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alastorthirsty · 2 days ago

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Alastor Hands You the Aux Cord - Alastor x f!reader

Anon asked for: Hello! Love ur work :) Alastor x f!reader fluff & heavy smut inspired by the song “soaked” by shy smith???

Honey, you got a lot more than you bargained for, and even then I¨m not quite sure that I did it correctly. Alas! I hope you enjoy it either way. So sorry this took so long, it was an undertaking.

Summary: I suck at these so just be patient and kind. Reader was a radio/sound engineer in life and begins to work with Alastor rather closely.

Dividers by @konatasoup

Warnings: Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience! If smut is not for you, this is not for you. Other warnings include briskets, sandwiches, p in v intercourse, I don't know, standard fare, Alastor is a deeply jealous and possessive man, colleagues to lovers, Alastor’s fluffy, fluffy ears are an erogenous zone I don’t care lalalalala

Words: 9521

Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list! Requests are open and the guidelines are in my pinned post! I

It would be VERY helpful for your reading experience if you listen to the provided music! If the response is good there will be a part two :)

SMUT

Masterlist

It was the sensible thing to do, and took surprisingly little effort to get him to agree. All you said was that radio lived on in your lifespan, nearly one hundred years after his death. You asked if, in life, he would have happily adjusted to innovations in radio technology, and you remember the way he looked down at his claws, all tightened into fists that slowly unfurled. He begrudgingly admitted that he would have.

“That type of microphone you’ve got there wasn’t invented until after you died,” you pointed out.

Radio had been your life’s passion in the living world just as it had been for Alastor. You began in university as a DJ, then changed your major to reflect your newfound love. You started off with communications engineering in undergraduate studies and moved on to wireless communications engineering. Twelve years of your life, you had dedicated to radio.

You were the perfect candidate, and best of all you could make yourself obsolete by teaching him what he needed to know, so it was a win all-around. Kinda. It remains to be seen what he would do with you once you became obsolete.

You did, however, strike up a friendship. Alastor would admit readily that you were a good sound engineer and constantly upgraded his equipment. He would also admit, not quite as readily, that speaking to you was pleasant. You never batted an eye while he ripped apart souls, which he found surprising at first, but when you pulled out a sandwich to eat whilst he did so it elevated to…cute. He typically hates things that are cute.

Okay, fine, you’re cute.

As time passed, you grew more comfortable with each other. Sometimes you even offer him pre-soul breaking sandwiches, and Alastor eats them simply because they were offered by you. He has no idea what a “PB&J” is, only that whoever created it must surely be living amongst you all in hell. He always eats them, though. Every last morsel.

Then something quite remarkable happened. Alastor sat you down after an unusually long broadcast, took the pistachios that you offered him, and gave you the best gift you had ever received.

“Only one,” he said, poking your chest several times. “One song of your choosing at the end of my broadcast. Do you understand?”

You remember nodding so hard it almost hurt.

You had tried not to seem too enthused, so as not to betray your true excitement to your finicky friend, but shouted joyfully into a pillow when you got to your hotel room. You rolled all over your bed, still screaming into the pillow, and spent the rest of the night curating various playlists for the post-show tunes.

The two of you became inseparable. When you weren’t on air, you were still working together on scripts, advertising campaigns, marketing strategies, even merchandising, a pencil stuck through your hair, sandwich wrappers discarded haphazardly.

‘I got my soul ripped apart by the Radio Demon and all I got was this fucking shirt’.

You’re more excited about this than him by far, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny you a thing. He’s always criticised Vox’s use of petty merchandise to belittle him, but this was different. Entirely.

It had been a rather destructive day in the radio tower the first time you played a song. There were three soul rendings today, so everything but you was covered in blood and viscera. Alastor, with a small smile, offered you his staff, and explained all you had to do was play a song on your phone while holding it.

It felt special. It almost made your cheeks warm, but that crisis was thankfully averted and you chose a tribute to radio itself as your first ever post-show track.

‘Radio, someone still loves you.’

Alastor didn’t look particularly happy with what he’d heard, but he did give you an amused little pat on the head before taking his staff and leaving the radio tower, still covered in blood.

You remember all of that fondly and take a bite of your sandwich. Alastor takes one bite of his and goes feral.

“Calm down over there,” you chastise. “It’s just pastrami.”

He swallows. “You know my feelings about brisket, darling.”

“Well, I’ll bring you more pastrami in the future, then. Maybe I’ll even make you a brisket someday.”

“Yes, you should,” he almost snaps. “And I’ll have no more ‘peanut butter’, by the way.”

“Do you like the almond butter better?” you ask, offering him another sandwich from the basket you brought with you

“…I prefer the pistachio and cashew one.”

“Okay, I’ll find more of that,” you say before passing him a napkin. You sigh and grab the clipboard set to the wayside. “No souls today.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he says.

“Isn’t that less fun for you?”

Alastor ponders over his answer for a moment. “It is more fun to murder. However, not having one or more to murder also means that no one has challenged or crossed me. That is better in the long run.”

“I can see that logic.” You nod, then go back to the clipboard. “Oh, I can’t be here on Saturday.”

His expression sours and his eyes narrow. “And why is that, darling?”

You smile at him, arms up. “I’m going to Lu Lu World!”

“What in the world is that, darling? Wait a moment.” His eyes narrow anymore. “It has nothing to do with that circus freak does it?”

You purse your lips and tilt your head, staring at him. “You’ve lost me.”

“The hell I have. I find it absolutely unacceptable that you would leave work behind in order to prance around in an amusement park.”

“I don’t plan on prancing, so we’re good,” you say. You wrinkle your nose and chuckle a little at his steadily souring expression. “Tell you what. I’ll make you that brisket.”

“Two briskets,” he’s quick to demand. “No, three. Three briskets, and I’m not sharing with the others like you made me do on Beignet Day.”

“That was never meant to be just for your enjoyment!”

“Well, it should have been!” he snaps.

You laugh again and fold your hands over the clipboard. “I will miss work on Saturday to be escorted around Lu Lu World by its namesake and you will receive three briskets at a time of your choosing. You’re in for a treat, I make the best brisket. My husband loved it.”

A pregnant silence fills the radio tower.

“I find it equally unacceptable for you to have a husband. No, no more of that,” he says finally.

“I’d like to think I’ll find love again someday!” you say, laughing.

He huffs. “Is it a date?”

“Is what a date?”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Your petty little outing to the amusement park with the circus freak!”

“He’s the King of Hell, not a circus freak!” you exclaim.

“If he doesn’t want to be called a circus freak he should dress like an adult male,” he says.

At that, you sit up straight, arms folded, and stare at him. “Do you really want to go there? Making fun of how he dresses?”

“My manner of dress is unimpeachable! Everything is just so!” Alastor gestures at his suit, then narrows his eyes again. “You will not marry him.”

“Marriage isn’t on the table, I’m just visiting his park with him. It’s closed for the day, no one but us! Oh, but also you can’t tell me who I can and can’t marry,” you say.

“There will be no marriages at all! We have work to do, important work!” He closes his eyes, touches his forehead, and growls. “Do not sass me.”

You take another bite out of your sandwich. “So I won’t be here Saturday.”

“…Fine. I can go back to the Stone Age for one damn day.”

You groan. “I’m glad no one else knows of your flair for the dramatic.”

“And you’d do well to keep it that way,” he says. He holds up three fingers. “Three briskets. I want them all at once.”

“I don’t have the time to do them today, as you said, we have important-ish work to do,” you say.

He eyes you again. “Three. Briskets.”

You throw your hands up. “Fine! I hope you get a tummy ache!”

“I will not! I will enjoy the briskets and be fine!” Alastor adjusts his butterfly tie and stands up from his chair. “And you will make up for lost time from your Saturday outing.”

“No I won’t,” you say. “I’m under no such obligation to work every single day with no breaks. I just haven’t had anything better to do in a while.”

Alastor’s hand smacks against a panel. “No! You’re to work with me every day, that is the arrangement! Good god, woman, you are so insolent today. All of hell listens to these broadcasts. I do not know how to do what you do. You have made yourself necessary and now you want to cut and run so you can have intercourse with that circus freak in a hall of mirrors.”

You tilt your head back and laugh.

He looks unamused by this. “What? What is it? Why are you laughing?”

“I suppose I’d better fuck him in the hall of mirrors, then, if you think the opportunity presents itself.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and put everything else in the garbage for Niffty to collect.

Alastor’s ears flatten. “I do not like you today.”

“Nah, you adore me.” You look closer at the agenda for today and begin warming up the necessary equipment. You pull on your headphones “Thirty seconds, Al.”

He nods and repeats it back to you. “Thirty seconds, Al.”

By the end of the show, you’ve already got your topical track selection queued up. Alastor stands up and stretches before giving the staff to you and rifling around for more sandwiches in the basket.

‘They come running just as fast as they can ‘cause every girl crazy bout a sharp-dressed man’

You lip sync along, not realising you’re being watched. Alastor smiles to himself and waits for his staff to be given back to him. When it is, he almost remarks about your Saturday outing. Almost.

In your bedroom, you stretch and yawn. It’s late and you need to be with Alastor relatively early, so you go about your nightly routine. Brushed teeth, silky pyjamas, all lotioned up, feeling amazing. That is, until you walk back to the area with the bed. You scream and jump, but your surprise is quickly replaced by anger. Alastor laughs from his comfy position against your pillows.

He points at you. “You are the chicken in this relationship.”

You get in beside him and try to shove him out of the bed, chuckling as he easily resisted. “What are you doing in here?”

He’s still laughing. “I came to collect you! Emergency broadcast.”

You groan loudly. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“Yes!” He wraps an arm around you and drags you up from the bed. “It won’t take too long.”

“Who the hell pissed you off this much that you have to do this right now, at two in the morning?” you asked.

The answer makes your stomach drop.

“Husker!” he says excitedly.

You flail. “No. No! No, Alastor, you can’t do that!”

“I assure you that I can,” he says, now picking you up and carrying you towards the radio tower. “Husker’s soul is mine to do what I want with it, and he knew that before he started making trouble tonight.”

“Alastor!” you shout. “Put me down!”

He looks confused, but carefully sets you down. There are tears on your face that confound him. “What is the matter, my dear?”

“You can’t kill Husk.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “You can’t. I know you can in the literal sense of the word. I know that you can, but you can’t, please, I am begging you not to do this. Please, Alastor.”

“Do not mourn for him,” Alastor says. “No one mourned him in life.”

“I think that’s not true,” you say, but take his hands, squeezing them. “Just, just tell me what he did. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it.”

Alastor looks down at your hands, so much smaller than his, trying to calm him down. “You really care, hm?”

“Alastor, please, please,” you whisper, squeezing his hands again. “Alastor, don’t do it. I have never asked you for a thing and I never will again if you just please don’t do this. Please don’t kill him, he’s my friend. He’s a soul in the bank for you, but he’s my friend.”

He’s quiet for a very long time, watching your breakdown. You know how it looks. He hates weakness, he hates vulnerability—

Alastor puts his hand on the side of your face and pushes hair away. “Okay, darling. If you want Husker to keep dusting bottles and consuming their entire contents, then that you shall have.”

You feel embarrassed all of a sudden and wipe your eyes. “How about I make you a brisket instead?”

“No brisket is required,” he says. “If you want it then you will have it. I am a man of my word. I will find other means to discipline Husker.”

“Don’t hurt Angel,” you say immediately. “Please. They’re all afraid of you already, you don’t have to do anything to keep them in line. I don’t know what Husk did, but I don’t believe it warrants his death and it definitely doesn’t mean you can do something bad to the only thing he loves more than booze or gambling.”

“Okay,” Alastor agrees.

You blink. “I know it’s not that simple. What do you want?”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he asks.

“Me? Personally?” You think for a moment before shaking your head. “No. But—“

“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Alastor says. “I have worked with you closely for months now. I do what I say I will do. If you want that damned cat and his spider to live and be unharmed then I will give you that.”

“What do you want in exchange? Don’t say my soul, I’m not giving it.”

“No, not your soul,” he says. “A simple deal.”

You stand up straighter. “A deal? What?”

“I let Husker and the spider go unharmed and you will in exchange never have intercourse with the circus freak.”

Your arms cross. “Alastor, that’s fucked up.”

“I know!” he says warmly.

After a moment, you reach your hand out towards him. He takes it in his and squeezes it, gentle and warm. You’ve seen his power, the green flashes of light.

But there are no green lights. His tentacles remain hidden. The floor doesn’t shake.

It wasn’t a real deal, but you said nothing about that. This was all very strange, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Taking his hand, you give it a pull.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go on air anyway. Come.”

He tuts at you. “Rather bossy tonight, my dear.”

“I’ll make sandwiches,” you offer, and he nods.

“Yes, you will make sandwiches—pastrami.”

‘I am just living to be lying by your side but I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road’

Once Alastor takes the staff from you, he notices that you’ve fallen asleep in your chair. He rides the dark with you in his arms, depositing you safely into your bed.

The next night, for some reason, Husk makes sure your dirty martinis come with two olives and no complaints.

“You will go away from the hotel.”

You look up from your phone, your feet up on one of the panels you’ve been working on. “Excuse me?”

Alastor is stern, serious. His eyes betray no laughter, not a single joke. “You will leave the hotel.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“The Extermination is exactly one week from now, and you will leave the hotel. You will go someplace safe.”

“No,” you say again. “No, hell no, I’m not leaving you all by yourselves.”

“You would be more of a hindrance than help,” Alastor says, and ooph, that one hurt.

“You don’t even know how to defend yourself,” he continues.

“I’ve been doing my best,” you say.

“And that is not good enough, darling.”

Your chest falls and rises. “So you think I have nothing to offer to protect my friends and this hotel?”

Alastor pauses for a moment. “No. I know for a fact that you do.”

“Then what?” you ask. “Why do you want me to leave?”

Again, a few moments pass in silence before Alastor sits beside you. “You would trade something very precious to save this hotel and all of the fools who reside in it.”

”What? What is it? What am I going to give up that’s so special?”

“Your life,” he says. “If you are here, you will sacrifice your life in a trice just as soon as you see someone else is in danger. And I cannot have that. You will leave, this is not a request.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No. This is my home. This is where I work. This is my family—“

“You will listen to me now and you will listen good,” he says gravely. “I can protect this hotel and kill Adam or I can protect you. Those are the choices. I trust you will not make the selfish one.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. You feel a cry coming on, but head it off at the pass. “What about you?”

“What about me, darling?” Alastor asks. “There is no way for you to help me. You know that.”

“I’m going to look like a coward,” you say.

“I do not care,” he says. “And you shouldn’t either. My priorities are to kill Adam and to protect you. Therefore, you will leave to someplace safe and you will wait for me to come for you.”

You scoff. “Where’s safe? Where’s safe during an Extermination?”

“They are coming to the hotel first and we will not allow them to go any further. You will be safe where I send you and you will stay there.”

Then he does something he’s never done before. Alastor pulls you into his embrace. “You have no idea what I would do to save you. No idea, you stupid, silly girl. You must go. You must.”

“Okay, okay,” you say finally.

“I could give or take almost anyone else in this boring little hovel of a hotel, but I can’t give you. I won’t. It’s very likely this radio tower will need some manner of repair. Who else would do it but you?” He holds you a little tighter.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “I really don’t want to leave you.”

“Because you are an idiot.”

At that, you start hitting him anywhere you can, but the two of you dissolve into laughter.

Eventually, you sigh. “When am I leaving?”

Alastor hums. “Tonight.”

“What?” you look at him again. “Why tonight?”

“I will have time to prepare. I won’t spend days worrying about getting you to leave. It is better that I have this time to focus,” he says. “I will take care of everything. Think of it as more of a vacation than anything else.”

“I won’t, but thank you,” you say. “What will you tell everyone?”

Alastor tilts his head. “About what?”

“About forcing me to leave the hotel because I’m apparently too weak and stupid to fight for it,” you say.

He tsks and shakes his head. “I do not care. Neither should you. But I suppose I will just tell them approximately one-quarter of the truth.”

“Which is what?” you ask.

“That I put my foot down and wouldn’t allow you to die for any of them.” Alastor rubs his face against yours. A confusing gesture, but not altogether out of place, given the tenor of the rest of the interaction.

“I don’t want to die, but—“

“But nothing,” he says. He gives you his staff. “Play one last song.”

You wince. “Okay, grim. No. I’m not playing a ‘last song’.”

He huffs. “The last song until next week, when all of this is over.”

“When all of this is over…” You lean back in your seat, tapping the staff as you think. “Can you…can we hop on the broadcast? For a while? Make it my last proper show until all of this is over?”

You swallow, your throat feeling tight.

“No, darling,” he says. “Not this time. Pick a good song.”

‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!’

Alastor stares at you strangely throughout the entire song. He never once tries to take the staff away from you, not even during the repeated profanity—something that was forbidden. He says nothing of it when the song is done and he takes his staff back into his possession.

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you and you take it. You let him lead you out of the radio tower and you become unsettled as you descend the steps.

“Alastor, I don’t like this,” you say nervously.

“And neither do I,” he says as he guides you to your hotel room.

“Where are you sending me?”

He suddenly stops you once you’re inside the room, his clawed hand coming down to grip your shoulder. Hard.

“Alastor,” you chastise.

His grip only tightens. “I made a bargain for this and you will not piss it away.”

The night crashes down on you in the quiet of your bedroom.

“But where? You made a deal?”

“No, not a deal. More of a…trade which does not benefit me at all, save for it keeping you safe.”

“Alastor, where?” you ask, softly yet firmly.

“In an underground bunker beneath Rosie’s Emporium,” Alastor says finally. “No one would ever think to look there, not with all of Cannibal Town at the hotel, stupidly giving their own lives. Those lives mean nothing to me, nothing at all, but yours is something precious.”

“I’m just your engineer, you know.”

Alastor huffs. “No, you’re not.”

You lift a brow. “I’m not?”

“No.” He pauses. “You also make sandwiches.”

With a little laugh, you nod. “Pastrami.”

“Indeed. Pastrami. Now, pack up, darling. I’ll escort you to Cannibal Town. No, no one will try to eat you. You’ll be with my dearest friend, Rosie. You will be safe with her. If I had any doubts I would send you elsewhere.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “It’s going to be boring without you.”

“I, on the other hand, will finally know peace after six months.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

You laugh far too hard for it to be so late at night, but Alastor is smiling genuinely.

For a tenth of a second something changes. The way you look at each other…

“So,” he says, sitting at the foot of your bed, one ankle over his knee. “Have you been abiding by our agreement?”

You pull a suitcase from underneath the bed. “Which one? There are new ‘agreements’ every day.”

“Intercourse with Lucifer,” he says flatly.

“Oh Alastor, come on. What if he and I were in love?”

He just glares at you, darkness in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen the man in weeks!”

“Aha!” He points at you. “You would do it if given the chance, wouldn’t you?”

You tilt your head. “Why do you care so much, Al?”

“Because I want to separate him from all possible joy,” he says. “There’s no chance of doing that with Charlie, but I will deny him you.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Shut up and pack.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

Alastor picks up one of your pillows and throws it at you.

The extended visit with Rosie would be nice if every moment didn’t bring you anxiety so crippling that it cramped your stomach. She was kind, a gracious hostess, and she didn’t ask any prying questions, so neither did you. You were curious about the ‘trade’ Alastor had made for you—for you…

You leave every day for food, because you just cannot trust the provenance of anything in Cannibal Town, no matter how kind Rosie is. You listen to Alastor’s sporadic broadcasts and feel vindicated in how shitty it is without you. Gives you a smile. It sustains you to know that this man still needs you.

On your third day of going out for burritos, you receive a text message that makes you grin, fills you with joy you haven’t felt since you were yeeted from the hotel.

‘New ducks, want to see?’

The second you text back yes, a glowing portal opens and a hand yanks you inside.

“Lucifer!” you cry out happily, hugging him close.

He returns the embrace readily, arms tight around you. “I’m so glad you agreed! Here, let me show you the duck workshop.”

You smile and let him guide you. You and Lucifer just..mesh. It’s always been easier to talk to him than virtually anyone else. For as much as you listen to him about ducks, he listens to you about radio, as long as you don’t mention Alastor. That’s always been an unspoken understanding.

Lucifer rambles happily all the way to the workshop and you happily listen. Once inside, he gives you a little tour. The place is quite literally filled with rubber ducks of all different kinds—there was even a set of KISS ducks.

“This is my latest work,” Lucifer says, showing you a row of little ducks. He picks up one. “This one has wings just like mine! Well, you can’t currently see my wings, but that’s what they look like. There’s six, they’re red, that’s…pretty much it…”

He sounds strangely nervous.

“And this one’s Charlie…”

Yes, nervous.

“Maggie,” he says.

“Actually, her name is Vaggie,” you correct him.

“Oh, golly!” He covers his eyes with his hands, his face turning red. “I’ve been calling her Maggie every time and Charlie never corrected me.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”

“Charlie probably just felt too awkward to correct you. You know how she is.”

“I hope so,” Lucifer says. “This one is the porn star. He shoots webs!”

You laugh when he demonstrates. “That’s so cool!”

“And this one,” he picks up one of the ducks gingerly, “this one is you!”

You gasp at the attention to detail and laugh joyfully. “That’s so cute, a little me!”

“She has a little radio and everything. And—“ Lucifer presses a button on the underside of the duck and the radio starts to play from its mouth. He looks at you with a wide grin and elbows you gently a few times. “Ah? Ah?”

You laugh again and clap. “Bravo, you outdid yourself. I never thought you would outdo the back-flipping rubber ducky that spits fire.”

“I surprise myself all the time,” Lucifer says happily, placing your duck back down beside his. “Do you have time for a drink?”

You laugh. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Good!” He takes your hand and guides you out of the workshop and through the halls until you arrive at a lavish lounge. He gestures for you to take a seat. “What’ll you have?”

“Oh, whatever you’re having, please.”

Lucifer pours two whiskeys and sits in the chair across from yours beside a fire that emits a cool breeze.

“Thank you so much,” you say when he hands yours to you.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Charlie told me…you left the hotel.”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I did. I’ve been staying in Cannibal Town.”

“Why did you go?” he asks softly.

Now you sigh, hoping to keep all emotion from your voice. “Alastor thinks I’m more of a hindrance than a help and wants me to stay away.”

His diamond pupils constrict. “What an asshole.”

“He needs me to help repair the radio tower, when all is said and done.”

“You’re too good for this, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucifer takes a drink. “I mean you’re too good to work on a show that’s just screams and crappy puns. That guy is a clown. You should host your own show.”

“Oh, I haven’t been on air in like…fourteen years. I don’t even know what I would talk about or play. I like being an engineer. It’s cathartic to me. Alastor might not have the most exciting show around, and he’s absolutely horrible, but it’s…hm, I’ve made it sound really bad, haven’t I?”

“Why do you give that guy your loyalty? Why do you feel so beholden to him?” he asks.

Your focus softens. “I…we have a good time together. I think. He likes the sandwiches that I make him.”

“I can almost guarantee that this loyalty means nothing to him,” Lucifer says. “I’m not saying that to hurt you.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know Luci.”

“Why do you stay, then? Is he paying you?”

“Actually yeah, in a way he does.”

Lucifer cocks a brow and motions for you to continue.

“Oh, he just gives me things, not money. He doesn’t, uh, properly believe that hell should have a currency system. In his opinion it should all be bartering, like soul deals. Therefore, he barters with me. I give him sandwiches and briskets and engineering services, he gives me…just about anything. Last week he gave me a ruby necklace that must be worth a few thousand dollars.”

“You give him briskets?”

You nod. “Oh yeah, there’s always some brisket action going on. He doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a venison brisket in the works.”

“So you work together, you make him food, he gives you expensive jewellery?”

“Other things too, but yes.” You nod again. “That’s the gist. We have a good back-and-forth, but my favourite is getting to play music at the end of his broadcasts.”

Lucifer smiles softly at you. “Those are the only parts worth tuning in for.”

Your face lights up., a big grin and bright eyes. “You’ve heard?”

He nods. “Yeah. I try to catch it. The last one said fuck a lot.”

You laugh, head back against the chair. “Yeah, it did.”

“I’ll give you a radio station of your own. Be his competition,” he said.

Now you sigh. “I actually do like to work with him a lot. He’s…he’s not all bad. He’s always done right by me.”

Lucifer scoffs. “That won’t last. You can’t seriously rely on that to stay stable. Just as soon as he decides he doesn’t need you, he’ll get rid of you. Somehow or another. He’s just…one of the worst sorts of sinners, and he’s proud to be the way that he is. And you? You’re hardly like a sinner at all. I always seem to forget it.”

It’s hard to hear those things about Alastor, even harder because you know they’re probably in some way true.

You’re lost in thought until you hear him repeating your name. “Oh! So sorry, million miles away.”

“Let me get you another drink. Do you want something other than whiskey, maybe?” he asks, sounding somewhat insecure, a little tremor in his voice. “W-what do you normally take?”

You play with a rubber duck on the table and hope it doesn’t spit fire at you. “Dirty martini, two olives. Sounds weird, giving the king of hell a drink order.”

“Nonsense!” Lucifer comes over with a little drink tray, all cheerful. Sweet. He looks so happy that it warms you.

“I should see you more,” you say. “You’re fun to be around and I love ducks.”

He gives a nervous laugh and sits down, passes your drink to you. “You should definitely see me more! Gosh, that would be terrific. I can make you so many ducks!”

“What are you going to work on next?” you ask.

He winks. “I’ll keep you apprised.”

You wink back, smiling. “I’ll be waiting.”

God, there was nothing you wouldn’t give to be on air with Alastor right now. It hits you, causes a slight tremor in your body.

Lucifer gasps. “Are you okay? Is it the drink? I don’t actually know what a dirty martini is so I…May have poisoned you?”

“No! No!” You laugh and shake your head. “No, the drink is fine. To make a martini dirty you just put a bit of olive brine in.”

“Let me try again,” he says, but you stand and stop him.

“Luci, no, really, it’s okay,” you say. “Promise. See?” You drain the contents of the wine glass he had served the ‘martini’ in. Your lower eyelid gives you away, though.

“Oh God,” Lucifer says, hand covering his eyes.

You pull it away gently. “It’s okay, Luci.”

You stay that way, eyes on each other, for a moment that stretches indefinitely.

By the end of it, Lucifer kisses you. Hesitant, gentle. His hand reaches the back of your neck and by now you’re kissing back. Things are happening quickly. Somehow you wind up on one of the couches together, your back to the cushion, him on top of you…

Oh, no.

You break the kiss and sit up. “Sorry. Sorry, Luci. Sorry.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks in rushed voice, a slight shake to it.

“No.” You rub your eyes and smack your forehead.

All you could think of was Alastor. The little promise you made in exchange for Husk’s life. You doubted that he would actually kill Husk if he found out…but you couldn’t handle how…he would react.

“Lucifer, I…” But you couldn’t tell him that Alastor was the one keeping him from getting laid.

“I don’t understand,” Lucifer says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing your ring.”

“Oh, is that why…? Oh, no, sweetheart, no, I just…Lilith isn’t going to come back to me. I can take it off, it’s just hard to when it’s been…such a long time, being married. I can take it off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You squeeze his hand again, gently. “It’s time for me to leave.”

“Oh…Okay,” he says softly. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to stay, just…I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

You smile at him, trying your best to instill confidence. “You’ll see me again. Show me to the door?”

“No, absolutely not,” he says. “It’s dangerous! I’ll take you back to Cannibal Town. That’s also…pretty dangerous, you know.”

“Not for me.” That you can say with confidence of your own.

“Come on.” Lucifer reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it again. Just take my hand and I’ll bring you back. You don’t even know where you are right now.”

Well, he’s got you beat there. You squeeze his hand one more time. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You close your eyes for this part.

When you hear a whispered goodbye, you open your eyes and you’re standing before the Cannibal Town gates, alone.

“Do you think that you walk freely all throughout hell, not a care in the world, for no reason?”

Your whole body tightens at the sound of his voice. “Have you just been standing there waiting for me to show up?”

“Not quite,” Alastor says. “Answer my question.”

You sigh, eyes rolling hard. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”

“Correct! So you’re at least that smart.”

You trudge out a path set to finally get you the illusive burrito. “Alastor, I’m not in the mood. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my absence is definitely noticed at the hotel.”

He appears in front of you. “And how do you know that? Who told you, hm?”

You sigh. “You know who I was with?”

Alastor’s claws grab your arm and then you’re in the radio tower. It nearly knocks the breath out of you and you collide with one of the panels.

“God!” You wince as your knee crashes against a sharp corner. “Hey asshole, I thought I wasn’t allowed to be here! I am so sick of being yanked around today! All I wanted—“

“I ask so little of you,” he interrupts.

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious? You? Ask me? For little?”

“The only commitment I have ever asked of you is not to have sex with that fucking man!”

“And I didn’t!” you shout before pulling out your phone. “Here, see? He just wanted to show me new rubber ducks that he made. And you know what? Mine was adorable, and she played radio when you pressed her button.”

“Am I supposed to understand this innuendo?” he asks, his voice rising.

“I didn’t sleep with him, Alastor! I don’t know what else you want me to say! I almost did, I would have, and it’s all your fucking fault that I didn’t. Someone expressed interest in me and I couldn’t act on it because I made some fake pact with you over it. I should have, God knows I need it.”

“Oh do you?” Alastor steps closer, but you don’t back down.

“Yes!” you yell. “Yes I do, but the only fucking thing I ever do is go on the goddamn radio with you!”

“Such a horrible fate!”

You cover your face with curling fingers. “Take me back to Rosie’s. Take me back to Rosie’s, Alastor. You don’t want me here, remember?”

“Of course I want you here, you fucking imbecile!”

Your anger ebbs slightly. “You do?”

“Yes! I want all of the things you do and I want them all the time! I tried to make my own sandwiches and everything! I was self-sufficient before you, you know. I never needed anyone for anything, then you walked into this hotel and insisted your way into my life, wrecking it up as you went!” Alastor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself, trying to calm himself. “So now that I need you and go to great pains to keep you safe, you tell me that you want to sleep with that little blond gremlin?”

“How were the sandwiches?”

“Dry and uninteresting!” Alastor grabs you by your arms. “God damn you!”

“What? What?” you yell. “What do you want, Alastor? As far as I can tell, you got me out of the hotel, out of your way, right where you wanted me to be. I was going out for a fucking burrito because I can’t trust the food in Cannibal Town!”

“I advised Rosie very carefully about your dietary preferences,” he says.

“Well, hell, thanks,” you say in a much quieter tone. After a moment, you go sit in your usual spot. “Why did you bring me here, Alastor? My name must be mud around here.”

“No, it isn’t.” Alastor sits across from you. “They just blame me, and that is fine.”

“I really think you two should put all this behind you,” you say.

“The two of us? We won’t be putting anything behind us, darling.”

“Actually!” You point at him. “I was talking about you and him. The guy you call a circus freak, a blond gremlin.”

“Ha! No. Try again, dearest.”

You just roll your eyes and rub your temples. “I’m seriously so hungry and so tired. What do you want to hear?”

“I—.” Alastor cuts himself off. “You. And I…it’s your fault, all of this is your fault!”

“Okay! Fine! It’s my fault. Now what do you want to do?” you ask.

Alastor jerks you up from your seat and kisses you, hard. You feel his fingertips fan over the tops of your shoulders, drumming once before holding tight.

It’s so absolutely stunning that it takes a moment to respond at all, but that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you can almost hear it, and, oh, damn, this is what had been missing, fulfilling a craving that you had never known. This was what blood was for, what hands were for, why breath existed.

His hands move lower down your body as the quick seconds pass like butterflies all down your skin and to your bones.

You pull away just to catch a breath and his whole body tenses.

“What?” you ask, panting.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, Al, not even a little bit. Just couldn’t breathe, blood’s all rushing.”

Alastor’s fingertips trail deliciously above your belly. “Do you know what I want?”

You swallow, lips pressing together. “Tell me.”

His thumb traces down your throat now. “I want to possess you so completely that you forget all but my name.”

His lips follow the path of his hands, surprisingly soft and warm against your neck. “Everything about you was made for me. Everything. I am never letting you go, do you understand me?” His tone was gravely serious, but with an undercurrent of…love. Yes, it was love, yearning and…maybe a bit of uncertainty. He could not hide that, not from you.

“Let’s go to my room,” you say quietly when he pulls away, and in an instant you’re there. Everything looks the same, thankfully. You go to the bed and sit at the foot of it, leaning back on your elbows.

Alastor comes and stands before you, just looking down, watching. When he finally moves, it’s to put both hands underneath your shirt and push it up, every bit of skin revealed covered in goosebumps. He slowly pushes the shirt up and up until your arms lift and it comes over your head.

“Why are you choosing to do this now?” you ask as he works on your bra.

“Because you said that you needed it and I take your needs very seriously,” he responds.

“Whoa.” You grab at my hands. “No, it’s not just me, you have to be into it too.”

Alastor laughs suddenly. “How about I show you how ‘into it’ I am? Kind of you to make certain, darling.”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to, because you’re…”

He plays with one of your exposed breasts thoughtfully. “You are kind for that, too. Perfect, really. Darling, I do whatever feels good, in all things that I do. This is good, I have simply never felt that way before you and your goddamn radio expertise and your fucking sandwiches and, oh, the briskets.”

Alastor sighs and moves on to the other one. “I have never wanted this before, and that is meaningful to me. It isn’t all I want, but I want you in all other ways so much that it makes me crave you. My hands on your body, your hands on mine. I’ve waited long enough to know that I am certain. Are you?”

“You are a discovery,” you say. “You unlocked things I didn’t realise were there. I want you badly.”

“It’s not just what the spider calls ‘general horniness’?”

You pull him down and kiss him several times before responding. “No, it isn’t. If it wasn’t specific to you, I could just as well bedded Luci. I had every opportunity earlier tonight. But I was always going to turn him down. I did so because I thought of how disappointed and angry you would have been.”

“You’re goddamn right I would have been,” he says as he climbs over you. “So perfect, just for me…”

You like the weight of him on top of you. He’s careful not to squish you, but it feels so warm and solid. There’s a shiver up your spine as he touches you, as this coat and shirt brush against your breasts. You go to card your fingers through his hair and accidentally brush against the base of one of his ears and you can see the physical reaction, the little tremors of pleasure, the moan of an ecstasy promised.

“Okay?” you ask gently, doing it again.

Alastor nods quickly. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

You played with his ear while his tongue, lips, and teeth made their way across your throat and neck. The higher you went, the more aggressive he got, leaving little nips and bites everywhere.

You push him when you decide more clothes have to come off—his in particular. He looks confused for a half-second before you’re carefully removing his coat. You place it carefully on a chair near the bed, but almost rip the shirt off of him.

He gives a little huff of laughter. “Eager, are we darling?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you say, hauling him in to kiss him again.

You love the feeling of your bare chests pressed together. Alastor’s breathing starts to come more quickly than before.

It’s you going after his neck, this time. You can hear something strangled in his throat, the vibrations of it against your lips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“Forgive me, darling. I am new to this.”

“Is it the very first time?”

He hums. “Technically no. Once, when I was a teenager, a very long time ago. I barely remember it at all, but I know it was nothing like this.”

You smile against his neck and nuzzle softly. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll know what to do.”

“I have every confidence in us both. We know each other on a professional and emotional level of intimacy, I doubt physical intimacy will be the thing that does us in.”

“It may be a bit early days, but I hope nothing ever does,” you say.

He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips close to his neck. He huffs. “Early days, my ass. If I was not sure about you I would not have started anything. If any part of you is unsure, I will make it sure. I promise that I won’t be a regret.”

You kiss your way down the side of his neck. “Lucifer would have been a regret. You will not be.”

He huffs. “As gratifying as that is to hear, please do not mention the circus freak during physical intimacy ever again. Or ever again in general, if possible.”

You laugh softly and hold him close. “I’ll never mention him in this context ever again, I promise.”

“I am much obliged, my love.” Alastor tugs at the jeans you’re wearing, but, having no experience with such garments, he doesn’t seem to realise they have to be unzipped first.

You reach between your bodies to help him out.

“Such complicated garments,” he says beneath his breath.

“No more complicated than yours! Your trousers unzip too, don’t they?” you ask.

“It is called a double standard, darling, and as per usual, unfortunately for you, it works out in my favour.” Alastor gets you down to your underwear and plays with the elastic waistband. “I would like to make something abundantly clear to you, darling. I will give you this one last chance.”

“For what?” you ask, kissing down his neck, the tip of his ear between your fingers. You feel it twitch.

“No, no, stop that for a moment, darling,” he says, so you do. When you’ve stopped and he’s got you looking at him again, he continues. “For just a moment, while you listen to this. I am telling you right now that you are reaching the point of no return. Once I have taken you, you will belong to me for eternity. That is not a hyperbole, it is reality. I will never allow you to leave me. Along with that promise, I promise to keep you safe, always, just as I am now, even if it means temporarily being away from me. I promise to love you. I promise you will want for nothing; everything that is in my power to give you, which is exhaustive and far-reaching, any little want or need you have, I will give it to you.”

You smile at him. “I don’t have as much to offer, but I’ll be the best damn radio engineer, the best damn brisket-maker, the best damn friend, and the best damn…”

“Mate,” he supplies.

“The best damn mate, I’ll be that,” you promise.

“You accept?” Alastor asks, and when you nod, he kisses you hard. “You are perfect. So good. And you understand? Completely? You have no doubts? Because there will be no other appropriate time to feel them. This is a permanent arrangement that you should not take lightly.”

“Trying to talk me out of it?”

“Trying not to be a regret,” he says, and it makes your expression warm.

“You aren’t and you won’t be,” you promise. “You were the answer to all the questions I didn’t know I was asking of myself from the moment I met you. I didn’t know, but it was always there, and now, like…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s not a lot of blood flowing to my brain, you know.”

He chuckles once and nods. “Then I will not ask you again. It is settled now, is it?”

“It is.”

“Good.” Alastor hooks his thumb into the elastic of your underwear indelicately and pulls them down and off your body.

You don’t even know how many naked people Alastor has seen. It’s possible he hasn’t seen another person naked since the first time with someone, so many years ago. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though.

“Well, now that the matter is settled.” Alastor lifts you up and places your head on a pillow. “There is something I have wanted to do since I met you. It was a strange craving, something that should have warned me of what was to come.”

“What’s the strange craving?” you ask, but rather than answer verbally he rolls his tongue between your leg, right against your clit, and you moan rather loudly with surprise.

Alastor laughs quietly to himself. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Ohhhh God,” was all you could manage.

He licks your clit again before his tongue dips inside you, and when it does, Alastor elongates it—this shocks you, causes a gasp and a full-body shiver. You never thought such a thing was possible, and it’s certainly…a new experience. He rubs at your clit with his thumb while his tongue works inside you. He keeps your legs apart with his broad shoulders, tongue massaging against your walls until he reaches a spot that makes you scream. He laughs softly against your flesh and you’re panting now.

“Alastor…” Your legs tense up around him, muscles straining. He’s moaning against you as he works your body like he owns it, and maybe he does now. Your thighs tense around him and you…you’re getting louder.

“Is there something you can do about the noise?” you ask, even though you hate stopping him.

He keeps rubbing your clit while he speaks. “I can. But I will not. Louder.”

Alastor goes right back to it, his tongue working you hard, and he forces you to get louder just from the way his tongue moves against your walls.

“Oh, fuck…Oh, Al, don’t stop, please don’t stop…yeah…yeah, like that, like that…” Your breath comes in harder and harder, faster and faster, until you’re screaming, until your thighs are aching, until your pussy is so overstimulated that he pulls back with an enormous grin on his face.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, but mercifully only briefly. “Tell me when I can take you.”

“Just a moment,” you pant. “Not a long wait, just a few minutes.”

“Very good,” Alastor says. “I’ll take other pleasure from other parts of your body in the meantime then, darling.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You do that, Al. Fucking hell.”

His tongue swirls along your nipple. “Yes darling?”

“You really took that one from the soul,” you say with a soft, shaky laugh. You nudge his shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

You nod a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.”

You press your back down against the blankets, your head flat against the pillow. Alastor kneels between your knees and shoves them far apart, making plenty of room for himself. You’re silently grateful that he still seems to know exactly what to do—you’d gladly teach him if you had to, but it was so much better this way. He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock from your clit and down, watches your muscles involuntarily jump slightly, a wide smirk on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his shadow cast upon the wall, the elongated horns, that starving grin.

“I see you’ve noticed him,” Alastor says, entering you all at once. “Keep your eyes on me, dear. Pay him no mind.”

“You consider him separate from you?” you ask, your body adjusting to the size of him easily.

Alastor, however, does not seem to be having such an easy go of things. There is a look of concentration on his face, his lip between his teeth. It takes a moment for him to reply. “I consider him an echo of me. I’ll warn you now, I do not know how conversational I will be from this point on.”

“All the same,” you wink at him. “It’s not your conversation I’m after at the moment.”

It takes almost no time at all to get loud for him again, but this time it wasn’t just you being pleasured. This was a new world for Alastor and he was lost in it, captive to it. His hands grip at your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, the mattress shaking beneath you. Soon the headboard smacks against the wall and you thank God there’s no one on the other side.

“Al!” You hook one knee around his waist. “Al, please, deeper.”

He grabs your other knee and pulls it around him so he can get a better angle. He moves to whisper in your ear. “You feel so soft inside, like velvet. So warm, so hot…like that little pop of heat when you stand with your back to a fireplace…”

You moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter around him, the sound slick and obscene. You can hear him curse, how his hips snap faster and faster until he finally spills his seed in you, fucking you through it.

Alastor’s damp forehead connects with your shoulder and you can feel his breath coming harsh against it. His hands soften their hard grip on your thighs and fall away, moving up to your waist, your ribs, one thumb against your nipple.

You play with his hair, with one of his ears, but it doesn’t seem to rile him up again, which was good, because you didn’t want to be told to stop. You turn your head against his and kiss his hair.

“Okay?” you ask after a while.

Upon hearing your voice, he lifts his head and then himself off of you. He crashes on his back beside you, his arm coming up around you, pulling you to him.

“I am so…so grateful that it was you,” he says. “I am grateful to have you. Forever. You and I will create a home next week, here at the hotel. It is well within my power to do. It can be any way you like. You should jot down ideas while you’re at Rosie’s.”

You groan. “I have to go back to Rosie’s, don’t I?”

“Yes, my lovely,” he says. “You will still reside at Rosie’s for the duration of this week until the Extermination is through and we are free to do as we please. We do not have to go straight back into radio. Maybe…we take some time to ourselves. It will be well-earned.”

“You’re going to need a break in general,” you say, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. “You’re doing so much for all of us. I can’t believe you’re going to kill Adam.”

“Believe it, my love,” he says softly. “Believe me. This is our future.”

“I do believe you. I trust you,” you say. “And I’m sorry for being so bratty about being sent away. I am effectively useless in any type of fight scenario. I would hold everyone back.”

“You would sacrifice yourself too easily. I never said those things to hurt you, I said them because I feared what would happen to you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagines #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor smut #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel imagines

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faebled-stories · 9 hours ago

Text

Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words.

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Jinsoul steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Jinsoul and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

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obxsummer · 2 days ago

Text

i still need you // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: late night conversations turn ugly, jj sets off on an adventure with his dad, and an SOS text leads to a life stopping moment for john b.

warnings: nothing you haven’t seen in obx before

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

JJ Maybank loved you.

If everything else in the world was suddenly a lie, that statement would remain true. JJ Maybank loved you so much, he swore it was the only thing he was good at.

He never realized how valuable it was to have someone so in tune with his every motion, his every thought and reaction. You were always there no matter what was going on, and you always knew how to handle it.

He was trying. He was trying really hard to give you that same effort, that same love and attention you gave him every time, but he had to admit that he was struggling. What was supposed to be a simple trip to the bathroom was slowly turning into the worst conversation of his life, and as he watched your walls crash in front of him, he didn’t know what to do.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question had you flying out of the hammock and back into the bedroom before you could even get a word out. JJ was standing in the bathroom doorway, Sarah’s capped pregnancy test in his hand. Your heart fell to your ass and you just stared at him.

“Babe?”

You shook your head, tears forming faster than you wished when you realized you’d been so unfair to him. “JJ, I gotta talk to you.”

“Are you pregnant?” He repeated the question much quieter, his tone still soft and careful as he approached.

You shook your head again. “No. It’s not mine.”

JJ nodded, his gaze dropping to the two lines on the test as he stared at it. “Then…?”

“Sarah’s.”

There was a sense of relief that overtook him, but part of him was also sad. Starting a family with you is something JJ had been hesitant about, especially with his own paternal history. He didn’t know if he could fix the curse of his dad’s behavior. Both of his so called fathers' behavior, actually.

“Would… Would you-”

“I can’t have kids.”

JJ blinked and looked up at you. “Huh?”

You crossed your arms over your chest protectively. “Because of everything… with- with Rafe. They said there’s…it’s not impossible but it’s extremely high risk and unlikely.”

When he was silent, you knew this was a dealbreaker. You should’ve told him, given him a chance to run before he put a ring on your finger and gave all this effort to you.

“I know I should’ve told you, so if…if you want this back, it’s okay. I don’t blame you if you wanna act like this never happened, but I’m sorry and-”

“Shut up.” The command sent you silent as you stopped pulling the ring from your finger, eyes going wide in shock. JJ shook his head in disbelief and you were somehow so terrified of what he was going to say. This could very well be the end of everything you’d been through all because you couldn’t be honest with him.

“You… you think I would leave you? Over this?” JJ’s emotions were getting the best of him now and he couldn’t pull his gaze from your teary one. “I have your initials inked into my skin. Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrugged. “I’m not… I’m just giving you an out. Incase you want it.”

“Why would I ever want that?” He was much louder now and you almost took a step back before reminding yourself that this was JJ, your JJ. “Why would I ever leave you over something you can’t control? Sweetheart, I love you more than anything. If you wanted kids, fine, we would have them. But if you didn’t, or you couldn’t, that’s okay. I’m not willing to risk losing you over some annoying ass toddler that messes up all my shit for a handful of years.”

He pointed the small pink stick in your direction, his own eyes wet as his frustration carried into his tone. You knew it wasn’t directed at your actions, rather the way your head had been handling everything, but it still felt weird. “Don’t you ever, and I mean ever hide something like this from me just because your head is telling you, I don’t want you. Because-”

The door slammed open at the worst opportunity possible, both you and JJ turning to see Sarah and John B looking back. You gasped at them, knowing everything probably looked and sounded so wrong. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s mine!” Sarah practically yelled, running forward to grab the test from JJ’s hand as she stood in front of him at her full height. “It’s mine, okay? And drop the fucking tone with her, JJ. You have no idea what she’s been through and-”

“Hey, it’s-” John B held a hand in front of you when you went to intercept Sarah. JJ’s eyes were wide at the words coming out of the girl’s mouth but he didn’t argue back with her.

“Sarah, he didn’t-”

She turned to hold a finger to you before continuing to lay into JJ. “If you so much as think about saying another nasty word to her, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep. I swear to God, JJ, you have-”

“He wasn’t doing anything!” You blurted out when her threat became a little too realistic for your liking. “We were talking, okay and-”

“He was yelling-”

“Because I was being selfish!” You snapped at John B, frustration and emotion boiling over. “I should’ve told him everything a while ago, and I didn’t. This is on me, okay? Leave him alone.”

Three sets of eyes watched you carefully as you laid the most vulnerable pieces of you out for them to see.

“It’s my fault,” You nearly broke there, a breathy hiccup escaping as you tried to keep it calm. “I don’t want the pity. I don’t need it. I should’ve fought back against him, tried to defend myself more but I-”

John B shook his head, his voice breaking as he whispered your name.

You ignored him and looked straight at JJ. “He ruined the best thing I could ever give you. You deserved the chance to correct all the things your dad did to you, the things he put you through. All I wanted was to give you everything you never had, to be everything you never had because you deserve that and so much more. And I let Rafe Cameron of all people ruin me… I’m ruined for you.”

You felt like you were witnessing a slow motion car crash. All of your nightmares had consisted of one thing: losing. Losing JJ, losing your friends, losing yourself. You felt like it was coming to life in front of you.

“I can’t do this.”

Stabbing you in the heart would’ve hurt less than JJ’s statement, but you had to accept it. You gave him an out and he was taking it. Part of you wanted him to blame you because it would at least give you some confirmation on what he was thinking. All you could do was nod and look at the floor. You’d finally done it, you’d manage to push away the one person who knew you inside and out and you only had yourself to blame.

“I can’t sit here and let you think a single word of that is true.” JJ pulled at his hair. God, you looked so broken in front of him and he couldn’t believe this whole night was turning in this direction. He crossed the room to hold your face in his hands, heart breaking at the tears on your cheeks and the way you shivered from his touch. “I’ve told you time and time again that you’re everything to me. I don’t give a flying fuck if you walked out of that whole nightmare with one eyeball and four fingers on one hand. You walked out and you’re still here. That’s what matters. You are and you will continue to be my entire world. I told you tonight, and I will continue to tell you every single day if that’s what you need.”

“And you’re the furthest thing from ruined.” Sarah reminded you that she was in the room, John B crying behind her as they watched the scene from a small distance. “God, you’re literally perfect. A great boyfriend, a great brother, amazing friends. You’re so kind and selfless, and you’re so dedicated to each and every one of us in ways that nobody else is. I give you one look and you’re already on the same wavelength as me without a word. I’m not going to stand here and watch the future godmother and favorite aunt of my child think so negatively about herself when she is easily one of the best things in each of our lives.”

JJ was there to catch you when you sobbed, your whole body nearly collapsing in relief that he knew everything now, that you weren’t carrying what felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“I suck at sappy shit, everyone c’mere.” John B managed to pull a laugh out of the group, the four of you hugging each other tightly in the middle of your bedroom like the world around didn’t exist. Sarah, John B, and JJ had seen the worst pieces of you and still loved you unconditionally. It was time to get out of your head and embrace it, no matter how much you wanted to hide away.

“Now that that’s over with… you’re fucking pregnant?!”

The chaos of the night finally settled down enough after JJ expressed his excitement for John B and Sarah. He didn’t hesitate to guide you to bed shortly after, mumble apologies being shared that tonight didn’t go differently, but you reassured him you had forever to celebrate it. Sarah eventually curled up next to you, the two of you in a fitful sleep for as long as you could while the boys stayed up to keep an eye on Groff.

Sarah was scrolling on her phone when you woke up a few hours later. She looked over her case to smile at you as you groaned loudly and stretched.

“Are you and John B actually going to apply for a marriage license?” Your voice was raspy as you spoke, your eyes meeting hers as you shifted on your side to look at her.

She dropped her phone to the comforter. “I think so, unless he changed his mind from yesterday. That was the plan.”

You nodded, a small smile growing on your face. “Are you nervous?”

Sarah let out a breathy laugh. “Hardly. I just can’t believe all the shit that happened in the last 24 hours.”

The two of you conversed for a few moments longer before climbing out of bed to get ready for the day. While Sarah busied herself finding a cute white dress (one of her own, this time), you quickly changed and did your morning routine before settling in to help her curl her hair.

“Ready?” You asked as she slipped her shoes on and turned off the light. She nodded, grabbing your hand to pull you down the stairs. Cleo was eating a sandwich in the kitchen and looked up as you entered.

“Don’t tell me I’m losing another one today?” Her eyebrow raised in curiosity as Sarah practically skipped outside.

“We have to share the same last name for a little bit, right?” You winked in her direction, the pieces falling together before she shook her head jokingly.

JJ, Pope, and John B were already outside, apparently packing the Twinkie to head to Larissa’s grave with Groff. Your brother was literally pacing a path into the grass, his head snapping up as Sarah stepped off the porch with a tiny squeal.

“Let’s make this quick,” JJ was oblivious to the couple next to you and rubbed at his face to wake himself up.

You hid your smile behind your hand as John B and Sarah stared at each other for a moment, both of them red in the face as she finally reached your brother’s side.

“Hey, we’re gonna get out of your hair, actually,” John B’s voice was so absentminded as he kept his eyes on Sarah, completely disregarding JJ’s confused look. He pointed in your general direction as he took her hand. “Love you, see you in a few. Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shifted into your fiancé’s shoulder, his arm falling around you as he took in the duo for the first time this morning. Pope gave you a confused glance to which you just held up your left hand and pointed to the ring on your finger. He nodded, much easier to communicate wordlessly with than JJ would be.

“I, uh, okay?” JJ’s confusion made you laugh as Sarah and John B disappeared around the side of the house without a word, small talk being shared between the two of them as they made their way down the dock. He turned to look at you and clocked the smile on your face. “Something to share with the class?”

You shook your head, pushing up on your toes to kiss him. “Not in the slightest. You ready to go?”

JJ glanced between the Twinkie and the porch where Groff was getting to his feet. “How about you stay here with the girls and Pope? I… this is my mom. I feel like it should be personal, you know?”

You glared at him. “What did John B say?”

The way he took a step back already told you the answer. “No, nothing. Nothing, I just think I should give this a shot, on my own, you know?”

“JJ, I swear-”

He grabbed your shoulders carefully. “I love you. And if shit goes south, I can’t risk having you in danger with me not being able to help. So, please. Stay here, with them, and I’ll be back. Okay?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” You admitted quietly, your hand grabbing on his wrist. You weren’t so convinced by his reasoning and with Groff giving you weird vibes, you really didn’t like this idea. “Be careful? I know he’s supposedly your dad and all but…”

JJ nodded in understanding, his eyes catching on someone behind you. “Told you I’ll always come home to you, and I mean it. Love you, sweet girl.”

He kissed you softly, hand slipping from your shoulder to hold your neck gently. You hummed in satisfaction, your fingers grabbing his flannel to pull him slightly closer.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Groff’s voice ruined your goodbye as he stopped next to you. Pulling away from JJ, you gave the man a sharp glare, unamused by his comments and whatever assumed power he thought he had over JJ.

Rolling your eyes, you gave JJ one more kiss. “Love you, please be careful.”

You stepped away from him to head back inside, but an unfamiliar hand landed on your shoulder, stopping your retreat. You turned back to Groff, looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and removed his hand, pointing down at the ring on your finger. “I…um. I always wanted a daughter, Larissa did too. I’m glad you’ll be joining our family one day.”

The disgust on your face was very evident as you stared back at him, forcing a nod. “Yeah, considering you gave away your own son, I’m finding that hard to believe.”

Groff gave you a short nod before turning to climb into the Twinkie’s passenger seat as JJ slammed the door of the driver’s side. You shook your head as the van started and drove away, the sinking feeling in your stomach building with each passing moment.

“You feel the same way I do about this?” Pope asked as he joined your side, the two of you watching the van disappear out on the road.

You sighed, “We shouldn’t have let him go alone. That man is the biggest manipulator if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Now all we can do is wait and hope he comes back, preferably without that pathetic excuse for a man.”

While JJ busied himself adventuring with his dad, Pope and Cleo went out to grab gas for the boats with the remainder of the five grand down payment Wes Genrette had given. You and Kiara busied yourselves trying to get some items together for the potential trip to Morocco (if it happened) but mostly trying to downsize to what could be taken to Ward’s rental condo. The property was left in Sarah’s name, thankfully away from Rose’s evil claws, so your group could try to wiggle in as best as possible, but the three bedroom condo was no match for your family of seven, and soon to be a baby.

“I’m gonna grab supplies and shit from outside,” You said with a huff, brushing the sweat from your forehead. “Be right back.”

Kie was head first in making sandwiches and food to take along, so you dipped out of the room by yourself. The wind was refreshing, blowing across your skin as the two of you headed into the store area to collect your items.

You grabbed a handful of first aid items, shoving them in your worn backpack with as much organization as you could muster.

Humming along to the music on your phone, you moved fluidly to grab random supplies from the walls, figuring the store wouldn’t need them much anyway considering the property wasn’t yours soon.

Something moved in your peripheral and you turned to see the Twinkie parked outside again. A small frown formed on your face; you didn’t think JJ and Groff would be back that quick. Walking out, you glanced to catch sight of the blond boy but came up short.

“Babe?” You called out, heading toward the driver side in case they were still talking inside. Except, they weren’t. Nobody was inside, actually. “JJ?”

You spun on your heels in hopes of him popping out, but still no sight of him. Setting your course to the house in hopes that he’d be there instead, you were met with Chandler Groff popping out of the side door in what looked like a hurry.

Stopping, you crossed your arms and glared at him. “Can I help you?”

He had the tube containing the scroll in his hand, and motioned toward it. “Uh, hi. I uh, I just came to grab the scroll to make sure it’s not just the artifact from the mausoleum.”

His rushed tone told you there was more to the story but you nodded. “Mhmm, um. Where’s JJ?”

“Oh, he stayed behind at the family plot. He sent me to retrieve this. I thought I’d give him some time alone, you know?” He took a few steps toward you, that you immediately repeated in the opposite direction to put some distance back. Any further and you’d be against the Twinkie and out of options.

You dug your fingers into your arm. “He certainly got his lying skills from Luke because I don’t believe you in the slightest.”

Groff laughed but you could tell it was forced. “Well, you hardly know me, of course you aren’t going to believe me. You can ask your friend in there… uh Kiara is it? She seemed fine with the idea.”

“Oh so you won’t mind if I just call him, then?” You reached into your pocket where your phone was still playing music.

“Yeah, yeah you should. You should call him. He’ll confirm. Go ahead.”

Your back hit the metal of the van as Groff continued to push into your space. You glanced down, swiping for the FaceID to activate and unlock before completely bypassing checking JJ’s location and instead pressing the lock buttom twice. Times like these you really thanked Sarah for helping you set up the shortcuts she did.

All it took was that one split second before Groff’s hands were shoving you and your head collided with the window of the Twinkie, glass shattering from the impact. Your phone slipped from your hands and you gasped, knees giving out as you grabbed your head in pain.

“Kie!” The scream tore through your throat but was cut off as Groff grabbed your throat and yanked you off the ground.

Panic set in instantly, all of your senses blurring as images of Rafe flashed in front of you. You struggled to get air in your lungs and gasped, hands shoving and feet kicking like it would do you any good.

One last hit to your head, and the sweet dark relief took over.

Then silence.

You weren’t sure if you were awake.

There had been moments like this in the past when you were at the Camerons’, so blissed and drugged out that you couldn’t tell the difference from reality or hallucinations. Like a sensory tank, there was no light or noise. Just you and your racing thoughts and the loud thump of your heart in your ears.

Here you were, all over again. No sense of where you were, what had happened, or who was around. You could barely breathe and the hefty duct tape on your mouth stole your inability to speak. The sharp bite of pain when you tried to move was thanks to zip ties that were too tight, and you realized how utterly stuck you were.

The tears came first, followed by the hyperventilating. You tried running through the methods they taught you in therapy, the counting, the timed breathing. JJ’s voice was echoing in your head to keep your airways open and not clench your hands but JJ wasn’t here, you couldn’t move, and one of your main airways was not an option.

An attempted cry left your body, but you doubted anyone could hear it. It was so muffled and quiet that it might as well have been a whisper in a concert arena.

You were going to die. You were going to die here, alone, with nothing but the thoughts in your head to keep you company. You hoped Kiara was okay. Hoped that none of your friends would be the ones to find you, if they even could.

The tears were unstoppable now, small sobs escaping as you tried to pull air in your lungs but it was getting harder. It felt like someone’s hand squeezing around your throat.

Tighter, tighter, tighter.

Gone.

Kiara was a stranger to what it felt like being knocked unconscious. Hell, the closest she’s ever gotten was because of Pope nearly concussing her with an ore a couple of weeks ago. It was never from being punched in the head and colliding with the table.

The headache was killer, enough to send her vision swaying but she forced herself to her feet. “Ah, fuck.” Her fingers poked the area where the pain was radiating, but no blood came back so she considered that a good sign.

“Kie!”

John B’s scream was not a good one, and it was enough to get her moving out of the house to see him sprinting across the yard with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah close behind.

“What’s happening?” Her voice was much quieter than she expected as the all moved toward her. Pope’s hands were gentle as they hovered her face, taking in the bruising on her cheek.

“What happened to you?” Cleo asked, wincing at the injury.

Kiara shook her head, “I can’t… just give me a second.”

“Where is she?” John B asked, eyes scanning the entire ground. He was on the verge of screaming or crying, or shit maybe he needed to throw up. “The SOS text came from her phone, fro-from the shortcut, where is she?”

“John B!” Sarah picked up the device in question that was resting in the grass near the van, the music still playing from it loud enough that she could hear.

The sight of your case made his heart drop. “Shit, stay here. Check the house,” He directed toward Pope and Cleo, practically sprinting toward Sarah.

“It seems fine,” She commented, “Music still on and everything. Maybe she did it accidentally?”

Except, John B wasn’t looking at the phone in Sarah’s hand. His eyes were locked on the nearly shattered window behind her head, a window that hadn’t been fucked up before. Sarah noticed his silence and looked over her shoulder, the broken glass answer enough that no you didn’t do this accidentally.

John B yelled your name again, nothing following his call, so he took off running into the shop with hopes that maybe you would be there. If Kiara was in the house, chances were, you weren’t.

Except the shop was empty, besides your backpack resting on the counter with various shit scattered around it.

“Is she in here?” Sarah asked as she ran up behind John B, her eyes scanning the room for any sight of you. “John B?”

“What the fuck?” You brother tugged at his hair and moved to where your bag was sitting as he tried to look for any clue, anything, that would tell him where you were. “No, no, no. We can’t do this again. I-I.. I told her I’d never let something like this happen, what if-”

“John B, John B, hey!” Sarah grabbed his face as gently as possibly. “Do not lose your shit. Not right now. She needs you, okay?”

His hands were fucking shaking and suddenly, this was too scary for him. Something had happened, and now you were missing.

“Look, look. I’ll get you a water and we can see if Kie remembers anything okay? It’s probably a miscommunication and-” Sarah turned toward the red Coca-Cola cooler that usually housed the ice for cold drinks and stopped short at the screw driver wrenched between one of the closures. “Did you lock this?”

John B pulled his hand from his face to look at what she was referring to. “What? No, we never…”

Sarah ripped the screwdriver out in a second, flipping the latch to unlock the lid so she could pry it open. “John B!”

The Routledge boy jumped forward to look and nearly threw up his breakfast. “Move, move!”

Reaching down, he grabbed ahold of your unmoving body, your skin so pale and cold that he didn’t know what to do. His knees hit the ground hard as he laid you down, hands moving to shake you. “Wake up, hey. Wake up!”

Sarah called your name, her touch gentle as she pulled the duct tape off your mouth, but you still didn’t move. “John B, she’s not breathing!”

“Pope, help!”

Like a series of deja vu, John B’s hands went to your chest to push down harshly, the rhythmic movement too familiar for comfort. Sarah had been in this same position under his hands before, a gunshot wound to her hip and barely enough blood to keep her alive. John B never wanted to do this again, and he sure as shit never wanted to do it to you.

“Pinch her nose, and breathe in her mouth,” He gasped out in an attempt to keep the sobs at bay. “Pope!”

Sarah followed the directions, pinching your nose and opening your mouth to push air back into your lungs. She was shaking, barely able to see through her tears.

A series of footsteps came seconds later, and Pope swore his whole world stopped at the sight ahead of him. You, his practically adopted sister, lying still on the floor as John B attempted CPR. Kiara nearly screamed, and Cleo stood in shock as Pope flung forward to take over the compressions with more confidence and precision.

“Go, again,” He directed to Sarah as John B tumbled back against the counter in shock. Pope started his compressions again, keeping his count outloud.

Kiara stumbled to your brother’s side, wrapping her arms around him as they stared on, horrified. Cleo moved to grab scissors, her careful movement cutting the zip ties from your ankles as Pope continued to put pressure on your chest.

And then you coughed.

And Pope fell into a fit of tears. Removing his hands from your chest, he fell back on his ass in what felt like exhaustion.

“Aye! You okay?” Cleo was trying to keep a level head but the way her heart was pounding against her chest told her otherwise. She’d never been so close to losing someone, not like this. She carefully snipped the remaining ziptie and your hands instantly reached for Sarah, who cried into your hair and helped you sit up.

Despite your wishes, you couldn’t get your voice to work and opted for nodding instead. Your throat ached and your head felt like it was going to shatter into pieces, and you were so, so cold.

“Holy shit,” Pope choked out as he watched you blink and your own chest move air into your body. Your head was reeling at all of their concern and voices so you closed your eyes and continued to focus on just evening out the flow of air.

John B ripped himself out of Kiara’s arms and next to Sarah the second he got a grasp on what the fuck just happened. “Hey, hi. You’re okay. It’s okay now.”

You reached out to grab John B’s hand, squeezing enough to let him know you could hear him and were responsive. Sarah’s warmth left your side a moment after and John B easily took her place, his arms cradling you against him like you were a small child as he cried into your hair.

Wrapping your arms around him, you blinked your eyes open to see Pope sitting in front of you with Cleo rubbing his shoulder soothingly, Kie leaning against his side. He quickly brushed the tears from his cheeks but it already told you everything.

You mouthed a thank you and cuddled in closer to John B’s chest, opting to just breathe breathe breathe.

You weren’t sure what the fuck had just happened, but it seemed like your friends were about to have one crazy ass story to tell.

John B did not let you out of his sight.

After carrying you back to the house and directing Sarah to help you into your warmest sweatshirt and sweatpants, he looked to Kiara for answers.

The girl’s brainfog had thankfully cleared and she was about to recount Groff showing up, claiming he and JJ found the lens and needed the scroll. When Kiara asked where her friend was, Groff knocked her out, which meant her intercepted you next.

Nobody wanted to ask questions, but the SOS text on their phone screens was hard to pull their eyes off of.

When everyone had phones replaced following El Dorado, Sarah had made sure to set up a shortcut that sent an SOS text with a location to the group chat in case of an emergency. She hoped it would never be used, but she was so thankful you thought quick enough to use it in this situation. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if not.

“Here.” She handed you an warm cup of tea with honey in hopes that it would help soothe the soreness in your throat but the handprint outside on your skin told her otherwise. After helping you crawl under the covers, she sent a quick text to John B that you were settled before the group came tumbling in.

Your brother instantly threw himself next to you near the top of the best, shifting so you could lean against him and he could keep a hand on your arm at all times. Kiara took your other side, sitting crisscross as she held an ice pack to her head.

“Y’all are dramatic,” Your voice was practically gone as you joked with them before taking another sip of your tea.

“And you sound like you smoke six packs a day,” Cleo chimed back with a teasing smile on her face. “Save your voice, girly. We got you.”

You gave her a weak smile.

The next twenty minutes consisted of everyone sharing what the fuck had happened in the past few hours. Pope and Cleo nearly got wiped out by Kelce which caused them to collide with Sarah and John B who had been running from Topper and Ruthie. Kiara took a gnarly blow to the head like you did, and JJ was still absent from the group.

Splendid.

“So, what? Groff left with the map and lens and JJ’s still with him?” Pope recounted as he started to pace the floor.

Your calls to JJ had been ignored and considering he didn’t show up with the SOS text, you were really worried Groff had gotten to him. Your fingers moved across the screen to pull up his location again and you dropped it on the center of the bed so your friends could see his location pinging from the middle of the ocean.

Turning to John B, you tried to communicate with your hands that you all needed to leave, but he was unamused. “No, no. You’re not leaving this room, let alone this house any time soon. You hear me? Grounded.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the comforter to open your notes app and type away.

Then you guys need to go. If something happens to him and I’m the reason you didn’t go, I’ll never forgive myself.

You shoved the device in John B’s direction, watching as he skimmed the words before shaking his head slightly. Annoyed by his silence, you moved it over so Sarah could read it instead.

“She’s got a point, John B. We need to go.”

John B took a look around the room, everyone’s expressions matching Sarah’s as they read the message on your phone. He hated this, the thought of pulling you out of a safe space after he just nearly broke your ribs from the force of his own hands because you weren’t breathing.

“Fine, fine,” He admitted defeat when even Cleo nudged her head in the direction of the water. “Go get your shit. I need to talk to this one first.”

Your eyes were going to get stuck in the back of your head if you rolled them again so you just sighed and flopped against the pillows as everyone scattered. Sarah patted your knee through the covers, reassuring she’d grab your backpack and everything before slipping out the door, leaving you with your brother.

You quickly typed on your phone as John B watched you.

I’m not arguing with you via notes app, bro.

He laughed and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Don’t wanna argue. Just um…” He let out a breath, tears filling his eyes faster than he intended. “You really scared me, out there. And I don’t like the idea of you getting thrown back into danger, but the idea of leaving you here is even worse. So I need you… I really need you to promise me something.”

John B shifted to sit where you could see him easier and not strain your neck looking up at him. He grabbed the phone from your hand and let it fall, taking both of your palms into his. “I need you to promise me that you’ll stick with Sarah. And you won’t go throwing yourself in front of anyone if it comes to it. You… you both mean way too much for me to lose you to a stupid fucking treasure hunt. Okay?”

You squeezed his hands and nodded, because it’s really all you could do. So you did.

And now, you needed to find JJ… but nothing was ever that simple for you all, was it?

a/n: did i redeem myself??? also john b is not over what just happened and i think another crashout is coming

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#outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #goy series #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #john b routledge #obx jj #jj outer banks #outer banks jj #jj x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x reader series #jj maybank x routledge!reader #john b routledge x sister!reader #routledge!reader #Spotify

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froggiewrites · 1 day ago

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hello i wanted to request a comfort fic with Law,Zoro and Sanji with their s/o being depressed,stressed

thanks in advance

Hi, sorry this took so long! This is the first time I've written a few smaller scenarios instead of one larger fic and I've gotta say, I really enjoyed it. It was a nice change of pace! So thank you for requesting this 😊 I hope this fic brings you the comfort you need, and that you're doing well!!

Hard Times

Pairing: Law, Zoro, Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've not been yourself lately, and he's been worried about you. Warnings: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k total (a little over 500 each)

It didn’t take him long to notice something was wrong. There was a subtle change in you, something a less observant man would have missed. But you always had his attention, and he knew you well. You were a bit slower to respond, your eyes a bit unfocused, your smile less bright. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that you were just a bit tired, but after the third time of finding you in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, he knew that you needed some more support. He was more than happy to be that support.

Law

Law is a deeply caring man, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, but he is also, unfortunately, terrible at showing it. So he doesn’t talk to you about it, not directly. He instead racks his brain, thinking of every possible way to reduce stress and ways to treat depression. His instinct is to opt for medicine, but he knows he should start smaller first.

“I have a gift for you.” He places it in your hands unceremoniously, trying to hide his delight at your small smile. That’s the most joy you’ve shown in days.

“Thank you, Law! That’s really sweet of you.” You carefully peel back the wrapping paper he had spent far more time than he would admit on, only for your face to show confusion. “A…lamp?”

“A UV lamp.” He says it as though the purpose is obvious.

“Okay?”

“It mimics sunlight.”

You blink at him. “I–you didn’t clarify anything.”

He shifts on his feet, eyes focusing anywhere but you. “We’re down on the seafloor a lot, so you can’t always go on deck for sunlight. And I think some sun will help you.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“Sunlight boosts serotonin production.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before you give him a smirk he would normally hate to admit made his heart skip a beat. “You were worried about me.” You say it like it’s such a victory, like it isn’t something you expected. Clearly he had failed you somehow, if you thought he wasn’t always fretting about you. He typically tries to deny such things, the vulnerability making him feel unsure and small, but you were worth feeling a little weak.

“Of course I was worried about you.” He spits it, like it was so very obvious, and you laugh at him. Normally he would prickle, his defenses growing higher, but that’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in over a week. He would never admit the sound brought a tear to his eye, the relief tearing through him like a hurricane. He can’t help shifting forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he checks to see if you’ve regained the sparkle in your eyes. It’s dim, but it’s there. He can’t resist kissing you.

You accept his warmth quickly and easily. You practically fall into his arms, nuzzling into his neck when your lips part. “You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. It always passes eventually.”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “Just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t alone in this. You have me. You have the crew. We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

Your voice comes out much quieter this time. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t.”

“...You promise you’d tell me if I was?”

He chuckles. “I promise.” He gently takes the lamp out of your hand, places it on your desk, and guides you to your bed. “Now tell me everything you need to get off your chest.”

And, to his relief, you do.

Zoro

Zoro is blunt. He doesn’t know how to dance around your feelings, and frankly, he doesn’t care to. The faster he breaks through your reluctance to tell him what you need, the faster he can help you, and the faster you’ll be happy.

“Why aren’t you asking for help?”

You jump, not having heard him come in, too busy struggling to ground yourself. “What?”

“Something’s wrong. Why haven’t you come to ask for help?” He’s still dripping with sweat, having just come from a particularly intensive workout that was a failed attempt to distract himself until you finally broke and came to him. He can see you try to avoid his eye, so he gently grabs your chin and steers you toward him. He tries to make his voice gentle, sweet in a way he can never quite nail. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I just want to understand.”

You still avoid looking straight at him, even now, but you finally speak. “I…didn’t want to be a burden.”

He can’t hide his obvious confusion. “Huh?”

You finally look at him, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

“Who cares if you’re a burden for a while?”

You look shocked, “I do!”

“Okay, well no one else does! Everyone is a burden sometimes. No one can do everything on their own. The crew’s job is to help each other.”

“None of you guys have ever been a burden.”

“Were we not a burden, or were you just happy to help?”

You open your mouth to argue again, but he can see the exact moment you realize you really have nothing you can say. You can’t deny helping your crew has sometimes made your life harder. He’s seen it countless times. Your Captain alone has gotten you into dozens of situations you could hardly think about without wincing. But you were always happy to help, and a burden shared is a burden halved.

“Everyone here is happy to help you if you need it. All avoiding us does is make us worry.”

You seem to shrink in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you close, chuckling a little at the discontented noise you make when you realize he’s still sweaty. You squirm halfheartedly, but it doesn’t take long before you snuggle into his warmth. He can feel the muscles in your back slowly start to relax under his hands as you accept his touch. “No need for apologies, sweetheart. Just fix it. Talk about it.”

You hold him tight. “I don’t know exactly what I need. Everything’s just…hard. I don’t remember it always being this hard.”

He tries to ignore the way his heart breaks at how pained you sound. He instead focuses on the positives: you’re here, you’re talking, and you’re willing to accept help if it comes. “It won’t be this hard forever. I’ll be right here to make it a little easier, alright? And you can talk to Chopper for some help, too.”

“...Do you think I should?”

“I think that’s up to you. But we’re here. That’s what matters.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Zoro’s arms, and if he sees you sneaking to Chopper’s office later, he doesn’t mention it, though his relieved smile might give him away.

Sanji

Sanji is very in tune with your emotions, often realizing you’re upset before anyone else, and sometimes even before you register it yourself. It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly appear, food and drink in hand, ready to pamper you to your (or, maybe more accurately, his) heart’s content. So you don’t seem to suspect a thing when he starts setting up picnics for you on the deck, each dish carefully prepared to boost serotonin production and the drinks designed to reduce stress and anxiety. You’ve probably had more chamomile tea in the past few weeks than you’ve ever had in your life.

He sets up the picnic blanket in the perfect location: enough room in the shade for you to rest if you get too hot, but positioned in a way that encourages you to soak up the sun. As you eat, he oh-so-subtly encourages you to talk, maintains skin on skin contact as much as he can, and observes everything he can to improve the next one.

You sit blankly for a while, letting him do as he pleases but not reciprocating, before you finally speak, your voice much flatter than usual. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. “Why am I doing what, angel?”

You shift in his arms, forcing him to look you in the eye as you do so. He can’t help but brush a stray crumb off of your cheek, his thumb tracing down to your jaw. You gently catch his hand in your own, squeezing it. “These picnics aren’t just little dates, are they, Sanji? Something is clearly wrong.”

He doesn’t know how to explain he’s worried about you without you feeling pressured to speak. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t stand to sit by and watch as you drown in your own head. “I–do you have anything you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately. I just thought…you could use something like this.”

You seem to relax a bit. “So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to push you, but you clearly need some help, darling. I was hoping I could make this a bit easier for you.”

You give him a real smile for the first time in a while. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking me so many little treats? And why you’ve been so desperate to keep me away from caffeine?”

He tries not to flush. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up. And I read getting better sleep can help with mood.” He pulls you closer, pressing your face into his neck to hide his redness from you. “I was hoping it’d make talking about whatever’s wrong a little easier for you.”

You snuggle into him, accepting your warmth. “Talking about it is always hard. Everything is, right now.”

“Are you willing to try? I think it might help.”

He can feel your sigh. Your reluctance. But slowly, carefully, you unfurl the tension you’re holding, and you allow him to carry some of your burdens for you. You talk for hours, about everything, including things you were clearly frightened to speak aloud. By the end, you may not be perfectly happy again, but he can see your steps are a little lighter. He’s never been more relieved.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

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loveesiren · 2 days ago

Text

Mile High Club - R.C.

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Rafe get a much needed vacation but they can't even wait until they land to begin. (Please ready Baby Daddy parts one & two first!)

Warnings: Smut, nursing kink, language

Word Count: 1.4k+

You'd never been on a plane before. Taking off made you nervous but Rafe held your hand the entire time and soon enough your face was lit up in awe as you watched the world below you from the window.

Juliette was only four months old. Convincing you and Rafe to go on a trip, let alone take a break, was a challenge.

"Nope. Absolutely not. I'm not leaving my daughter." Rafe argued with his parents, bouncing Juliette on his knee.

"You two never do anything for yourselves. You guys deserve some time alone." Ward said, Rose nodding beside him.

"You guys are exhausted. Just take a few days, go to the Bahama house. We'll take care of Jules." Rose added.

You looked over at Rafe and your baby. Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin line at the thought of being away from his daughter. Jules smiled up at her dad, the sight melted your heart. You couldn't imagine being away from your daughter either but some time alone with Rafe did sound really nice.

"I don't know, babe...maybe we should. Just for a few days?" You suggest, running your fingernails over his bicep.

It took some convincing but Rafe finally agreed to three days in the Bahamas. The two of you were practically thrown out of Tannyhill so John B could drive you to the airport. Going back to give Juliette more and more kisses, making sure she had everything she needed, promising to Facetime multiple times a day.

Ward and Rose laughed. You were first time parents, a feeling they remember all too well but they assured you Juliette would be fine and happy with her grandparents and aunts.

Now you were flying high in first class, sipping champagne and snuggling up to your boyfriend as you watched the clouds go by. You both agreed to try to relax and not worry. Ward and Rose raised three kids and with Sarah, Wheezie, and John B all happy to help, you knew your daughter was in good hands.

You shifted uncomfortably as your breasts started to ache.

"You okay, baby?" Rafe asked, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Yeah, just gotta pump." You tell him, reaching for your bag to grab what you need before unbuckling your seatbelt to head to the bathroom.

Rafe has a shit eating grin on his face.

"What?" You ask.

"Can I help?" He asks, licking his bottom lip.

"Rafe, we're on a plane." You whisper.

"Mhmm," He hums, leaning into you to speak against your lips. "And I need to help my baby momma out." He presses a soft kiss to your lips and grabs your hand, pulling you to the back of the cabin to where the bathroom was located. He quickly opened the door, pushing you inside gently and quickly closing the door behind the two of you before anyone could notice.

He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the bathroom counter. The bathroom was small, Rafe wasn't able to stand up fully but that didn't matter as he was leaning down to press kisses to your jaw.

"Rafe-"

"Don't need this," He muttered, tossing your breast pump to the side. You were nervous, you didn't want to get caught doing this in an airplane bathroom but you couldn't deny the heat growing between your thighs.

He tugged at the hem of your tan top, lifting it off over your head and tossing it to the side before fiddling with the clasp of your bra, placing wet kisses over your skin.

"Fuck, Rafe..."

"Keep saying my name, baby." He demanded, letting your breasts free. "Shit..." He whispered, palming your swollen breasts.

"Rafe, I n-need you to-" You muttered, hooded eyes as you leaned your head back against the mirror.

Rafe didn't hesitate to latch onto your nipple, drinking from you harshly as he massaged your other breast.

You sighed in relief as he sucked. This nursing kink of his had become a common thing. Ever since he helped you out that first time he just couldn't get enough. You found yourself reminding him that you had a child to feed as well. But you had to admit, this was way more enjoyable than pumping.

You wrapped your fingers in his hair, digging your nails into his scalp as his fingers trailed down your body. He lifted your skirt and moved your panties to the side, slowly running a soft finger against your dripping core.

"Please," You whispered against his ear.

Rafe sucked harder as he plunged two fingers into you. You yelped at the sensation and he quickly brought his other hand up to cover your mouth. You arched your back beneath him, grinding against his fingers.

He finished draining you and quickly moved to your other breast, pumping his fingers into you harder and bringing his thumb to rub circles in your clit. You could feel him growing hard against your thigh and you knew as soon as he was done nursing, he'd be fucking you in this tiny airplane bathroom.

Your eyes rolled back as the knot in your stomach built up. Rafe hummed against your nipple as you came on his fingers. "Good girl..." He whispered against your skin and you were grateful for his hand over your mouth because you couldn't control your moans.

"Feel better, my love?" He asked as he finished drinking from you.

You smiled and nodded as you came down from your high. "Thank you," You whisper breathlessly.

"Wanna join the Mile High Club?" Rafe smirks, leaning in to kiss you.

You stared at him through hooded eyes and smiled, nodding your head eagerly.

"Use your words, mama," He says.

"Yes. Please, Rafe..."

Rafe smiles before grabbing your hips and pulling you from the counter, turning you around so you could watch him fuck you from behind.

He ripped your panties down and palmed your ass, spanking you roughly. You yelped once again.

"You gotta be quiet for me, mama," He says. "Don't wanna get caught, do you?" He asks, placing wet kisses down your back.

"I'll try," You whine.

Rafe thrusts into you and you try to stifle your moan, but he was hungry for you. This wasn't like the normal love making you were used to back home. This was new and exciting. It reminded you of when the two of you first got together. All the late nights of Rafe fucking you like his own personal whore. The way you ended up pregnant in the first place. The way you fucked before you fell in love with him.

Rafe pounded into you roughly, biting into your skin to control his own grunting. You hadn't realized you were being loud until he once again clasped a hand over your mouth.

You gripped the sink tightly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hadn't been fucked like this in so long. You looked in the mirror, meeting Rafe's feral eyes as he tried not to cum yet. But you knew he was close, and so were you. With the way his skin slapped against yours, the wet sounds of your pussy filling the small room, you couldn't hold on much longer. Then, turbulence hit and it had you bouncing against him harder, sending you over the edge.

You began to vibrate as you clenched around his cock, sending Rafe into his own high. You felt him spill inside you and the feeling was euphoric. The last year and a half you'd spent with this man had you falling more inlove every day.

"Fuck, baby girl...I can never get enough of you." Rafe said, leaning against your shoulder as you both tried to catch your breath. "I'm gonna fuck you in every room of this house, and on the beach, and in the plane home, too."

You bit your lips at his promise. The thought of having Rafe to yourself for three whole days excited you. No crying, no tending to a teething baby at 2am, no siblings barging in on you. Just you and Rafe Cameron. This was a dream.

Rafe helped you clean up and get back into your clothes. You both hurriedly fixed your hair in the mirror before sneaking out of the bathroom and heading back to your seats. You noticed one of the flight attendants staring at you with a knowing look. You avoided her gaze but Rafe proudly slung his arm over your shoulder, smile wide on his face, completely satisfied with his life in this moment.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fandom #obx fanfiction #obx fic #drew starkey #obx pogues #mile high club

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ace-of-zaun · 15 hours ago

Text

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair.

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong.

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven.

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight.

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him.

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face.

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly.

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar.

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues.

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home.

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face.

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you.

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking.

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you.

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet.

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door.

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.”

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look.

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet.

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat.

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover.

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date.

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull.

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again.

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm.

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs.

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though.

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is.

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused.

You could throttle him.

“That!”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies.

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…”

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream.

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest.

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!"

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll.

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom.

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room.

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing).

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week.

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again.

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly.

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now.

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away.

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you).

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

#silco #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco x you #silco fic #silco arcane #arcane #part 2

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seasprincess · 1 day ago

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cowboy!rafe x mayors daughter!reader

part 1 here

Warnings: smut, mdni, unprotected s3x (wrap it), praise, nicknames, nippl3 sucking, degrading if you squint sweaty man

Rafe had spent his evening in a east he usually does when being around you.

His hands in his pants touching himself to the thought of you in that dress.

That god damn dress.

He loves when you wear dresses, which is most of the time if not all.

He loves the way they flow on your body, the way they stop just on your thighs or the way that when you sit down and it rides up a bit it shows him what colour panties you’re wearing. God does it get him hot and flustered knowing what the panties he should be taking off look like. Jesus does he want to take them off. See that pretty pussy of yours.

But he know it can’t happen, he knows he can’t do that.

So he has to stick to his hand.

For now at least.

The sun beams down on your skin as you make your way to your porch. Sitting in that swing seat you got for your birthday. You practically live there.

It’s calming to sit there and just swing back and forth. And it also gives a great veiw of Rafe when he’s chopping up wood for your fire for that evening. Your father really does make that poor guy work. Working any job at this point. But Rafe doesn’t care. He wants this job.

He looks so good with that axe in his hands. Muscles flexing as he cuts the wood. His biceps on show due to his white tank top. Which he decides to take off in that moment. Like he wants to tease you more.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his abs, the way they glisten from the sunlight and sweat. You could just lick them. Maybe when he’s less sweaty. He looks so good, you could just-

“Darlin’ it’s rude to stare.” Rafe’s voice brings you out of the trance and you look up at his face rather than his other body parts. He just smirks as he watches you swing back and forth. Back and forth.

“I wasn’t staring.” You were.

“Mhm sure.” He says as he takes his hat off to rub his for head of any sweat. Guess he does take the hat off.

“I wasn’t!” You say with a small pout, acting like a spoilt child. Well you are spoiled so that parts right at least.

“You know it’s okay if you were. I don’t blame you.” He says as he places the axe on the ground and starts making his way over to you. His boots clacking on the wooden planks of the decking as he reaches in front of you. He towers above you when you stand up, so when you’re sat down. It’s like a mountain and a rock. He leans against the wall as he puts a toothpick in his mouth and fiddles with it. Looking at you. “So when we riding again sweetheart?”

The nickname makes your heart skip a beat as a small blush forms on your cheeks. Making them pink and rosy.

“Oh um, I don’t know. Don’t mind.”

Rafe chuckles and rolls his eyes as he pushes off the wall.

“God you do give up fast.”

“I’m not giving up!” You retaliate as you sit up straight, defending yourself. “I’m just busy.”

“Doing what?” Rafe quickly says back as he gets closer to you. So close his knees are touching the chair you’re sat in. “Cause you look like you’re just sittin’ down to me, darlin’.”

Rafe’s hand comes to your chin as he makes you look up at him. Eyes taking in every feature of your face as his rough thumb rubs your chin.

“Do you know how wild you drive me baby?” Rafe says as he smirks down at you. He’s decided he’s had enough of your back and forth flirting with no outcome. He needs you.

Bad.

“Hmmm no.” You smirk back. Yes you did know. Of course you knew. But you didn’t think it was that bad. “My dad is out.”

“I know.” He replies before he leans down and kisses you. Softly and passionately. Hes wanted to do this for so long and now it’s finally happening. He’s finally getting his wish.

And of course you kiss back. You’ve been waiting for this hair as long as he has.

“Why don’t you show me that pretty room of yours baby?”

Immediately you spring up and slot your hand in his. Leading him to the room.

He wastes no time to push you up against the door as soon as you shut it. Hands finding the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head.

“So pretty f’me.” He says as his kisses move to your neck, biting and sucking. Causing you to whimper and moan as you squirm in his touch. You’ve needed this so much.

His hand slithers down your body before reaching your panties, earning a gasp from you as his finger brushes over your clothes clit.

“So wet for me huh?” He smirks. Almost like he’s proud of himself for making you like this just from kissing you. “Needy girl.”

Both his hands travel to your hips as he looks at you.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks as he scans your eyes for any doubts.

You quickly nod your head and reply a small “Yeah.”

He smiles before picking you up and laying you on the bed. Undoing your bra.

“Fuck you’re so pretty doll.” He says as his lips attach to your nipple.

You’re just a whimpering mess as you play with his hair. Tugging on it slightly as his hands slowly pull down your pants.

“Gonna fuck you so good sweetheart.”

Rafe discards your panties somewhere in the room before working on taking his jeans and pants off. And in a few seconds he’s naked like you. He climbs onto the bed as he holds out his hand.

“I told you I was going to tech you how to ride.”

You pick up on his words and start straddling him. Looking at him as he places his hands back on your hips.

You slowly lower yourself down onto him with a moan. You’ve imagined this for a while. And he is definitely bigger than how you imagined.

“Fuccckkk baby.” Rafe moans out as you start moving up and down. That good feeling building up every time you go back down. “Taking me so well.”

Rafes hands help you move as he watches where he enters you. This is so much better than he imagined. And gosh has he imagined this. A lot.

Your movements get more difficult as you keep trying to ride him. But it’s just too much for you.

“Rafey.” You say with a slight whimper. Immediately he picks up on it and nods.

“Shhh baby. I’ve got you.” He says before flipping you over and getting on top of you. Smirking above you as he renters you.

You moan again as he kisses the corner of your mouth, his thrusts fast and deep.

He needed this so of course he’s not holding back. “Good girl.”

He places a kiss on your forehead as you grip on his bicep. Steadying yourself as he just watches you.

Rafe lets out a moan as your legs start to shake. His finger slowly rubbing your clit, he wants you to cum. He needs it too.

“Cum baby. Cum on my cock.” Rafe says before placing another kiss on your neck.

It doesn’t take you long to cum after that. Just like Rafe wanted.

His thrusts slow down slightly as his dick twitches before painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuck baby.” He says as he kisses your soft lips. Smiling as he lays down next to you, arm wrapping around you as he pulls you closer.

You may regret this decision later.

a/n: there will be a part three 🥳 Divider- @anitalenia

tags: @littlelamy @maybankslover

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usomads · 1 day ago

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Don't Knock It 'Til You Try It // Jimmy Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> I’m back! Took me a minute to find the right way I wanted this to play out but we finally figured it out 😂 happy reading!

Plot -> Tensions between you and your roommate reach an all-time high, and the both of you decide to act.

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Hickies, Spanking, Restraints, Hair Pulling, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.1k

Fuck, I needed this. The warm water of the shower you were under cascaded down your body as all the tension sitting in your muscles from the day faded as it went down the drain. You were finally able to unwind, taking a moment to allow the stress to escape you and relax your mind. You stood under the water for a moment relishing in the serenity you were feeling, turning the faucet off just before the water turned cold and wrapping a bath towel around your body and tucking it in to hold in place. You added leave-in conditioner and brushed the product into your damp hair before securing it in a bun with a clip and stepping into your room to change. You grabbed a pair of shorts and a baggy cropped tee, not bothering to put on a bra. It’s not like you had anyone to impress, the only plans for this evening were your friends Bianca and Jade coming over for dinner so you didn’t feel *that* obligated to dress up tonight.

You made your way to the kitchen to start prepping dinner and was startled to see Jonathan, your roommate, sitting at the island in your kitchen scrolling on his phone.

“Shit, you scared me!” You sighed. “I didn’t know you were here tonight, I thought you’d be out and about so I invited Bianca and Jade over… I hope that’s okay.”

He looks up at you through his eyebrows and gives you a soft smile, “Oh, hey, yeah was ‘posed to but canceled plans. Felt like stayin’ in tonight.” Jon lifted himself from his slouched position and raked his eyes down your body, forcing you to try to hide the blush that was spreading across your cheeks. “Don’t worry ‘bout me though, y’all enjoy yourselves. I’ll stay outta the way.”

“No, no, that’s okay! You’re more than welcome to hang out with us for the night if you want,” you smiled.

“And talk a bunch of girly shit? I’m good,” he chuckled. You giggled then turned to gather the ingredients for dinner tonight, responding as you grabbed things from the fridge.

“Oh, c’mon, we’re not that bad, I promise!” You shut the fridge and opened the cabinet to get all the seasonings you needed, trying to reach them from the highest shelf in the upper cabinet but your smaller frame failed you. You were standing on your tiptoes, stretching your arm as much as you could but still not quite getting a fingertip on them. You were even trying to jump a bit to get ahold of them to no avail. In your attempts to reach for them your cropped top you were wearing had ridden up, revealing to Jon that you were indeed not wearing a bra and exposing the lower part of your breasts. His eyes widened watching as they moved from you reaching and jumping, the shirt you were wearing teasing to ride up and expose them to him fully. After a moment of watching in silence, he snapped out of his trance and got up from his seat at the island and was bold enough to walk behind you. Your back was flush with his chest as he placed one hand on the counter next to you, trapping you against the counter as he reached the spices in the cabinet with ease and placed them in front of you. You felt his front brush your ass and your breath hitched in your throat, leaving you frozen in place. He leaned down to your ear as his body held you against the counter. “We’ll see, mamas.” Your eyes fluttered shut at the huskiness in his voice, sending goosebumps over your skin and an aching heat to your core. You felt his eyes burning through you, watching your reaction to him before removing his hand from the countertop and walking back to his room- your head spinning as you tried to collect yourself.

“Y/N, please be serious, you don’t find any of this hot?” You, Jade, and Bianca were sitting on your couch, wine glasses in hand as the three of you were talking about the movie playing on your TV. The two characters were in the middle of a steamy sex scene, a depiction of dominance, roughness, and pure unadulterated lust dancing across the TV screen. “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all,” you defended, “I’m saying it’s so unrealistic…”

“Unrealistic?! Girl, what kind of sex you havin’? This is child’s play, like spanking, hair pulling, all that is pretty tame stuff honestly…”

The three of you didn't notice Jon emerging from his room to get water from the fridge, him slowing his steps as he overheard the conversation you were having. His curiosity had gotten the best of him; he wanted, no, needed to hear what you had to say.

“No it isn’t,” you paused, “no one I’ve been with has done shit like this with me. We just, I don’t know, have normal sex? Like, none of the extra stuff…” you brought the wine glass to your lips as you trailed off.

“Extra? Oh my god, Y/N…” Bianca sighed, rubbing her temples, “it’s necessary. Jesus, you gotta get with a guy that does all this for you, I promise you’ll never wanna go back to all that vanilla shit.” Bianca turned her head, noticing Jon getting his glass of water. “Oh, hey, Jon! How are you?” You choked on the wine you were drinking, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Fuck, how much of that did he hear?

“‘M’good, just chillin’ for the night,” he responded, watching you as he spoke.

“What’s your take on all this?” Jade questioned him, “Do you agree, or is all this ‘extra’ or ‘unrealistic’ like Y/N seems to think?” You lightly hit her arm, trying to not drag him into this but it didn’t work.

“I mean, ion think it’s extra. In my experience, it makes it better,” he looked directly at you as he spoke, “You never know until you try it.” You looked down at your thighs trying to break the tension that came with his eye contact, but you found yourself being drawn to his gaze. “See, Y/N, even he agrees. You gotta live a little, sweetheart.” Jon chuckled at Bianca’s response, keeping eye contact as he walked slowly back to his room; releasing a heavy breath when he disappeared into the hallway. You didn’t know what was happening tonight, between the scene in the kitchen earlier and just now you were in a haze. Your body was responding to him in ways it had never done before, and you kind of liked it. Your imagination got the best of you as the three of you turned your attention to the movie once more, putting yourself in the shoes of the female character on screen. You wondered how you would feel if a man did these things to you, but more specifically, if it was Jon.

You three finished the movie after another hour, your two friends deciding it was time to head home for the night. You shared your goodbyes and walked them to the door, and you were now cleaning up the food and dishes that were left behind. Jon walked into the kitchen as you were washing the dishes, leaning against the countertop next to you.

“Y’all have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was good to spend time with them. We don’t get to do that much anymore…” you trailed off, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. “You know, you could’ve come and hung out with us too. I know you caught that last little bit but I promise we weren’t talking about anything, um, crazy all night.” You became flustered, the memory of him overhearing about your vanilla sex life replaying in your head yet again. “You’re fine, there was nothin’ crazy about it,” you put the last dish you washed on the drying rack and turned to him as he spoke, “if anything I learned more about you tonight.”

“Like what?” You replied nervously, your voice shaking. He got up from the counter he leaned on and stepped in front of you, leaving little space between you. Your breathing stopped as you looked up at him, anxious for the words that were about to come from his mouth.

“That you ain’t been fucked right.” You swallowed hard as his eyes deepened with lust, motionless where you stood. “But I know how to fix that.”

“H-how?” You stuttered, backing up against the counter as he walked towards you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice earlier when you was reachin’ in the cabinet,” he played with the hem of your shirt, his fingers dangerously close to the skin of your bare breasts underneath. “Wearing this little ass shirt with nothin’ underneath, you thought I wouldn’t peep that?” You looked at your feet but his finger found its way under your chin and lifted your head to look at him as he continued. “Or how your body reacted when I came up behind you and helped you out? I know you felt that,” he watched you shiver under his touch, “and I’m willin’ to bet that if I put my hand right here…” his fingers danced along the skin of your exposed abdomen and traveled downward to where you wanted him most, “I’d find out you’re drippin’ f’me. Would I be right on that, sweetheart?”

“I-” You were cut off by his hand sliding into your shorts, his fingers tracing your folds. He groaned, proving to be right as his fingers were now covered in your wetness.

“Did I do this, baby girl?” You moaned softly in response.

“P-please…”

“Use your words, Y/N, please what?”

“I-”

“You were thinkin’ about me during that movie, wasn’t you? You want me to fuck you like they do in the movies, don’t you baby?” You bucked your hips at his words, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you want, princess. Daddy’s gonna give it to you, you just gotta tell me.” You moaned at the name he used and he smirked, loving how responsive you were to him by his words and a small touch.

“Y-you,” you breathed out, “I want you.”

He growled, crashing his lips into yours and grinding his hips into your front. You could feel his hard cock rub you through your clothes and you moaned in his mouth, allowing him to take over as he kissed you with urgency. He lifted you off your feet as he continued to kiss you, carrying you down the hallway and to his room. He threw you onto his bed, making you gasp as your back made contact with the mattress, and climbed on top of you. He removed your shirt, your nipples hardening at the cool air as he took you in and moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N, so fuckin’ perfect. Been dyin’ to get my hands on you, baby girl.” He connected his lips to your neck, sucking hard on the skin and making you throw your head back in the process. He assaulted the sensitive area with his mouth and teeth, creating purple-ish marks before sitting up and admiring his work. He got up from the bed as you sat up, a look of confusion coming across your face as he went to his dresser and pulled out a shiny object. Handcuffs. He crawled back onto you and wrapped the metal locks around your wrists and restraining you to the headboard.

“Be good and hold still f’me, move a muscle and I punish you. Understand?”

“Y-yes..”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, d-daddy.”

“Good girl.”

His hands found the waistband of your shorts and pulled both the shorts and the panties underneath in one motion, making you wince as the cold air made contact with your pussy. His tongue poked out as he licked his lips at the sight of your pussy glistening before him, clit swollen as he looked up with hooded eyes.

“Such a mess… and all f’me,” he mumbled, diving headfirst into your aching folds. The warmth of his tongue glided through your folds, forcing you to suck in a breath and bite your lip in the process. Your body fought itself to stay still for him, aching to touch him. His beard rubs against the inside of your thighs as his tongue laps at your core, making you jolt in pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to maintain the little self control you had left and trying your best not to make any movements. Soft pants escape your lips as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds to a slow crescendo.

“Don’t be shy, baby, let me hear you. Tell Daddy how good he’s making you feel.” He wraps his lips around your swollen bud and you moan his name loudly in the process, your body giving into the feeling as your back involuntarily arches off the bed and you tug at the restraints around your wrists. “Aht, aht, aht. Remember what I said, baby,” he uses an arm to hold your hips in place, “Behave. I wouldn’t want to punish you now, you’ve been so good f’me so far.”

“P-please, mmm, please… I wanna touch you,” you whimpered. His eyes flickered up to you as he continued to eat you ravishingly. You knew what that look meant, he wanted you to beg for it. Jon had you feeling desperate, pathetic even. And it was so hot.

“D-daddy, oh fuck, daddy p-please let me touch y-you. I promise I’ll b-be good just, mmm, please…” you trailed off, the pleasure he was giving forcing you to surrender to him completely.

“Be patient, Daddy’s gonna give you what you want, mamas.” He reverts back to your clit, sucking and biting while he teasingly drags two fingers around your entrance. Your breathing picks up and you groan at his actions, your need for him growing by the second. He slides two fingers inside, moaning into your clit as he feels your walls tighten around them. You pull at the restraints once more, moaning his name as he thrusts his digits. You feel like you’re on fire, his tongue and fingers working double time and giving you more pleasure than your body can handle. He curls his fingers as he pumps them inside of you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your g-spot as he continues to take all control from you. You feel your orgasm approaching, and fast.

“I- I’m so close, please, I-” he removes his fingers completely, and you whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes are watery from all the pleasure he’s been giving you, and being denied release has you ready to cry on the spot. “Not yet, you don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.” He crawls back up to you, undoing the handcuffs around your wrists and flipping you over to your stomach before you can realize it and lifts you by your torso to your hands and knees. “Arch your back for me.” You obey, feeling your lower back stretch as much as it can as you do so. “Fuck, Y/N, you look so pretty like this. I can’t wait to fuckin’ ruin you.”

He pushes his cock inside you without warning, making you cry his name and bring your head down. He grabs your hair as he thrusts into you at a rough pace, smacking your ass as he does so.

“God, you feel so fuckin’ good. Look at me.” You force your eyes open, looking back at him as he pounded into you. You watch his movements, the sweat beading on his forehead as he concentrates on fucking you like his life depended on it. He looked so fucking good like this. Your pussy flutters around the length of his thick cock, and he throws his head back. “Ah, fuck. Do that shit again.” He slams into you harder and deeper, you claw at the bedsheets as moans and praises flood out of your mouth. Your pussy tightens around him again, signaling your release.

“I feel you, baby. You’re gonna cum all over this dick, aren’t you? That’s it, fuck, you love it when I fuck you like this, huh?” He smacks your ass as you moan once more.

“S-shit, I fuckin’ l-love it, Daddy. You’re s-so fuckin’ deep. Mmm, please.” Jon feels his release fastly approaching as well; he shoves you down until you’re flat on your stomach and places a hand on your back, using it as leverage as he fucks you harder. Tears fall from your cheeks as you cry out, your orgasm about to crash into you.

“You gonna cum, baby? Go on, let me feel you soak my cock. Let go, pretty girl, cum for Daddy.” You cum around him violently, your body convulsing as you scream his name, completely engulfed in the euphoric feeling of your orgasm as he continues to fuck you through it.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, Daddy’s gonna fill this pussy up. You want that? You want Daddy to make you his?” he growled.

“F-fuck yes, oh my god, please Daddy. Need you to cum inside me. P-please. Make m-me yours.”

With one last hard thrust of his hips he cums, his release painting the inside of your walls. He moans your name as your pussy completely drains his cock, feeling as he fills you completely. You two remain there for a moment, panting heavily as you try to bring yourselves back to reality. Jon pulls out of you, wincing because you’re still sensitive. He pulls you up and kisses your forehead, moving your hair from your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. C’mon, I’ll start the shower, ma.” You got off the bed, your knees failing you as you almost fell over. Jon chuckles at your reaction and you blush.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I gotchu. C’mere.” He picks you up bridal style, carrying you off into the bathroom as you relax in his arms.

#jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso imagine #jimmy uso fanfiction #jey uso #the usos #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe smut #jey uso fic #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso smut #the bloodline

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erensfeed · 9 hours ago

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happy thanksgiving from ur fav boyfies & i 🍗🍽

a/n: couldn’t decide if i should write for eren or rafayel so here’s just an x your favorite instead ♡︎🥧🍂

‘No sweat,’ he said.

That was the biggest lie you’d heard all year.

Somehow, your boyfriend had convinced you to let him handle Thanksgiving turkey duty this year, and you stupidly let him.

Okay to be fair, last year had gone well since he helped but you’d been in charge so why wouldn’t it have?

This year however, you thought that maybe this time, you know—things would go swell. Especially with the fact that before leaving, you left him with the most basic instruction an 8-year-old could follow.

“Okay, babe. Again: the oven’s preheated already. The turkey’s been in there for a bit. When I step out, drop the temp from 450° to 350°. So that by the time I get back, we get our turkey. Boom. Got it?”

He nodded, flashing that infuriatingly confident grin as he did. “Got it. No sweat.”

At the doorstep, you placed both hands on his shoulder. With a simple exhale, you gently shook him with a pleading look of desperation.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and gently pulled you closer, then leaned down to give you a kiss that secured your trust and almost erased your doubt.

“Don’t worry pretty, I got you.”

Almost.

You had to pick up some last-minute ingredients and special food items—ones that only one store, always luckily open for a few hours on certain holidays, carried—along with pies and treats you and your boyfriend both loved.

You told him to call you if he needed anything. And he did, a few times.

First, to check in and on you.

Second, to tell you how ‘great everything was going’.

And finally, on your way home, to ask if you could buy him this special kind of gumballs he loved.

Gumballs.

He claimed he needed something sweet to balance out ‘the stress’. Whatever he meant by that.

You would’ve caught on earlier if you weren't so trusting that he ‘got you’.

It meant going out of your way but you turned back to get them because honestly? You loved them too and even grew crazy for them at one point — obviously because he fueled your interest in them.

What you didn’t realize was that he was buying time by telling you to get it for him.

On your way home, you decided not to tell him you were close by. Just because. And you were glad you didn’t because when you finally reached your door, the mess that awaited you…

Growing closer to your apartment, you heard it: the telltale wail of your fire alarm.

Your brows quirked up as worry set in about him, about the house, about the food, about the mouth watering turkey–.

“Oh, no. No no no please, no.”

You hurriedly unlocked and opened the door, and immediately, the smell of smoke hit you like a wall. The acrid scent of something being burnt filling your nostrils.

Oh how you hoped all your senses were playing tricks on you.

Your eyes darted around the room until they finally locked onto the culprit.

And there he stood, oversized kitchen gloves on, in front of what could only be described as a Thanksgiving crime scene. The smoke alarm started blaring overhead, smoke poured out of the oven, and worst of all, the turkey—your turkey—was blackened beyond recognition.

He froze when your eyes met, guilt all over his face. “Hey…” his greeting dragged out, followed by a nervous laugh that brought you back. “You’re back! Welc—”

Before he could finish, you hurled the particular shopping bag containing the gumdrops at him. It missed and bounced harmlessly off the cabinet, but the gesture made him flinch.

“OH—Oh, so you’ve got reflexes now?” you let out a sharp laugh, slamming the door behind you before you decided to stalk toward him. Slowly nodding, your tone dripped with simmering frustration. “You’ve got reflexes now?” Without breaking your gaze, you slipped off your shoes onto the doormat as you continued your approach.

His mouth parted, an excuse on the tip of his tongue, but the sly smile he wore disappeared when he saw the intensity in your eyes.

“Babe, babe, wait — before you go full on Gordon Ramsay on me, Remem–remember, it’s Thanksgiving. A day of forgiveness, a day of love, and—”

“—the day I end you.”

“Wait, wait!” He outstretched his hands in front of him, backing up as you advanced. He scurried around the couch, using it as a barrier. “I can explain!”

“Explain?!” you gently settled the other shopping bags on the counter, pointing at the charred remains of the turkey. “The turkey is gone. It died, twice. Twice.”

He flinched at the rising pitch of your voice, muttering, “Okay, so maybe I slightly overestimated my broil-to-crisp ratio…”

“Broil-to-crisp? BROIL-TO-CRISP RATIO?” That infuriated you even more. “That’s not even a thing! And I gave you—I gave you specific instructions.”

“Yes, you did. But let’s talk about this like mature adults—no need for violence here baby.”

You lunged, but he sidestepped, surprisingly agile for someone who’d clearly been stressed-cooking for the last hour maybe.

“I’ll show you violence,” you let out an exasperated laugh that didn’t quite mask your frustration. “When I stuff you in the oven myself!”

He smirked and eyed you, muttering something under his breath, 'I know something else I can stuff…’

"What was that?!"

"Nothing!" he yelped, darting around the other side, keeping the couch between you like a shield.

It went on like that for several minutes—him darting, you chasing, the smoke alarm blaring in the background—until the absurdity of it all caught up with you.

Finally, after your “truce” as he called it, you decided to head straight for the shower to clear your head, but not before telling him to work three times as hard to clean up the mess he’d made so you could get started on the rest of dinner.

***

The kitchen was still warm, but at least it smelled like food now instead of regret.

“Babe, you’re holding the peeler upside down,” you said, not even looking up as you mixed stuffing in a bowl.

He looked down at it.

“Oh…yeah, n–no, I knew that. I just wanted to see if you’d notice and say something funny… duh.”

You didn’t even look at h–

Anyway, despite his questionable peeling skills, you both started to find a rhythm. He mashed the potatoes (after only one near-miss with the hand mixer), and you worked on reheating the sides you’d prepped earlier. You worked on everything else as you told him to stay far away from the kitchen.

Occasionally, he’d sneak bites of other foods when he thought you weren’t looking.

“I see you.”

Caught red-handed (or pie-handed), he gave you his most sheepish grin, swallowing guiltily.

“…Sorry.”

Eventually, you managed to salvage the meal with a backup plan: rotisserie chicken, a quick fix for the turkey debacle. It was the best way to keep the spirit of the feast alive and your sanity intact.

As you finished setting the table—without your star turkey—you smiled at the sight. That is… until your boyfriend raised a champagne bottle and cleared his throat.

“To the turkey that gave its life… for no reason… and to my girlfriend, who almost ended mine.”

“And I’ll do it again.”

During dinner, everything tasted out of this world, and your frustration with the turkey had long since vanished.

“This is so gooddd,” you said between bites of it all. “I could eat them all forever.”

Scoffing with pride, he went, “Well, I mean yeah, thanks to me—”

A quiet, unimpressed stare was all he got from you

“…staying away from the kitchen.”he added, quickly trying to save himself.

Despite your failed attempts to look serious, his quiet chuckles pulled a small smile from you.

Reaching for your hand, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles with a quiet smile, murmuring, “Happy Thanksgiving, angel.”

With a quiet smile, you closed the distance between you, kissing him softly on the lips, a gentle response to his affection.

“Happy Thanksgiving, my love.”

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afterglowkatie · 21 hours ago

Text

another one | k.m./c.f.

katie mccabe x caitlin foord x child!reader | 0.6k | caitlin sends katie a video that leads to talks of another baby

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of my new little starfish universe. here's a little blurb/small fic to make it all better after that match! little starfish universe is getting expanded 'three becomes four'

Katie and Caitlin were cuddling in bed, Katie’s head laying on Caitlin’s chest. They’d both just got back home after being apart for the last two weeks representing their countries during international break. You’d joined your mammy this camp since it was their play-offs for the euros next year. Two big games that your mammy needed her little starfish there for, you being there always kept her more calm both on and off the pitch. Caitlin, only being available for the first two of the four friendlies lined up, had managed to get to Ireland for Katie’s second match.

‘You’ve been quiet tonight,’ It was natural for the pair to have more of a quiet night especially when they’ve just come back from an international break, just wanting to enjoy each other’s company. But for Katie, to be as quiet as she has been was more on the unusual side. Even on the plane back, Katie was more just watching Caitlin and you together. Katie knew Caitlin was an amazing mum to you, Caitlin was an amazing mum in general.

They’d both gotten you settled down for the night pretty easily, knowing you wouldn’t wake up until the morning. Camp always tired you out like that. Katie sighed, whenever she wasn’t playing or training there was one thing on her mind the entire time she was at camp.

Caitlin had sent a video of her with a baby while she was at camp, captioned with ‘I want another one’ and it had Katie thinking more. In the back of her mind the thought of having another baby with Caitlin was always there. Now it was all she could think about. But what if Caitlin had just said it in the heat of the moment and wasn’t as serious as Katie was about wanting another one.

Katie sighed and sat up a little, not leaving Caitlin’s embrace though, ‘That video you sent me,’ Katie started off, ‘The one with the baby. Do you really want another one?’ Katie didn’t really want to look up and see Caitlin’s reaction, just in case, so she stayed just looking down at her fingers.

Caitlin’s eyes softened and she brought Katie in closer, if it was even possible. Her hand cupping Katie’s cheek, gently moving her head so Katie was looking at her. You had your mammy’s eyes and whenever Katie allowed herself to be vulnerable, her eyes always matched the innocence in yours. Caitlin thought about you and her life with Katie and she honestly couldn’t imagine not having another baby with her, couldn’t imagine not giving you a sibling just like she and Katie both had. Having a sibling/siblings was the best part of their childhood and they wanted you to have that.

‘Darling, of course I want to have another baby. Especially if it means having another baby with you,’ Caitlin gave a small and soft kiss to Katie’s lips, ‘I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. Multiple little feet running around, seeing Starfish being a big sister, getting to be a mum alongside you. Sounds like the perfect life for me. I meant what I said,’

Katie leaned her forehead against Caitlin’s, ‘You really want another one?’ Katie asked again for reassurance.

‘I really really want another baby,’ Caitlin whispered out, arms wrapping around Katie even tighter.

‘I really want that with you too,’ Katie whispered back, eyes tearing up a little at the thought of extending their little family and going through this process together, ‘Do you think Starfish would be okay with having a little brother or sister?’

‘Last camp when she saw Harper with Koby she asked me when she was getting one,’ Katie and Caitlin laughed together at the little memory Caitlin recounted and it definitely helped to settle any of the sudden thoughts she had that you wouldn’t be happy sharing your mummy and mammy with someone else. A thought that now definitely seemed irrational the more Katie thought about it. You would be the best big sister.

‘I love you,’ Caitlin smiled looking down towards Katie.

‘I love you,’

#katie mccabe #caitlin foord #caitlin foord x reader #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord x you #caitlin foord imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc #mcfoord

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bonezone44 · 2 days ago

Text

'Dirt Clouds'

Joel Miller x F!Reader wc: 1098 Summary: You and Joel talk about your age difference on the way to a barbecue. a/n: real love makes an effort. (part of @iamasaddie 's 24-hr writing challenge. )

-------

You’re not sure how many dirt roads it takes to get to this barbecue Joel’s driving you to, but each one is bumpier than the last. One of the potholes back there sent your sunglasses bouncing all the way off your nose and up onto the top of your head. Joel mumbled a quiet apology when it happened and started gripping the steering wheel a little bit tighter. But there’s only so much the man can do along these unpaved and barely maintained back roads.

Shit, it’s been ages since you’ve been this far out in the boonies. Last time you were out here you were going mud-riding with your friends on four-wheelers. Afterwards, it took two whole hours to get all the red Mississippi clay outta your hair and another two to feel like a human being again. And last time, you knew everyone. They were your best of friends. This time, you’re going out there to meet a bunch of strangers. A bunch of Joel’s friends. And for the first time ever.

Part of you feels as if you should be more nervous than you are. But being with Joel has made you face a lot of things about yourself–about what you want and what you need from life. About whose opinion matters to you and whose doesn’t. You know you don’t have to win his friends over. You don’t have to win anybody over–you don’t have to compete with anyone’s ideals but your own. You sleep very peacefully at night with Joel by your side. And you won’t let anyone tell you to want any different.

The music coming out of the truck’s radio sounds like low static compared to the creaks and thunks coming out of the truck itself. Joel’s eyes are so dead-set on the road in front of him, you’re surprised he even noticed when you nearly lost your sunglasses. He keeps adjusting his grip on the wheel. He sees you staring at him and is quick to quiet your thoughts.

“I’m fine,” he says, flicking his hand.

You giggle. “They’re either gonna like me or they won’t. I am not worrying myself about it.”

“I’m not worried, either.” He deflects so fast that you know he’s lying.

“Joel,” you laugh and roll your eyes. “Everything is going to go just fine today.”

“I know.” His brows are terse and he side-eyes you as if he’s offended you were assuming things weren’t going to go just fine. Kinda like he’s obviously been doing the whole drive out here.

You smile and shake your head, looking out the dusty window at the wall of pine trees lining the pale yellow road. The sun is high in the sky–not a cloud to be seen. It’s hot enough outside that even in your tank top and cut-off shorts you feel your thighs sticking to the leather seat beneath you. You’re tempted to grab a beer and cool off a little, maybe hold the can against Joel’s cheek to cool him off, too, if the bead of sweat dripping down his jaw is any indicator of how he’s feeling. In the middle of your decision-making, though, the truck hits another pothole and sends you flying.

“Shit!” Joel eases the car to a stop. “Are you okay, baby?”

Your head tapped the roof on that one and you’re not sure where your sunglasses went. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” You grin and rub your crown.

“Are you sure? We can go back home if we need to. You just tell me and-and-and we’ll go.”

You throw your head back with a laugh. “Joel!” You’re grateful he stopped. Now you two can talk face to face without him trying to hide himself. He’s so full of nerves that it’s just silly at this point. You reach out and grab his hand. It’s thick and callused and warm. “What is going on?” You try to show concern, but there’s still an amused curve to your lips.

Joel melts. The way you look at him is like a warm balm over all the sore parts of himself. He can’t hide anything from you. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have to. He knows that he can say what’s on his mind and you’ll listen. You’ll make an effort to understand. He just gets all up in his head about things sometimes and forgets to open the door and let you in. He grits his teeth and sighs. “I’m just worried about the guys… sayin stuff ‘s all.”

“I can take care of myself,” you say with some attitude.

He smiles. “I know that, baby. I just–” He stops. His mouth opens, but the words don’t come out.

You already know. “It’s the age thing, isn’t it?”

His shoulders fall.

“Joel, look at me.” He does and you get real stern and in his face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby–”

“No–I love you.” Now you’ve got both of your hands holding his one. His hands are so big that it takes both hands to cradle his one. “I know you. You have been nothing but kind and respectful and supportive of me. You have been more generous with your time and understanding than anyone in my life has ever been. And that’s a fact.”

Joel’s chin rises. His lips tighten. His eyes soften.

“People are gonna make up all sorts of shit about us.” You shrug and shake your head. “And there’s nothing we can do about that. But these are your friends, okay? And once they see us together, it’ll all make sense.”

He sighs. “I just don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

“If I get hurt, then I get hurt.” You shrug again. “I’ll get over it. ‘Cause I got you.” You smile. “You make me feel safe.”

“And if that ever changes, you tell me.” His lays his other hand on top of yours. “You tell me so I can fix it.”

You giggle. “I know, Joel. I know.”

He’s more than proven himself to you over the past year of your time together. Your own flesh and blood was never as patient and dedicated as this man has been. You weren’t giving him up for anything. You inch forward and move in to kiss him and he meets you half-way. You love the poke of his facial hair around his pouty lips. You love this man.

“Now, come on. Let’s get going before the ice starts melting in those coolers.” You grin.

“Okay, baby.” He smirks. “Let’s go show ‘em.”

----------------

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amethystwrytes · 3 days ago

Text

Safe (Part Eight)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Depiction of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 10K

AN: Just a friendly reminder to peep warnings on this story (and any story that offers them) just in case you see something that makes you uncomfortable that you'd like to avoid.

~ Part Eight ~ (Series M. List Here)

“That’s a strong heartbeat Ms. ___,” the doctor smiles and turns a dial on the machine. The quiet room fills with what sounds like galloping horses, “Everything looks fantastic. Let’s measure the sack, and I can tell you about how far along you are.”

The doctor turns the dial back down a bit, slides the ultrasound wand from your vagina which you appreciate, and clicks some things on the screen.

“When will we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Hyunjin asks excitedly.

The doctor smiles, “There are blood tests we can do near the end of the first trimester, but the anatomy scan won’t occur until Ms. ___ is about twenty-eight weeks along and right now…” the Doctor types something out on the keyboard, “she is only about ten weeks.”

The doctor clicks another button and a piece of paper slides out of the machine, she rips it off and hands it to you, “A picture of the baby,” she smiles.

“And everything looks okay?” you ask again, your fingertips gently caressing the paper in your hands.

“Yeah, right now everything looks wonderful. Did you want to schedule the blood tests in a few weeks to determine gender, and uhm,” she looks at the three of you, “we could also add DNA to the labs…”

“Excuse me?” Minhos voice gets darker and he narrows his eyes at the Doctor, you know that look and sit up quickly, squeezing his hand in yours.

“That won’t be necessary,” you smile politely, “Let’s just schedule whatever labs are required for me and to make sure the baby is healthy, but everything else can wait.”

The doctor gives you a nervous smile, “Right, okay then. Well, congratulations, again, and make sure to take your vitamins, drink plenty of water daily, and stay away from alcohol and the food items that are on the list that the nurse gave you, I’ll see you in about three more weeks.”

The doctor all but runs out of the room and you and Hyunjin look at Minho.

“What?” he asks, fingering the cuff of his sleeve as he stands.

“You need to behave in public,” you snort, removing the awful paper exam gown and grabbing your neatly folded clothes, “or I can’t bring you boys to my appointments. You scared that woman.”

“She crossed a line,” Minho points out, “If we wanted a DNA test we’d have asked for it.”

“I could wait for her in the lot, kill her after work,” Hyunjin teases, pantomiming himself choking her out with piano wire, and you smack his arm.

“Not helping!” you hiss.

“It was a shitty question,” he counters with a shrug.

“Okay maybe, yes, but we’re going to have to get used to weird questions and odd looks. I mean, look at us,” you gesture.

The room goes silent for a moment before the three of you start to giggle.

“I’ll be polite and forgiving,” Minho smiles, “for you.”

“Thank you.”

As the three of you are walking out into the lobby you hear a voice call your name.

“___?”

You turn and see Hanna, you worked with her in the Emergency Room at the hospital.

“Oh my god! It’s been ages,” she greets you with a hug.

“Hanna, how are you?”

“I’m good, I was about to go on a break and saw you,” she smiles. “Are you pregnant?”

“I, um, yes, I am,” you smile awkwardly. “Do you work here now?”

“Yeah, I switched from ER to Obstetrics, I was so tired of the drama at the hospital, I just wanted a better shift and to go home at 5pm,” she laughs, “but you! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you smile and you can feel her catching up to the moment, finally seeing the two men standing behind you. “Um, this is Lee Minho and Hwang Hyunjin.”

She looks between the two men, “Nice to meet you…both.”

“We really ought to be going,” you say.

“Well, we should catch up soon! Honestly, it’s like you disappeared into thin air. One night you were at work and the next the admins were saying you quit without notice, I mean…where did you go? Are you working anywhere?”

“No, I um…it’s like you said, I just got tired of the drama and the rough shifts and such.”

“So you’re not working at all?”

“I am, it’s just more of a private practice kind of gig,” you lie, sort of.

“Oh, well, you should give me a call sometime, my number’s still the same, I’d love to hear about it, and what you’ve been up to,” she eyes the two men again.

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nod, “take care okay!”

You don’t give her the time to respond before you quickly push through the glass doors and out into the parking lot.

Christopher waits for the three of you in the SUV. Hyunjin climbs into the passenger seat while Minho slides into the back with you.

“What was that?” he asks.

“What was what?” you reply as if you don’t know what he’s referring to.

“Why were you weird with your friend?”

“Was I?”

“Kitten,” Minho raises an eyebrow and gives you a stern look.

“I just…” you shake your head and shrug, “I’ve been average my whole life, just normal, and I’m not anymore. I nurse criminals back to health and I’m in a polyamorous relationship with two of them and also pregnant and I just don’t know how to explain that.”

“Are you ashamed?” he asks and while there is no defense or accusation in his tone, it still makes you feel guilty, uncomfortable.

“No, I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or what I’m doing but I also haven’t had to be in a position where I needed to explain it all, Hanna caught me off guard. That’s all,” you explain.

“Okay,” he nods, reaching across the seat to squeeze your hand, “I love you ___, I want you to be comfortable and happy, you know that, right?”

“Yes baby, I know.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“I had a meeting with Kim Namjoon today,” Minho says, sitting at the dining table, the entire group waiting intently for information. “He got a message from a realtor friend of his that Taehyung is about to close on some property, an abandoned sugar mill near the river.”

“Well, it’s no secret he knows that we found his storehouse location, I got shot for it,” Seungmin says, “Clearly he’s looking for a new place to hide all his goodies, including our guns.”

“Exactly,” Minho nods, “They close this coming Saturday, he’ll get the keys to the lot, and by Saturday night his shit and our weapons will be moved to a new location we’re not familiar with.”

“What do you want to do?” Hyunjin asks.

“How well do you all have the warehouse memorized?”

“We could all tattoo it on our asses from memory,” Changbin jokes.

“Then tonight we set a plan in stone, and tomorrow night, we do this shit. No more talking about it, we steal those fucking guns back, set Kim Taehyungs life on fire, and watch it burn to the ground.”

The room goes quiet and you lean back on the countertop, your fingers squeezing around the edge. This is actually going to happen. For weeks it’s just been a conversation, a recon mission, and an unrealized plan of action. You knew it was coming, and you knew it was coming quickly, but your skin still feels clammy, and your heart rate jumps as you think of the inevitable danger that’s now a mere twenty four hours away.

You don’t want to know any more. You kiss Minho on the cheek and squeeze Hyunjins shoulder as you make your way up the stairs to the bedroom. All you need to do is be ready, for what? You can’t really say. However you don’t need to know the gory details of how they plan to break into Taehyungs storehouse, who they plan to hurt, and how they intend to get out with the least amount of damage done to them if such a thing is possible. Hyunjin and Felix seemed to be certain that someone might die in attempting this, and your heart hurts contemplating that thought. Would it be Jeongin or Changbin or Felix? Maybe Seungmins stubborn ass, or sweet Jisung. God forbid Minho or Hyunjin, the very thought twists your insides apart.

No. No you can’t quite let yourself think about it. You decide to think about treatment only. As you slide into the soothing bath water you think about different types of stitches, trauma procedures, and what medications you might need at the ready. You won’t lose anyone, you can’t. You’re too deep in this to imagine losing any of these men you care about.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Then

It’s 6:50am and you just clocked out, walking out of the hospital into the dark parking lot, the sun not quite up yet, the sky a mixture of gray and dark clouds, indicating a storm is coming.

You take a deep breath and reach into your bag for your keys, walking into the maze of the lot toward your beat ass car.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, your keys falling to the ground with a clanky thud. You look at the man slinking up to you, hands in his pockets.

“Yes?” you respond hesitantly, gripping one of your keys between your index and middle fingers, ready to strike in case this person means to harm you.

“Do you work here?” he continues. You look at your ID badge hanging over your left shirt pocket, and the light pink scrubs you wear and stare at him.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, what I mean to ask is, are you like, a doctor or something?”

“I’m an RN,” you answer and he continues just blinking at you, “a nurse. Are you hurt?” you look at the man, who appears to be just fine.

“No, but my friend, he needs help,” the man replies, gesturing with his thumb behind him to some unseen distressed friend.

“The entrance to the Emergency Room is just straight ahead,” you turn and point from where you just came from, “The big red letters that say Emergency, you can’t miss them,” you say and turn back to your car.

“See, the thing is,” he takes another step towards you and you instinctively take a step back, “We can’t go inside.”

“Why can’t you go inside?”

“I can explain everything but my friend really needs your help,” he says.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you laugh, “Do you think I’m going to follow a strange man deep into this massive parking lot for you to throw me in a trunk or something?”

“No ma’am, please, I mean you absolutely no harm, and I’ll explain while we walk but my friend…he’s bad, alright? There’s blood everywhere and it won’t stop and I’m afraid he’s going to die but I cannot take him into the hospital or he definitely will.”

“This is the part of our conversation where I whip my phone out and call security dude, so either take your friend into the hospital or get lost, okay?” you scoff and twist your key into the lock of your car door.

“Miss….” the mans expression is pleading and you look at him, really look at him, the fear in his eyes and the worry, “Please. Please help us.”

You stand staring for a few seconds more then let out a windstorm of a sigh.

“Fine. I have an emergency first aid kit in my trunk, hold on,” you slam the drivers door and slink to the trunk, opening it quickly to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. “Lead the way then.”

You follow the man deeper into the lot, weaving in and out of car aisles.

“You said you’d explain? Why don’t you start with your name and what happened,” you demand.

“My name is Hwang Hyunjin, my friends name is Minho and there’s one other guy with us, Jisung,” he starts.

“Three against one, fantastic,” you deadpan.

“I promise we aren’t going to hurt you ma’am, my friend, Minho, he’s an important man and lots of people want him dead, if he goes into that hospital and someone recognizes him, well it could be dangerous for him and anyone near him, including your coworkers, okay?”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all Hwang Hyunjin,” you shake your head as he stops at the rear of a large black van. Oh great, you think.

“Please?” he opens the doors to reveal two men, one of them holding a dirty towel over a wound, the other man wincing in pain, struggling with breath and looking very, very injured.

“Shit,” you mutter, crawling into the van, nurse mode on and completely forgetting that this could all be a trap. Although, judging by the man writhing in pain before you, you think perhaps Hwang Hyunjin was telling the truth after all.

“What happened?” you ask the other two men.

“He was shot…”

Your eyes widen as you look around, what have you gotten yourself into?

“I see,” you clench your jaw and take a closer look at the wound. “Your name’s Minho?” you ask and the man with the wound, who seems to have just now noticed you, opens his dark eyes and nods.

“Okay Minho,” you say rummaging through your woefully lacking bag, “I’m going to have to run back into the hospital, I think this is outside the capacity of my little first aid bag. Is the bullet still inside or did it go through?” you ask.

“I believe it’s still inside but I’m not sure,” Hyunjin answers.

“I need to go get a GSW kit from the med room,” you back slowly away from the van and two of the three men look at you as if they expect you to come back with security. You ought to. Every security protocol that exists is being broken right now. You try not to think about it as you jog back toward the hospital.

“Forget something?” Seokjin, the emergency department guard, cocks his head toward you.

“Yes, um, in my locker,” you fake a chuckle as you glide by. You should tell him there’s a man in the parking lot trying to be treated outside the hospital, tell him that this man is obviously some kind of bad guy, yet for some reason you don’t.

The GSW kits are locked up with the other supplies in a nearby closet, and you can’t scan your ID because if or when someone realizes it’s missing they’ll be able to trace it to you. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one is watching as you pluck Sunni’s ID badge off the nurses desk - she always leaves it lying around. It’s wrong what you’re doing, stealing things under her name, but you push through the door, grab the kit and a few extra things, shove them into your backpack and head back out. Shift changes are always busy, the incoming staff doing their first rounds to get acclimated to new patients and their needs, so you go through completely undetected except by Seokjin, who doesn’t seem to care, and plays his Nintendo Switch at the lobby desk as he always does, just giving you a smile and a nod on your way out.

You run back toward the van and swing open the doors. Hyunjin looks thoroughly impressed that you are still alone and you ignore the appreciative smile that creeps across his face.

You put on some gloves and unzip the GSW bag.

You toss the kit to him, “I need to cut open his shirt, while I do this I need you to find some clamps - they look kind of like scissors but they have curved tips that look like pliers, I’ll need to use them to get the bullet out. I’ll also need a lot of gauze, probably every bit that’s in that bag.”

“Yes ma’am,” he starts rummaging while you work at getting Minhos shirt off of him.

“Clamps,” you command and hold your bloody hand out, he places them in your palm, “Okay Minho, I think I can see the bullet, but this is going to hurt, okay?” you grimace and press your lips together tightly as you shove the clamp into the wound, the bullet is deep but retrievable and Minho is surprisingly still as you fiddle around his insides with metal.

“Got it,” you drop the clamps, “Gauze, all of it,” you instruct and the two additional men start handing you piece after piece as you shove it into the gunshot wound to stop the blood loss.

“There should be an ace bandage and some surgical tape in there, get them,” you continue directing and the men continue following orders. You bite off some tape and place it over the packed gauze, then wrap the bandage around his torso. Finally, you take a breath.

“He’ll need to be seen by a physician,” you sit back on your legs, “This is a very sloppy fix but it’s the best I can do in the back of a van. He needs antibiotics, and someone to unpack that gauze and inspect the area, probably stitch up the wound - but he should make it until you can find someone to do that. Do not leave the gauze in more than four hours, he’ll need to be seen before that but I’ve bought you time to find someone you can trust.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin nods.

You crawl out of the van and he hands you your bag, but you shake your head, “Keep it, and you’re welcome.”

“We need to get out of here,” the other man, Jisung, says and Hyunjin nods.

“Get him seen immediately, don’t wait, there’s an emergency rural clinic in Nayeong, it’s about a two and a half hour drive but it’s a tiny, sleepy town where no one’s going to ask a lot of questions. Plus, if he hasn’t had his license revoked, the old doc that runs the clinic should be pretty easy to buy silence from, as long as he can get his liquor at the end of the day,” you share and Hwang Hyunjin smiles at you.

“What about your silence?” he asks, “Can that be bought?”

You shake your head, “I could get fired for what just happened, it breaks every protocol we have here, but I won’t say a word as long as you never come back to this hospital, I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me? Keep whatever dangerous shit you all are wrapped up in far away from here.”

“You got it Doll,” he smiles then slams the van door and slinks around to disappear into the passenger side.

You let out a shaky breath as you watch them drive off, realizing for the first time just how scared you’d been. You gather yourself for a moment then go back to your own car, you’ll go home and wash - no, burn - these scrubs that are now covered in blood, you’ll take a hot shower and you’ll go to sleep and forget about the three criminals you just assisted. In eleven hours you’ll have to be back here like it never happened.

The next morning, you should have seen it coming, should’ve known that there would be a man propped up against your car waiting for you. This time it’s Minho, the man you removed a bullet from. A small part of you is relieved to see he is up, standing, and looking decently okay though you can tell he’s sore by the way he stands with his hand pressed to his lower left side. The rest of you however, is just plain mad.

“I told you not to come back here,” you frown.

“Well, yes, but technically you were speaking to my guy,” he smirks.

“Oh, well I am so sorry for the confusion,” you roll your eyes, “but I meant all of you need to stay far, far away. Now, leave me alone before I get into actual trouble.”

“I only wanted to say thank you-,”

“You’re welcome!” you snap, “Now leave.”

“I like you,” he sucks at his lip and grins with amusement, “I wasn’t sure, but you have quite a bite to you, and now I’m certain.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

You snort, “Not interested.”

He moves his arm and slides an envelope out from underneath his jacket then hands it to you, “Reconsider.”

You open the flap and peer inside. Money. Several stacks of money. In fact, you’ve never seen this much cash in person in your entire life. It makes your mouth go dry and you quickly close the flap and tightly clutch the envelope in your fists.

“What the Hell?” you seethe.

“That’s just my payment for yesterday, a simple Thank You. However, if you agree to come work for me, I can guarantee that kind of money regularly and promise that you’ll never want for anything ever again.”

You look at the envelope then back at him.

“I’m not a criminal,” you say.

“I’m not asking you to be a criminal, Kitten. I’m asking you to continue what you already do, just at a much higher pay rate,” he smiles.

“And what else?” you raise a brow, “Because if memory serves me right, when you make a deal with the Devil it always comes with a price.”

He shrugs, “All I’d ask of you in return is your silence, to keep what you hear and see a secret. To be someone I can trust, that’s all.”

You shake your head, “I have a job, I don’t need your money,” you extend the envelope back to him.

“Liar.”

“Pardon me?”

“You need that money, ___. You have over eighty thousand in student loan debt, you’re behind on nearly all of your utility payments, if you’re late one more time with rent your landlord has threatened to evict you, and no offense but this car looks like it’s one winter away from completely breaking down.”

“How the Hell do you know all that?” you fume.

“I always do background checks on my employees,” he smiles. “I’m not going to sit here and force you into anything, but I cannot tell you how beneficial it would be for me to have a medical professional on standby. It would help protect my guys tremendously.”

“I’m just a nurse,” you tell him, “I’m not a surgeon or anything like that. I don’t know how useful I can be for you.”

“Why underestimate yourself, Kitten? You saved my life yesterday morning, you knew exactly what to do, and the only reason you sent us to the rural clinic is because you didn’t have the resources to finish the job. I can get you those resources, I can get you anything you ask for.”

“How much are we talking, pay scale I mean?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“You’ll get a black card with your name on it and unlimited credit, I’ll place you in one of my safe houses on the edge of the city, a beautiful home in an expensive neighborhood, I’ll also give you a car - you can select it or I can take a wild guess at what you like - and I’ll pay out your lease, your student loans, your utilities and get all your affairs taken care of for you so all you have to do is give the hospital notice and show up at this address when you’re ready,” he hands you a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it.

“Just like that? I agree to work for you, I quit my job, and you just make all my problems go away?”

“Just like that.”

“Do you do bad things?” you look at him, “I need to know.”

He takes a calm breath and nods, “Yes. I do bad things.”

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I work in certain…legal gray areas…but I’m afraid if you want to know the details then you’ll have to agree to our arrangement first,” he explains.

“If I decide I don’t like it? What happens to me then?”

“We’d have to cross that bridge when we come to it, Kitten.”

Great, how very reassuring.

“If I say no?”

“Then you say no, you can keep that envelope of cash and put it toward your debt, and you’ll never see me again.”

You can’t quite explain why the thought of never seeing him again is disappointing. All he wants is for you to nurse wounds. He’s not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t be doing anyway. Yet a heavy feeling sinks into your stomach, like perhaps this is all a mistake. You choose to ignore it though.

“Okay,” you nod.

He raises a brow, “Okay…what?”

“I’ll work for you.”

“You don’t want to think about it?” he grins.

“If I think about it I’ll decline,” you shrug, “I’ll call my supervisor when I get home, she should be settling into her office by the time I get there. I’ll be at this address tomorrow morning at 9am.”

“Wow. I did not think it would be that easy,” he laughs.

“I’m not a bad person, I don’t do bad things, but I’m tired of living the way I have been,” you admit.

“I know you’re not a bad person, I knew that the second you crawled into that van yesterday,” he agrees. “But good, I’m glad you accepted. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m kind of scared of you,” you call to him as he trots off.

He turns, a smile on his face, “You kind of should be, Kitten.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Any word yet?” you walk into the living room where Christopher paces back and forth.

“Nothing yet,” he shakes his head, looking at his phone for good measure.

It’s nearly 1:30am. Minho, Hyunjin and the rest left around nine o’clock. Four and a half hours of radio silence. Four and a half hours of not knowing if they’re okay.

You sit in the arm chair, the same one Minho sat in the night he watched Hyunjin fuck you on the couch. The corners of your lips twitch into a tiny, satisfied smile but soon turn back into a frown, will he ever sit in this chair again? You screw your eyes shut and try to destroy that thought, cast it out of your head and burn it with fire.

The time seems to pass at an alarmingly and unnaturally slow pace. You just sit, silently listening to the ticking of the wall clock, occasionally watching Christopher pace, then sit and rub his legs with his palms, only to stand up and start pacing again. You get it, so you don’t scold him, but it is grating on your nerves.

“Should we call someone?” you ask, knowing what the answer is but hoping Christopher is worried enough to break the rules.

“No, if we call in the middle of something we compromise everything. We wait, someone will call when there’s something to call about,” he says.

You nod, accepting, but hating this answer.

“What if it was a trap? Or what if the police got them? Or…”

“Stop it ___. You’re not helping anything,” he huffs.

“It’s been almost six hours now,” you point out, trying to keep your bottom lip from trembling, fighting back tears.

“I know but we can’t-,”

Christophers voice is cut off by tires squealing into the driveway. You get up and practically sprint to the front door before Chris pulls you back, his weapon drawn just in case.

You wait eagerly, listening to the sound of car doors slamming and quick footsteps, your skin practically vibrates with nauseous anticipation.

Minho bursts through the door first, he blows right past Christopher and rushes you, his arms coming around you tightly. You’re about to ask where Hyunjin is but you see him follow close behind, greeting you the same way and the three of you stand there in an embrace for a few moments.

“Is everything…” you trail off, not sure what to ask first.

“Everything is fine now baby,” he tilts your chin up and kisses your lips.

“Everyone made it out?” you continue.

“Everyone made it out, not a scratch,” he grins, and you think you might see happy tears glossing his eyes.

“Just like that?” you say, practically in disbelief.

“Just like that.”

“Taehyung is ruined,” Hyunjin grins, lighting a cigarette and opening a nearby window, “We got our guns back, his heroin is burning even as we speak and if that wasn’t enough, just like our warehouse explosion attracted investigators, his will too, except this time they’ll find the remnants of so much heroin that all eyes will shift to Taehyung, no one will give a flying fuck about us, at least for a long time.”

“Is Taehyung…dead?” you wonder.

“No,” Minho shakes his head, “but I bet he wishes he was, and that’s good enough for me.”

“He won’t retaliate?” you don’t believe that someone like Taehyung would just roll over and take it.

“I don’t see how he could,” Minho shakes his head, “The bastard is going to have to go into hiding, if he even so much as walks into daylight investigators will be on him so fast he’ll be in a prison cell by the time he draws a breath.”

“So, it’s just…over?”

“For now, yes. It’s over. Kim Taehyung loses.”

Something doesn’t feel right, but you decide not to worry about it. Everyone seems so celebratory, opening bottles of expensive liquor and laughing. A win is a win, and they desperately needed a win.

You spectate for a while, smiling at the ease and happiness in the room. You feel a sense of pride, which is something you’d never imagine yourself feeling for these men. You retreat upstairs, tired from worrying and coming down from the adrenaline rush.

You’re not necessarily surprised when you hear Hyunjin slip into the bedroom and you watch in the darkness as he strips himself of his clothes and slides in with you, his body pressing against yours, his hands sliding underneath your tee shirt, palming one of your breasts.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, rolling you onto your back so he can fit his fingers snugly against your cunt. You moan into his mouth as he pushes into you, twisting and pushing you to pleasure.

“I love you too,” you say, taking his face between your hands, you throw your leg over his hip to give him better access.

The door opens again and Minho stares through the darkness.

“Well, I feel left out,” he huffs playfully, locking the door behind him. He begins to remove his clothes as he walks around to slide into the other side of the bed.

“Just a warm up Boss,” Hyunjin whispers, leaning over you to capture Minhos mouth with his own.

The warmth you feel in your heart, in your very bones is like nothing you could ever experience anywhere else. Safe between them both, surrounded by passion and love and heat.

“Fuck me,” you rasp against Minhos mouth and he slides between your legs, granting your wish while Hyunjin worships your sensitive nipples.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you both so much, fuck,” you moan.

The danger is gone, and the three of you relish in the relief until the sky turns a light gray color, taking turns touching and kissing and fucking, cat napping between. It’s perfect, you think, everything is perfect now.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Fuck me, has anyone heard from Kim Seungmin for Gods sake?” Minho grumbles loudly as he walks through the kitchen.

“I think he’s been holed up with that girl he met,” Hyunjin answers, setting his pencil down on top of his sketchpad.

“What girl?”

“Who knows, with Seungmin it’s a new girl every month,” Hyunjin chuckles, “Why? What’s got your panties in such a twist?”

“He and Jisung are supposed to be delivering the guns to the Min organization in one hour and he’s not answering his fucking phone,” Minho explains.

“Get Felix to go, or Christopher - it’s high time he starts doing a bit more than just driving everyone around, let Seungmin have his fun,” Hyunjin waves him off.

“He really does need all the sex he can get,” you laugh, “the man is a total ass most of the time, anything to soften that blow.”

“You two are making me soft, I swear to God,” Minho complains, “but fine. Chris can help with the delivery and Seungmin can continue getting his dick wet to spare us all of his nasty attitude.”

“What time do we need to be at the Park meeting?” Hyunjin asks.

“We should have left twenty minutes ago,” Minho sighs, “Will you be alright? Here alone?” he looks at you.

“Yes, I need to organize some things, and I’ll probably just take a bubble bath and go to bed scrolling through baby registry items,” you smile.

It’s been over a month since anyone heard from Kim Taehyung, with most believing he fled the country to avoid detection from investigators. His name and footage of his warehouse burning had been on the news for weeks, but no information had turned up. Kim Taehyung isn’t coming back anytime soon.

“Okay, our phones will be on silent during the meeting, but text us as soon as you lay down, alright Love?” Minho kisses your cheek and you nod.

“I will, I love you both, be careful.”

Hyunjin kisses the top of your head, “Always Doll.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You’re scrolling through Pinterest for nursery ideas when your screen is interrupted by a text.

Hurt bad, need help at the old warehouse -KSM

You narrow your eyes, opening the number and pressing the call button. It rings, rings and rings until you get to the voicemail. Kim Seungmin. You know what to do. BEEP.

“Hey, what’s going on? Call me back…”

You hang up the phone and wait. Five minutes turns into ten minutes turns into fifteen. You’re starting to get nervous when your phone pings with another message.

It’s not safe to talk. I’m at the warehouse and need help. I can’t move myself.

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Seungmin knows better than this, and you think he must be really fucked up if he’s asking this of you.

You open up the message again, On my way.

You get dressed and grab a bag, stuffing random supplies in.

Before you go you call Minho, it goes to voicemail, which is probably a good thing because he might actually kill you for doing what you’re about to do but something in your gut is telling you that Seungmin needs you. So you leave him a message telling him what happened and where you’re going. For good measure you leave Hyunjin a voicemail too. Then you load up the car and start driving.

Seungmins truck is parked in front of the burnt and disheveled remains of the warehouse. The drivers side door is open, the interior light is on and you can see blood spatter all over the inside of the door. Your skin erupts in chills and you scream when your phone starts ringing. Minho.

“Hello?” you answer breathlessly.

“Where the fuck are you? And you better not say at that fucking warehouse!” Minhos voice is angry.

“I am,” you answer softly, still staring at Seungmins truck.

“Fuck!” Minho yells into the phone.

“Baby somethings wrong,” you say.

“What? Is Seungmin there with you?” his voice is suddenly laced with fear under all that steely ice.

“His truck is here, but I don’t see him, I just pulled up,” you answer, “I think he’s inside, but there’s blood all over the inside of his truck,” you tell him.

“Do not go into that building, do you hear me? Hyunjin and I are on our way, for fucks sake please baby don’t go inside without us,” he pleads.

“I need to find Seungmin,” you say defiantly, “Something is clearly wrong.”

“No!” he bellows, “Do not go in there without backup. Do you hear me? ___?”

“I hear you!” you finally yell back and hang up the phone. “But just because I heard you doesn’t mean I have to listen,” you whisper. You toss your phone into the passenger seat and grab your first aid bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you approach the broken and tattered entrance.

“Seungmin?” you look around at the burnt debris. Why the fuck would he come here? It’s an utter mess.

“Seungmin! Where are you?” you hiss into the darkness.

You hear a gargled cough from another room and follow it, your blood pressure steadily rising. Something isn’t right.

When you enter the room you can smell the blood. You scan the room twice before you see it, the lump of a body laying in the far corner.

“Oh my god…”

You rush to him, falling to your knees, your bag thumping on the ground next to you. He’s been shot, multiple times, a pool of blood underneath him. He’s pale, God he’s so pale.

“Seun…Seungmin?” you tap the side of his face, tears stinging your eyes. His lids slowly open and he looks up at you. Something changes, you see fear.

“No…” he shakes his head back and forth, which seems to expend all of his energy, “Why did you come…why did…” he coughs again, bright red blood sputtering from his mouth, hitting your tee shirt and your arms.

“Oh God, Seungmin, what did they do?” you look at his abdomen, his chest - riddled with bullet wounds. Your blood runs absolutely cold, your very spirit leaves your soul.

You cannot fix this. No one could.

“Am I?” he looks up at you. Am I going to die? That’s what he’s asking, and yes, he is. You clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying. Don’t cry.

You smile, lean down and smooth his hair off his forehead, “No. You’re fine, you’re going to be just fine Seungmin. Soon you and I will be bickering over something or another,” you laugh, continuing to pet his hair with your fingers.

He nods, but his eyes scrunch up and tears flood down the sides of his face, into his hairline. He doesn’t believe you, they never do, but he’ll play along to make it easier, and that’s what you’re here for now.

“You know,” you say, twirling his hair, “Minho and Hyunjin make a good team, but he was wrong about one thing,” you smile, “Hyunjin isn’t the best he’s got, you are. You’re the best soldier Minho has, and he’s hard on you because he knows it’s true.”

“No….shit…” Seungmin chuckles, and so do you. You stretch your tee shirt out to wipe the blood that seeped from his mouth from his efforts.

“They’ll be here soon, okay? Can you wait with me?” you ask softly.

At this Seungmin becomes alarmed, his eyes widening and head shaking back and forth frantically.

“Hey, calm down, be still…”

“Get out…you have to…not alone…” he rasps, his words garbled from blood.

“Seungmin…you’re not alone honey, you’re not alone, shhh,” you soothe.

He shakes his head again and tries to say the words, he tries so hard and you wait, you will his lips to speak, but instead the light fades from his eyes and his body goes still.

“Seungmin?”

You sit there for several seconds silently, your fingers still smoothing his hair, and then you sob. You press your forehead against his and sob, scream, and cry until your whole body hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you wail, your body heaving with cries. “I’m so sorry!” and you’re not sure if you’re sorry because you couldn’t save him, sorry because of the way you’ve spoken to him in the past, or sorry that any of this ever happened at all.

“___?”

Minhos voice is shaky as you look up from Seungmins lifeless body.

“Hyunjin is doing a perimeter-,” Minho takes a step forward but stops when he sees Seungmin laying there. He covers his mouth and he turns his body away as if he can’t bear to look, then he turns around again rushing over and dropping to his knees.

“Fuck,” Minho gasps, he strokes Seungmins face with the back of his trembling fingers, grabs Seungmins hand in his. “Fuck…” he sobs.

“I couldn’t…” you cry, unable to finish the sentence. “Minho I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

The voice doesn’t belong to Minho, and before you can really process this fact, someone is pulling you up off the floor by your hair.

The smell of burnt ashes, wet cigarettes and pathetic overwhelms your nostrils nearly to the point of gagging.

Kim Taehyung. Seungmin wasn’t trying to tell you he didn’t want to be alone, he was trying to tell you that the two of you were not alone. You suspect it also wasn’t Seungmin who texted you. You’ve been baited and you walked right into the trap.

Minho is up like a shot, the gun he keeps strapped to his ankle pointed at Taehyung.

“Nu-uh-uh,” you hear Taehyung growl, feel the cold hard metal of a gun barrel flush against your temple. “Set it down or I swear to God the last thing I do is blow this bitches brains all over the place,” he tells Minho and you choke out another sob. “Set it down!” he yells, the very walls reverberating from his anger.

Minho grimaces, but bends over to set the pistol on the ground.

“Kick it across the room,” Taehyung continues, “NOW!”

Angry, Minho kicks the pistol and the three of you watch it spin over the concrete floor across the space.

“What are you doing Taehyung? What do you want? It’s over,” Minho lifts his hands up.

“It is,” Taehyung spits, “It is over. It’s over for me, but I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” Minho seethes.

“One thing I’m better at than you Lee is taking,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, “You take things, my Heroin for example, and that’s good, good job, but I take your fucking life, no…I take your fucking will to live. Just like with Seola, except this time you get to watch.”

Taehyung cocks the gun against your head and you shudder.

“I’m pregnant!” you scream in a last ditch effort to find a shred of humanity inside this monster.

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung rasps against your ear, “Congratulations.”

He drags the barrel of the gun from your head, down between your shoulders, and stops at the small of your back, “Maybe let’s blow your belly out first then?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Taehyung!” Minho screams, “Just kill me.”

Your head snaps up to look at Minho and you can feel Taehyung smiling with glee.

“Kill me you fucking pathetic piece of shit! That’s your end goal, always has been, so just fucking do it you worthless son of a bitch! I’m so fucking tired of this…”

“Stop!” you cry.

“I want you to suffer,” Taehyung growls, you can feel his head shaking back and forth, “I want you to watch her die and know that it never would’ve happened if you’d left her alone, that it’s because of you she’s standing in this fucking room!”

“I love you baby, I love you Lee Minho,” you cry, looking at him.

“Say goodbye to her Minho, say it,” Taehyung urges.

“I don’t fucking think so!”

Hyunjin yells from the doorway, loaded gun pointed in your direction.

Too many things happen at once. You can hear gunshots going off like firecrackers, you hear Minho scream something so loudly it somehow overpowers the crack of bullets flying. You end up on your knees with your hands over your ears until you see the gun Taehyung was holding drop beside you on the ground. You risk permanent deafness pulling your hands away to scramble for it and you get it, snatching it from Taehyungs reach a mere half second before his fingers land.

You have no time to think about Hyunjins training session at the gun range, you point the barrel at Taehyungs face and pull the trigger. You can feel warm, wet pieces of matter that you refuse to look at or acknowledge hit the front of your body and you don’t need to look twice to know Taehyung is gone.

Taking the gun you scramble over, falling several times because you can’t seem to control your body anymore, towards Hyunjin and Minho. The smell of flesh and gunpowder and death everywhere.

Hyunjin sits on his knees, his body trembles, pupils so blown out he looks like he’s on drugs, “He saved me…he saved me…stupid mother fucker…stupid…” Hyunjins face distorts into a look of such pain that there are no words to describe it, and then he screams.

“No, no, no,” you shake your head and leap onto Minho, who is being too still, turning him over from his side to his back. Just like Seungmin, Minhos chest is riddled with bullets, one right through his heart.

“No. No, he’s got a vest. He’s got a vest…” you start ripping off his shirt, already soaked with blood, it coats your fingers causing them to slip over the smooth buttons. “No, no, no.”

“There wasn’t time…” Hyunjin chokes. “We didn’t have time he said…there’s no time…”

You press your fingers against his neck and feel no pulse, then against his wrist…still nothing.

“Wake up baby, wake up,” you beg, you smack his face and shake his shoulders, “WAKE THE FUCK UP!!” you scream so loud it rips your throat to shreds. “Please!”

The life is gone from his eyes as they stare at nothing and you start to lose it. You can’t breathe, and all you can do is whimper.

“He jumped in front of me,” Hyunjin repeats, sobbing as he grabs Minhos face in his hands. “Why would you do that…stupid…” he cries, his tears dripping off of his own face onto Minhos.

“Call an ambulance,” you command through gritted teeth, you get up on your knees and press the heel of your palm into his chest and pump.

“Baby…” Hyunjin sobs.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” you scream hoarsely, counting time in your head. You ignore the sinking feeling you’ve had so many times as a nurse, ignore the fact that if you were in the ER right now, looking at anyone other than someone you love, you’d be waiting for the physician to call the time. You ignore everything.

“He’s gone ___,” Hyunjin cries, placing his hand over yours.

“No!” you scream.

You didn’t get tricked into coming here. You didn’t just sit with Seungmin while he died. You didn’t just blow Kim Taehyungs face off and Minho isn’t dead.

You repeat it over and over.

“He’s gone,” Hyunjin says, crawling over to you, “He’s gone.”

You scream into Hyunjins chest as your body shudders with sobs.

He’s gone.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Come on hun, you two need to get out of here.”

It’s Felix. You look up into his big eyes, swollen and red with his own tears.

You look down, Hyunjin lays next to Minho quietly sobbing into the floor.

“We need to get you out of here sweetheart,” Felix places his hand on your shoulder but you push it off slowly with your fingers.

“Please,” Felix sniffles, “We’ve got to get everyone out of here,” he looks around and shudders with new tears, “all of you.”

You crawl across the floor, through the blood, and lean over Minho. You pick the weight of his arm up, cup his hand to your face and lean into it like you do so often. The lack of warmth from his skin brings on a new set of painful sobs.

“I love you,” you whimper. “I don’t want to go anywhere, not without you.”

“Get them out,” Changbin tells Felix and the others, trying to steady his voice, “Get them home. Pick them up if you have to.”

You can feel Felix look at you but he decides to try his luck with Hyunjin instead. Instead it’s Christopher who kneels in front of you, wipes his nose with the back of his arm.

“Come on, it’s time,” he tucks his arm under your knees and braces your back while he lifts you up.

“I couldn’t save him,” you weep into the crook of his neck.

“You were never going to save him sweetheart, he never wanted to be saved.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Miss ___?”

Through the blur of people you look up to see Kim Namjoon approaching you. You sip your water, wishing it was whiskey, but you’re still pregnant despite your mind, body and spirit being completely broken. Somehow the baby made it through the trauma and it’s your job to take care of him. Him. You can’t really say how you know, but you do.

“Mr. Kim, thank you for coming,” you force a smile, smoothing out the skirt of your black dress.

“Of course,” Namjoon clears his throat, “Lee was a friend, I’m so sorry that we’ve lost him.”

Lost isn’t good enough, you think. Lost things can be found. What you feel is so much greater than loss, you feel erased. Annihilated. You feel nothing.

“Uh,” Mr. Kim sits in the chair next to you and you realize you’ve been silent for several moments, “Minho asked me to give you this, he left it to you.”

He pulls a white envelope from the inside of his jacket and hands it to you. It feels heavy in your hands and you look at Namjoon with confusion.

“We weren’t married, I’m not owed anything,” you glance over at Changbin and the rest of Minhos loyal men, “whatever he’s left should be divided between them.”

“No you misunderstand, this isn’t something he gave to me as a client to a lawyer, it’s not a will. This is something he gave to me as a friend and asked me to hold it for safekeeping, but to make sure you received it if anything were to happen to him.”

“What is it?” you ask, running your fingertip over the edges of the envelope.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, “He didn’t tell me to look at it, just told me to keep it safe for you. There’s something heavy in it though, a trinket or something? I’m not sure.”

Namjoon stands and gives you a sympathetic smile, “I’m truly sorry, he loved you very much Miss ___, I hope you knew that.”

“I did,” you say but the words get lost on your lips, turning into a raspy whisper as your throat begins to swell with a sob, “Excuse me.”

You clutch the envelope to your chest and retreat from the room, briefly making eye contact with Hyunjin, who is about as sociable at this funeral as you are, which is to say not at all. You can feel him following close behind.

“You okay?” he asks when you end up in an empty sitting area near the back of the funeral parlor.

“No,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your cries.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, a gesture that used to put you at total ease, but now it feels lacking, like Minho was a necessary piece to a three part puzzle. A piece that’s been destroyed so the puzzle can never really be whole again.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hyunjin says with no explanation, and you don’t know what exactly he means by it. He doesn’t know what to do with you? With himself? Or what to do about anything at all? Same, you think.

“I miss him too much,” you cry into his shoulder. None of this feels real.

“I know,” Hyunjin chokes on a sob, “I know baby, me too.”

The envelope, still clutched to your chest crunches between the two of you.

“What is that?” he sniffs, looking at the paper.

“I don’t know, Namjoon said Minho wanted me to have it in case…well…”

You sit on a chair and push your finger under the flap, ripping the paper.

A key falls out of the envelope into your hand as you pluck a letter out.

Hey Kitten,

You promised you’d keep Scotland in the back of your mind, right? I don’t want to go anywhere without you either, but just in case we do have to be apart, I want to know that you, Hyunjin, and our baby are all safe. If you’re reading this, I guess it means I can’t come with you, but you deserve to start over, you all deserve to live a normal life without safe houses, without guns or makeshift surgery centers. So go. Start over. I’m so sorry that I was broken when we met, but you patched me up baby, and I love you so much. Tell Hyunjin to take care of you, to keep drawing in that stupid book of his, and that I love him too. When the baby is old enough, tell them about me, okay? Tell them I loved them with my whole heart, and I’m sorry I can’t be there.

All my love,

Minho

“Scotland,” you whisper and hold the key over your heart.

“What?” Hyunjin looks at you bewildered, “What is all this?”

You wipe the tears off your cheeks, “It’s Minho. Keeping us safe one last time.”

Endnotes:

1. I cried writing the first draft of this ngl and kinda hated myself, then by like my third or fourth proof read I was like desensitized to it kinda? Anywho. I hope no one is legitimately angry with me😬😓 I promise this was my plan from the start and not a wild card draw. One more chapter left💙

2. Will tag my besties in the comments!! Here’s a virtual kiss 😘 and maybe also a virtual warm hug and sympathetic pat on the back? 🫂🫂🫂

#skz fanfiction #hyunjin fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #skz smut #hyunjin smut #Lee know smut #skz romance #lee know romance #hyunjin romance #hwang hyunjin #Lee Minho #skz x reader

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kkcauseway · 1 day ago

Text

Time Is Of The Essence

Joel Miller x pregnant f!reader

Summary: Joel's on a patrol when you go into labour and ends up missing the birth of his daughter. But it doesn't take him long to get back and the aftermath is so frigin cute! Content/warnings: aftermath of childbirth- talks of placenta. Its just full of a load of rootin' tootin' fluff- honestly I'm obsessed with daddy Joel Miller he's adorable. Joel Miller being the best dad to his new baby. Joel Miller having such big palms that the baby basically fits in one. After outbreak, no use of y/n. A/N: I am obsessed with this fic oh my god!!! Also fun fact when i decided on the baby name I wasn't originally going to go for it but when I googled names meaning hope it was the first to appear and I knew it was a sign, and really I think it makes the fic ten times cuter! I really really hope you enjoy!!

Going into labour whilst Joel is out on patrol is the last thing that’s supposed to happen. He’s not meant to miss the birth of his child; part of the reason he is the man he is today. Part of the reason he’s finally stopped beating himself up and allowed himself to have a normal life. To be happy. He deserves it too and you’ve always made sure he knows it.

They’d already been out on patrol for a while when your waters suddenly broke and as much as you tried radioing it was to no avail, they were too far out to catch a signal, so it was very much a waiting game. Thankfully, you had Maria at your side, and she aided you through every part, the best kind of birthing partner with her having not long gone through it when she had her and Tommy’s son.

The baby comes fast all in all your labour is maybe only four hours, and when word finally got to Joel that he needed to come back him, and Tommy raced to make it.

Joel rushes in the door “I’m here I’m here!” He screams running over to where you’re lay on the couch still with your legs apart the baby screaming in your arms freshly wrapped having only been on the earth a few minutes. Sweat is dripping down your face as you coo at the bundle, Maria is behind you peering at the baby over your shoulder.

You’re still crying reeling from the fact your baby is finally here as you grin so wide at him, and he kneels on the floor next to you.

“Oh my god” he lifts his hand to brush over his new babies head.

“Daddy, meet your daughter.”

“S’a girl?” He chokes on the words and turns to look at you his eyes glossy.

“Yeah baby.” You nod trying your best to hold it back.

But when a few tears escape him, you can’t help the way you’re bawling again. You know how difficult this is for him, opening his heart up to another child.

You continue to support your daughter in one arm bringing the hand of the other up to brush away the tears and he closes his eyes leaning into the touch as he lets the floodgates fully open. Not a care in the world that Tommy and Maria are present. He leans in close to your chest tears dropping off the tip of his nose as he stares down at the now calm bundle of joy who’s freshly opening her eyes and staring right back up to him. Her tiny feet kicking out of the end of the blanket and he’s absolutely enthralled with her.

The nurse, Cassie who’s just finished sanitising a few things in the kitchen comes back and smiles noticing everyone here.

She moves back over to you leaning over the back of the couch to peer down at your daughter. “Congratulations she’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you” you reply in unison.

“Okay sweetie I just need to make sure everything’s okay with you and that this placenta is coming okay. You gonna be okay for me to check?”

“Honestly I couldn’t care less what you do right now she’s here.” You chuckle not taking your eyes off your content little bundle.

“She’s here” Joel adds kissing at your temple, before staring back down at her as she pushes her little tongue. Her piercing blue eyes explore her surroundings.

“Take her” you whisper to him, your temples touching as you stare down at her.

“Yeah?” He pulls away to look at you.

“Yeah, baby she’s yours too.” You chuckle.

He smiles as he pulls slightly away from you, jumping slightly when you wince. “Okay?”

“Yeah, just a cramp.” You groan.

“Just your placenta on its way honey nothing to worry about” Cassie looks up from between your blanket covered legs.

“Why don’t you do some skin-on-skin Joel?” She adds before getting back to business

He seems shy, but nods. “Oh yeah, good idea.” He rips his shift over his head that will never get old and then carefully takes his daughter from you. Helping to cover your chest back up with the blanket in the process so you’re decent. He’s so careful in how he holds her and how he moves with her over to the armchair. He sits himself back puts his legs up on the footrest and careful manoeuvres her to be laid against him. Head resting to one side, she snuggles into his warmth.

He bends his neck down to kiss the top of her head as you watch the most beautiful moment unfold. It completely distracts you from the cramping and uncomfortable feeling of delivering your placenta and before you know it, it’s over.

“You’re the perfect patient” Cassie utters as she wraps the placenta into a bunch of newspaper ready to take to the greenhouses to use as a fertiliser. “No stitches, no complications and you’re both doing perfectly.”

“She’s perfect.” He utters kissing her head again.

She stands helping you to carefully lay your legs flat on the couch to get more comfortable. She claps her hands together as she basks in how much love there is in the room. “Well I think my work here is done, if you need anything in the night give me a shout but I think you’ve got enough help round here that I won’t be needed.” She looks around the room to Joel, Tommy, and Maria.

“Thank you for everything Cassie.” You call to her.

“My pleasure.”

“Thank you for all you did and helpin’ her when I weren’t here Cass.” Joel utters from his chair his eyes still on your daughter.

“Of course.”

“Here I’ll show you out.” Tommy utters moving to place a hand on her back once she’s collected her things.

“Do you want me to cook you something, you hungry?” Maria quizzes.

You groan in absolute delight. “Fuck yes please Maria, I think I love you forever.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Honestly Maria I don’t care, everything you make is so good.”

She chuckles, “okay fine I’ll get to it. Joel, you want anything?”

“M’good here thanks.” He utters stroking at his daughters back.

She chuckles noticing Tommy making his way back and drags him along with her once she moves to the kitchen. You can tell he’s not happy about being stripped away from his newborn niece but at the same time you are grateful for having a little time to bask in all of this just the three of you.

Watching the love of your life become a father really is the most precious thing, this isn’t his first rodeo, but you know it’s different this time. Every detail of his behaviour towards her is beautiful. His need to hold her tight, to make sure she’s warm, happy, and content.

The room is silent as he tickles at her back her entire body seemingly fitting in his large palm. You listen in tune to her coos as he continues to stroke her.

However, it doesn’t take long till she begins getting grouchy clearly hungry. So Joel carefully stands with her in his arms and brings her back over to you. “Lil miss is definitely hungry.”

“Seems that way” you chuckle. “Will you get her a diaper too? Otherwise I don’t see this ending well.”

“Sure. Want me to quickly do that first?”

“Please. Think there’s an outfit on the changing table for her too.”

He nods. “Of course ma’am.” And he walks to the changing table ever so gently placing her down before placing one onto her tiny body.

“Baby she’s so darn small.”

“I know.”

He mumbles to her softly as he dresses her in a tiny pink outfit fit with mittens to stop her scratching herself. Thankfully, he’s able to keep her calm the entire time but as if she knows all that needs to be done has been done, she begins screaming again.

“Okay baby come on.” He murmurs as he places her against his chest, chin resting against his shoulder as her body curls into a tiny ball.

So beautiful.

He’s quick to come back over to you and hands her to you. “Good ol’ set of lungs on her.”

“She has us as her parents I don’t know why you’d expect her to be anything other than loud.” You chuckles as you move the blanket back off your chest to place her comfortably at your breast. She’s already finishing around for the nipple as you bring her closer and once, she gets it into her mouth she instantly suckles.

It hurts, of course it does, this is the first ever time your body has done anything like this. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You, okay?” He quizzes from beside you.

“Yeah, I promise it’s just a bit weird.”

“Will get easier every time baby.”

“It’s worth it for her I don’t mind” you smile at him before turning your attention back to your daughter drinking as though she’s desperate.

He follows your gaze and gently brushes a knuckle over her cheek. “She needs a name.”

You hum “yeah, she does.” And that’s when you get the best idea in your head “you pick.”

That stops him in his tracks and his eyes shoot up to yours. “Me?”

“Yeah baby, give her a name you know Sarah would love for her little sister, a name that makes you happy.”

He nods his eyes glossy once more as he contemplates the reminder of his loss whilst also basking in the presence of his new hope, fresh start.

He looks back at her and you can’t help watching the struggle on his face as he fusses over again whilst thinking, but you notice the exact moment he decides.

“Ellie, cus she brought this big bright shining light into our lives.”

Ellie Miller, it’s perfect.

“It’s so perfect baby I love it.” He looks up at you and smiles moving to kiss you.

“Thank you f’givin’ her to me.” He whispers as he moves to rest his forehead against yours “thank you so fuckin’ much baby.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me, Joel Miller. I love you.”

“I love you so much I think m’gonna burst.” He chuckles “fuck what are you doin’ t’me?” he pulls away to wipe at a few more tears and then his attention is right back on his girl.

His beautiful healthy baby girl.

#the last of us #joel miller #tommy miller #pregnancy #fluff #maria the last of us #so much family fluff #domestic fluff #pregnancy fic #pregnant #tw childbirth #childbirth

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ganggangscenarios · 2 days ago

Text

Bound by desire

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Romance, comedy, dark, angst

Warnings: Dark Magic, mentions of sex

Writer's note: I've been sitting on this one for a while, I hope you enjoy it!

The sharp scent of candle wax lingered in the air as a puff of smoke erupted in your living room, curling like storm clouds in a hurricane. When it finally parted, you were met with the sight of a man—a stunningly handsome man. His hair mirrored the hue of the dissipating smoke, a soft, smoky purple-grey that matched his piercing eyes. Pale skin stood in stark contrast to his obsidian outfit, tailored to perfection, and glittering silver adorned him—a ring for every finger, charms dangling from each ear, catching the faint light.

You did what any rational person would do. You screamed.

“Okay, dramatic.” He raised a dark brow, unimpressed by your outburst.

“Who—what—how did you get here?!” you stammered, pressing yourself against the wall.

“You summoned me.” His voice was smooth, with a touch of exasperation, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart dropped. “Summoned? I didn’t summon anyone!”

“Oh, you didn’t?” He folded his arms, tilting his head. “Let me guess. You read some ‘random’ words aloud while lighting a black candle?”

“I was practicing Latin!” you protested, voice trembling. “And the candle wasn’t black; it was called Midnight Mist. I bought it on sale!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Midnight Mist, black, same difference. And those weren’t just random words; that was an incantation.”

It clicked, and dread flooded you. “Oh, no. The book.” You gestured wildly toward a worn leather-bound volume sitting innocently on your coffee table. “I got it from this tiny shop. I just wanted to practice my Latin, and the salesperson said this book would be perfect!”

“Well, congratulations,” he said, throwing himself onto your couch as though he owned it. “You managed to summon me. An incubus.”

You blinked. “A what?”

He grinned, sharp and wicked. “An incubus. You know, the demon who, according to lore, shows up to fulfill certain... desires.”

You froze, your brain scrambling to keep up. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re here to—what? No. That can’t be right.”

“Don’t take my word for it.” He kicked his boots up onto your coffee table like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Check the book.”

Fumbling, you flipped through the pages until you found the bookmarked spell. Your eyes skimmed over the description, your voice trailing off as you read aloud: “‘An incubus is a demon in male form who lies upon sleeping women to—’ Oh my God.” You snapped the book shut, glaring at him. “Death by sex?!”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Relax. That’s old-school. We’ve updated the playbook.”

“What does that even mean?!”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Consent. It’s mandatory now. No more lurking in shadows or creeping into bedrooms uninvited. Honestly, most of us found the old ways pretty gross.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re telling me demons have... ethics now?”

“Yeah. HR’s been cracking down. Very progressive workplace these days.” He flashed a smug grin. “But don’t worry. I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to fulfill the terms of your little summoning spell. My job is to... help you, shall we say, get lucky.”

The blood drained from your face. “I don’t need help getting... that! And if I did, I wouldn’t want it from a demon!”

“Well,” he said with a casual shrug, “you should’ve thought about that before you summoned me. I can’t leave until I’ve completed my task.”

“What? No! There��s got to be a way to undo this!” You frantically flipped through the book again, looking for a reversal spell.

“Knock yourself out,” he said, lounging comfortably. “But trust me, the only way I’m going anywhere is if I’ve done my job.”

You glared at him, the panic bubbling in your chest. “This is insane.”

“Welcome to demonology, sweetheart.” He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Lesson one: always read the fine print.”

You were pacing the room, still clutching the cursed book like a lifeline, when the demon—no, the incubus—lounging on your couch cleared his throat. “You know, if you keep storming around like that, you’ll wear a hole in your carpet. Or summon something worse. Your choice.”

You whipped around to glare at him. “Worse than you?”

He grinned, pearly white teeth glinting. “Oh, I don’t know. You might find me pretty hard to top.”

You groaned, your hand flying to your forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it, sweetheart.” He gestured to himself lazily, reclining further into your couch cushions. “And while we’re at it, you can call me Jimin.”

“Jimin?” you repeated skeptically, narrowing your eyes. “That’s your name?”

“Surprised?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he tilted his head at you. The faintest smirk played on his lips. “What were you expecting? Something dark and scary? Wratharion? Nycthor?” He made exaggerated gestures, wiggling his fingers like a cartoon villain.

You blinked. “Well, yeah. You’re a demon.”

He laughed, the sound soft yet somehow electric, like it hummed against your skin. “Oh, darling, demons don’t all have names like they crawled out of a horror movie. Some of us have a little... flair.”

“Flair?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He stood then, crossing the room with a feline grace that sent a shiver down your spine. “Of course.” He stopped just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Jimin suits me, don’t you think?” His voice dipped, low and smooth, his smoky eyes locking onto yours.

You swallowed hard, trying not to notice the way his smirk deepened when he saw your reaction. “I think... you’re trying too hard.”

He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically like you’d struck him. “Trying too hard? Me? Darling, I don’t even have to try.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a step back, muttering, “Yeah, sure, whatever, Jimin.”

His grin widened as he followed you, playful but unrelenting. “Oh, come on, admit it. It’s a nice name, isn’t it? Rolls off the tongue.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Jiiimiiin.”

“Stop that!” you snapped, your face burning as you shoved him back, though he barely budged.

Laughing, he straightened up, hands raised in surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you’re going to shout my name later—”

“I am not shouting your name!” you interrupted, voice climbing an octave.

He only winked at you, completely unbothered. “We’ll see.”

You groaned again, louder this time, and stalked back toward the book. “Is there a spell to make demons less insufferable?”

“If there was, I’d still be exactly the same.” His playful tone followed you like a shadow, filling the room with an infuriating warmth.

You glared at him over your shoulder, ignoring the way his smirk made your pulse race. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t have a name.”

“And I think you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

“As you wish.” But the sparkle in his eye told you he had no intention of letting you off that easily.

The next morning, you hurried to work, coffee in one hand and your bag slung over your shoulder. The crisp air did little to calm your nerves. The events of the night before replayed in your head on an endless loop, made worse by the constant chatter of the very unwelcome demon striding casually beside you.

“I’m just saying,” Jimin began, gesturing toward a pigeon on the sidewalk, “summoning me might be the most exciting thing you’ve ever done. Admit it.”

“Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered, keeping your voice low, though that didn’t stop the passing woman with a small dog from shooting you a strange look.

“Embarrassing, then?” Jimin smirked. “Endearing? Or maybe—”

“A mistake,” you hissed under your breath, quickening your pace.

He laughed, effortlessly keeping up. “A mistake that you haven’t exactly tried to undo yet. Curious, isn’t it?”

“Undoing it is the first thing on my list when I get home tonight,” you snapped. “I can’t exactly work on banishing you while I’m on my way to work, now can I?”

“Sure you can. You’ve got ten fingers, two hands. What’s stopping you from multitasking?”

“Jimin,” you warned, glancing around. A man walking his bike on the other side of the street frowned in your direction, clearly wondering who you were talking to.

Jimin tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. No one can see me unless I want them to.” He leaned closer, his voice taking on a conspiratorial edge. “You’re just the weirdo talking to herself right now.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, cheeks burning as another passerby gave you a wary glance.

By the time you reached the office, you were on edge. You darted into the break room, trying to collect yourself before your best friend, Maddie, inevitably cornered you. Jimin, however, didn’t seem interested in giving you a moment of peace.

“This is where you work?” he asked, looking around with mild interest. He wrinkled his nose. “Fluorescent lighting? Beige walls? How... uninspired.”

“Not everyone lives in some shadowy demon dimension, okay?” you shot back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Touché,” he said, leaning casually against the counter.

“Hey!” Maddie’s voice cut through your morning panic. She popped into the break room, her auburn curls bouncing. “Good morning—” She froze mid-step, her eyes locking on Jimin. “Uh. Hi?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait... you can see him?” you asked, voice pitching higher than you’d intended.

“Uh, yeah,” Maddie said, blinking at you. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s standing right there.”

Jimin straightened, looking genuinely surprised for the first time since he’d appeared in your life. “Oh,” he murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “This is interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Maddie asked, crossing her arms. “And who exactly is this ridiculously attractive man following you around? Don’t tell me you picked him up at that hole-in-the-wall bar you love. You usually have better taste.”

“He’s not—! I didn’t—!” You sputtered, unsure how to explain without sounding insane.

“Relax,” Jimin interrupted smoothly, flashing Maddie a disarming smile. “I’m Jimin. A... friend of hers.”

“A friend,” Maddie repeated, one eyebrow raised. “Right. And why is your ‘friend’ lurking in the break room at 8 a.m.?”

Jimin ignored her question, stepping closer to study her intently. “You’re Wiccan, aren’t you?”

Maddie blinked, startled. “Uh, yeah. How did you—?”

“That explains it.” Jimin turned to you, his grin positively wicked now. “She’s got a little magic of her own. That’s why she can see me.”

You stared at Maddie like she’d just sprouted a second head. “Wait. Hold on. You’re Wiccan?”

Maddie blinked at you, a little taken aback. “Uh... yeah?”

“Since when?!” you demanded, gesturing wildly between her and Jimin.

“Since... forever?” Maddie said, her tone tinged with confusion. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been hiding it. You’ve seen my herb jars and crystals. And the moon water? You thought I just liked collecting mason jars for fun?”

“I thought you were into cottagecore!” you exclaimed, still reeling.

Maddie let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, no! I mean, okay, yes, it is a vibe, but—seriously? You thought I was just aesthetic?”

“Well, yeah!” you said, your voice rising in disbelief. “You bake pies and make those little flower arrangements all the time! I didn’t think they were spells!”

“They’re not all spells,” Maddie said, still grinning. “Some of them are just, you know, pies. But come on, how did you not pick up on this?”

Jimin was watching the exchange with rapt interest, his lips twitching like he was barely holding back a laugh. “You two are adorable,” he interjected, earning glares from both of you.

You ignored him, your focus still locked on Maddie. “So, you’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been practicing actual magic? Like, real magic? And you never thought to mention it?”

“To be fair,” Maddie said, raising a finger, “you never seemed particularly interested in that stuff. Plus, I didn’t want to overwhelm you. You’re... not exactly the most open-minded when it comes to the supernatural.”

“I summoned a demon last night!” you yelled, waving a hand in Jimin’s direction.

“And you’re handling it about as well as I expected,” Maddie shot back, smirking.

Jimin snorted, finally losing the battle against his amusement. “She’s got you there.”

You threw up your hands. “This is unbelievable. My best friend is secretly a witch, and apparently, I’ve been living in some kind of magical sitcom this whole time!”

“It’s not a secret if you’re just oblivious,” Maddie teased, leaning against the counter. “But I’ve got to admit, summoning a demon is a pretty dramatic way to join the club.”

“I didn’t mean to join the club!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“Relax,” Jimin said, stepping closer with an easy smile. “If you think this is shocking, wait until you hear about the vampires.”

You shot him a glare so sharp it could cut steel. “Not. Helping.”

“Just saying,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Welcome to the magical world, sweetheart. It’s gonna be a fun ride.”

Maddie grinned, clearly enjoying your meltdown. “Oh, I am so getting popcorn for this.”

You groaned again, wishing desperately that you could wake up from whatever surreal dream your life had become.

The club was alive with pounding bass, strobing lights, and a crush of bodies moving in time with the music. You barely remembered how Maddie had talked you into coming here—something about celebrating your “first step into the magical world” and needing to loosen up after a “stressful week.” It was all a blur of insistence and teasing until you’d finally caved.

Now, you were several drinks deep, your head swimming with a pleasant buzz, and Maddie was nowhere in sight. Probably on the dance floor with some guy she’d charmed into buying her a drink.

As for you, you were parked at the bar, swaying slightly to the music and trying to ignore the growing number of men approaching you.

“You’re too gorgeous to be sitting alone,” one of them said, leaning against the bar with what you assumed was meant to be a winning smile.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “I’m not alone,” you said flatly, waving vaguely behind you to where Jimin had been lurking most of the evening.

The man glanced over your shoulder, saw nothing, and frowned. “Uh, there’s no one there.”

“Exactly,” you muttered, turning back to your drink.

After the third or fourth guy tried his luck and failed, Jimin finally slid onto the barstool next to you, his presence as palpable as the beat vibrating through the club.

“You know,” he said, voice low and velvety in your ear, “for someone so good at rejecting men, you’ve got a real talent for attracting them.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to look at him. “And for someone so supposedly powerful, you’ve got a real talent for being annoying.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, cutting through the chaos around you. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re going to make me think you’re into me.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “You wish.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish.”

Before you could retort, he was on his feet, holding out a hand. “Come dance with me.”

You stared at him, half-laughing. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re drunk, and I’m irresistible,” he said with a wicked grin. “Also, it’ll keep the other guys off your back. Consider it a public service.”

You hesitated, your head swimming from the alcohol, the music, and the way his smoky eyes seemed to pull you in. Finally, you let out a sigh and took his hand. “Fine. One dance.”

He led you to the dance floor, weaving effortlessly through the crowd until you were surrounded by swaying bodies and flashing lights. The second the music enveloped you, Jimin closed the space between you.

At first, you kept your distance, maintaining a polite gap as you moved to the rhythm. But Jimin was relentless. His hands hovered at your waist, his body drawing closer with every beat, until the space between you was almost nonexistent.

The air grew thick, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions as you swayed together. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore. His breath ghosted against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re not bad at this,” he teased, his hands brushing your sides ever so lightly.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but your voice lacked the bite you’d intended.

He smirked, his lips dangerously close to yours. “You’re making it awfully hard for me to behave, you know that?”

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding louder than the music. His smoky purple eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

“Behaving is optional,” you found yourself saying, your voice barely audible over the music.

His grin widened, his fingers grazing your arm, sending sparks up your skin. “Careful, sweetheart. I might take that as an invitation.”

You didn’t reply, too lost in the way his touch set your senses alight. You didn’t even notice Maddie watching from across the room, a knowing smirk on her face as she sipped her drink.

Days melted into each other like ink bleeding through parchment. Jimin lingered around you like a shadow, ever-present but growing heavier with each passing moment. The easy flirtation that defined his arrival softened, replaced by something quieter, more contemplative.

It wasn’t lost on you, the way his gaze lingered when you laughed or how his voice softened when he said your name. The comfort between you both had grown—sometimes so tangible it felt like you could reach out and hold it. You’d kissed once, on a night when the stars were bold and the air hummed with something neither of you dared name.

But now, there was a distance. A hesitation.

Jimin had pulled away the last time you leaned in, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of something sharper. Guilt.

“What’s wrong?” you had asked, voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

“Nothing,” he’d said, too quickly, stepping back like touching you would burn.

It had been happening more and more. You didn’t miss the way he flinched when you pressed closer or how he deflected with humor when things grew too intimate. It wasn’t rejection—it was something deeper, something that weighed heavy in the air between you.

But what you couldn’t see was the storm raging inside him.

Jimin sat on the edge of your couch one evening, watching you flip through an old book Maddie had lent you. His fingers toyed with the silver rings he wore, a habit he’d developed to keep from reaching for you. He hated himself for it. For the first time in his existence, he despised what he was—despised the aura that made you gravitate toward him, the pull that was more compulsion than choice.

What if it wasn’t real? What if you didn’t actually want him?

He’d lived 400 years as an incubus, relishing in the easy connections his power afforded him, taking pride in how mortals fell to his charms. But now, the thought of you succumbing to that same enchantment made his stomach churn.

He wanted you to want him, Jimin, not the intoxicating lure of what he was.

For the first time, he felt the cruel irony of his existence. The tether to hell, his powers, his allure—it was all shackles. And for the first time, he wished he could strip it all away and just... be mortal.

But that wasn’t possible, and his superiors were growing impatient.

One evening, just as you’d fallen asleep, the flames of hell itself flickered into your living room, and a voice like crackling fire filled his mind.

“Jimin.”

He sighed, shoulders tensing as he rose from the chair. “I’ll be back,” he murmured, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

The summons yanked him downward, into the burning depths of the underworld. The oppressive heat pressed against him as he knelt before his superiors.

“You’ve been stalling,” a voice hissed, serpentine and sharp. “Weeks have passed, and you have yet to fulfill your duty.”

Jimin didn’t look up. “I’m handling it,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Handling it?” Another voice joined, this one low and menacing. “Do not think your actions—or inaction—have gone unnoticed. We have seen your hesitation. Your... attachment.”

“It’s not attachment,” Jimin snapped, though even he didn’t believe it. “I’m—”

“You’re jeopardizing centuries of tradition,” the first voice interrupted. “Your kind exists to fulfill a purpose. To falter is to betray what you are.”

Jimin clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. “What if I don’t want to be what I am?”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating.

“And what do you wish to be instead?” the second voice asked, mocking. “A mortal? Pathetic. Fragile. Bound to the inevitable rot of time?”

Jimin looked up, defiance sparking in his smoky eyes. “At least they feel without compulsion. At least their love is real.”

The words echoed in the cavernous space, and for a moment, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. Then, the voices broke into a cacophony of mocking laughter.

“Love?” the first voice sneered. “You are a demon, Jimin. You do not love. You manipulate. You seduce. That is your nature.”

“Then maybe I don’t want it to be,” Jimin shot back, his voice rising, trembling with something dangerously close to despair.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

“Fulfil your duty, or we will ensure the girl suffers for your failure,” the second voice growled. “You are bound by your contract. Do not forget that.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

When he returned to your living room, the weight of his choice was crushing. You were still asleep, curled up on the couch, the faint light of the TV casting soft shadows across your face.

He sank into the chair, watching you.

And for the first time in his long, immortal life, Jimin felt utterly powerless.

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts angst #jimin x reader #jimin angst

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