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classyrbf · 3 days ago

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DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, toji x fem!reader, angst angst angst, megs is 17, absent father, family trauma, young love, arguing, talks of pregnancy, talks of killing/assassination, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

based on: like him by tyler the creator

“Alright move closer into the photo—yep! Perfect!” Your mom held the camera up to her eye, slightly bending down. “Alright, three…two…one!” She snapped the photo, smiling as she looked at you and Toji.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, friends and family surrounding to celebrate. Endless gifts and food, music playing over the speakers. Small children ran around the yard, infectious laughter filling the air. The sun shined brightly, not a cloud in the sky. You were happy. Toji held Megumi tight in arm, looking down at the baby with a full head of jet black hair.

You and Toji had met in high school, falling for each other in an instant. You were captivated by his silent and mysterious presence and Toji was capture by your smile and the way your eyes shined in the light. But neither of you expected to end up with a baby boy just two years later after graduation. Not a single moment was regretted. You wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Happy birthday, little man,” he scoffed, holding Megumi above his head. He babbled, giggling as he chewed on his chubby fingers, smiling at his father with love in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to frame this one. You guys look so cute.” Your mom pouted, walking back into the house to put the camera away.

A soft smile spread across your face, holding onto Toji’s arm. “Did you ever think you’d become a dad?” You suddenly asked, watching as your baby played with the fabric of his shirt.

Toji turned towards you, a confused look on his face. “No, but…I’m happy I did. You know I’d do anything for you two.” Toji pulled you in by your waist. “Did you ever think you’d become a mom?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand out to move hair out Megumi’s face. “It’s just weird. We were so young, you know? We still are. But, it feels right.” You rested your heard on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. A small laugh erupted from your chest, “I carry him for nine months and he came out looking exactly like you.”

“What can I say? I got strong genes, baby.” He nudges you slightly, teasing.

“Oh, hush. I did all the work.” You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m only messing with you.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, give mama a kiss, little man.” He holds Megumi towards you. As if on cue, he leans his head down and places his slobbery mouth on your forehead. “There you go! Good job!” He chuckles, smiling at his son. “I can’t wait until you’re older so I can teach you about all sorts of things.” Megumi grabs ahold of Toji’s finger in his small palm, squeezing it. “Gonna teach you all types of sports, how to fight so you can protect mommy. I bet you’ll be a good baseball player.” Megumi squeals at Toji. “Baseball? Yeah? Alright, baseball it is.” He kisses his cheek.

You stand there, admiring your two favorite boys. It’s like you see the future when you look at them. A happy life, a cozy home. Maybe even a sibling for Megumi. A ring on your finger, happily married. Thinking of the days when Megumi starts going to school and brings back all his little projects so you can put them in a box and keep them for the future. You already had so much planned at such a young age, but you were determined to fight for it. For him. For your son.

Megumi sits on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The ceiling fan provides a low hum as it spins. He stares at the wilted paper in his hand, a handwritten note to him—one he’s never seen until now. His chest feels tight, tears welling in his eyes as he reads who it’s from over and over again.

—Your Dad

It feels like he can’t breathe, anger swirling through him. He thinks of all those times you dismissed his questions and conversations about his father—whoever his father was. And now, he was holding a note from him that was written fifteen years ago. A note of how sorry he is and nothing else. A man of few words. No explanation, nothing.

Growing up, Megumi learned from a young age that he looked just like ‘him’. His grandmother and grandfather always slipping up, staring at him like a ghost had just walked in the room. It only got worse as he grew older, starting growing into his features. You even began to stare at him, a look of sadness in your eyes. He never would say anything, always keeping his mouth shut like he didn’t notice. Not once, did you ever speak of his father. Hell, he didn’t even know his name or what he looked like, but from what he’s been told, he probably looks like an older version of him.

All those days, watching fathers bond with their sons, his friends dads coming to sports games, school events, he always felt like deep down something was missing. He felt different. Every Father’s Day, being tasked to make something special in school for their fathers, but how is a nine year old supposed to say he doesn’t have one? How is a thirteen year old supposed to participate in the father-son day at school when he doesn’t have one? How is a seventeen year old supposed to feel when he sees everyone posting their dads on social media, a heartfelt message written with each one, yet he doesn’t even have a photograph to remember him by?

Tears fall on the paper and the hurt that he held back is now manifesting. Why was so hard for you to say anything about him? Was he dead? Is that why it was so hard? Yet, there was no excuse. Whatever it was, he needed to know why he left. Why he was so sorry. It wasn’t until he heard the front door open, your calming voice calling out to him.

“Megs, I’m home!” You shut the door, placing your bag on the countertop.

The door to his bedroom swung open, fresh tears still on his cheeks, the wrinkled note gripped in his hand. He stomped towards you. “What is this?” His nostrils flared.

A crease between your brows formed, noticing the distressed look on his face before your eyes landed on what he was holding. You felt your heart drop, your mouth falling open to say something, anything, but nothing came out. “Meg—”

“What is this? Huh?! I found it in the back of your drawer! A note from my dad!” He slammed the paper down. “Who is he?! Why did he leave?!” He was screaming, his anger pouring out through his words. “You never talk about him! No one does!” He throws his hands up. “You kept…you fucking kept this from me! Fifteen years!” Hot tears spill from his eyes.

Your eyes widen, your lip quivering as you hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

“When? When, mom?! I don’t even know his fucking name! I don’t know what he looks like! There’s not a single picture in this house of him? Is he even alive?!” The look in his eyes makes you want to break down. You knew this day would come sooner or later, but you never expected it to turn out this way. The note. Of course it was the note. Almost like it was fate.

You inhaled deeply, licking your lips as tears fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I just…”

“Why can’t you tell me?” He speaks softly, voice wavering. “I see it in your face. Everyday when you look at me…you can see him. Who is my dad?” He clenches his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. “Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?” He questions before fully breaking down into tears, sobbing.

“No,no,” you whisper, taking him in your arms. His tears soak through the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you like his life depends on it. “It’s not your fault, baby? You hear me? It’s not his, not yours. It’s complicated.” As you stand there with him in your arms, flashbacks of that night Toji left flood your brain.

“Then where is he? Is he dead?” Megumi asks, raising his head to look at you. The question makes you freeze up, biting on your bottom lip so hard you’re sure to draw blood. “Is he dead, mom?” He stands up straight, wiping his tears.

“I…I don’t know,” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders. You shake your head as you look at your son, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. So hurt and disgusted. “He loved you so much, Megumi. I promise you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left!” He shouted in anger. “Who is he?! Just tell me!” He pleads through his cries.

“His name was Toji. Toji Fushiguro.” You stare at him. “Me and your father met young, back in high school. We had you two years after we graduated. We were so scared. Well, I was scared, but your father was ready. He was so excited,” you chuckle, remembering when you first told him you were pregnant. “He loved you, Megumi. And that’s the exact reason why he left,” you explain.

He shakes his head at you. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your father did everything he could to provide for me and you. You were his everything. His little man. But, he got caught up with the wrong people trying to find ways to make quick money. He was young and desperate, we both were.” Your eyes flutter shut, letting out a sigh. “What your father did for money…you wouldn’t think he was a good man. He made enemies—”

“Mom, what are you saying?! I’m not a kid anymore! Just tell me—”

“He killed people, Megumi! Is that what you wanna hear! He fucking killed people just so he could put food on the table! Fuck!” You hurriedly stand to your feet, looking away from him.

“What…?” He nearly said in a whisper.

“I don’t want you to think he wasn’t a good man, Megs. I don’t want you think he hated you or me. He didn’t. But what he was doing put him and us in danger. He realized that and he left. He couldn’t put us in danger, especially you. That night he left he wrote you this.” You grabbed the note off the counter. “I begged him to stay, baby. I did. I tried. I tried everything.” Megumi sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead of his as he took all this information in. “He never stopped loving you, Megs. He never wanted to leave.”

He slowly turned to look at you, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were red and glossy from crying. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, baby. He never told me.” You shook your head. He sobbed softly, holding his head in his hands. You walked over, sitting beside him and pulled him into your arms. “Don’t hate him,” you whispered. “He’d be so proud of the man you became. Such a sweet, strong, and smart boy.”

“When did he leave?” Megumi asked.

“A week after your second birthday,” you spoke, biting at the skin on your lip. “He told me you were the best thing to ever happen to him.” You wipe away his tears as they continue to fall. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just done bad things.”

Now knowing what happened to his father, Megumi felt like his whole world came crashing down. What his father did, who he was. How he came to be. And as much resentment as he holds, he can’t bring himself to hate him. In a way, he understands, but at the same time he doesn’t. He wonders how different things would be if he was here. What life would be Ike. “I’m sorry, mom,” he cried.

“Don’t be, baby. I’m sorry for keeping from you for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think he was a bad man. I was scared.” You continue to hold him in your arms, consoling him.

“What does he look like?” He asks.

You smile, looking down at him. “You guys are damn near twins.”

Megumi chuckles a little, “I figured.”

“Wait there a moment.” He watches as slip into your bedroom, a few second passing by before you walk out with something in your hands. “Here.”

Megumi looks down, seeing the array of photos you hold on your hands and hesitates on taking them from you. You sit beside him as he grabs them and looks at the first one. “Is that him and you?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the photo.

“Back in high school.” It was one of the first few photos you and Toji ever took together. A picture at the homecoming dance, a plain look on his face while you had a wide smile on your face. “Your father barely ever smiled. But when you came around, he couldn’t stop.”

Megumi was struck. He really did look like him. From the hair, to the eyes, to the nose. Everything. He looked at the next photo. You were pregnant, Toji holding your belly while kissing your cheek. “You guys looked really happy,” he says.

“Of course we were. Me and your dad loved each other very much. I still love him.” Megumi looks over at you as you say those last words. You still hold so much hope and love in your heart and that tells him maybe he should let this resentment for his father go. Maybe it was time to move on.

“Was this my birthday?” He questions, looking at the family photo your mother took of you three that day. He could see a faint smile on his father’s face, looking at the way Toji held him so close in his arms.

“Your very first birthday. So many good memories. Despite the fact you threw up on your dad’s shirt,” you laughed.

“Really?!” Megumi smiles. You nod, still giggling. “Yikes, he must’ve been pissed.”

“At first he was mad, but then saw you started crying after and felt horrible. I remember his exact words, ‘Stop crying, little man. You can throw up on this shirt a thousand times if you want to.’ He could never stay mad at you.” You brush his cheek, watching his smile get wider and wider.

He finally gets to the last picture. One you took of Toji asleep with Megumi on his chest. “I took that picture after it took him three hours to get you to sleep. You didn’t want to sleep in your crib, kept crying and crying and finally your father just fell asleep with you on his chest.” You watch as he runs his thumb over the picture, observing it more than he did the other ones. “You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” He glanced at you, a desperate look in his eye.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek. “I have more we can look at later.”

Megumi nods. There’s a moment of silence as he sits and goes through the pictures again, almost like he’s reliving memories he had no recollection of. “So, you really don’t know if he’s alive or not?”

You shake your head. “Like I said, what your father did caused him to get caught up with the wrong people, making enemies out of anyone. He was never scared of them, of course. But he knew if they ever found out about you or me, it wouldn’t end well.,” you explained. “I wish I knew.”

“Is it weird that I miss him?” He turned towards you, confused. “How can I miss someone I don’t even remember?” His eyes became teary.

“Oh, Megs.” You wiped his tears. “It’s not weird at all, sweetheart. I’m sure he misses you too. A whole lot.” You give him a sad smile.

He sniffles, looking down at the pictures. It was like he finally felt this weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After years of this gut wrenching feeling, he finally knows the truth. His father did love you. Love him. He no longer felt casted aside. And that feeling gave him hope that maybe he’s still out there, still alive.

#—☆classyrbf #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk angst #toji x reader #toji angst #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushiguro x reader angst #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi angst #megumi fishiguro angst #jjk x reader angst #Spotify

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spideyjimin · 3 days ago

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Wait for your love | jjk (teaser)

— pairing: firefighter!jungkook x female reader

— genre: kind of exes to lovers, parents au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— summary: sixteen years ago, your life was turned upside down when you surrendered to the temptation — none other than jungkook, the star basketball player on your school’s team. today, after all that time, you reunite under tragic circumstances; a car crash where he saves your life.

— words: 577

— author’s note: here you have the teaser of the fic i’m currently working on 🤗 you have a tiny little teaser below & i hope you’ll enjoy it ❤️

— tag list: let me know in any way if you want to be tagged when i post this and if you are part of my permanent taglist, you will automatically be added ✨

Jungkook and his team got called for a car accident involving several cars, and when they arrived, the scene was horrific.

There are probably five cars pressed and smashed one against the other. There are people injured and bleeding walking around the scene. Paramedics are already taking care of them, but Jungkook is walking to the cars to retrieve the people stuck inside. His captain screams orders and tells him which car he should go to.

His eyes look around, his heart breaking when he sees everyone involved and still stuck in their cars. Visions like this are quite common for him, it doesn’t happen all the time but it’s still recurrent. At the end of the day, his job is to save people in this type of situation.

When he reaches the car, he was assigned to, he takes a look at how many people there are inside. There’s just one person, a woman behind the steering wheel. She has her hand on her head, clearly showing that she might have a headache. She doesn’t really move. Instantly, Jungkook tries to open the door, but it’s showing a bit of resistance.

It feels impossible to open the door, but Jungkook sees the woman’s head falling. He’s getting worrier; she’s slumping into sleep which isn’t a good sign as she was holding her head barely seconds ago. He then proceeds to break the window so he can try to open it from inside. There are other possible ways, but it would be harder and more dangerous to get her out of the vehicle.

“Ma’am,” he says with urge.

Eventually, he manages to open the damn door from the inside. A good part of the car’s front is crashing into her. Before even thinking of taking her out, he places a cervical collar to protect her neck and spine.

“Ma’am,” he repeats. “Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer at all. Jungkook gets closer, his fingers brushing the hair from her face, but when he finally gets to properly see the woman’s face, his heart skips a beat. This woman is none other than you. His mind can’t start to get lost in the past right now. He needs to focus on taking you out of the car.

You’re in pretty bad shape.

There’s blood on your forehead, you most probably have a wound on top of your head. There’s also blood at the level of your stomach, turning your green shirt into a very dark color. He can distinguish a big fragment of glass shoved into your belly. It doesn’t look good. Your legs are also completely smashed by the front, causing the steering wheel to be very close to your body. Hopefully, your legs aren’t too injured. He doesn’t even want to start thinking about all the bruises on your body.

Slowly, he places one hand behind your back while his other hand slowly pushes your legs. He’s trying to be as careful as possible to avoid causing any other injury. His strong arms hold you once he manages to fully remove you from the car. His eyes look down at your face with evident pain. He notices how you’re trying to open your eyes which makes him think that you’re trying to fight the urge to fall asleep.

“Yn,” he says while walking to an ambulance. “Please, stay with me,” he whispers with despair. “I’ve finally found you, and I can’t lose you right away.”

#bts #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #wait for your love #teaser #spideyjimin

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mcrdvcks · 3 days ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1900 - with you i'm free

chapter summary: Logan meets you again in a small town in Pennsylvania. Only this time, you are married to another man, but your marriage is far from perfect.

word count: 11.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is a bit darker than the other chapters, past and future, so this'll probably be a 'one off'. please read the tags! the domestic violence isn't described too heavily, but there are still some descriptions and scenes involving it. you've been warned!

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of brushing hair, outdated mindsets on women, domestic violence, bruises, cheating, blood, character death

series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4

Logan found himself in a small town in Pennsylvania 20 years later. Victor was doing who knows what, he wasn’t sure if he even cared, so he was alone, once again.

Coal mining was the primary job in this town, so he found himself doing just that. After work, the guys would go to a nearby bar and get drunk, go back home, and repeat it all over again.

This was his second week here, and the guys finally learned that he only came along to do one thing- drink.

You walked into the dimly lit bar, the smell of tobacco and cheap liquor hanging heavy in the air. The men, mostly miners from the town, were crowded around tables, drinking and laughing loudly after a long day of work. The sound of clinking glasses and rough voices filled the room, but your eyes were drawn to the man sitting at the bar, quiet and distant.

He didn’t look like the others—he wasn’t laughing, wasn’t part of the group. He just sat there, nursing a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes focused on the amber liquid as if it held answers to questions he wasn’t ready to ask. Something about him felt familiar, though you couldn’t place why.

You hadn’t intended to come inside. George was already drunk somewhere in the back, and you knew what that would mean when he got home. But something pulled you toward the bar, toward him. You made your way over, hesitating for just a moment before slipping onto the stool beside him.

“You new in town?” you asked, your voice soft but cutting through the noise around you.

The man didn’t look at you right away, but his hand tightened slightly around the glass. His jaw clenched, as if the sound of your voice had struck something deep inside him. Slowly, he turned his head, and when his eyes met yours, the world seemed to tilt for a moment.

It was like a punch to the gut, a shock that ran through both of you, though you couldn’t understand why. You had never met him before, but his eyes... those eyes. Dark, haunted, and yet filled with something familiar, something you couldn’t explain.

Logan stared at you, his mind racing. It couldn’t be. But it was. You were here, sitting right next to him, alive. Different, yet the same. His chest tightened, the memories flooding back—your face, your smile, your laugh. The way you had slipped away from him, twice now.

He hadn’t expected to see you again. Not after the last time. But here you were, as real as the glass in his hand.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. “Just passing through.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious about the stranger beside you. “Passing through? Not many people come here unless they’re looking to stay a while.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you again, lingering this time. It was you, all right. Same voice, same damn spark. He could feel his heart pounding, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should just get up and walk away. He didn’t know if he could handle this—losing you again.

“I’m not lookin’ to stay,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, hoping it would calm the storm inside him.

You smiled faintly, noticing how closed-off he seemed. “Seems like you’re fitting in already, though,” you joked, nodding toward the men in the back. “That’s my husband back there, George. One of the miners.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the word ‘husband,’ though he didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Of course, you’d have a life. It was always like this. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Is that right?” he replied, not really asking. He glanced toward the group of men, catching sight of George, loud and drunk, waving his glass around like he owned the place. A man like that didn’t deserve you. But Logan stayed silent.

“Yeah,” you said softly, looking down at your hands. “He’s… something.”

There was a heaviness in your voice, something that told Logan more than your words ever could. He recognized that tone—the one you used when you were trying to hide the truth, trying to make things seem better than they were.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Logan just stared at his drink, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. You were married. You had a life. He didn’t belong here. But he couldn’t just walk away. Not again.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name from his lips was barely a whisper, but it felt like it echoed through the bar. Your head snapped up, eyes wide.

“How… how do you know my name?” you asked, frowning in confusion. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t introduced yourself.

Logan cursed inwardly, realizing his slip. He hadn’t meant to say it, but your name had come so naturally, like it always did. “I, uh… heard someone call you that when I came in,” he lied, quickly looking away. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

You blinked, but before you could question him further, George’s booming voice interrupted.

“Y/N!” he shouted, stumbling toward you. “What’re you doin’ at the bar? Get over here!”

You flinched slightly, your body tensing at the sound of his voice. Logan noticed immediately, his eyes darkening as he glanced between you and the drunk man. He didn’t like the way George looked at you, the way he called for you like he owned you.

“I should go,” you muttered, standing up quickly, the warmth between you and Logan fading as you stepped away. “It was nice meeting you…?”

“Logan,” he said, his voice low. “Name’s Logan.”

You smiled faintly again, nodding. “Logan. Well, take care.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he couldn’t put into words. This wasn’t fair. Not to him, not to you. But life had never been fair, had it?

As George draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the group with a roughness that made Logan’s blood boil, he clenched his fists under the bar. He wanted to stand up, walk over there, and tear that man’s arm off. But he stayed where he was, the ring in his pocket feeling heavier than ever. The ring he never got to give you.

You were gone again, and Logan was left with the bitter taste of whiskey and the familiar ache of loss.

---

George never really allowed you to do much, he wanted you to be the ‘perfect wife’ and the ‘perfect mother’, but he always said that last part to you with such hatred.

Some nights, while you silently cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you were broken, and that maybe you deserved it. Not ever getting pregnant, having an abusive husband- not that it was rare, most of the guys’ wives went through the same things too.

One day, you were out doing errands, getting some things to make George his favorite dinner in hopes you wouldn’t end up with another bruise on your wrist like yesterday, when you saw him. Logan, from a few nights ago.

He was smoking a cigar against a brick building; he should be at work with the rest of the men.

You paused, your breath catching for a moment as you saw him. Logan. He looked out of place, leaning against the wall like he didn’t belong in this time or this town. His eyes, sharp even from a distance, locked onto yours the second you stepped out of the store. It was like he knew you’d be there, as if he had been waiting.

You hesitated, then made your way toward him, the worn handle of the basket digging into your palm as you gripped it tightly.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” you asked softly, your voice carrying just enough over the sound of the bustling street.

Logan took a long drag from the cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly, and shrugged. “Took a break. Figured I needed some air.”

You shifted awkwardly, glancing around before lowering your voice. “If George finds out you’re not working…”

He scoffed, the sound rough, almost amused. “George ain’t my boss.”

His words hung in the air, and you knew he was right. George might run things at home, but out here, Logan didn’t answer to anyone. You, on the other hand… your life was different.

Logan’s eyes flicked down to your wrist, where the bruise from yesterday’s outburst was still visible, even though you’d tried to hide it with long sleeves. His expression darkened instantly, the casual air gone in an instant.

“He do that?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

You swallowed, tugging the sleeve down further. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I just—George gets frustrated sometimes.”

Logan pushed off the wall, stepping closer, the smell of smoke and leather surrounding you. He was close now, too close, and you felt your heart quicken—not in fear, but in something else entirely.

“Frustrated?” Logan repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “That what you call it?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. What were you supposed to say? That it was normal? That the other wives had it worse? The words died in your throat, and instead, you turned your head, focusing on the basket in your hand. “I should get going.”

But Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you slip away that easily. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice softer now. His hand brushed your arm, barely a touch, but you felt it. Felt it everywhere.

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, finding those dark, intense eyes watching you closely. “I… I should get home,” you said again, but the words lacked conviction this time.

Logan didn’t argue, but the look on his face told you that he wasn’t letting this go. “I’ll walk with you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

You didn’t protest as he fell into step beside you. The two of you walked in silence for a while, your steps in sync, even though neither of you said a word. It was like that night in the bar—the unspoken connection, the weight of something you couldn’t quite name hanging between you. But this time, there was no crowd, no drunken laughter. Just you and him, and the quiet tension that seemed to grow with every step.

When you reached the edge of your street, you stopped. “You don’t have to walk me the whole way,” you murmured, glancing toward your house, where George’s silhouette was already moving around inside.

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at you, his gaze lingering on the bruise again before his eyes met yours. “You ever need someone to talk to,” he said quietly, “you know where to find me.”

Your heart clenched at the offer, at the way he said it like he meant it. You nodded, unsure of what else to do, and turned to leave.

But as you stepped away, his hand brushed yours again, just for a second. It was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder that there was something here—something neither of you fully understood but couldn’t deny.

You walked inside, feeling his presence behind you even after the door closed, knowing that things had just shifted, that something had begun. And it scared you. Not because of George, not because of what it might mean if you were caught—but because of how much you wanted it. How much you wanted him.

---

Over the next few days, Logan stayed close. You saw him more often—sometimes at the store, sometimes on the street—but always watching, always aware. He didn’t push, didn’t say much. But his presence was a constant, a quiet offer of protection that you hadn’t asked for but found yourself relying on.

It was late one evening when it finally happened. George had been out drinking again, and when he came home, it was worse than usual. You flinched as his hand caught your wrist, yanking you toward him as he slurred something about dinner not being ready on time.

You would’ve left the house if you could, but you couldn’t. Not when George was glaring at you like that, his drunken eyes wild with the sort of rage that had become all too familiar. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. It wasn’t new—this quiet dread that wrapped itself around your throat, choking off your breath. Running had never worked before, and by now, you had learned there was no use in trying.

George's grip on your wrist tightened painfully as he muttered something under his breath. The way he yanked you close made your heart race, not out of fear, but from the exhaustion of enduring it. He wasn’t done with his tirade—his words slurred together, complaining about dinner, the house, everything. It didn’t matter. Nothing you did ever seemed to be enough.

As his fist balled around the fabric of your dress, you stared blankly at the floor, your mind drifting elsewhere, anywhere but here. To the street outside, to the market, to Logan. The quiet man who’d appeared in your life without explanation. You didn’t know why, but when you thought of him, you felt something different—something dangerous but soothing all the same. A flicker of rebellion, of hope, that you hadn’t felt in so long.

George shoved you toward the kitchen table, grumbling about the cold food, about you being lazy, about anything he could think of. You stumbled, catching yourself on the edge of the table, but didn’t say a word. You never did, not when it got like this.

But Logan… he had noticed. He had noticed the bruises, the way you flinched when someone raised their voice, the way you avoided eye contact. He wasn’t like the other men in town. He wasn’t one to turn a blind eye. You remembered his intense gaze lingering on your wrist, the bruise that you couldn’t quite hide. You remembered the way he had spoken to you softly, almost like he cared.

That thought gave you strength now, as George barked another order, telling you to clean up the dishes. Your body moved mechanically, but your mind stayed somewhere else. You could almost feel Logan’s hand brushing against yours again, the briefest touch when he’d walked you home the other night. It had been so subtle, but it had sent a jolt through you—a reminder that there were still things you could feel, still things you could want.

The night dragged on, just as it always did, but when George finally passed out in his chair, snoring heavily, you slipped outside. The cool night air hit your skin, and for a moment, you just stood there, breathing it in. You weren’t going far. Just a few minutes of peace. Just enough to remind yourself that you were still alive.

You walked slowly down the empty street, your eyes scanning the shadows. You didn’t mean to, but your feet led you toward the alley where Logan had been smoking that day. It was a habit now, searching for him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And then, there he was. Leaning against the same wall, his broad figure half-hidden by the dim light of the streetlamp. His cigar glowed faintly in the dark, and as soon as he saw you, he straightened, eyes narrowing with concern.

“Y/N,” Logan said softly, stepping toward you. His voice was rough but gentle in the stillness of the night. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Your throat felt tight, and your chest ached with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you just walked closer, until you were standing right in front of him, your head tipped back slightly to meet his gaze.

Logan’s eyes flickered over your face, taking in every detail—the bruise that had started to fade but was still visible on your wrist, the exhaustion that weighed down your every movement. He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t need to. He knew.

Without a word, Logan reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck in a way that was more comforting than anything you’d felt in years. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him. Just for a moment.

“Y/N, you don’t have to stay there,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Not with him.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the truth of his words cutting deeper than anything else. You didn’t want to stay, you didn’t. But leaving wasn’t as easy as it sounded. George was… dangerous. You didn’t know what he would do if you tried to leave him. And besides, where would you even go? You had nothing. No money, no family. Just an empty house that felt more like a prison with every passing day.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own admission.

Logan’s grip tightened slightly, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to help, wanted to tear you away from that life, but he was fighting something inside himself too.

“You always got me,” Logan said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Always.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. You didn’t know what to say. The part of you that was practical screamed that you couldn’t rely on him, that you shouldn’t get attached. But the other part, the part that had been buried deep beneath years of heartache, wanted to believe him. Wanted to fall into him, to take whatever comfort he could offer.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your hand trembling slightly as you rested it on his chest. You felt his heart beating under your palm, steady and strong. Logan’s breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He never did.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet street. “I don’t know what to do.”

He let out a slow breath, his forehead resting against yours now, his warm breath mingling with yours. His free hand came up, his thumb brushing your cheek softly, tracing the path of an unshed tear.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he said gently, his lips so close to yours that it took everything in you not to close the distance. “But whatever you decide… I’m not lettin’ you go through this alone. Not again.”

Your heart ached at his words—his promise. The unspoken connection between you felt stronger than ever, and before you knew it, you were closing that distance, your lips brushing against his in a hesitant, tender kiss.

Logan froze for half a second, but then his arms were around you, pulling you closer as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember. His lips were rough, but his kiss was gentle, full of restraint. You could feel the years of longing behind it, the pain of lifetimes lived and lost, but also the desire—the need that neither of you could ignore any longer.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan’s eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice ragged, his forehead still resting against yours. “This ain’t right. You’re… you’re married.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I… I don’t care anymore.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened for a moment, like he was trying to fight it, but then he cursed softly under his breath and kissed you again, this time with more desperation, more need. His hands tangled in your hair, his lips claiming yours in a way that made it clear this wasn’t something either of you could stop now.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to.

---

The next few days blurred together, a dangerous mix of stolen moments and whispered promises. Logan was always there, watching over you, his touch lingering on your skin long after you parted. You knew it was wrong, knew that it would only lead to more heartache, but you couldn’t stop. He had become your anchor, your escape from a life you couldn’t bear anymore.

It wasn’t long before you were meeting him after dark, slipping out of the house when George was too drunk to notice. The kisses became longer, the touches more urgent.

Soon, it wasn’t just nights you were seeing him. It was after George left for work, during Logan’s lunch breaks, or anytime he could sneak away from the mine. You’d meet in the same alley, or sometimes he’d find you waiting in a small park just outside town. The secrecy of it all—the sneaking around, the stolen moments—it was reckless, but neither of you could stop.

Logan wasn’t the kind of man who talked much, but the way he looked at you, the way he held you—like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—it said enough. His hands were always gentle, so different from George’s, even though you could feel the strength behind them. That raw, unyielding strength that was so uniquely his.

One afternoon, Logan met you in the small clearing just past the main street. It was a rare moment when George was working late, giving you a little more time than usual. You leaned against the large oak tree, your back pressed into the rough bark, and waited. It wasn’t long before Logan’s figure appeared in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, eyes scanning the area out of habit.

As soon as he spotted you, his shoulders seemed to relax, and he made his way over, his footsteps heavy but quiet in the dirt. When he got close enough, you smiled softly, your fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress, a nervous habit you’d picked up over the last few weeks.

“Thought I’d lost you for a minute there,” you teased, keeping your voice light, though there was a real fear under the surface. Every time you saw him, there was a tiny part of you that worried it might be the last.

Logan gave a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not that easy to lose me, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, trying to read what was going on in his head. He seemed… tense, more so than usual. You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice softening as you stepped closer, close enough to touch him, but not quite daring to yet.

Logan’s gaze flickered down to you, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes—something old, something heavy. But he shook his head, as if brushing it off, and reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though you could tell he wasn’t. He was never fine.

You reached out, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart under your palm. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Logan.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you, before he finally spoke. “It’s just… this,” he said, his voice low, almost pained. “I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m already hurt,” you whispered, and for the first time, you felt the full weight of those words. The bruises, the fear, the nights spent lying awake, wondering if George would snap—it had become your normal, and you hated it.

Logan’s expression didn’t change much, but his jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark flashing behind his eyes. He stood still, his hands loose at his sides, and for a second you thought maybe you’d gone too far—that maybe admitting this would scare him away, make him walk off into the night and leave you standing there alone.

But he didn’t. He never did.

Logan exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound quiet but loaded with restrained anger, like a simmering fire just barely held in check. His hand—rough and warm—reached out to settle on your arm, fingers curling gently around your elbow. It was a simple touch, but it grounded you in a way that nothing else did.

“I’ll handle it,” Logan said, voice low, rough. His words were more than a statement—they were a promise, weighted with meaning you couldn’t quite untangle.

Your heart skipped at the way he said it, quiet but firm, like the solution was already decided, and there was no point in questioning it.

“You can’t,” you whispered, not because you didn’t believe him, but because you knew how dangerous George could be. And if Logan went to him—if George found out about the two of you…

Logan’s thumb brushed once along your forearm, slow and deliberate. “I’ve handled worse,” he muttered, gaze never leaving yours. There was a sharpness in his eyes now, something fierce. You didn’t know what he’d been through in his life—just that it was far more than you could imagine.

A part of you wanted to tell him not to get involved, but the other part—the part of you that had been breaking under George’s hand for years—wanted to let Logan do exactly what he was offering.

You bit your lip. “If he finds out…” You trailed off, but Logan understood. Of course he did.

He stepped in closer, so close that the rough wool of his shirt brushed against your dress. His hand shifted from your arm to the back of your neck, his fingers resting there firmly, possessively, but with the same strange tenderness he always showed you. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” Logan murmured, voice steady.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. And when you looked into his eyes—dark and steady and filled with something raw and unyielding—you thought maybe you could.

Your hand rested flat against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the worn fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat strong beneath your palm, steady and unrelenting.

“He won’t stop, Logan.” Your voice cracked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “He’ll just—he’ll come after me, after us.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Let him try,” he said, the words edged with a quiet menace that sent a chill down your spine.

It should have scared you, the way he said it—like violence was something inevitable, something he didn’t shy away from. But instead, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you’d felt in years.

The night air around you was cool, but standing this close to Logan, you felt none of it. His hand slipped from your neck down to the small of your back, his touch warm and steady through the fabric of your dress.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you didn’t move away.

Logan’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “I ain’t gonna pretend this is right,” he said, voice rough but quiet. “But I ain’t gonna pretend I don’t want you, either.”

His words hit you hard, sinking deep into your chest. You hadn’t realized how starved you were—how badly you needed someone to see you, to want you. And Logan… he saw everything. The bruises, the fear, the exhaustion. And still, he looked at you like you were worth something.

You swallowed thickly. “What happens if he finds out?”

Logan’s expression darkened. “He won’t.”

The finality in his tone left no room for doubt, and for a moment, all the fear that had been building inside you loosened, just enough to let you breathe.

Without thinking, you reached up, fingertips brushing along the edge of his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble beneath your touch. Logan’s eyes closed briefly, like the small touch was something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. When his eyes opened again, they were darker, filled with a need that mirrored your own.

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, like a man starved for something he couldn’t name. His hand cupped the back of your head, holding you to him as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You melted into him, the fear and exhaustion slipping away, at least for now. His kiss was everything—an escape, a promise, a lifeline.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan rested his forehead against yours. His hand lingered on your waist, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Just say the word, Y/N,” Logan whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Say the word, and we’ll leave. Tonight.”

Your heart ached at the offer—at the thought of running away with him, leaving everything behind. But it wasn’t that simple, and you both knew it.

“I can’t,” you whispered, hating yourself for the truth of it.

Logan’s grip on you tightened briefly, as if trying to hold onto something he couldn’t keep. But when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“Then I’ll stay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Until you can.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. For the first time in years, you felt like you weren’t alone.

And that—just that—was enough to keep you going. For now.

---

One of the local churches was having a retreat set up for the women in town. Clara had been talking your ear off about it at Sunday church, spouting how excited she was to get out of the house.

You listened half-heartedly, but really you were thinking about what a perfect excuse it was to flip this into a lie for George.

You told Logan you couldn’t run away with him, but that didn’t include spending these few days with him, maybe off somewhere in a nearby town.

Most of the women in town were very religious, and at times you felt like an outsider. You didn’t believe like they did, but you kept up a perfect front to make them believe you felt the same way.

“Maybe we’ll have another sewing circle this time. Whaddya think?” Clara asked, a wide grin splitting her face as she held her hat against the October breeze.

You gave a noncommittal hum, tugging the sleeves of your dress down to cover the faint bruises on your wrists. “Maybe,” you murmured, though your thoughts were far from sewing circles and prayer sessions.

The retreat was perfect. It would get you out of George’s reach—at least for a couple of days—and give you the time you so desperately craved. More than anything, it meant time with Logan.

Clara didn’t seem to notice your distraction. “It’s always good to get away, you know? Some of these girls say the Holy Spirit really speaks to ‘em up there.” She gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, you just gotta leave it all behind for a bit.”

You forced a smile. "Maybe that's what I need."

Clara squeezed your arm, oblivious to how you tensed. “See? That’s the spirit! Now you just gotta convince your husband.”

You swallowed thickly. George wouldn’t care about a church retreat if it kept up appearances. He didn’t pay much mind to you unless you were standing in his way—or if dinner wasn’t on time. A couple of days without you underfoot? He’d probably welcome the peace.

Later that night, after George had his fill of supper and slumped into his chair with a bottle, you tested the waters.

“You remember Clara?” you asked, keeping your tone light. “She mentioned a church retreat this weekend. Thought I’d go.”

George barely glanced up. “What for?”

“Some of the other women are going too.” You folded your hands together tightly, hiding your nervous fidgeting. “It’s just a few days. They’ll be praying and sewing... nothing much.”

George grunted, shifting in his chair. “You ain’t skippin' out on Sunday dinner.”

You bit your lip, nodding quickly. “No. I’ll be back before then.”

He waved you off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Fine. Just be sure you ain’t runnin' off to waste money.”

Relief washed over you so fast your knees felt weak. You ducked your head, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” before slipping into the next room. It had been easier than you expected—maybe too easy. But you weren’t about to second-guess it.

---

The next day, you told Logan.

You found him where you always did—leaning against the brick wall near the alley, a cigar pinched between his teeth. He straightened the second he saw you, his sharp gaze sweeping over you like it always did, searching for signs of hurt.

“I told George I’m going to the church retreat,” you said quietly, stepping close enough that the warmth of him reached you. “It’s this weekend. I’ll have a couple of days...” You let the words hang between you, heart pounding as you waited for him to understand what you were really saying.

Logan’s jaw ticked, his expression hard to read. “You sure?” His voice was low, the sound of it like gravel underfoot.

You gave a small nod. “It’s the only way I can get away.”

He exhaled through his nose, looking past you for a second before his eyes settled back on yours. “Where’s the retreat supposed to be?”

“About an hour north,” you said. “But... I’m not going there.”

Logan’s lips twitched, something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I wanna be with you, Logan. Just for a couple of days. Somewhere... away from here.”

The smirk faded, replaced by something heavier, something that settled deep in his eyes. “You know what you're askin’, darlin’?”

You nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t move for a long moment, just stood there watching you with those steady, knowing eyes. Then, with a slow exhale, he reached for you—his hand slipping under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His thumb brushed along your jaw, and the touch made your breath catch.

“Where do you wanna go?” Logan asked, his voice rough but gentle.

“Anywhere.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, and you hated how desperate it sounded. “Just... not here.”

Logan gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Alright,” he muttered, the barest flicker of emotion crossing his face. “Meet me at the train station Friday night. I’ll take care of the rest.”

---

Friday came quicker than you expected.

The afternoon dragged, tension curling in your stomach as you packed a small bag. You kept everything simple—a couple of plain dresses, your brush, and the few coins you’d stashed away in a tin under the floorboards. You told yourself it wasn’t permanent. You’d be back in a few days, and everything would go back to how it was.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

When the sun began to set, you told George you were leaving. He didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Just don’t come back actin' all high and holy,” he muttered.

You gave a quick nod, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

---

The train station was quiet when you arrived, your breath fogging in the cold night air. You spotted Logan almost immediately, standing near the platform with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. He wore the same tired expression he always did, but when his eyes found yours, something softened in his gaze.

“You made it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand found yours, rough fingers wrapping around yours like they belonged there.

“Yeah,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Logan gave a small nod toward the waiting train. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

You boarded without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind you as the train rumbled to life beneath your feet. Logan led you to a quiet corner of the car, his hand never leaving yours.

As the train pulled away from the station, you glanced out the window. The town grew smaller, the lights fading into the distance until there was nothing but the dark, open night stretching out ahead of you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe.

Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. His warmth bled into you, steady and unyielding, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

“You alright?” Logan asked quietly, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

You nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah. I am.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly ease as you settled against him. His arm was solid and steady around you, a quiet strength that made you feel secure. The train rocked beneath you, the rhythmic clattering on the tracks filling the silence. You closed your eyes, letting the sound and the warmth of Logan's presence wash over you.

For the first time in what felt like years, you could relax—if only for a little while.

"You got enough for a few days?" Logan asked, his voice gruff but soft, as if he was trying not to push too much too soon.

You nodded, pulling your small bag closer to you. "Yeah. Just the basics."

Logan gave a small grunt of approval. "We'll stop by a place I know, out of the way. You’ll be safe there."

"Safe..." The word hung in the air between you, heavier than you meant it to be. It felt like a luxury you hadn't been allowed for a long time, and the thought of it made your chest tighten.

Logan’s thumb stroked absently along your arm, a small gesture that grounded you. He didn’t press you for more, didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer. That was the thing about Logan—he didn’t pry, didn’t demand anything from you. He just was. It was one of the reasons you felt drawn to him, why you kept finding yourself in his orbit.

But there was still so much you didn’t know about him. He’d never mentioned a family, never talked about where he’d come from or how he ended up here. There was a deep well of mystery around Logan, and sometimes you could feel it, the weight of something unspoken between the two of you. But you didn’t push him for answers either.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against his shoulder, the scent of cigar smoke and pine surrounding you. “Where are we going?”

"There's a place, up in the hills," Logan said quietly. "A cabin. No one's been there in a while. We'll be alone."

Alone. Just the two of you. The thought sent a ripple of excitement and fear through you, your heart skipping a beat. The idea of leaving everything behind—even if just for a few days—felt like a risk. But wasn’t that what you wanted? A break from George, from the town, from the suffocating weight of a life you never really chose.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. “About… us?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your decision settle in your chest. It wasn’t just about getting away anymore. It was about choosing him, even if it was only for a little while. A choice that could never be undone.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, lifting your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, dark and searching, like he was looking for any hint of doubt.

Logan’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he gave a slow nod. “Alright.”

The train continued its steady rhythm, carrying you further away from the life you knew and into something unknown. You couldn’t think about what would come after—about George, about the retreat, about the women who would notice your absence. All you could think about was Logan, and the way his hand held yours, like he didn’t want to let go.

---

The cabin was quiet, nestled deep in the woods where no one could find you. Logan hadn’t been lying when he said it was out of the way. You hadn’t passed another soul on the journey here, and the solitude felt like a blanket wrapping around you, warm and comforting.

Logan pushed the door open, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. The inside was simple—rough wooden furniture, a stone fireplace, and a bed in the corner, covered in a faded quilt. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe, isolated from the rest of the world.

“You can get some rest,” Logan said, setting your bag down near the bed. “Fireplace works, and there’s wood out back if it gets cold.”

You nodded, glancing around the room before your eyes settled on him. “Thank you.”

Logan’s gaze flickered, something unreadable passing across his face before he nodded. “Don’t gotta thank me.”

There was a silence between you, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. You wanted to ask him more—about why he was helping you, about what he really wanted from all this—but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you stepped closer, your hand brushing against his arm.

“Logan…” you started, unsure of where you were going with it.

He turned to face you fully, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, then closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“I just… I needed to be with you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You got me,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere. “For as long as you need.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t soft or tentative like you thought it might be—it was hungry, desperate, like you’d been holding back for too long.

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and the world outside the cabin seemed to disappear. There was no George, no town, no expectations. Just you and Logan, and the fire that burned between you.

---

Later, as the fire crackled in the hearth and the two of you lay tangled in each other’s arms, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with everything that had happened.

Logan’s hand trailed idly along your arm, his fingers brushing over the faint bruises you’d tried so hard to hide. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the tension in him, the quiet anger simmering beneath the surface.

“I’ll kill him,” Logan muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “If he ever touches you again.”

You tensed, your breath catching in your throat. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he growled, his grip on you tightening slightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You turned to face him, your hand resting on his chest. “It’s not that simple…”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something raw and painful in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite understand. But then he shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I just don’t wanna lose you. Not again.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could ask what he meant, Logan leaned down and kissed you again, silencing your questions.

The kiss was rough, full of unspoken things—promises, regrets, desires that neither of you could fully articulate. His lips moved against yours like they were trying to drown out the past, to focus only on the here and now. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers digging into his skin, wanting to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

For now, you didn’t want to think about George. You didn’t want to think about the bruises you were hiding, the lies you had to keep telling to survive. You wanted to focus on Logan—the way his body pressed against yours, the warmth of his breath, the way he made you feel alive.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing heavy, Logan stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed your cheek, and for a moment, the roughness of him softened, like he was letting his guard down.

"You should rest," he murmured, his voice low, but there was a strain in it, like he was trying to hold something back.

You shook your head slightly. "I don’t want to rest. I want to stay here with you."

Logan’s eyes searched yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He lifted his hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your skin for just a second longer than necessary.

“You know this can’t last,” he said quietly, the weight of the truth settling between you both.

You nodded, the ache in your chest growing. “I know.”

You had always known it couldn’t last. This was just a moment stolen from the real world—a fantasy that couldn’t survive the harshness of the life waiting for you back home. But that didn’t stop you from wanting it. It didn’t stop you from wanting him.

Logan’s hand found yours again, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that felt almost protective. He hadn’t let go since you’d arrived at the cabin, as if he feared you might slip away if he did.

“I wish it could be different,” you whispered, staring down at your intertwined hands.

Logan was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Me too.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth, but there was still a chill in the air, an unspoken tension lingering between the two of you. You could feel it in the way Logan’s thumb stroked absentmindedly across your knuckles, like he was trying to ground himself—trying to ground you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice softer now. “Helping me, I mean.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly. When he looked back at you, his eyes were hard to read. “Because you deserve better than him.”

It wasn’t a full answer, but it was the closest he’d come to telling you why. You weren’t sure if he was holding something back or if he just didn’t know how to say it. Logan wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and you’d never pushed him for more than he was willing to give.

You nodded, accepting his answer for now. “Thank you.”

Logan’s eyes softened at your words, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t gotta thank me, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself lean into him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to just be. No pretending, no worrying about what came next. Just this—just him.

---

The morning light filtered through the small windows of the cabin, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and the comforting warmth of Logan’s body beside you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to stay like this, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful.

Logan stirred beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist as he woke. His eyes flickered open, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

You smiled, the corners of your lips tugging up. “Morning.”

Logan gave a quiet grunt in response, shifting slightly beneath you. His hand was still draped over your waist, his fingers rough but warm against your skin. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable in the soft morning light, like he was trying to figure out if this moment was real.

“You sleep alright?” he asked, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

You nodded, brushing your fingers absently along his collarbone. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Logan gave a small hum, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that—your body curled into his, the outside world forgotten.

It felt fragile, like if you moved too quickly or said the wrong thing, it might all shatter.

“Gotta admit,” you murmured, “it feels strange waking up like this.”

“Yeah?” Logan's lips twitched, just barely. “Strange good, or strange bad?”

A soft laugh slipped out of you. “Good,” you whispered. “Strange in a good way.”

He held your gaze, something flickering in his eyes—something like relief. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the same quiet intensity you’d come to expect from him. Logan wasn’t a man who wasted words, and that suited you just fine.

The clock on the mantle ticked steadily, marking the minutes passing in this stolen moment. You let out a soft breath and rested your chin on his chest, tracing invisible patterns on his skin with your fingertip.

“What time do you think it is?” you asked, though you didn’t really care about the answer.

Logan turned his head slightly toward the window, where the early morning sun was just beginning to peek through the trees. “Still early.”

“Good.” You nestled closer, unwilling to let the morning slip away just yet.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just ran his hand up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes. The motion was soothing—so different from anything you’d known in your marriage. With George, everything felt like an obligation, a duty. With Logan... it felt like choice.

Logan’s breath stirred your hair as he spoke again, his voice low. “You thinkin' about goin' back?”

The question hit you like a stone dropped into still water, the ripples spreading out in every direction.

You hesitated, your fingers stilling against his chest. “I don’t know.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could feel the tension creep back into him. “If you don’t want to... you don’t gotta.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his hand still resting against your back, though his grip tightened slightly. “It could be.”

You shook your head. “He’s my husband, Logan.”

Logan exhaled hard through his nose, and you felt the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “That don’t mean you owe him anything.”

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, and it tugged at something deep inside you—something that made you want to stay, to never go back to the life you’d left behind.

But it wasn’t that easy. It never was.

“I have to,” you whispered. “At least for now.”

Logan was silent for a long time, his hand resting heavily on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, almost reluctant. “You know where to find me if things get bad.”

It wasn’t a promise, not exactly—but it felt like one.

“I know,” you murmured, brushing a soft kiss against his shoulder.

Logan’s hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “You got somethin’ to say, darlin’, just say it.”

You closed your eyes, trying to find the words. “I just... I don’t want this to end.”

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. Logan’s grip on you tightened, his expression darkening.

“It won’t,” he said quietly, and there was a fierceness in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

You pressed your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Promise?”

Logan’s breath was warm against your skin. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Y/N. Not this time.”

Something about the way he said it—like there was more weight behind those words than you could fully understand—made your chest ache. But you didn’t push for more.

Instead, you kissed him.

It was slow this time, tender in a way that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. Logan kissed you back just as softly, his hands cradling you like you were something precious.

And for a little while longer, you let yourself believe in the possibility of happiness.

---

The days you spent at the cabin away from everything with Logan were the closest you think you’d ever get to heaven.

But of course, it had to come to an end. Logan walked you back to your house, keeping to the shadows where the trees thickened along the road. Luckily, George wasn’t home yet, but you knew he’d be back soon. On Sundays, the men from the mines always went to the bar after church, spending what little money they had on whiskey before heading home for dinner.

Logan stopped a few steps short of the porch, his expression unreadable. His heavy boots crunched against the dirt, and he tilted his head, listening for signs of anyone nearby. It was quiet—just the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and the distant caw of a crow.

“Looks clear,” he muttered, glancing toward the road. Then his eyes were back on you—sharp, like he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.

You stood there, one hand gripping the hem of your plain cotton dress, the other clutching the shawl draped over your shoulders. It was getting colder, October creeping in around the edges.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest. “You sure you’re good?” His voice was low, rough as gravel.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered, but the words felt thin, like paper stretched too tight.

His eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the bruise near your jaw that hadn’t quite faded. You saw it—the way his knuckles twitched like he wanted to tear something apart, or maybe someone. But Logan knew better than to push this conversation again. You’d had it more times than either of you cared to count.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, quieter this time, but no less serious. “If things get—”

“I know.” You cut him off gently, giving a small nod. “I know where to find you.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. The porch steps creaked under your weight as you climbed them slowly, heart heavy in your chest. You reached for the door, but before your fingers touched the worn wood, you felt his hand wrap gently around your wrist.

You turned, meeting his gaze.

“You ain’t alone in this,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. It was the kind of touch that made your knees weak—steady, solid, full of unspoken promises.

“I know,” you whispered, holding his gaze a second longer than you should have. Then you pulled your hand free, feeling the cold settle in the space where his warmth had been.

The door clicked quietly behind you, sealing you inside.

---

It was well into the afternoon by the time George came home. You’d set the table with what little you had—a pot of boiled potatoes, bread that was more crust than loaf, and a pan of cold pork you’d managed to stretch out since Friday.

George slammed the door behind him, the stench of sweat and beer clinging to his clothes. He tossed his flat cap onto the chair and grunted as he sat down heavily at the table.

“Where’s the roast?” he asked, eyeing the measly spread with disapproval.

“There wasn’t any.” You kept your voice even, steady, though your hands trembled slightly as you placed the food in front of him.

George gave you a hard look, his lip curling in disgust. “Useless,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the sharp retort that burned on your tongue. Fighting him would only make it worse.

He ate in silence, the scrape of his knife against the plate the only sound in the small kitchen. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed his chair back with a loud scrape.

“Goin’ to bed,” he grumbled, already halfway out of the room before you could respond.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you stayed still, standing in the middle of the kitchen long after the sound of his boots thudding down the hallway faded.

It was always like this. A dull, suffocating ache—day after day, night after night. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep pretending.

---

It was well past midnight when you slipped out the back door. The cold bit at your skin, and you pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you made your way down the dirt path leading into the woods. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the clearing where Logan was waiting, his broad frame leaning against a tree trunk.

He looked up as you approached, his keen eyes catching the moonlight.

“Figured you’d come.” There was no smugness in his tone—just quiet understanding, like he’d known all along that you wouldn’t be able to stay away.

You stopped a few feet from him, your breath clouding in the crisp night air. “I couldn’t do it,” you admitted, your voice small.

Logan pushed off the tree and closed the distance between you in two strides. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, firm and grounding. “You ain’t gotta explain.”

You looked up at him, heart aching with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breath, the quiet strength in the way he held you—like he’d fight the whole world just to keep you safe.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan’s grip tightened. “I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The night stretched on around you, silent and still, as Logan’s hands roamed up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes.

“You stayin’ tonight?” he asked quietly, his breath warm against your hair.

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Just tonight.”

Logan didn’t argue. He never did.

He took your hand, lacing his rough fingers through yours, and led you deeper into the woods—away from the house, away from the life you were supposed to live.

And for one stolen night, you let yourself believe it was enough.

---

When you got home later that night, around 3 in the morning, everything looked normal. The lights in the house were all off, and it was quiet.

You hung your shawl on the hook by the door when you heard the clink of a bottle. Your heart sank. George was awake.

The small kitchen was dim, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fire. George sat slouched at the table, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in his hand. His eyes were dark, glazed over with drunken fury. You could tell by the set of his jaw, by the way his knuckles gripped the bottle too tight, that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Where’ve you been?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, his steps heavy as he moved toward you.

“I went to clear my head,” you said softly, keeping your voice calm, steady, though your heart pounded in your chest. “The air helps me sleep.”

George narrowed his eyes. “That so? 'Cause Johnny’s wife told me somethin' different. Said she didn’t see you at the church retreat.”

You froze. You had been at the retreat—briefly—but it was a cover for your meeting with Logan, and Johnny’s wife must’ve been one of the few people you didn’t see. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

“I was there,” you managed, though you knew it wouldn’t matter.

George took another step toward you, his voice rising. “Don’t lie to me!” His breath stank of alcohol as he spat the words at you, the anger radiating off him like heat. “What were you really doin’, Y/N? Who were you with?”

Your stomach twisted in fear as his hand shot out, grabbing your arm hard enough to make you wince. “George, please—” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know you weren’t there. Where the hell were you?” He shook you, his grip tightening painfully around your arm.

You winced, biting back a cry. “I told you, I was there.”

But George wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, and a dangerous look settled across his face. “You been sneakin’ around on me, haven’t you?” His voice was low, deadly now. He released your arm with a shove, sending you stumbling back a step. “You think I’m stupid?”

“George, I’m not sneaking around,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm even though your pulse was racing. “I just needed some air. I—”

His hand moved faster than you expected, backhanding you hard across the face. Pain exploded through your cheek, and you stumbled, clutching the side of your face as tears sprang to your eyes.

“You think I don’t know?” George hissed, his face twisted with fury. “You’ve been leavin’ me here, goin’ off, God knows where. You ain’t foolin’ me, Y/N.”

You took a shaky breath, tasting blood where your teeth had cut your lip. “George, please—”

But he was already moving, crossing the small kitchen in two heavy steps. You saw the glint of metal before he pulled the shotgun from the corner near the door. Panic seized you.

“George, no—” Your voice broke as you held up your hands, trying to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The small kitchen felt like a cage, the walls closing in around you.

George leveled the shotgun at you, his hands shaking slightly but his eyes wild with rage. “You think you can just leave? You think you can just run off whenever you please?”

You felt like you were drowning, your heart pounding so hard in your chest it hurt. “I wasn’t leaving,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t—George, please, put the gun down.”

“Shut up!” he snarled, taking a step toward you. “You’re lyin’! You’ve always been lyin’, and I’m done with it.”

You were shaking, trying to think of something, anything that would get through to him. “I’m your wife,” you said quietly, desperately. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I—”

But the words didn’t matter. Nothing you said would stop this. You could see it in his eyes—the cold, determined look of a man who had already made up his mind.

For a moment, everything felt frozen. The ticking of the old clock on the wall, the crackling of the dying fire—it all seemed too loud, too slow. George’s finger twitched on the trigger.

And then, in an instant, the world shattered.

The shotgun blast was deafening, the sound tearing through the small kitchen like thunder. You didn’t even feel the impact at first—just a sharp, searing pain that spread through your chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

You stumbled, your legs giving out beneath you as you hit the floor hard, the cold tiles pressing against your cheek. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, blood pooling around you.

The room swam, your vision dimming as you tried to focus, but all you could see was the dark shape of George standing over you, the shotgun still smoking in his hands.

---

Logan heard the shot before he smelled the blood.

His body reacted instinctively, his enhanced senses kicking into overdrive. He’d been lying awake, his thoughts consumed by you, when the sound echoed through the still night. There was no mistaking it.

His heart lurched in his chest, and without thinking, Logan bolted to his feet, running toward your house, his mind racing with fear. He knew. He knew it was you.

The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air as he neared the house. Logan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the door slightly ajar, the soft light spilling out into the dark.

He pushed the door open, his claws already unsheathed.

The sight that greeted him froze him in place.

You were lying on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around you, your breaths coming in shallow, painful gasps. And standing over you, his face twisted with something like confusion, was George.

Logan’s vision blurred with red.

He didn’t think—he just moved. In a blur, he was on George, his claws slashing through the air. There was a sickening crunch as the bone tore through flesh and bone, and then George was on the ground, lifeless.

Logan didn’t care. His only focus was you.

He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your body, desperate to stop the bleeding, but there was too much. The wound was too deep. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough, desperate. “Stay with me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, but it was hard to focus. Everything felt distant, like you were floating just out of reach of the world. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Blood bubbled at your lips.

Logan’s face hovered above yours, his expression shattered. “Please, darlin’, hold on. Just hold on.”

You coughed, the pain in your chest unbearable, and for a brief moment, your eyes met his. The world was fading fast now, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“Logan...” you managed, your voice barely a whisper.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen. “I’m here,” he choked out. “I’m here.”

You smiled weakly, even as the darkness closed in around you. “I… I love you.”

Logan’s breath hitched, his grip on you tightening like he could somehow hold you to this world. But you knew, just as he did, that this was the end.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Your chest ached, not just from the pain but from the weight of those words—the weight of knowing this was goodbye.

And then, everything went still.

You felt Logan’s hand in yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even as the world around you faded into darkness.

You weren’t afraid. Not anymore.

You were free.

Logan knelt there, holding you long after the last breath left your body, his heart breaking all over again.

in this chapter logan is 68 years old and reader is around 21-24 years old.

just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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fictionismyreality3 · 2 days ago

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Penpals with the 141

Warnings: stalkerish behaviour at the end teehee 🤭

Notes: if only I had a hot military man or men to send letters to 🤷🏻‍♀️😩

It started out as just another way to keep the boredom away. Sending care packages to military members was also a plus. You'd be staying busy and doing a good deed at the same time. You found some trustworthy-enough organization, signed up, and sent out your first letter along with a few goodies like choclates and warm socks.

The 141 had never really thought much about getting care packages from civilians. In their eyes it was just a good way to get the things they missed out on while on deployment. Most of the letters got tossed as soon as they opened the box.

That was until they got yours.

The stupid little smiley face drawn on the cardboard shouldn’t have stopped Simon in his tracks, but he found himself staring down at the doodle.

"L.T? Y'been standin' there fer a good 15 minutes." Soap remarked.

"S'that your favourite candy, right?"

Soap was swayed by the chocolate oranges, finding himself reading your letter as he scarfed down each wedge. The curly handwriting, the crossed out and rewritten words had him showing the letter to Gaz, and then Price. Soon you found yourself in an almost penpal situation. Over the exchange of more and more letters, you were able to dicern the personalities of each man who was writing to you.

There was Soap, who wrote in barely legible chicken scratch, often skipping words or even entire sentences, like he was thinking too fast for his hand to keep up. Always calling you 'bonnie' or 'lass'.

Gaz, who wrote much more formally. His hand writing was the best to read, neatly printed on the lines of the paper. You got the sense that he sat down and put his whole attention into writing back to you.

Ghost, who's name you were yet to learn, tacked on his responses at the end of the paper. It was rare to get more than a few sentances from him, and even rarer for them to be anything but small talk. Slowly, he began to open up, asking you how you were or if your boss had resolved that HR issue yet. How did he know that?

Price, who'd quickly insisted on you calling him John— makes me feel old, luv— was the one who you seemed the most interested in your life. You chalked it up to him wanting to have something to think about other than his life threatening job.

Questions about your living situation, your job, your hobbies, it all seemed like small talk. Easy enough to look over. And then came the questions about your bills. Does your job pay enough? When's the last time you've been on vacation? What does your ideal living situation look like? Are you in a relationship?

It wasn't just John who was asking. So we’re Gaz, Johnny, and even Ghost began to inquire about more personal details. Every time you got a letter, it was almost a pavlovian response for your cheeks to blush. You looked forwards to the letters from your far away military men, and they even sent you gifts!

A watch, just like the one on your pinterest, wrapped up in a pretty pink bow. They added on such a sweet note too.

"Synced up to our watches." Ghost.

"Thought you needed a little treat." Gaz

"Here you go, bonnie! Now you can know when we're awake!" Soap.

"Let me know if you need it tightened, sweetheart." John.

They didn't feel the need to tell you about the favour they called in with Laswell to get the micro-tracker added, or about the camera and microphone they planted in the watch face. You looked so pretty with it on anyways, they'd need to make sure nobody stared too long.

#simon riley x reader #gaz x reader #captain john price x reader #soap x reader #poly!141 x reader #poly!141 #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #kyle gaz x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish x female reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader

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spiicii · 3 days ago

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the og bloodline / bloodline property (part one)

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa x fem!reader word count → 4k summary → you belong to the bloodline, in every sense of the word. and your job is to serve. tags → multiple partners, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, hair-pulling, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive behavior, hickies, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, creampie, begging, light choking, crying, overstimulation

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Jey groaned in your ear, his hands braced on either side of your head as he continued to thrust into you. You opened your legs wider to provide more access, allowing him to grind deeper, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix.

Jey always started with you first. He was so good at getting you open and relaxed, so much sweeter in comparison to his brothers. He was always gentle, pressing chaste kissing against your cheek as he made sure you felt good. With Jey, it wasn’t just sex. He wanted to make you happy. Wanted you to enjoy it.

“You gon’ hurry the fuck up or what?” You heard Jimmy snap, always impatient.

Jey threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Chill out, uce. We ain’t in a rush.”

Jimmy let out a huff, pacing the length of the room in frustration. “You takin’ too fuckin’ long. She needs a real man to show her what’s up.”

Jey curled his lip, a scathing remark on his tongue, before Roman’s booming voice interrupted them. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

You couldn’t see him, not as Jey kept you caged between his arms, impaled on his cock, but Roman's next words left no room for argument. “Enough with the bickering."

The twins obeyed, though you could still see the annoyance on Jey’s face as he looked back down at you.

“Just ignore him, babygirl,” he whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. “You know I ain’t gon’ leave you hangin’. You know I always give you whatchu want.”

He always did.

You felt his hand reach down between the two of you, his long fingers finding that small, sensitive bud with ease. You felt sparks shoot down your spine at his touch, your legs falling open further just so you could feel more.

He chuckled against your skin, picking up the pace of both his hips and his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

He leaned up and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft, his kiss gentle as he continued to fuck into you, his fingers playing so perfectly with your clit that you found yourself writhing against him.

You threw your head back and searched for Roman, your mouth open as soft moans fell from your lips.

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, your thighs beginning to shake. “Please, can I come?”

The Tribal Chief was the only one who could grant you permission and you were pleased when you heard him off to the side, out of your line of vision, say, “You can come, pretty girl.”

The orgasm was perfect. It always was with Jey. Pleasure unfurled from your core as you sank deeper into the mattress, your muscles relaxing as the tension released. Jey wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Gonna fill you up, babygirl,” he gasped in your ear and that was the only warning you got before you felt him paint your walls white, warmth spreading inside of you at the feeling. He let out a contented sigh, continuing to press sweet kisses into your skin.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing another kiss against your lips. You offered him a lazy smile, your eyes still glazed over from the pleasure he’d given you.

“Alright, alright, come on, uce. Move it.” Jimmy was already at your side, shoving at Jey in an effort to get him off of you.

Jey scowled, but he slowly pulled out of you, your body shivering from the feeling of emptiness.

“Will you chill out for two fucking seconds? Jesus, you act like you ain’t ever gon’ get a turn.”

“I been waitin’ all day. And I ain’t got time to sit here while you doin’…whatever that was.”

“Man, if you don’t-”

“Enough.” Roman’s voice quickly shut them up. He was used to this. The twins almost always bickered when they fucked you together. It was just their way. They were too competitive. And a little too possessive for someone they were meant to share.

Jey threw you a cheeky wink before finally climbing off of you, Jimmy already tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling you up to meet him.

“Been waitin’ to fuck this pretty pussy all day, little girl,” he growled, quickly hauling you to your feet. Jey preferred to fuck you in missionary, his face close to yours so he could kiss you and watch your eyes cross in pleasure. Jimmy, on the other hand, almost always fucked you from behind, holding you out on display for the entire world to see. He enjoyed grabbing you by the hair, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you from the back.

As he manhandled you into position, you met Roman’s gaze. He was sitting in the chair near the door, watching you with hooded eyes as Jimmy shoved you forward onto the bed, his hands gripping your hips brutally as he lined up behind you.

The Tribal Chief was generous and usually let his cousins go first on nights like this. He wasn’t hurried, knowing that you’d be begging for his cock by the end of it anyways. You may be Bloodline property, but Roman was the chief. You belonged to him.

Jimmy pushed into you, his cock thicker than Jey’s, causing your back to arch at the feeling. He let out a chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “So fucking tight,” he hissed, beginning to pump in and out of you. “You sure you fucked her, Jey?”

“Fuck off, man.”

You glanced over and saw that Jey was standing near Solo, both of them watching as Jimmy pounded into you from behind. Solo was always difficult to read, his eyes dark as he stared at you. Had it been a few months ago, you wouldn’t have known what he was thinking. Now you knew that the distinctive twinkle in his eye was lust, the barest, imperceptible tick of a jaw the only sign of his impatience.

He’d have a turn after Jimmy. That was how things usually went. If the Bloodline was anything, it was traditional. All four men were creatures of habit, which is perhaps why it hadn’t taken long for you to learn their routine, easily falling into their lifestyle. It had been difficult at first, managing all of their varying personalities, their different schedules, but you had learned.

Now as Jimmy continued to drill into you from the back, the tug on your hair bordering on painful, you were reminded of the very first lesson you had learned with them: you belonged to the Bloodline, in every sense of the word. They had claimed you. Owned you. Body and soul.

Jimmy shifted the angle of his hips, and you felt stars explode across your vision as he hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, your knees almost buckling from how good it felt.

Jimmy pulled tighter on your hair and your mouth fell open, soft moans spilling from your parted lips. You heard Jimmy chuckle, his other hand gripping your hip so hard you knew it would bruise.

“What a good slut,” he snarled, his pace relentless as he bullied you towards your next orgasm. “You gonna come on this dick?”

You tried to nod but his grip on your hair made it impossible. Jimmy growled, smacking your ass for good measure as he kept up the brutal pace. The roughness of his thrusts combined with his incessant abuse against your g-spot had you spiraling towards orgasm. Again.

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, meeting the Tribal Chief’s gaze as Jimmy pulled on your hair so hard again tears sprung into your eyes. “Please, can I come?”

Roman’s eyes were dark, his face unreadable as he replied. “Come again, sweetheart.”

You felt the tension inside you snap, Jimmy wringing the orgasm from your body with each sharp thrust of his hips. Your walls contracted around him, causing him to groan.

“That’s right, little girl. Imma finish right here inside you. Right where I belong. Fuck!”

Jimmy yanked at your hair so hard that you were forced to stand, his hands now wrapping around your neck as he pulled you back against his chest. His grip tightened and you felt him release inside you, a new warmth spreading between your legs as he finished.

The world was still for a moment, your ears ringing like a jet had just flown by, until Jimmy finally relaxed, slowly loosening his fingers from the tight grip he’d kept on your neck.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He slowly pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling some of his come leak out and trickle down your leg. Jimmy chuckled, pressing another kiss into your hair. This was the only time he was sweet like his twin, the post-orgasmic bliss making him tender and soft. You melted in his arms, allowing him to lay you softly back on the bed. He gently pushed you back against a pillow, his hands warm against your heated skin. “You always so good for me, pretty girl.”

You leaned into his touch and Jimmy smiled, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. He soon moved away, another hand now on your face, this one much bigger.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned across your neck. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?”

You let out a low whine, already reaching out for him, despite the gooey feeling in your arms. You heard Roman let out a low chuckle, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You went easily, allowing his strong arms to wrap around you and bring you closer, your legs falling on either side of his hips to straddle him.

You realized now that things were not following their usual order. Usually, it was Solo who went next, leaving hickies and marks across your neck and chest as he fucked into you. You turned around instinctively to look for him, your brow furrowed in worry.

“Aw, you worried about Solo, babygirl?” Roman’s tone was patronizing, roughly grabbing your chin to look back at him. “Don’t want him to feel left out?”

You whimpered as he kept a tight grip on your chin, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looked up at you. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, releasing your chin to cup your cheek. “Solo will get his turn. I just couldn’t wait any longer. You looked too perfect tonight. I just couldn’t help myself…”

He ran his hands across your body, admiring the way you reacted to his touch, your hips already rolling forward to meet the erection that was nudging against your inner thigh. He allowed you to take what you wanted, sinking onto his cock with ease, your toes curling at the full feeling inside of you.

“Good girl,” he praised, running his hands along your sides, his face now close to yours as he pressed sweet kisses against your jaw. “You like sitting in Daddy’s lap?”

You nodded, reaching out to touch the beautifully sculpted muscles of his chest as you began to move your hips, never taking your eyes off his.

The Tribal Chief was smirking at you, his large hands encircling your torso. “Such an eager slut, aren’t you, sweetheart? Already been fucked twice and you still want more?”

You rolled your hips again in answer to his question, the feeling of him inside you erasing all thoughts from your brain, bliss overtaking your body. He always made you feel like this, his cock so thick and long that it completely filled you up, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust, no matter the angle. You could have sworn your insides had morphed to fit him perfectly and he seemed to agree.

“Like you were made for me, baby. Such a good girl for your Tribal Chief.”

Your eyes fluttered at his praise, rolling your head back as he pressed wet kisses to your exposed neck, teeth nipping at the pulse point beneath your jaw. You felt yourself clench around him and he laughed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as you began to grind on top of him.

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “Gonna take what you want from me?”

“Yes, please,” you moaned, grinding further down so your clit could make contact with his skin. “Please, Daddy. I want you so bad.”

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the large expanse of his chest. “‘Atta girl,” he praised, allowing you to control the pace. “Take what you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

Yours. Yours. Yours.

You lifted your hips and sank down again, gratified to hear the Tribal Chief make a pleased sound beneath you. You don’t often get him to ride him like this. He’s normally grabbing you and taking what he wants, almost always manhandling you to show off his incredible strength. Seeing him laid beneath you, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he watched you bounce up and down was rare. And you wanted to enjoy it.

You planted your hands against his tattooed chest, attempting to gain more leverage to lift yourself higher, moaning at the feeling of his dick splitting you open as you straddled him. You picked up the pace, the feeling of him inside you sending tendrils of pleasure shooting across your body.

“That’s it,” Roman encouraged, using his free hand to keep you steady above him, his touch keeping you grounded. “Don’t hurt yourself now. I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl.”

You obeyed, slowing your movements, but only a little. You rocked up and down, throwing your head back in pleasure. He made you feel so good. You weren’t sure how it was possible to feel this good, your skin tingling all over, soft pants falling from your open mouth as you rode him.

“Greedy thing, ain’t she, uce?” You heard Jimmy’s voice somewhere behind you, but you could hardly focus on it, tension beginning to coil inside you for a third time as you took what the Tribal Chief offered you.

Roman chuckled at his words, watching you with amusement as you bounced on his dick in desperation, chasing your own pleasure.

“So greedy she needs four men to take care of her, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You nodded at his words though you were having difficulty hearing him, your own heartbeat in your ears.

Roman growled and pulled you closer, no longer lounging against the headboard as he wrapped his arms around you. This angle pushed him deeper inside and you gasped, stars exploding across your vision.

He began moving his own hips, thrusting up into you with easy strength, one of his hands tangling in your hair. He was impossibly deep now, and you felt your pussy spasm at the feeling.

“I know I let you fuck my cousins,” he growled in your ear, your pussy clamping down on him as he thrust into you harder. “But who do you really belong to? Who owns you, pretty girl?”

You were barely moving on your own now, Roman now fully taking control and shoving his cock deeper and deeper into you until you felt like you might pass out. Still, you somehow found the words he wanted to hear. “You, Daddy. I belong to you.”

The grip on your hair tightened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. And so were you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I come, Daddy? Please?”

“Come, pretty girl. Come on your Daddy’s dick.”

This orgasm was brutal, your thighs shaking in pleasure beneath Roman’s large hands. You felt yourself gush around his massive length, triggering his own finish. You heard him let out a groan, his grip on you tightening as he came.

He pumped a few more times into you, just to ensure that you took every last drop of his seed, before finally holding you still, his breath warm against your neck.

“Good girl,” he praised, releasing the grip on your hair and allowing your head to fall against his shoulder. “Such a good slut. You did so well.”

Your limbs felt heavy, your body now sensitive after three orgasms so close together. You shivered as Roman pulled out of you, more come dribbling out of your leaking cunt onto the bed below. Your breath was shaky, your muscles trembling from exertion.

“Come get her, Solo. She’s ready for you.”

You could barely register the Tribal Chief’s words, suddenly feeling your body being lifted off of him and into someone else’s arms. Solo’s arms. You immediately relaxed, nuzzling against his neck, body limp as he carried you.

He set you down gently against the mattress, propping you up against a pillow before climbing on top of you without much preamble. You opened your eyes to look up at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you met his intense gaze. His dark eyes were fiery, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you. His gold chain dangled in front you, glinting in the bedroom light.

“Solo,” you breathed, his name easy on your lips. He hardly ever spoke to you, but you had learned that he appreciated it when you spoke to him, even if he didn’t always show it. You reached up and placed a hand against his cheek, offering him a smile.

“She looks so fucked out, uce,” you heard one of the twins say. “Think you can get her to come again? She might be done.”

Solo’s eyes narrowed, the only sign that he was annoyed at his brother’s words. You knew that he didn’t mind fucking you like this, your body soft and pliable beneath his large hands, so easy for him to manhandle into any position he wants.

When he pressed his thick cock into you, you felt your eyes roll back into your head, the feeling bordering the fine line between pain and pleasure.

He was thicker than all of them and you usually had to take at least one of his brothers first just to prepare yourself. Even now you’d taken three dicks, and you still weren’t prepared for the burn as he stretched you out, small puffs of air escaping from your parted lips.

Solo let out a low groan as he gave you another inch, his mouth already latching onto your neck as he suckled a bruise against your skin. He loved marking you up, more possessive than either of his brothers. He wanted the whole world to know that you were his, more than happy to mottle your neck and chest with bruises. He finally bottomed out and you let out a whimper at the feeling, the burn at being stretched by his massive girth positively delicious. But he didn’t move. You met his gaze and saw that he was looking at you, almost expectantly. He wanted to hear it. Wanted to know that you needed him.

“Please, Solo,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I need it. I need you. Please.”

His eyes darkened and before you fully realized it, he was pulling out and ramming back in, the thrust sending tendrils of pleasure up your spine as his thick cock massaged your walls. You couldn’t help the embarrassing whine that escaped your throat, overstimulation prickling at your exhausted muscles.

Solo continued to grind into you, his lips attaching themselves to your neck again, another bruise blossoming beneath his mouth. Solo had always been good at keeping you right on the edge between pain and pleasure, whether it was his massive cock splitting you open or his lips suckling a bruise beneath your jaw. It always left you head spinning, the feeling so euphoric that you almost feel like you’re floating.

His teeth grazed the delicate skin against your windpipe, and you moaned again, wrapping your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you.

“Need you so bad, Solo,” you pleaded, looking back up at him in desperation. “Please, I can’t…I can’t-”

Another one of his thrusts had you whining, pleasure licking across your tired limbs like wildfire. Your nails dug into his shoulder as you pulled him close, the sound of his name leaving your lips spurring him on as he continued to drill into you.

Solo leaned down and you felt his lips ghost across the shell of your ear. “You want me, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice so low that only you could hear. You let out a gasp as he dragged across your g-spot, his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“I want you so bad,” you whimpered, pressing small kisses against his neck. “Please, I need you. Give it to me, please. Please…”

You couldn’t speak anymore. Not as his hips snapped against yours, tension growing in your abdomen at the feel of him inside you. He reached around and grabbed one of your thighs, pushing it forward to allow better access to your puffy cunt. A strangled moan escaped your lips, and you felt like he was splitting you in half, your g-spot so abused by now that you weren’t sure you could take it anymore.

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words on your lips, but you couldn’t. Your head felt empty, Solo’s cock pistoning in and out of you with such force that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk again for days.

“Daddy,” you managed to whisper, your eyes glazing over as Solo grunted, raising up your other leg to push you into a full mating press. A strangled scream ripped from your throat and tears sprung into your eyes. You were completely helpless beneath him now, pinned to the bed beneath his massive weight, his cock feeling like it was sawing you in half.

The tension inside you was coiling again, but you still couldn’t find the words to ask for permission, your head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. There was only one word you could think of.

“Daddy.”

You repeated his name like a mantra, your body no longer your own as Solo drilled into you, your legs next to your ears.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

You heard the Tribal Chief’s voice and almost wept at the sound.

“Daddy, please.” You still couldn’t find the words, your eyes unable to focus on anything except Solo’s dark eyes, dangerously close to the edge of your fourth orgasm.

“Use your words, princess. What do you need?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was soft, and you felt your entire body tense.

“I can’t…” You gasped, Solo’s face blurring as tears began to fall. “Please…I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s voice was firmer now, and you knew it would displease him if you came without permission. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

Solo’s hand found your clit and you screamed again, though this time you used your words. “Please, can I come? Please, please, please.”

“Come, slut.”

Your vision went white. The pleasure was so intense that your entire body shook, walls spasming helplessly around Solo’s massive cock. You wanted to move, but you were still pinned to the bed, your feet still by your ears as Solo held you down. You were vaguely aware of the sounds you were making, alternating between high-pitched whines and fucked-out whimpers. You might have been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Solo grunted in your ear, finally spilling into you as he chased his own pleasure, coating your insides with his seed.

You weren’t sure what happened after that. Your vision was blurry with tears, your throat hoarse from your screams. You felt Solo finally release you, leaning up and allowing your legs to fall back onto the bed. You felt his come trickle from your abused hole, all mixed together from the multiple loads you’d taken from his brothers and cousin.

You felt someone’s lip on your forehead, pressing a tender kiss to your fevered brow. “Such a good girl.” he murmured, his tone soft. “You serve my bloodline so well.”

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astralis-ortus · 2 days ago

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spoiled

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— it really is in the little things he does.

w.count → 0.5k genre → slice of life, fluff notes → chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as babe, teeny weenie kith a.n → been feeling sappy whenever i see chan, and what’s the best cure if not to write about it♡ ⋆ see masterlist

growing up, you never really thought much about relationships.

well, it's not like you had the breathing room to do so anyway—with your parents' strained relationship and the way education had taken over the role as your safe space, the thought about crushes, falling in love, and jumping from one relationship to another like people around your age had resembled more like some faint, annoying whispers from the nether world rather than something you needed to experience as a young adult. instead, your goal revolves simply around graduating, getting a good job, and sticking with that—nothing more, nothing less.

well, that's exactly what you've managed to do so far…

with some minor adjustments.

"babe, do you want—oh, you're about to shower?"

you stopped a few steps from the door of the bathroom, eyes finding your boyfriend's curious pair just beyond the bedroom door while your arms hugged the fresh pair of pyjamas and a fluffy towel chris had bought for you a few months prior, right before your first sleepover at his place.

it still feels wild to you, the way chris just popped into your life one day and somehow managed to stay. the fact that you let him? even wilder. never in a million years would you ever thought you'd walk into your first and somewhat of a serious relationship not long after landing your first actual job, fresh out of university.

"yeah," you nodded, repeatedly blinking your eyes out of habit, "do you need to go? i might take a while since i'm gonna wash my hair."

"no no, i'm good," he replied, no longer looking at you when he turned busy, fumbling away at the cabinet under his kitchen sink, "but wait, there's something i want—found it!"

the curiosity in your eyes turned into sparkles of surprise when you noticed the rather familiar bottle in chris' hand as he heads over in your direction, sweet pair of dimples decorating his proud, cheeky smile.

"i got that body wash you said you wanted to try," handing the green colored bottle, chris lightly scrunched his nose alongside the click of his tongue, "kinda unfortunate—i was going to surprise you with it, but you beat me to the shower."

it's at times like this when you feel like your life in the past year has merely been a series of lucid dreams—when he looked at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, when he treats you like you're his entire world and more, when chris went out of his way just to prove that he meant everything he whispered in your ears between the ungodly hours of the night as he held you close when nightmares crept its long and sharp nails around your neck.

chris' affection still feels like a fever dream, and you don't know if you deserve to be at the receiving end of it at all.

"you're seriously spoiling me way too much, christopher," you finally chirped a response, mirroring your boyfriend's nose scrunch whilst keeping your unspoken worries locked away, "but thank you. i promise i'll use it well."

"i know you will," the dimpled smile made its way back to your boyfriend's features, igniting the familiar fuzzy feeling in the depths of your chest, and its rumble only grew louder when chris leaned in, faint scent of vanilla greeted you as he stole a peck from your lips,

"you know that's why i love spoiling you, right?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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hannieehaee · 22 hours ago

Note

Idk if you're taking requests but I would give it a short and it would mean so much if you actually wrote smthg bout it.

An angsty fic/drabble where woozi and reader are in a long term established relationship and the reader gets their absolute dream job opportunity but it's far from Korea and she tells it to woozi but they get conflicted since woozi cannot transfer between his work and seventeen and reader does not want to give up this once in a life time opportunity. At the same time they are sceptical about a long distance relationship since reader had already been fed up of how less they get to see and stay with woozi with him travelling and working constantly.

You don't have to write it if it's too complex but I'd love to see cuz I really like the way you write!

content: idol!woozi x nonidol!reader, established relationship, light angst, fluff, long distance relationship, etc.

wc: 716

a/n: thank u so much!! im so sorry for how long i took to get this out!!

masterlist

it'd been a week since you told jihoon about your new work opportunity. a week since the air in your apartment became just a little bit colder and the future slightly more grim.

jihoon had been supportive immediately, congratulating you and insisting on you accepting the position. he'd been as supportive a boyfriend as he'd been in the past two years of your relationship. it filled you with warmth and hope for the future of your relationship.

it wasn't until you'd let him know of the location of said job that things became more sad than hopeful.

although he still maintained his supportiveness, there was now a clear air of worry in his voice any time it'd get brought up.

you'd tried to ignore it, pushing it aside until you found the courage in you to actually accept the position. it was your dream job. a once in a lifetime opportunity. except it was an entire country away from the love of your life. and you only had three more days to accept the offer letter they'd sent to you.

the thought of doing long distance would have been fine had you been anyone else. but you barely got to see your boyfriend as it was. living with him was really the only way for you to spend time together. his busy idol schedule had him going all over the world, and when he was at home he was usually ever at the company or in your shared apartment.

if you left, you'd give up on ever getting to see him.

"babe."

the voice took you away from your train of thought. the same train of thought distracting you for the past week.

you looked away from the tv that had been playing in front of you. you hadn't even been watching it, but the background noise helped.

jihoon was at the entrance of the living room, two mugs in hand as he walked over to you and took his usual seat, silently handing you your mug with a tight smile.

not even a single sip from your drink was taken before the subject filled the room once more.

"you need to take this job."

"jihoon ..."

"no, listen," he turned his body to face you, "you and i, we're a forever thing, okay? i don't care if we have to be away for a while. i'm already living my dream, it's unfair that you don't get to do the same," he argued with conviction in his eyes.

"but, jihoon ... it won't be like when you're touring. we'll never be in the same country at the same time, i-"

his hands went to take your mug, placing it on the coffee table before taking your hands into his own.

"i don't care!", his voice raised without meaning to, "so we'll have a year or two in which we can't be as close as we've always been, so what? it won't matter in the grand scheme of things. we'll be together for forty- no fifty years. a few years of uncertainty won't matter a few years from now. babe, please."

his voice pleaded at you.

he was afraid you'd end it all instead of at least trying.

what made it worse that he refused to consider a possibility in which you didn't go and follow your dream. it was a done deal to him. he loved you that much.

that was all you needed to make a decision.

"i'll take the job," you said decisively.

jihoon released a sigh of relief right away, hand squeezing your own in encouragement.

"i-i'll rent a place big enough for the two of us over there. i'll ask for a week off every six months. i'll have it written into my contract so i can go visit you. and- and we'll keep this place here for any time you have time off. we'll call every night, no matter what. even if it's just for two minutes, we'll- we'll make it work."

all you could do was smile at him.

how could you ever worry about change when he was willing to work so hard to move along with it all?

you kissed him then, shutting him up with no words.

and he understood, kissing you back with just as much unspoken love.

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foreingersgod · 2 days ago

Text

Kiss Me ? . CC

pairings: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin should be focusing on practice, but she finds it incredibly hard to take her focus off of you

“please baby can we just go home?” caitlin groaned from the gymnasium floor, the ball that was once in her hands now bouncing carelessly on the ground.

you rolled your eyes with a brief chuckle, moving your eyes from your phone to look at her pleading expression. you adjusted yourself in your seat as you watched her drag over to your spot on the sidelines.

caitlin had been in and out of the gym, going to practices and running drills nonstop recently, and it was starting to drive her crazy. she loved basketball and she felt more than comfortable when she was playing, but damn did she miss you even more. the longer she spent at the gym was more time spent away from you, and lately it was taking a toll on her. most days she just wanted to stay in bed with you and never leave. and even though you would absolutely love that, you’d feel guilty if you were the reason she wasn’t sticking to her schedule.

you tried to be a supportive and motivating girlfriend by doing everything you could. you'd do homework on the bleachers and come to practice with her to keep her company, packing her a small lunch and making sure her water bottle was filled. and, on days you couldn't attend, you'd write her a small note and put it in her duffle bag for a small pick-me-up.

but unlike you had hoped, your company had only made it more difficult for her to stay focused. caitlin found every excuse in the book to wander over in your direction. sometimes it was to tell you joke, other times she claimed she wanted to help you with homework, and most of the time it was just to touch you in some sort of way. kiss your cheek, rest her head on your shoulder, rub her hand along your thigh...any sort of touch, you name it and she'd abandon her drills just to do it.

"cait, we've only been here for like 20 minutes" you chuckled when she sat down in front of you, her head lolling back to rest in your lap "you need to practice"

"but i miss you" she whined with a pout "i'll practice tomorrow"

"yea you said that yesterday. and the day before that...and the day before that..." you teased as your hands instinctively came up to play with her hair, fingers toying with her head band and ponytail. she laughed at that, shaking her head although she knew it was true. you were her weak spot, that was clear "come on babe, just a little while longer and we can go home. what can i do to motivate you?"

"i dunno" she shrugged as she sat up, pulling up her socks and hoisting herself up. she pondered for a moment, eyes traveling across the room in deep thought before her face lit up excitedly "oh, i think i have an idea"

"hm?" you questioned, expecting her to ask you to run drills or pass her the balls to shoot.

"kiss me" she said, hands on her hips proudly, sly smirk tugging at her lips.

"kiss you?" your eyebrow quirked up, letting her know that you were beyond confused "how's that gonna get you to focus on practicing?"

"okay okay hear me out-" she defended, but you were still skeptical. hearing her out probably didn't entail anything good, you thought.

"alright, i'm listening" you egged her on "let's hear this idea of yours"

"so i'm thinking," the smile on her lips now even bigger "that every time i make a shot...you reward me by kissing me! it's a win-win, really, you know cause i get a kiss for doing a good job, and you get to kiss a basketball superstar"

that earned a dramatic eyeroll from you, although you couldn't suppress the lovesick grin that formed as well. she was quite creative, you knew, but you hadn't expected this sort of ploy from her. through an infectious fit of laughter, you saw her waiting for a genuine response with the repetitive tapping of her foot on the varnished floor. as corny as it was, you couldn't help but give into her plan.

"okay fine, you dork" you sighed playfully as you stood up, walking over to her "but only if you make it, no distractions"

"yes ma'am" she saluted, rushing over to her discarded ball to get started as quick as possible.

and so it started, a pattern consisting of deep kisses and effortless three pointers. you'd watch her take her position at the curved line, knees and elbows bending ever so slightly before she shot the ball straight through the net, she was flying through each shot with ease. then, after retrieving the ball, she'd jog over to you giddily, lips puckering as she waited for her promised kiss. and each time you'd smile as your arms looped around her neck and your lips pressed into hers. that feeling would never get old.

time seemed to fly by as you two continued your little routine, 20 minutes soon turned into 40 and then into over an hour. it felt as though you could have done this all day long, missing the feeling of her lips every time she ran back to the three-point line. and maybe you could have, but cailtin began to get tired, her shots getting sloppier with each passing minute. you knew that the both of you were ready to head home and get some much-needed rest.

caitlin slumped down into a seat, wiping her forehead with her exceptionally sweaty gatorade towel before pulling a spare hoodie over her head. meanwhile you helped her collect her things to make it a little easier for her. with a comforting hand on the small of her back, you guided her out of the gymnasium and made your seemingly long trek out to the car.

you got behind the wheel with an exhausted slump, caitlin already buckling herself up in the passenger's seat. you turned on the a.c. to a medium setting, just the way cailtin liked it, and turned the radio to her favorite station. she hummed, heart swelling as the fact that you knew her so well. the cold air emitting from the vents soothed her almost instantly, causing her to flutter eyes shut in content.

"babe?" you called out to an oddly quiet car, normally she was a chatter box after practice, never letting you get a moment of silence. you never complained, you loved everything she had to say "baby?"

still there was no response, only the soft buzz of a taylor swift song in the background. you shifted your eyes off the road for a quick second to look to your right to inspect the situation. you could have sworn your heart exploded in that moment, seeing her sleepy state in her seat. she had sunk deep into the leather fabric, one arm propped on the center console to hold up her head. her lips were parted ever so slightly as soft breathes escaped her, one of her hoodie strings caught between her teeth. she was completely knocked out. if your hands weren't steering, you would have taken a picture. she looked so soft and sweet, the perfect depiction of your girl.

in the public eye, she was most known to be strong and resilient no matter what was thrown at her. and it was more than true, caitlin was the toughest person you knew. but what most people didn't get to see, was this side of her, gentle caitlin who let her guard down. the caitlin who snores and drools when she sleeps, the cailtin that would turn down practice just to be with you.

the cailtin that can't help but smile when you reach over, eyes still closed as you run your thumb across her cheekbone, wanting the feeling of your touch to last forever.

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #wcbb x reader #wcbb #iowa wbb #wnba #wnba x reader #indiana fever #womens basketball #wlw #lesbian #wlw imagine #lesbian imagine #foreingersgod

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frou-frou-deserved-better · 3 days ago

Text

[Image ID: tweet from prance @bocxtop reading "regardless of the election's results it's obvious this country has gotten way more rightwing especially amongst men and i think a lot of that is what is fed to us online, we have to figure out a way to stop every dude under 35 from turning into crypto hitler" /end ID]

Teach men how hunting supports sustainability.

Show them community.

Give them compliments. Men and boys are told compliments are only for romantic interest, so they struggle to see how others value them.

Hug your brothers. Tell them you're glad they're here.

Celebrate their joy.

Commiserate about their boss and share how they can make their workplace better.

Show them how trans men celebrate and practice masculinity.

Teach them how partners should treat them.

Listen to their pain, and validate their feelings.

Educate them on sexual assault and violence; not as the assumed perpetrator, but as the possible survivor. Men are less likely to be victims than women, but that's still a massive amount of men.

Men and boys are hurting so much and have been taught by the right that the solution is anger. They've been taught by the left that there's no way back into community. Men are 4x more likely to die by suicide. That increases for men of color.

To be clear: this is not work for everyone to do. You are not responsible for giving support to people who wish to do you harm. You do not need to go to lunch with Nazis. You do not need to befriend a fascist.

But you do need to be kind to your coworkers and neighbors and cousins. Protect yourself, but we must have kindness.

What the right can offer men existing power structures:

Unfulfilling and empty relationships, including higher risks of unplanned pregnancy - i.e. potential child support, aluminum, and further financial straight.

Disconnection from their bodies and feelings outside of anger.

Abusive working conditions

Financial insecurity, housing insecurity, food insecurity, increased rural poverty and more.

Lack of access to healthcare, and alienation when disabled (which will occur for over 60% of them)

Constant paranoia and violence

Constant policing of their speech, interests, looks, and personality

High rates of incarceration leading to increased rates of SA, less access to routine healthcare, restricted future job opportunity, and decreased access to education

What an equitable future founded on Justice could mean for men (and the rest of us):

Safe, loving, and fulfilling relationships

Bodily autonomy, reduced trauma exposures and symptoms, walking communities, increased mental and physical health outcomes.

Power and autonomy and better conditions at work

Increased access to housing, work, food

Routine healthcare and support for disability inclusion

Psychological safety and community integration

A community that embraces and celebrates individuality

Vastly reduced incarceration

We have to show that what could be is so much more valuable than anything they would give up.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

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hheisa · 5 hours ago

Text

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job

And heaven knows I'm miserable now 🗣️🗣️🗣️

#Randy jade #Dialtown #dialtown phone dating sim #My art #dialtown fanart #dialtown randy

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ssa-dado · 2 days ago

Text

Three Stages of Truth - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)

masterlist

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

---

Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”

If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.

Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.

This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.

It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.

When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.

And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.

Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.

And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.

Pure stoicism.

No touching.

No lingering eye contact.

What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.

Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.

"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.

However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.

Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"

In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.

All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.

"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.

"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.

In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."

"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."

You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.

If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But once you were home, everything changed.

The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.

“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.

“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.

He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.

There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.

You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.

When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.

More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.

With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.

His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.

You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.

You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.

"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.

"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.

His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”

You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.

"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.

“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”

His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”

“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”

He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."

"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.

Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.

He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.

Until he would.

"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.

"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.

When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.

“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.

“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.

“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.

You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.

In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables.

“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus.

“Or maybe,” he’d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.”

“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.

Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.

Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.

But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.

And it had worked.

Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.

It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.

Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”

Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”

Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.

You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.

Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.

You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.

No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.

Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.

In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.

Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.

“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.

Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.

But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.

He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

The game was on.

“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”

If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.

“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.

Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.

Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."

Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.

Now this, was unexpected.

His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.

So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.

"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.

"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.

"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.

Now, that was new information.

But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.

The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.

His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.

“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.

Thank you.

You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.

The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.

“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.

It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.

Oh, how you loved being right…

…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”

Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”

At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.

Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...

… especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.

You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.

It was impossible to miss, really.

Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.

It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.

But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.

Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.

Oh, how much you loved him.

Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”

“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”

You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.

"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."

Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."

“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.

And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.

Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.

The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.

For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.

His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.

Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…

---

Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.

…and so you did.

Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.

You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.

But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.

He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.

Lawyers.

The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.

The elevator rides were your favorite…

There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.

But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.

And somehow, it was always Rossi.

No one else.

Just him.

It never failed.

He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.

His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.

So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.

“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.

“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."

You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”

Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.

But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."

Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”

Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.

Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.

The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.

Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.

Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.

But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.

The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.

This was going to be painful.

Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”

“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”

You blinked.

Stoicism?

Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.

You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.

Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.

She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.

You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.

The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.

Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…

The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."

“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”

That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.

Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.

Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…

Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.

“Your lectures make me want to…”

Lectures? Very oddly specific.

“My son wants a sibling.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.

And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.

You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.

Those were your words.

Your conversations.

The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.

A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.

“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”

The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.

Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?

To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.

It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.

The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.

You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.

Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.

The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.

And it was embarrassing.

But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.

Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.

But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.

“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”

It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.

You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.

But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.

You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."

Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.

Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."

Still, you couldn’t help it.

The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"

The room went dead silent.

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.

Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”

Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.

Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.

But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”

Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.

You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”

Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”

You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”

Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.

You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”

Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”

Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.

“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.

You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”

Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.

You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.

And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.

---

Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.

Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.

As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.

When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”

“Well, I do have a guest room…” Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”

Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”

He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.

“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.

Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.

For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.

Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”

You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”

Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, ��I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You froze, eyes widening in surprise.

The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.

You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.

The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.

“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”

His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.

“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”

Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.

“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”

He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”

Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.

Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.

Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.

Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.

His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”

You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.

There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.

“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”

Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”

"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre

---

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #symposiumff #criminal minds x reader

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that-one-malereader-enthusiast · 2 days ago

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲

cw : MDNI - S2 Armand, journalist male reader, top male reader, switch Armand, sub Daniel, dirty thoughts, mentions of sexual interactions, nsfw, Louis is definitely third wheeling, sexual tension, fake rashid reveal, mind fucking, teasing, this is my old man yaoi, somnophila, Armand gets the old man pass, they eye fucked eachother so much, i needed a taste of these two sorry, when no one can do the work, you gotta do it yourself, power play, stalking, Armand is a creepy little cat, Daniels the confused German shepherd, my drabbles become so thought out why, consume at your own risk, not proof read.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it the whole damn time.

At first it was just a guess, just a joking remark made as you worked with Molloy with Louis interview. You didn't believe him when he spoke of vampires, but seeing truly is believing, and Rashid was the oddest guy you'd met. That sweet smile, those longing looks towards Louis, the way he almost seemed to be acting—

Oh but you found that out really fucking fast.

Spoiler alert, you can see the plot twist from a mile away.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Jesus Christ, it was about damn time! How obvious do you have to be before someone finally outed you as a vampire?"

Daniel turned to you in a somewhat shocked fashion, though he was mostly squinting towards you for some sort of half assed explanation you were going to give him, but Louis put his expression into words. "You...You knew?"

"Yeah, but to be honest, he wasn't exactly doing the best job at hiding it. I mean, even if he was trying to, it was a little too on the nose at the beginning. Also, not saying Rashid is a bad name, but you definitely don't look like a Rashid." You then happened to gesture to Armand who was now standing side by side with Louis. You knew you'd promised Molloy that you would tone it down, that you would stay tamer than normal for the sake of getting out of Dubai in one piece after everything was said and done, but now there were two vampires rather than the one. "Not to mention how obvious you are."

"Pray tell, how obvious was I?" Armand asked. So far he'd spectated and predicted you were just as childish as Daniel when he was younger. With eccentric thoughts and an active imagination. That you were simply in over your head.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Well, for starters...it never seemed like you were similar to the other servants? I don't think I dare even saw you wear a mask before, whether that be to simply hide faces or to prevent anything from spreading, I found that odd." You chimed. "Not only that but we've seen Louis drink from you, and yet someone as...lanky, someone who looked like a stick ready to break — no offense — but you walked away like it was nothing, while a Russian biscuit the size of a bulk barely stood for two seconds before falling out.."

Only then did you gesture to the other room compared to the one you were currently in. "Not to mention, when we caught you praying the other day, you prayed in the darkest side of the room. Even if you did walk past the light, it was briefly or almost unseeable. And God, from the way every time I turned to you and watched you practically eye-fucking Molloy, I wouldn't have been shocked to know that you'd met him before."

Armand's expression was unreadable, almost repressing his feelings. Especially after the last observation you'd made. He stood next to Louis who squinted in a questionable fashion while looking at you, and Daniel? He didn't expect you to suddenly come out like that, and so boldly, though that was simply your personality.

"Now, if you three don't mind, I think I'll go to bed early. After this whole fucking soap opera of a reveal, I have to probably prepare myself to take in whenever you came into Louis life and what the hell happened then." You dismissed yourself, not back towards Daniel as you made your way out. That stare Armand had given you that entire time was unnerving, but there was something behind it.

You then called out as you proceeded to make your way to your room. "And I hope that there's an actual Rashid! Or I will be very disappointed!"

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

God when was the last time you and Daniel had a good fuck.

Before the trip to Dubai, the two of you had different lives, and as much as you loved smothering the older man, you had a job as well. It was unfortunate that you two couldn't have your fun till after the trip was over, but at least Daniel noticed how irritable you'd started to get. After all, you'd been stressed before the trip and didn't expect things to take this long.

You groaned out as your hips slowly rocked into the others, his warm body against your own and lips kissing feverishly against his skin. You knew that he was trying his best to sleep, but you couldn't help yourself.

Not as if he minded, he's the one who agreed the two of you could atleast sleep like this.

"Fuck Danny, baby..." You rutted your hips up accidentally, causing him to groan out and nudge you as red took over his face, cheeks, even spreading to his ears.

"Calm down, I have to sleep for later so we can continue the interview.." He could feel your arms practically caging him, holding against the plushness against part of his stomach. Daniel could barely think with how tired he was, and you? You were full of energy at the moment, sleepy, but still energized.

"But you're so tight Daniel...so fucking...oh—" You slowly grinded yourself against him once again before finally giving in as he wrapped a hand back to run though your hair. "Needed this, bad. Felt like I was having withdrawals."

"From sex?"

"From you," you admitted. "And this tight ass..."

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next afternoon, you and Daniel went to the small cafe to fill up before the interview, though he'd been chewing you out about your past behavior. How he knew you were always a stickler for believing in superstition, but to understand that these vampires were nothing to fuck around with.

You could have refuted that with the amount of evidence you had that those fanged people were hornier than a dog humping a pillow.

You joked about it, as if it was your second nature, but Molloy seemed more stressed out than normal.

"You're gonna get yourself killed in there, you know what they are, why are you pushing things so far?" He sounded annoyed at that point, watching as you rolled your eyes and tried to dismiss his emotions towards the situation.

"Jesus Molloy, you act like the world is gonna end."

"Maybe not, but you have no idea who these guys are. You don't understand how dangerous they can be. How dangerous they are." He urged on.

You laughed and continued eating the raw fish that was on your plate. "Sure," you drew out.

It was then that he stared at you. Molloy stared at you with that look, the look you knew all too well. He continued staring you down before you sighed and gave in. "Fine! Damn it, I'll be good! I'll tone it down! I'll...I'll play this little game they're trying to get at. But I'm only doing it because you asked."

"Look, I just want us to get out of this in one piece." He urged on, now poking at his food, appetite diminished from the idea alone. "I dragged you into this mess, if you want to leave, you can."

"Damn it Daniel, you know you didn't drag me into this, I wanted to come. Turns out the vampire bullshit was real after all, but you're dumb as a box of rocks if you think I'm just gonna leave you here. I'm going nowhere." You let out a chuff of a chuckle before nudging Molloy, giving him a reassuring smirk. "And I know that Daniel Molloy sure as shit won't let anyone outsmart him like this."

"Alright cocky brat, I hear you. Just be careful. Armand looked like he's two seconds away from ripping your head off last time."

"Oh, Armand would have already if he had the balls to do so. If anything, I think the real threat in the room is you know who..." Finishing the rest of your dish after popping the last piece in your mouth, you now gave Daniel the knowing look.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Fuck, Armand—no wonder Louis loves to fuck you in his free time." You panted, watching as the vampire squirmed below you. You held his waist with a bruising strength that would normally feel uncomfortable for any human. But you knew that the vampire was durable. Heating his moan and mewl as your hips slapped against his ass, back arching up into you like a needy cat in heat. You didn't let up either, slamming into his body with brute force behind every thrust.

It was only then that you heard the mix of Armand and Daniels voice, gray haired individual cursing out as he gripped tightly onto the pillow behind his head. His glasses were gone and his face was flushed red as your thrust urged Armand to thrust into him. The vampire turned his head, as if trying to steal a kiss from you, pouting even. But you ignored him, leaning over to press your lips again Daniel's as his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dotted with tears and a muffled cry leaving him as Armand rammed his hips, almost in a jealous fashion.

Your fingers then found themselves threaded in the vampire's hair, only to yank his head back while a cry escaped his drool soaked lips. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. You think..you're all hot shit for a vampire, but I really know what you really are — Armand," you hissed out against the shell of his ear, dipping your head down before biting directly against the side of his neck. Your canines dug down into his tender flesh — not enough force to pierce — but enough to bite down onto the muscle below, knowing the skin would blemish and bloom due to your brutish actions.

The feeling alone made him cry out, hips stuttering between both you and Daniel. It was only then that you heard Molloy let out a gutteral noise in retaliation.

"You're my bitch in heat, understand?"

As Louis continued his interview, retelling whatever he could recall while letting Daniel read Claudia's entries, you kept your mouth shut and kept your comments to a minimum — as promised. But your thoughts, they ran rampant as you keep eye contact with Armand, watching as his eyes pierced into your own soul while peering into your mind. You could see a shift in his face features, his shoulders tending up as your expression stayed unchanging like a statue.

"Sorry to cut you off, I'm gonna step to the bathroom if that's alright. Lunch doesn't feel like it's sitting well," you addressed those in the room as you moved your notebook out of your lap and onto the table. "You good being alone in here for a sec Danny boy?"

"I'll be fine — and don't call me that, Jesus..." He muttered, shaking his head and overall dismissing you as he saw the shit eating grin on your face.

"Just askin' is all. Last time I left, I came back to you slapping Louis. Still never got an explanation for that one..."

"I assure you, nothing will happen to Daniel while you're away," Louis assured, giving you a genuine look to try and persuade you.

"Whatever you say," you stated, not giving the other stoic vampire the time of day after. Not a glance back or a thought for him to breach. Instead you left and got into the bathroom before starting the sink and splashing water on your face.

Even as you tried your best to hide it or ignore it, you could feel you growing erection making into a tent against your jeans, especially at your own thoughts. You almost dazed out back there and didn't even notice, but you knew that you'd finally hit the mark with Armand. With the way he was staring you down, you wouldn't have been surprised if he confronted you about such things.

It wasn't until you looked up in the mirror that you saw those predatory eyes stalking you again. By the time you whipped around, you were almost slammed into the sink, grinning as Armand grabbed against your throat. There was no real strength behind it, just a placement.

"Pervert, snooping through my thoughts even though I'm pretty sure Louis said that doing such a thing was off limits."

"He did not say such a thing," he quickly addressed, sneering at the grin that stayed in your face. "Who are you to have such thoughts about myself."

"You didn't say much about it. But to mention you seemed like you were enjoying it yourself pretty boy..." Your hand felt against his own groin, your grin only widening at the erection he seemed to pull as well. Watching as he stiffened up again made your arousal flare and his eyes seemed to soften. It almost looked as if he was trying to stop a noise from coming out with how fast his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know one thing, Armand. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me." Peeling his hand from your throat, you grabbed his face and pulled his closer. He did nothing to retaliate, almost melting at the semi rough gesture. "If you wanna be of any help while we still have time...I think you could put that mouth to good use."

To have Armand on his hands and knees? It was as if Christmas came early. But God, he looked absolutely divine as he slid down between your legs. You could only hope that Louis wouldn't mind sharing his immortal partner, Armand.

The vampire Armand?

More like Armand, your personal cockslut.

You could only wonder how fast he could be before one of the others came to look for the both of you.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

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bunnys-kisses · 3 days ago

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hi bunny!!! can i submit a request for kevin magnussen? something like a mafia!au where he’s big and scary except for when he’s with reader?💞

kevin magnussen

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!kevin, size difference/kink, doggy style, protective!kevin, reader doesn't know he's mafia, creepy men, mentions of blood and violence, body worship

thank you lovely anon for this idea! i know i usually get bakery submissions, but i do accept other ideas you might have! so this was a pleasant surprise in my inbox!

coming to copenhagen wasn't on your bucket list of dreams. while it was for some, you only took the job because the hours were better. and after a nasty break up only a few months prior, it felt like a good idea to be in another part of the globe. while you missed family, there was something about the unknown that made you pack your belongings (and cat) and head to denmark.

you knew living abroad would have its risks. they were put to rest when you met a tattooed gentleman with the kindest eyes. his name was kevin, kevin magnussen

kevin was an interesting man. you had met him after a blind date fell through and he was at a nearby table by himself. he was waiting for 'friends', but didn't mind spending some time with you. before his 'friends' arrived he ordered you some dessert for after your meal.

he also slipped you a business card and said, "if you need anything in this city, let me know." then smiled at you. the address on the card led to a mechanics shop and kevin told you he owned and "worked" here, but you never saw too many cars come through.

but any questions were met with smiles and promises. you felt a little safer in the city when you were kevin. you one time asked him, "it seems like everyone looks at you when we walk together. or maybe i'm just imagining things."

even though you became accustomed to the public transport of the city. kevin was more than happy to pick you up or drop you off even places like the grocery store. you didn't want to think about all the times he bought you groceries. one time he made you grab another pack of salmon and not to look at the cost. he told you that you can freeze it for a few months. your throat tightened when you saw the price at the check out. but kevin simply paid without a second glance.

maybe you were used to people in your country being paid pennies. you chalked everything up to better wages in denmark.

“you don't have to pay for things, kevin! really, this job i do pays well enough.” you held onto the front of his zip-up jacket as he carried your groceries back to your apartment. you still didn't know what he saw in you. but, if you couldn't give him the money back, then you'd simply have to keep him smiling. not that it was hard, even your worst jokes made him laugh and wrap his arms around you.

kevin seemed weird, but you found it endearing. when he was all smiles with you, in front of the family he was serious. he could be cold, methodic, dangerous. the light that he brought into your world were the same as the shadows he put into the underbelly of the city. people looked when you went down the street, because it wasn't very often to see him out on the streets. especially with someone so…. cute.

but, there was something that lingered inside of the danish man you met. kevin saw it with his own two eyes when he entered the bar to meet with you one night. he saw a man at your table trying to chat you up. even with your back turned to kevin, he knew you were uncomfortable. nobody liked unwanted sexual advances.

but you weren't budging giving this man an inch, instead waving him off and eventually he took the cue to leave. but not before he touched you at the small of your back which made you lean away from him in disgust.

kevin saw your mouth move and then take a sip of your drink. at least kevin knew that you could stand up for yourself a little bit. at least enough to get this creep to go away.

eventually he did and when he walked away, kevin followed. no one was touching his girl. you were your own woman of course, you did as you pleased with kevin's support. but, most of the city should've know by now. you were under magnussen protection.

you were too occupied with your drink when the man left for you to notice that kevin had saw the entire thing. and instead of meeting you at your table, he followed the man in the washroom.

kevin wasn't the mechanic he told you he was. the tattoos weren't just from the lifestyle of fixing cars. they all meant something, his past, present and future. his family. his life. the head of an important family in the country. he rolled up his sleeves and the man who was flirting with you noticed him.

"almost done, man." he said as he turned off the tap and shook his hands to dry them. kevin crossed the small bathroom and instantly his fist was in the other man's face. causing him to sprawl out on the tiled floor of the bathroom.

kevin got on one knee down to the other man's level. he grabbed him by the front of the shirt and said, "don't, don't, don't yell." he pulled the bloodied man a little closer, his nose obviously broken, "you're going to leave this place. and you're not going to come back. you do not touch a woman without her permission."

"but i-"

"shh, shh, shh. i saw what you clipped to the back of her pants. a tracker? gps? going to follow her home? kidnap her? sell her? answer me." his voice was firm.

the man looked shaken and bleeding, he was trembling like a leaf at the end of fall. kevin was dangerously close, but didn't want to get blood all over himself. he didn't want you to worry.

"keep yourself out of here. if you don't. not even your dental records will be able to identify you. and if you want a date so badly, stop being a fucking creep." then dropped the man and got up.

the man nodded before he propped himself up against the bottom of the sink. he wiped his bleeding nose and before he could get a word in, kevin was gone.

"min elskede!" kevin's words could be heard and made you look over. you perked up a little bit as your boyfriend sat across from you. you were all smiles now in his presence.

"what happened to your hand?" you asked as you carefully took his hand in yours. you examined the red across his knuckle.

kevin rubbed the top of your head with his other hand, "oh, nothing. i wasn't looking at got it right at the corner of a door. you can kiss it if you want?"

you giggled a little then brought his knuckle to your lips, "what would you do without me, kevin?"

"oh, i don't know. i'd be lost." he smiled back at you.

back at your apartment, you were trying to get your socks off. they had little flowers printed on them and were a lovely pair. but it was hard with kevin's lips on your skin.

you squirmed a little and broke the kiss, "please, honey. let me get my clothes off." then burst into giggles when his lips got onto your neck. you ran your fingers through his hair and laughed.

"i can't help it, you're so beautiful." he admitted before he managed to pry himself away from you to let you get undressed. as he undid his button up shirt, he watched you struggle to get out of your jeans and chuckled softly to himself. beautiful little thing you were.

"oh shush." you said as you slipped off your panties, feeling kevin's eyes on you, "i'm alright looking. nothing to write home about."

he took you and pulled him to your chest. he kept those strong arms around you, as if he didn't punch a guy in the face earlier that evening. but, that was simply a part of his life. he had a punch that could kill, but with you. he was so sweet.

eventually you wiggled out of his grasp and got yourself in a further state of undress. soon you naked body was exposed to him and you could feel his hungry gaze on you.

you said as you looked at him, "i'm not a piece of meat, honey."

he reached for you and pulled your naked body next to his. he kissed at your face with such love and said, "of course you're not. you're too important to be meat." then trailed kisses across your body.

you laughed, "oh, c'mon!" you squirmed a little bit and arched your back. your nails rubbed against his scalp. his hips shifted a little bit and his cock rubbed against your thigh.

he knew that if anyone in the family saw him in that moment, they'd think he was a totally different man. the mean boss of the family was reduced to getting head scratches while he worshiped your breasts with his lips.

he said sweet things against you, watching your squirm when his tongue touched your left nipple. he watched your reaction for a moment before he closed his eyes and started to really suck on it. leaving wet trails behind.

his large hands kneaded your breasts and he felt his back arch against you. you felt hot all over and you moaned a little louder. two lovers naked in bed together.

you ran your hands up and down his shoulders, you knew both arms were heavily tattooed. you moaned against his lips before he pulled away and moved away from you. he got you onto your elbows and knees with your ass in the air.

he groped your ass cheek a little bit as he stroked his cock a little bit before he got closer to you once more and rubbed his hard cock up against your slick pussy. he listened to your sweet noises which only excited him more when he slipped his cock in. the angle let him get quite deep inside of you.

"kev!" your back arched a little, "oh. wow! every time." you hit your fist against the bed for a moment. your back arched a little more and you held onto the covers under you.

kevin licked his lips as he kept both hands on you. he loved the feeling of your cunt around his cock. it was his little slice of heaven. all the money from being in the family was something, but to have your sweetness around him made everything feel so much better.

"you're so pretty." he said softly, "you are the most gorgeous thing i had ever laid eyes on. i think about you all day, how much i love you and care for you." he pressed his chest agaisnt your back, then kissed at the back of your shoulders as he rutted against you.

he could feel the pound of his heart as he continued to move against you. his breathing was heavy against your skin as you buried your face into the soft pillows. the pillows he bought for you because you talked so much about how they were just so soft. and you hated to admit that since sleeping with them, your sleeps have improved.

he watched you move a little bit and whine into the covers. you sounded so pretty as he rutted against you. he kissed your shoulders once more.

"please, kev. honey!" you whined.

"you're so beautiful, my love."

his movements continued and the heat in the room grew, especially between the two of you. you could feel the sweat of his chest on your back as he wrapped his arms around you. he kept you close to him as he picked up the pace.

he pushed your further into the bed and worked at your hips. his cock slipped in and out of you perfectly. you were a dream around his cock. the creaking of the bed under you as the two of you made love under the low light of your bedroom.

it was comfortable, it wasn't painful in every way. and it was so good to feel your lover so closely. you panted heavily into the pillows and clutched it tightly. your noises were muffled as he moved. he pressed further into you and knew he wasn't going to last long.

a man capable of such violence was so docile around you. he wanted you so badly. he needed you more than he needed almost anything. his heart sang for you, and when he was away he tried to get home to you as soon as possible.

the dangerous life was common for him, but he didn't want to scare you off. if you knew the truth, would you hate him? would you run away or to the police? would you leave kevin?

he loved you so much, the idea of losing you made him almost scared. he pressed into you as much as he could and fucked you with heavy thrusts. he heard you pant heavily into the covers as he felt the pleasure in his brain.

you whined more as you felt orgasm hit you like a train. you said to your lover, "please, kevin. i love you."

he kissed your cheek and said, "good. because i love you too." then gave a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you with one final movement of his hips. he came with a groan before he slowed to a stop. he rested his face against your shoulder and just let himself feel you for a moment.

"i love you so much." you groaned.

kevin slipped out of you and laid out beside you. you laid next to him and let him wrap himself up around you. like a protective blanket. he pressed soft kisses against you and melted against your heated skin.

he said with his voice close to your ear, "i promise to protect you forever." then kissed the shell of your ear, "all of my days and all of my nights."

you giggled and turned in his arms, "sounds like you're trying to propose to me." your cheeks warmed at the thought.

he smiled down at you, "maybe, but i'll need a ring first." maybe he'll slowly let you into his world. to be closer to him than ever. he wanted you for a lifetime, to love you was an honour as he kept you in his arms while you both calmed down from your climaxes, "it's a secret for now." he said, "have to give you a little surprise."

you buried your face in his chest and giggled, "oh my god, kevin!" you squirmed a little bit on the bed, "you don't need to propose! really! i'm fine being your girlfriend." the idea of marriage made your cheeks hot!

he held your back and smiled into your hair, "even if it is just a ring, you deserve something nice. and if it is pretty enough then no idiot men at the bar will try to make you uncomfortable." he thought about the tracker he took off of you. being married to you was the end goal, but to protect you was a constant in his mind.

he kissed you, tomorrow he'll go ring shopping before his meetings. it'll be a hard choice to pick the perfect ring, but only the best for you. <3

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cher-rei · 3 days ago

Note

Hey babe

Your such a good writer please more lamine yamal fics im acc begging there literally none🙏🙏🙏🙏😪

the sitter— lamine yamal [ l.y ]

met you at the right time. this is what it feels like– feels like [gracie abrams]

pairing: lamine yamal x fem!reader

summary: a rushed call from lamine's mother to babysit kenye turns into more than just a regular afternoon

genre(s): toothrotting fluff (have your dentist on standby)

[w.c: 2.8k] masterlist

notes: I wrote this instead of watching the real sociedad match to cope with the fact that we're losing. I got a bit carried away with this one but I hope you like it <33

as you stepped into the familiar house, not even having to ring the doorbell you were greeted with the smell of fresh baked cookies and comfort. you shut the door behind you and easily walked through the familiar hallway.

when she saw you, lamine's mother's shoulders relaxed a heavy amount along with the breath of relief she let out. “my saviour,” she said with a smile and pulled you into a tight hug, her gratitude evident. “I'm so sorry for calling on short notice but I have an emergency— ow!”

she bit her tongue in frustration and looked down to see the toy car that she stepped on, her head spinning at her son's carelessness. “never have kids, you’ll regret it eventually,” she said half-joking and hurriedly led you to the living room where kenye was sitting on the floor, a toy car in his hand while he watched tv.

she didn't even have to call out to him, the second he saw you he was up and in your arms with a toothy grin. “hey, buddy. didn't expect to see me today did you?”

the older woman watched with a smile as you interacted with her son, the moment being cut off by her ringtone. she didn't even bother to look at it and instead grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the front door, yelling out instructions and goodbye's as if you hadn't been doing this for a year already.

“and thank you, sweetheart! I owe you! kenye, behave!”

the door slammed shut, leaving you to the 5 year old's energetic grasp. you quickly settled into your usual routine, skipping the snack part because he had his breakfast already since it was only after 10 am.

you took your usual seat on the carpet with him because he was usually full of energy this early and jittery. so to get it out of his system, you played games with him— built some lego, played with his toys and so on.

an hour had passed and you found yourself trying to make his yogurt seem edible. it was never an issue to get him to eat, all it took was one “hereeee comes the airplane” and he was more than compliant.

“there you go,” you said with a smile and lifted the final spoonful of yogurt to his lips, the boy clapping alone happily when it was finished. “you took that like a champ.”

that didn't last long however and he was starting to grow antsy again, his suffocated whines piercing your ears. it was obvious that he was sick of the house and needed to get out, so without another thought you cleaned him up and took him out to the backyard.

it was any kid's dream back there. a playhouse, jungle gym with a slide, a ball pit and his personal favourite— the mini football net that was more of a self indulgent addition from his older brother.

you'd known lamine for over 3 years now seeing that you attend the same high school but it was a cute coincidence that his mother picked you for the babysitting job. the job wasn't even needed, you were just bored and needed something to do on weekends, there wasn't even a proper answer for how she found you.

as you and kenye played in the sun-drenched backyard, laughter and joy radiated from your every move. the mini football net, a testament to lamine’s passion for the sport, stood like a sentinel awaiting kenye's energetic kicks. your eyes sparkled with delight as you cheered him on.

the air vibrated with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, infusing your playtime with an idyllic charm. kenye's giggles echoed throughout the yard, mingling with the chirping of the birds.

meanwhile inside the house, lamine stirred from his sleep, rubbing the remnants of sleep as he descended the stairs to look for his mother. he called for her a good few times but she didn't reply, so naturally he searched the kitchen and her bedroom only to realise that the house was awfully quiet.

she would of said something if she had something planned today, and the tv was still on so someone was definitely home. then he entered the living room, his feet padding on the tiled floor as his eyes adjusted to the light from outside.

with a yawn, he neared the sliding door to check the backyard, but just as he was about to open it his hand froze on the handle. his mind blanked, his immediate reaction to seeing you play with kenye being to hide behind the curtain.

his thoughts were reeling, not expecting you to come over today. in panic, he took one last peep outside which only made his pounding heart thump even louder at the sight of you passing the ball to his brother so effortlessly.

run. that's what he did when he got the clearance, not wasting a second to rush back upstairs and grab his phone and hit the facetime button in the group chat. after 3 rings, hector and pau were on the line with him— their confused faces synced as they watched the boy lock himself in his bathroom and start pacing.

“what happened to ‘hello'?” hector said, judgement evident in his tone but lamine didn't have time to fight his snarky comments.

he propped his phone up against the mirror and rushed to get his toothbrush, his palms sweating against the toothpaste tube.

“bro, are you going to tell us what's going on or is this some type of ‘get ready with me’ gimmick?” pau spoke up finally and put another spoonful of cereal his mouth, quickly getting distracted by the cover on the box and commenting on it.

“she's here. she's not supposed to be here today so I don't know why!” lamine muffled out through his mouth full of toothpaste but his friends got the gist of it. perks of knowing each other for nearly their entire lives.

hector couldn't suppress his laughter, his smile on the screen teasing lamine. “this is even funnier because it's actually never that deep.”

pau joined in on the laughter. “imagine asking why your brother's babysitter is over to babysit,” he snorted. “it's been a year, you're insane.”

lamine finished rinsing his mouth, double checking to see if there was anything in his teeth before splashing cold water on his face. “does it look like i just woke up?” he asked and touched up his hair. “is it giving ‘I just woke up and look this good’ or ‘I freaked out and had a panic attack in my bathroom’?”

his friends went silent, their jaws on the floor at the amount of overthinking that he was doing. he's liked you since he could remember. at first it was simple attraction, and then came the longing to know you more personally, and when he did that's when everything went to shit.

you were beautiful, that's for sure but you had this natural charm that he couldn't get enough of. you made an effort to talk to him, to help him with anything that he needed and your selflessness was barely the tip of the iceberg. family was the most important thing to him, and the fact that his family loved you and treated you as their own had him on his knees.

“it's giving, ‘I can't talk to girls I'm actually interested in'” hector deadpanned and pau was quick to follow.

“I got a better one,” he said in between his laughter. “It's giving, ‘professional winger by night, but professional wreck by day.”

the bathroom echoed with pau and hector’s non-stop laughter, both boys having rolled onto their sides by now while lamine stood with his head in his hands to try and calm himself down.

worst wingmen of the year, he liked to call them. the only advice he got was to breathe and not trip over his own feet. it was pathetic of him to let his attraction towards a girl make him this… messed up? but what was a teenage boy to do?

he put on his game face and made his way downstairs again, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw that you were watching kenye as he played in the ballpit.

when you turned around you saw him there, your heart skipping a beat as he opened the door with a warming smile. it was your turn to take a deep breath. “hey, I didn't know that you were home today,” you greeted cheerfully, you confidence oozing.

“yeah, we got the day off so I took the liberty to sleep in,” he answered a took a seat beside you on the grass to greet his brother who immediately threw one of the plastic balls at him.

laughter tickled at your throat as you watched lamine playfully throw them back at him but kenye took it personally and began hurling them at him. “we're going to have to put a warning sign on him or something,” you joked in between laughter and lamine scoffed.

“the real threat is his ability to kick a ball,” the footballer said with this lips pursed.

you playfully rolled your eyes at his comment. “oh, please, you're just mad because he already has better dribbling skills than you.”

lamine's face was contorted with mock offence, and he leant back on his hands to look at you. “are you talking about the same guy who won the kopa trophy less than 2 weeks ago.”

you couldn't shake off how laid back he looked in that moment. the way he was looking at you with such ease and playfulness made your head spin. “yes, yes I am.” you answered confidently to which he put a hand over his heart.

“you wound me,” he joked. “I'm going to start making you nurse me back to health.”

funny. he was joking. right?

kenye, thrilled by the attention hurled another ball at lamine to which his older brother caught and tossed it back at him with a gloat. “nice try, but we already have the backyard champion sitting next to me right now.”

you smile faltered for a moment. “that's only because you let me win.”

lameye's eyes twinkled as he took notice of your slightly flushed cheeks and he thought that maybe he was doing something right. “you literally crushed me.”

you shook your head at his retort, ready to counter his argument as you put your hands in the air, and swiftly as if it were second nature lamine gently took them into his own to stop you from talking further. “consider my ego bruised, you're just too good,” he joked with a shrug, his hands still holding yours.

it was for a moment that you stopped breathing, unable to function properly until you realised that kenye fell asleep in the ball pit. his light snores took the attention off from your banter and onto his peaceful figure that lamine effortlessly picked up and carried to his room.

when he came downstairs again, the house had gone quiet while you cleaned up kenye’s mess that he eventually helped with. “oh wow, okay mr house husband,” you teased and tossed one of the toys at him, his smile not wavering as he continued to help you in comfortable silence.

after lunch the two of you found yourselves in the backyard again, chatting as per normal while lamine kicked the ball at his feet. he ended up stopping mid sentence to propose an idea that you weren't too eager about. a rematch at what cost? your embarrassment?

unfortunately for you, he was persuasive as hell.

“what do I get if I win?” he shrugged at your question with a knowing smile.

“anything you want, amor.”

you nearly choked on air at the term of endearment that came from literally nowhere. he didn't seem fazed by saying it though so you were almost certain that you heard him wrong and pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on the little tournament in front of you.

the sun was high, the barcelona heat was warm on your skin as you watched lamine ready the ball. the game wasn't supposed to carry on for as long as it did, but both yours and his passionate calls for cheating and distractions played a huge role in the 40 minute rematch.

“okay, this is the last round I swear,” you said with a tired huff which he was more than happy with. the ball was at your feet for a split second before you felt lamine's hands on your waist, holding you close to his chest as he sneakily took the ball and shot it into the back of the net with ease.

you jaw dropped at the utter foulness of the round. “you cheater!” you said in shock and turned to look at him, but he was too busy relishing in his glory to care. he let go of you with a proud laugh and picked the ball up again, giving it one last kick.

“I didn't cheat,” he said through a cheeky smile and took a few steps towards you. “it's a contact sport, so it's fair.”

you rolled your eyes jokingly at his counter, still in disbelief that he'd go that far. but you weren't a spoilt sport so you congratulated him on his win, fair or not and he humbly thanked you.

you turned back with a smile and began heading inside but his hands were on your waist again, the familiar tingle setting your body on fire as he turned you to look at him, the smile on his face making your heart race.

“I'll be taking my prize, thank you,” he said with a boyish grin and let his lips gently brush your cheek, a gentle, fleeting kiss that had your knees weak for a split second.

he craned his neck to look down at you, a blushing mess and he couldn't help but coo even thought he was internally jumping off buildings. “aw, don't get shy on me now.”

you quirked your brow at what you took as a challenge, mild irritation clear in your eyes that were fluttered shut seconds later when your lips met his for what was supposed to be a quick peck.

keywords: supposed to be.

the feeling of your lips on his sent a surge of electricity through his body, and he couldn't waste the opportunity. he dropped the football that was underneath his arm and pulled you in, one hand resting on your cheek and the other on your waist as he relished the taste.

the long-awaited kiss finally came and it was everything that he hoped for and more. the way you melted into him, sent a warmth through his chest that had his head spinning and hoping that you'd never let go.

when you eventually pulled away to catch your breath, your lips tugged up into an amused smile at his lovestruck look and flushed cheeks. “isn't that a better prize?” you joked, your hands still loosely wrapped around his neck.

“I want a rematch, now,” he said immediately after, and pulled you back into the yard, his eagerness getting the best of him because he was not going down like this— “if I win then you have to marry me.”

“what?!”

#cherrei writes #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football imagine #fanfic #lamine yamal fanfic #lamine yamal x reader #lamine yamal #lamine x reader #fc barcelona x reader #barcelona fc #fc barcelona imagine #barcelona x reader

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