought to ask you where your favourite place was to eat.

Maybe it was from his training, but half of these facts, you didn’t even have to tell Colter. He just seemed to know. He noticed you, in a way unlike anyone else ever had. And that’s what you liked about him. He was thoughtful and respectful and took time to notice what was around him, whether it was out of habit or not. Either way, he noticed. He saw what was right in front of him.

And he saw you.

And he saw his mistake.

Hence why

He was right in front of you.

“Maybe not tonight, but…yes. You made me think and you were right. We didn’t laugh. I didn’t laugh. What? What is it?”

“Am I dead or did you just say that I’m right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, no. I, please, repeat it.”

With a small groan, you did. “You were right.”

“Oh, I wished I had a camera.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

“I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Yes, you would.”

“And she agrees with me?” Colter fayned shock.

You laughed.

“Like music to my ears.”

Smiling, Colter brought his lips to yours in, what started out soft and sweet, turned hot and heavy.

Your hands stripped of his jacket, he walked you backwards into the kitchen counter. Once you hit something solid, Colter finally leaned into you more, bringing one hand from your hip to jaw whilst he parted your legs easily with his knee.

One of his hands pulled you flush against him and a small moan developed at the back of your throat which caused more than one thing to happen to Colter.

“Which way is the-”

“That way.”

With one smooth move, you were in the air, shortly wrapping your legs around Colter, your hands by his neck.

Though neither of you made it to the stairs before Colter had you pinned against a wall, his hands trailing down your body before bringing your wrists above your head. From there, with a wicked smile, his lips, teeth and tongue traced down your jaw and the column of your throat.

“C-Colter.”

With one hand locking your wrist above your head, his other hand came under your ass, kneading and grabbing just enough to border on desperate.

He whispered your name as his mouth left his marks across your collarbone. Some would be left deep enough that even in a week's time, you could still see the memory.

“Colter?” You tried to get his attention, but even your whispered voice couldn’t break out of the dizziness that came with his kiss.

“Colter?”

“Mmh?”

“Bedroom. Now.”

Within what felt like an instant and a lifetime, Colter’s foot swung behind him, closing your bedroom door firmly with a small click before he lowered you onto the bed.

Leaning over you, he made slow yet light work or trailing his mouth after his fingers as they worked down from your lips, to your jaw, neck and collar bone.

Cupping around you, Colter’s hands met the zip of your top and began to pull it down and, as it came loose, so was he.

Pulling your top from you, you did the same for him. Feeling his skin, warm and smooth, if a little grained by the multiple scars covered his back and part of his mid-drift.

All the while, his hands slowly slid up your calf and down your thigh, hooking your skirt and dragging it down your body all the whilst his lips were getting closer and closer to your navel, giving your lungs a little breather for a short lived moment.

His mouth was soon back on yours as his hands skimmed around your boob, cupping and swiping as you arched into him.

Before long, his hand slowly trailed down your body leaving gooseflesh in its wake as hooked a single finger around the waistband of your underwear and began to trail his mouth back down your body, licking and teasing you all the way down.

His mouth remained around one of your boobs, sucking and licking whilst his hand came back up a little to pull you against him at the waist.

You moaned his name time and time again, as he did with you.

Leaving his mark once again, just under your breast, his hand snaked down your back and over the curve of your ass, squeezing just as he pressed a kiss to your navel.

He could feel the heat of you in his palm as he graced over you. Your back, with minimal contact, arched towards him. His mouth getting closer, made sure to leave a mark on either side of your hip bones, trailing to where your body was calling out for him the most.

You swallowed thickly before Colter’s hand moved towards your core. He was yet to remove your underwear, using the friction of the fabric to be even more wicked.

Three intricate swirls, a buck of your hips and one breathy laugh from Colter was almost enough to send you over the edge.

“You’re dripping.”

With small kisses, Colter slowly made his way down, over the outside of your underwear before pushing them aside and taking you in.

His tongue rough, he licked from your core with a groan before swirling around your clit, keeping his pace slow enough to both satisfy you and torture you.

You moaned, and moaned again. His name comes from your lips time and time again.

“Aahh,”

His tongue got deeper within your core whilst his hands trailed up your body and rolled and flicked at your nipple.

With his other hand, and his mouth sucking on your clit, he eased one finger inside of you. Your walls pulsated around him enough to make his dick harder than it already was.

Coaxing you, he soon curled and entered a second finger, however, in a moment they disappeared, as did his mouth.

A slightly disappointed and confused noise made its way out of your throat but was quickly replaced with a moan of pleasure when Colter finally removed your soaked underwear and tossed it aside, allowing himself greater access to you.

Two fingers entered inside of you at once, curling up. His thumb circled your clit for a short moment before it was replaced with his mouth, sucking and rolling and licking and swirling at you to your core.

“Aahh, ahh, ahhh, C-colt-Colter. I think I’m gonna- Ohh, ohhhh, ohhh.”

Your hand shot from the gripped sheets beneath you to his hair, pulling him in slightly closer. He could feel your walls tightening against his fingers as your orgasm overtook you.

As you came down from your climax, Colter sat back for a moment, seemingly out of breath, before lazily kissing back up your body before he reached your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself for a short moment.

It wasn’t long however before you were ready for more.

Feeling him kiss back down your jaw, nipping behind your ear and allowing his hand to trail back down your body all the while your tired hands reached out to unbuckle his pants and strip him down to be as naked as you.

His thumb began to rub slowly against your sensitive clit whilst your own hand ran up and down the length of him.

His hand remained between you both, rubbing at your clit as slowly he entered you feeling you stretch around him, gloriously clenching at him.

Your hands travelled up his back, pulling him closer to you and he hit your peak and allowed you a moment to get used to him before telling him to move.

At first, he was slow, tantalising, before his pace sped up and he began to repetitively hit the one spot you were certain was lost on all men before Colter.

He had you coming undone for the second time that night, and did the same for you the next morning, but not without you doing the same for him despite his small protest out of respect.

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