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celestie0 · 8 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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l0v3-qu4rtz · 4 months ago

Text

Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Model!Reader

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: SMUT. SMUT. (very badly written) SMUT. MDNI, thank you. very poor description of model shows, talks of lingerie, cursing, rough sex (?), light choking and hair pulling, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, teasing derek at the end. Kinda proofread ? Not rlly.

A/N: Hiyo, so i posted this like a long time ago (a month ago) on AO3 but I just decided to post this on here now because why nott ?? Lemme know what you think, and if I missed any warning please lemmeee knowww, also should I make this a series ???!!!! <333

You stood behind the curtains backstage, anxiously peeking through, towards the crowd. You look down at your phone, "on my way, I'll be there in 30 minutes" It's been 40 minutes, where is he ? you knew dating an FBI agent that his schedule was gonna be busy but you've been telling him about the show for weeks, he promised he would make it. You were out in 5 minutes and still didn't spot him. You were tempted to call him, ask him where he was, but decided against it. Your manager was rushing you to get in position to walk out but you were stalling as much as you could in hopes that Reid would magically show up. 4 minutes now.

YOU: Where are you ? I'm out in 4 minutes.

SPENCE: Im here, love. Backrow.

You felt your heart coo at the petame. You heard your manager yell for you to get in position for one last time, you rushed into position, handing our phone over to your manager. You specifically asked Reid to come because it was a lingerie fashion show. Think Victoria Secret, You knew Spencer would go crazy upon seeing you in lace and ribbons, you were giddy with excitement as you think about walking past him, you knew what he was risking coming to your shows so you wanted to make it all worth it. You heard the show director counting down as you take your robe off and adjust your hair and accessories. You put on your best poker face and start walk.

Walk, just walk. Look straight ahead, don't turn your head. Do not go looking for him. You repeated in your mind, each step you took making a direct impact with the runway. Your arms swaying back and forth, hips swaying. You were extra nervous, this was the first time Spencer finally agreed to come to one of your shows and your heart could've jumped out of your chest knowing this. You kept everything on beat, from your steps to your hip sways. Once you reached the end of the runway, you put your hand on your hip as you shift your weight onto one foot, flashing a smile occupied with a quick wink before turning around walking back.

You finally notice Reid in the back row as he said, making direct eye contact with him for only a split second before looking forward again.

From Reids point of view, once you made eye contact with him, he knew he was done for. He attempted to keep his composure, legs crossed, his hand on his chin, but inside a small fire was lit inside him that only grew brighter and bigger with each step you took. As the show reached the end, and you did the final end walk with the rest of the models, Reid was completely captivated by your walk, the way your hair bounced with each walk, the way your hips swayed, how you walked in a perfect straight line. Spencer knew he had to get his hands on you, and it was a craving he had to satisfy as quick as possible. Backstage, you decided to just put your long coat over your robe as you gathered your belongings together and talk with your manager.

"Oh by the way, heres your phone" He says as he pulls your phone out of his pocket. "You got some very interesting texts, lets just say"

You roll your eyes at his teasing remarks. You open your phone and see two messages from Spencer.

SPENCE: You knew what you were doing by inviting me to this show.

SPENCE: I'm waiting outside for you in the car.

You smile, biting your lip as you read the texts. You gather your stuff and say bye to your manager before heading out. You spot Reid's car and rush over to it, your slippers hitting the concrete. You enter the car, Reid giving a small smile as you enter. You greet him but receive no response. You furrow your eyebrows, watching his face, hes deep in thought and keeping his focus on the road. You reach over to softly touch his arm.

"Spence, what's wrong ?" Your voice is laced with worry.

"Just wait til we get home" he growls in a low tone, his jaw clenching. Keeping his focus on the road. You feel your heart skip a beat at the comment and a soft pulse in-between your legs. You let out a soft and quiet moan, getting comfortable in your seat. Counting down the minutes before you reach home.

As soon as you enter through the front door of his apartment, You're started by the sound of Reid slamming the door, turning around, Reid attacks your lips. Practically ripping your coat off and tossing it, he pushes his lips into yours so forcefully you arch your back and lean back. Arms wrapped around his neck, you deepen the kiss, sticking your tongue in his mouth and tangling your hand into his curly hair. He pushes on the couch, unbuttoning his shirt, looking down at you with lust and desire in his eyes. "I can't wait to be in the bedroom, im taking you right here, right now" he growls "Take that robe off." He commands in a deep, sinful voice.

You undo the robe straps and pull the silk material down your shoulder. He lets out a low groan, quickly wrapping his hands around your neck, pushing you into the couch cushions. "You dirty whore" He whispers into your ear as he grabs the robe, yanking it onto the floor. "You kept that on on purpose, huh ?" he snarls. He lightly pushes your head into the cushion before standing up straight. "Take off my belt" You follow his command, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. But right as your about to unzip. he grabs a fistful of your hair and guides your eyes up towards his, "Use your teeth"

He lets go and you lower your head towards the zipper. Gripping the small slider, tasting the sour metal against your tongue, you start to unzip. Right as you let go, your hands trail up to the waistband of his jeans. Leaving him in only his boxers. you admire the tent of black fabric before starting to palm and lick his shaft through the fabric. Hearing his low groan and feeling his hand softly massage your scalp only motivates you even more. Spencer tries to hold himself back, but ultimately gives into temptation and pulls you away by your hair. "Fuck your teasing" He says in a low, impatient tone. He pulls his dick and shoves it into your mouth, beginning to fuck your face, relishing in the sounds of your gags and soft moans.

"That's it, take it like the good little girl you are" he praises, shoving his dick deep into your throat before allowing you to pull away. "lay on your back." He demands as you catch your breath. You immediately lay down on the couch as Spencer positions himself between your legs. He leans down and begins to leave love marks all over your jaw and neck "Beg for me" he growls lowly in your ear. You start whimpering and whining "Please Spence, fuck me... Use my body and show no mercy.." He grips your neck and snarls. "Use the right fucking name" You gasp quietly and whimper "Please.. Doctor.." He chuckles sinfully, reaching behind you and unclipping your bra with one hand.

He pushes himself up and takes a few moments to admire you "so gorgeous.." He whispers to himself before slipping his fingers under the band of your panties. With one swift motion, he rips them off. The tear echoing the apartment so does the small welp you let out. He wastes no time lining himself up with your opening. He waits there for a few seconds, enjoying the sight of you squirming under him. Without warning, he rams into you with full force knocking a lustful scream out of you.

"Take It, love. You can take it." He whispers as he starts at a quick pace, slamming into you over and over again. You both are a moaning mess. You scratch down his arms and arch your back, each one of your moans getting louder and louder. He groans at the feeling of your nails peeling the first layer of his skin. He wraps his arms around you, his pace quickening by the second. "Doctor.. im.. gonna.." You can barely even finish your sentence as your breath is knocked out of you with every pound into your core. "Good girl, cum for me princess. That's it, bunny" he whispers in your ear, through moaning. You once again use your nails to scratch down from the back of neck all the way to his back as you let out a loud moan. You feel your whole body shake and your hole tighten around him.

Spencer moans at the sudden squeeze, his thrusts becoming almost animalistic as he reaches his climax. He moans out your name as he finished inside you, letting his cum pour inside of you with one final thrust. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of being filled. Spencer pulls away from you, cupping your cheek "Are you okay, princess ? Did I hurt you ?" he asks through labored breathing. You shake your head, your mind still coming down from your high. Spencer lans up and kisses your forehead "You were such a good girl, baby. I love you so much." You feel your body slowly relaxing "I love you too, Spence" You both smile sweetly at each other and share a sweet, passionate kiss.

The next morning at work, Spencer was grabbing coffee while reading his book. He was standing near the counter, just sipping on his coffee when Derek came up to him. Derek said a quick greeting to him while pouring a cup for himself. He was about to walk off when he noticed the red marks on the back of Reids neck, reaching over and pulling his collar down slightly. "Hey, what happened Reid ?" Morgan asks slightly concerned. Reid turns around covering it with his hand. "What ?" Reids cheeks flush red as he remembers where he got it from. Derek notices it, a wave of realization hitting it as he smirks and puts his hand on his shoulder. "My man" he says teasingly before walking away.

#spencer reid #i love spencer reid #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #dr reid #marrymespencerreid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencerreid

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ithebookhoarder · 7 months ago

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Hi! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests for criminal minds but if you are could you do the BAU react to their so being a paramedic/firefighter? :))

If you decide to write this thank you in advance

(BAU Headcanons) If their S.O. was a paramedic/firefighter 🚨

A/N: You're very welcome! Here you are my angel. I'm always taking requests but I can't promise how long I'll take to reply and finish them 😅 Hope this is worth the wait. Also - major shout out to any first responders out there. You are literal superheroes! 💕

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, mentions of mental health, alcohol references, sexual references, references to death. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

Aaron would be honestly so in awe of you and what you do for a living. He’d also appreciate having a partner who understands what it’s like to have a job with unpredictable hours, such high stakes, and requires risking yourself to save people.

As such, he would know how important it is to prioritise time together for the two of you. It’s why he is so active with forming a family calendar as he knows that, if it isn’t written in ink, you may never find an opportunity to do something.

He is all about creating concrete plans for you both, so you have something to look forward to and actually have a chance of being able to arrange it, even if it’s months in advance. It doesn’t matter if it’s Jack’s soccer game, going for a jog in the park together, or a week-long vacation.

However, he’s learned to be far more flexible if plans don’t work out the way you’d hoped. He’s had virtual Thanksgivings with you over the phone, a boxing-day Christmas, and even turned running errands on a day off into a date-day.

We know Aaron would honestly hate knowing how much danger you’re in sometimes at work but he also knows he has no leg to stand on given his job and what he does every day. So, you both agree to let the other one know at least once a day that you’re ok, even if only by text.

You’d have to agree to a ‘no work at home’ policy for you both to even stand a chance of relaxing at home and focusing on Jack (who thinks he has the coolest parents ever! Like, two superheroes for parents? He’s the luckiest kid in the world).

Aaron would be such a proud partner too, even if he doesn’t always say it out loud. He shows it in his face every time he and Jack come to visit you at work, or when he displays a picture of you receiving an award on his desk for everyone to see.

He even helps Jack when he asks to go as you for Halloween one year - the sight of which made you cry so hard you couldn’t even speak for a good hour after. Instead, you snap a picture and carry it with you everywhere when you leave the house, and even stick a copy in your locker.

He’d have notifications set too, tracking incidents in your area so he knows when you may be working or out on a job. He’s also not above pulling the ‘FBI’ card if he even hears of someone making your life hard at work.

He’d also be the biggest hypocrite, always worried you’re not getting enough sleep or eating enough, despite him running on no sleep and three expressos.

He’d also be the first to rip into you if he found out you’d taken some unnecessary risk whilst out on a call.

“I have enough worrying about my own idiots over here without worrying about you doing something stupid too. Please, you need to be more careful, ok? I can’t and won’t lose you. Not like that.”

David Rossi

Rossi has lost many people over the years so he would definitely be terrified of losing you, and getting hurt. However, he knows what it’s like to have a passion for helping people and he’d never stop you from doing what you love and making a difference.

Besides with his crazy schedule he doesn’t mind having a partner who is mostly out working, or also operates on a crazy schedule. It’s almost complimentary, and allows you both not to miss each other too badly when you’re busy.

Rossi strikes me as a supportive partner in his own ways. For instance, he would make massive donations to fundraisers for your department and for causes supported by your work. He wouldn’t even tell you most of the time, leaving you to work out where the mystery million dollars came from overnight after you just so happened to mention it to him over dinner.

Speaking of dinner, he’d be keen to invite your colleagues over to his place for social functions, offering to hosts BBQs and family dinners. He’d also invite his BAU family too, knowing how nice it is for your worlds to mix and for people to relax amongst people who get what it’s like to deal with difficult issues.

He also makes homemade dinners at least once a week, cooking enough so that you both have leftovers to take to work for the next few days.

He’s also keen to share any recipes he can with you, so you know how to make them when you’re on shift for hours on end.

“Just because you’re busy saving lives doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t take care of you too!”

This man would also make sure to call you whenever he gets a chance, especially if he is away on a case. He likes hearing your voice and makes sure to ask all about your day so far, knowing its good for both of you to touch base.

Derek Morgan

This man would be the biggest supporter and cheerleader. Like, you know your pictures are all over his desk and he’s always bragging about how you saved someone’s life whenever he gets a chance.

“Oh yeah, that’s my baby. They’re a literal superhero. They’re badass.”

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about you when you’re away working or if he sees some major incident on the news. He’ll be refreshing his phone over and over until he sees a text from you telling him you’re ok.

You know he will also be begging Penelope to see what she can find out too, through any means necessary (Hotch doesn’t exactly have to know about it…)

You bet your ass that if he does hear you’re hurt or if something is wrong then he will be bolting his way down to the ER or wherever you are the minute he is able to. Penelope would likely be one step ahead of him if he was unable to be there right away taking care of you until he can.

Morgan is such a good care giver too. He knows how hard it is to take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself so is King of supporting healthy habits. I’m talking meal plans so you eat right, proper sleeping habits when you can make them work, and getting out of your apartment on your days off.

He’s all for vegging on the sofa sometimes but he’s keen to support you where he can and remind you there’s a world outside of work and your home.

He would be the kind of partner who would suggest doing things together as a couple, whether it’s a daily jog in the park or even training for some kind of race. This gives the two of you a shared goal and also shared time together - including in the shower once you get home.

“What? It’s twice as fast this way and costs half the water bill, sweetheart.”

Also, you know this man gives the world’s best massages and he would be only too willing to give you one when you get home. He’d even try and wait up for you if he could, although you’ve come home more than once to find him passed out on the sofa.

Emily Prentiss

With her track record of trusting and being betrayed by people I think Emily would be extremely anxious about having a first responder for a partner, even if she would also be totally amazed by you and thinks you’re so badass.

Like, you can’t tell me she wouldn’t be beaming ear to ear if you ever came to visit the BAU. She would be showing you off to everyone and anyone, giving them all a face to put to the name she’s been talking about for weeks.

“Babe, you’re amazing. You’re literally saving lives every day. All I did yesterday was fill out a stack of paperwork as big as my arm.” (She ignores the disapproving look Hotch shoots her for that comment…)

It’s just that she’s scared about losing you and it would take you both a while to work out how to make your relationship work and communicate effectively with one another about your fears. I mean, it’s not like you aren’t as equally worried about her but it takes a while for you both to accept that it’s a part of your relationship and that neither of you are willing to give your jobs or each other up.

When she’s away on a case, or if you’re working overnight, then she won’t be able to sleep unless she sees she has a text from you telling her you’re ok and still in one piece. Of course, she prefers to be able to call if she can but knows it isn’t always possible for both of you if you’re in the middle of a shift.

She’s a safe space so wouldn’t take it personally when you get home and have fatigue, adrenaline dumps, or just lack any potential excitement or energy for plans you made in advance.

She’ll meet you where you are, whether it’s cancelling plans and staying in, or going out anyway because you need a distraction. As long as she’s with you then she’s happy and it isn’t like she doesn’t do the same thing after a really bad case.

Also, we know that you’re the only one she trusts to look after Sergio when she isn’t there, knowing you will be better having someone to cuddle, feed, and look after when you’re not on shift. You become Penelope’s version of Sergio too, as Emily instructs their tech analyst to keep an eye on you both when she can’t.

She’d be keen to spoil you from time to time and indulges on takeout, trips to the movies, and wants to take you to as many amazing places on holiday as she possibly can. She knows it’s good to travel and to have a complete break from your daily routine. Plus, she knows so many people and so many languages that you’re spoilt on choices of where to stay next.

I honestly feel like JJ would struggle having a first responder for a partner. She’d be such a Momma Bear that its both wonderful and intimidating. Like, we know she and Will worked it out eventually with him being a cop, but the fear of losing you would be a big issue for the two of you for a while. As would be navigating how you both deal with the other’s feelings after a bad day on the job. It takes some trial and error before you get into the swing of things.

For example, she would give the best pep talks and would also know just what to say after a bad day.

“You did everything you could, sweetheart. I am so proud of you and you saved so many lives today. You may not have been able to save that one, but they knew you tried. They knew you were there and that you cared. That’s all we can ask for in the end. You are amazing and I’ve got you.”

When you’re both home together, or if you’ve told her you’re having a rough shift, then bath times are a must. She normally has one run, with candles lit, by the time you get in the door. She is also keen to crack open a bottle of wine, or whatever you drink you want, to help you both relax as you lie together in the warm, soapy water and just forget everything for a little while.

She’d also insist on you both leaving voice messages for the other when you were away, so you could wish the other a ‘goodnight’. It’s comforting to her but she also likes being able to share them with Henry too.

Speaking of phones, this ex-media liaison would have so many alerts set up and contacts to call if she even suspects you may be out on a major incident. It’s honestly kind of mind-blowing how quickly she managed to get on the phone with your superior, after hearing you could be out on a job that had gone awry. She was in a different state at the time but wouldn’t hang up until they told her what had happened, where you were, and if you were alright.

She’s also keen to support you in a practical sense, so offers to do loads of laundry for you between shifts and also cleans the house as a way of making sure you have a nice home to come back to. You’d be sure to return the favour when you could, but she likes doing it and being able to show her appreciation for you in such a basic but important way.

JJ would be way more relaxed leaving Henry with you if she’s away, knowing your training makes you like the best possible babysitter ever.

That, and you cannot tell me that Henry would not worship the ground you walk on. After finding out what you do for work, that little angel would make siren noises whenever you’re in the car together - something you’re keen to encourage as “everyone knows the best part of the job is turning the siren on, JJ. Duh.”

Luke Alvez

Luke would be so proud and so scared for you sometimes, being a first responder.

Luke would understand that you both have super stressful jobs so is keen to suggest a ’leave work at the door’ policy unless one of you really wants to share. He knows sometimes all he wants to do after a challenging case is walk in the door and face-plant on the sofa and he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t let you do the same… that doesn’t mean he won’t reach over and gently pull of your boots for you, and leave a glass of something on the coffee table for when you feel like it.

He is also a firm believer that Roxie cures everything, so would be only too happy to leave her with you when he’s out of town, so you can have all the cuddles and playtime you want.

He also walks her by your work if he gets time so you can come out and sneak a cuddle if you’re not too busy or on a job. Roxie is now your work’s unofficial therapy dog and she loves her role - and the added attention very much. (And you best know she has her own little version of your uniform too).

I feel like he’s the kind of guy who would wake up with you if you have an early start, even if he doesn’t, just so he can cook breakfast and make you coffee in your favourite to-go mug.

“You deserve to start your day in the right way, so go and enjoy your shower, baby, and it’ll be ready for you when you come out.”

He’d also leave you stupid little love notes in your bag too, knowing they make you smile when you find them later on. You also like to keep them and stick them in your locker for luck, and normally have one tucked in your pocket too.

He’d also recommend different kinds of music for you to listen to on shift, making you playlists you can share and add to when you’re not together. It’s got so bad your co-workers refuse to let you have the aux when you’re driving around anymore as your choices are so varied they get whiplash.

Luke also loves getting involved wherever he can, whether it’s donating time to help organise a fundraiser, bringing pizza by work, or going with you as a date to any formal events you’re invited to. He scrubs up niceeee and he loves seeing you all dressed up formal too.

Penelope Garcia

Penelope would worship the ground you walk on and frets about you like she frets about all her BAU babies when they’re out on a case - but WORSE.

So she does what she does best and compensates with love and kindness. She takes care of the people she loves and you would know that better than anyone. This queen would totally make you care packages and would make sure you had them delivered when you’re on shift.

“You spend all your time taking care of other people, my real life knight in shining armour. The least I can do is make sure you have some fluffy socks, face masks, and other basic pamper essentials to take care of yourself! Oh, and don’t forget the protein shake I made for you! And stay hydrated! And be safe!”

She’d make sure to send gifts for your co-workers too. It’s why she’s the favourite spouse of all your colleagues and she’s greeted like the queen she is whenever she visits.

Her cookies have earned her the unofficial title of ‘Star Baker’ and you best know there have been physical fights over them whenever you’ve left them in the crew mess. In fact, your boss has had to give you all warnings about it as a result, calling ‘dibs’ on them if you couldn’t all be trusted to share.

She would also give you one of her many mascots for the dashboard of your rig, knowing that the little bobblehead or whatever will remind you of her when you’re out on a call.

Speaking of calls, you know she is tuned in to all scanners / messaging systems so knows exactly where you are at all times, but especially if there is a call out. You best believe she is making sure you’re ok and has her eyes and ears open if you need help of any kind or back-up.

As a result, you know she has been scolded more than once by Hotch and by the local authorities for interfering and hijacking calls when she thinks you’re being ignored or need assistance.

Penelope would also be the first person to encourage you to attend some kind of support group, or seek out some kind of therapy, to help deal with all the stressful and traumatic things you deal with on a day to day basis. She would be only too happy to help you find one and would drive you there and back when she’s able. She’d even come along if you wanted her to.

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer would be an incredibly proud partner and you know it. He would show his support in various different ways and would absolutely take any and all opportunities to remind people he’s dating a superhero (especially Morgan). He doesn’t understand why someone as amazing as you would choose to date someone like him.

He would like giving you book recommendations so you always have something to read on shift. He’d give you his copies to borrow, so you can enjoy his pencil notes in the margins when he’s not with you.

Not only that, but he’d also be happy to take recommendations from you too - no matter how different they may be from his usual reading material. That way you can both compare notes when you both get home and leave work behind for a moment.

Also, you know Spence would be a fountain of knowledge about your job and has probably read up on anything he didn’t already know about your field. There isn’t a piece of jargon or code that he doesn’t know and he loves trying to use it when talking to your colleagues when he visits sometimes. It earns him their respect, which you know he would be nervous about, as your co-workers are like your second family. He’s that way with the BAU and he wants to impress the people who mean the most to you.

His thirst for knowledge means he is always willing to let you practise different exercises on him and is keen to learn whatever you’re willing to tell him (something that has come in handy on many of his own cases).

In return, he would like sharing whatever statistics he has memorised about the work you do. It’s also why he is so concerned about you, knowing how much your role takes out of you. His job is tiring and traumatic enough, but he is at least part of a big team and works only one case at a time.

“I’m just saying sweetheart, it’s estimated that 30% of first responders develop behavioral health conditions including, but not limited to, depression and PTSD, as compared with 20% in the general population. If you ever want to talk to me or someone else, like a professional, then you know that’s ok.”

As much as he isn’t an overly affectionate person, I feel like he’d be the kind of person to buy you both those bracelets that you can tap and it sends a pulse to the other, letting them know you thought about them. It’s like a virtual tap on the shoulder just to let you both know they’ve got you and love you.

He’d also drive the doctors insane if you ever got hurt on the job, yelling at them to double check their diagnosis if he even thinks you’re not getting the best treatment and care possible.

He’d also insist on taking care of you during your recovery, not trusting anyone else to do it right - and he also has Dr Who primed for your entertainment. What could be better than that?

Masterlist

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lis-likes-fics · 11 months ago

Text

Delicious

Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader Word Count: 5.5k words Prompt: Demon AU Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing... A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.

You are perfect.

The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.

You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.

A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.

You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”

You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”

“Grande.”

You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”

She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.

She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”

You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”

She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”

“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”

“It will,” she nods simply.

You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”

“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”

You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”

“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”

She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”

“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”

“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”

You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.

No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.

“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.

She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”

You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”

She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”

You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”

She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”

With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”

“Sinful?” you mutter.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”

You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”

Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”

She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”

No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?

“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.

She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.

“Good girl,” she purrs.

You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.

“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”

Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?

“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.

But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.

So, no… no plans for you.

“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”

Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.

“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.

You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.

Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.

You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.

She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.

Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”

“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.

Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”

She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.

She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.

She can't wait to devour you.

You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.

You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.

The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.

Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.

She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.

Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.

And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.

Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.

She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.

Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”

She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.

She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.

But where was the fun in that?

No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.

Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.

“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”

Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”

Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”

She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.

Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.

“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”

Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”

You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”

Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.

You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”

She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.

She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.

She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?

“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”

She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.

You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.

She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.

She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.

She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.

Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.

Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.

You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.

You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.

The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”

And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.

But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.

You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.

You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.

She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.

She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.

You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.

As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.

She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.

“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.

She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.

And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.

Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.

The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.

She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.

You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.

And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.

She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”

You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.

“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”

Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.

Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.

It feels so good, and you're going to cum.

You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.

“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.

And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.

And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.

Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”

She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.

“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”

Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.

You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.

You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.

Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.

You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.

She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.

And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.

And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.

Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.

There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.

Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.

But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.

You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #the avengers #avengers fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

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quintinh43 · 9 months ago

Text

Slow Mornings | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn has a rare day off

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Warnings: Food? I love yous?

Notes: Hi guysss!! This is my first fic! I'm pretty excited about it. Although I rewrote it nearly five times, haha. Feel free to leave any criticism, and I hope yall enjoy! Love Soph.

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On the very rare off days that Quinn had during the season, you had made a habit of taking the day off work so you could spend it together. Today was one of those days.

Light filtered through the curtains, accentuating the high points of Quinns face. You looked up at him from where your head was resting on his chest, a loving look in your eyes. You traced your fingers over his cheek bones, and down his jaw.

The short stubble tickled your fingers, and you couldn't help but smile. You loved it when he didn't shave, he looked so rugged and handsome with a short beard. You trace your fingers back up his jaw and cheeks, to his hairline, where you gently run your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

Quinn hummed a breath, tightening his arms around your waist pulling you fully on top of him. You cup his face with both hands, pressing small kisses to his face. From the tip of his hair line, over his fluttering eyelids, down the bridge of his nose, and across his cheeks. As you kiss one corner of his mouth he mumbles a "g'morning baby"

"Good morning, Quinn," you grin, kissing the other corner of his mouth. He turned his head in an attempt to chase your lips for a real kiss. "Kiss me," he mumbled, fingers stroking up and down your sides.

"I've been kissing you," you say, giving him a teasing peck on the nose. Quinn opens one eye to glare at you. "Kiss me for real"

As much as you want to tease him, and keep kissing him everywhere but his lips, he looks so angelic in the gray morning light that you can't help but give in to his request. You lean forward pecking him softly on the lips. Just as you pull away, Quinn hand snakes around the back of your neck, pulling you back down for one more kiss.

"Quinn," you mutter against his lips.

"Mmhmm"

"I'll kiss you as much as you want after we brush our teeth"

Quinn groans, but he knows you have a point. As much as he loves kissing you, morning breath on either you wasn't pleasant. "Come now," you say, wriggling out of his grip "its nearly eleven, we should eat"

"I'm comin," He mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. You give him one last peck on the lips before crawling out of bed, gathering a change of clothes, and heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

By the time you are finished in the bathroom, Quinn still hasn't gotten up. You can't help but smile at him. If it was any other day, you'd be tempted to drag him out of bed, but he hadn't had a day off in ages. After brushing your lips against his forehead, you close the bedroom door and start on coffee and breakfast, making sure there is extra coffee in the pot for when Quinn gets up.

You hum to yourself as you make breakfast, flipping waffles and frying sausages to the tune of Right Here Waiting. Just as you finish chopping fruit and laying the finished breakfast on the counter, a warm weight is draped over you.

Quinn wraps an arm around your waist and tucks his head in the crook of your neck. He smelled like toothpaste. You waddle over to the coffee machine, with Quinn attached to your back, and pour him a cup of coffee, topping yours off while you are at it.

"I brushed my teeth," he mumbles against your neck. You nudge his head up, your hand caressing his face. The smile he gives you so soft, warmth floods your body. Everything feels like sunshine. If you could bottle this moment and keep it forever, every struggle that led to this moment would've been worth it.

The thought is almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. "Oh Quinn, I love you so so much," you murmur. Quinn's eyes sparkle, and he captures your lips with his. He steps around you, so he's holding you from the front, one hand cupping your neck, thumbing over your pulse point, and the other resting at the small of your back.

He pulls away, pressing kisses to your forehead. "If I'd known brushing my teeth would get me this reaction, I would've brushed my teeth alot earlier"

You laugh, pulling him down for another short kiss. "Let's eat" you say, handing him his cup of steaming coffee. He takes it gratefully, not being able to resist giving you another peck on the head.

Quinn piles his plate with the food you made, and takes his spot on the couch, flipping on the TV while he waits for you. He watches with mild horror as you pile your waffles with sausage and eggs and top it off with maple syrup. Even though he's seen you do it a million times, it he would never get over it.

You sit at his side, pressed up against him, waiting for him to press play.

"Y/n" he murmurs against your hair

"Hmm?"

"I love you so so much too" he smiles, pecking you one last time on the head, before un-pausing the movie and digging in to his breakfast.

---

WC: 890

#quinn hughes #qh43 #slow mornings #breakfast #i love yous #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #nhl #nhl imagine #Love Soph

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I'd like to request for fuegoleon, William, nozel, zora and Nacht where they hurt their s/O's feelings and make her cry? And just how guilty they feel, how they make it up, comfort their s/o and apologize. You can choose whatever they couldve said or done to make her cry I love anything you write they're all so good

If 5 characters is too much then just fuego, nozel and nacht would be fine please and thankyou❤️

Hello! Some hurt comfort is on the menu it seems, and I'm happy to oblige ^^ This ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, but I hope it's worth the wait ^^

Pairings: Fuegoleon x f!reader, William x f!reader, Nozel x f!reader, Zora x f!reader, Nacht x f!reader

Fanfic type: Headcanons

Genre: Hurt-comfort

Length: about 0.75k each, 3.9k total

Warnings: Generally hurt-comfort, the guys snap at reader, all for reasons of their own, in Nozel's scenario the reader doesn't really know what kind of a person Nozel's dad is, Zora addresses reader as "babydoll", Zora calls himself as a "jerk ass", reader cries and the guys try to comfort in their own ways

Fuegoleon

He had had very taxing couple of months. The adverse the country was facing seemed to have no end in sight, and it felt that in terms of politics and finances the country was being pushed further and further into a corner, which took an immense toll on him emotionally.

And though a part of him wished that he could simply take a vacation and not worry about any of it, he knew it to be senseless. Quite simply because the same issues would wait him as he returned, and they would have further piled up, so taking a vacation would be counterproductive. But still he felt that his nerves were hanging by a thin thread, even if he considered himself as a patient man.

As he sat by his desk, you came through the door with a paper in hand.

“I made us a reservation to a restaurant,” you told him. “I thought we could take a nice evening off, have a date and just enjoy life,” you smiled, while presenting the reservation information to him.

“No thank you,” he said without looking up from the documents in front of him.

“But you need to have some time off as well,” you insisted while placing your hand onto his arm and tugging him slightly. “So I planned us a day where we can just do something w-“

“I can’t take a day off!” He snapped. “Surely a moment of peace and quiet would be pleasant, but there is too much to take care of for me to quite simply ‘take a day off’,” he continued.

And you… lifted your hand off of his arm, and took a step back.

You had intended to do something nice for him, because you had seen how strained he was and now he… wasn’t… feeling the sentiment. A part of you wanted to blame yourself because you had failed to read him and what he’d wish correctly, because wasn’t a spouse supposed to be able to do that?

There were a lot of emotions swirling around in you, but none of them were pleasant. And with it, tears begun climbing to your eyes with a burning sensation, only to roll down your cheeks.

Fuegoleon looked at you, and there was a gnawing, pricking ocean of guilt in his chest, because he knew that you had meant well. You had wanted to do something nice for him and make the situation at least a little bit more bearable.

“My love I’m…” he reached forward for you. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, but … I…” his gaze fell to the side as he spoke, feeling the weight of his words, spoken carelessly.

You didn’t shy away from him as he tried to get close to you again, because it wasn’t… that you didn’t understand him, and you could see the sincere apology and regret in his eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll try to take the day off…” he promised with something that sounded almost like a sigh, but really it was because he knew what it’d mean.

And you knew what it’d mean too. It’d mean sleepless nights, having less time during the next week or two for you two to spend together regularly, in place of that one day. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, but it wouldn’t be worth it. You’d rather see him a little each day than not at all.

“No,” you shook your head with a faint tone while mirroring his movements and reaching for him. “We can… just have a moment, a short moment, in the evening to ourselves,” you said through your drying tears.

His eyes gathered that gentle undertone that was too beautiful for this world, as he placed his hand onto your cheek and brushed away your tears. “If that is what you wish,” he said with gratitude in his voice before he pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

You nodded as a reply, even if only faintly.

“I am sorry, my beloved,” he still repeated. “You’re the most important person in my life, and I don’t wish to impose any-“

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I get it. There’s a lot on your plate and I should have talked about your schedule with you before making reservations…”

“But your heart was in the right place,” he told you while placing his hand under your chin. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you,” he admitted while lifting your chin, and placing another kiss onto your lips, warm, gentle and caressing, which washed away any shadow of doubt of his sentiments that might have been there.

William

The days had grown long, because of everything that was going on in the kingdom. And with the disappearance of Julius, it had gotten him thinking about what had happened after the whole ordeal with the elves. Which had made… something about the whole state of the kingdom hit too close to home with him.

Perhaps he was questioning being pardoned altogether, since it seemed that the one to pardon him, had taken a run for it. Or perhaps something more dire.

But if the only person to be willing to pardon him was someone like him, willing to look the other way when the kingdom was falling to its knees then…

It filled him with various emotions, all swirling and twisting and turning until he felt all of them trying to bubble to the surface, but he didn’t know which to let out first. How to let them out. Instead it felt like they were all stuck in his throat, just building, building, building up pressure so much that he might-

“Hey honey!” You greeted while entering through the door of his office, only to see him hunching over his own desk. “Oh did you eat something bad, or-“ you placed your hand onto his shoulder.

But he pushed it away. “Don’t touch me!” He ordered without as much as looking at you. And from his tone, you heard nothing but pain, hurt, and… you could have sworn… disgust… underlying it all… You could have sworn there to be contempt… in there…

You took a step back, pulling your hand to you and holding it with the other. As you couldn’t… imagine why… why would he have… Your sweet William…

His chest was heaving, and as his eyes lifted from the desk to you, the most prominent feelings you could se were fear and pain. The way they flickered, his purple eyes that were so gentle, flickered around as tears lined the corners of his eyes.

“Forgive me…” he whispered as his eyes turned to the side. “I didn’t… I just… Why did he pardon me? Some… solidarity from a villain to another?” His head swayed from side to side, as if trying to comprehend, but failed to do so.

“You’re… not a villain, Will…” you tried, because his reaction had… made sense. It wasn’t you he was trying to shoo away, it was his own emotions, but you sounded anything but convinced. Tears climbed to your own eyes.

You buried your face into your hands, and wept, from the shock of what had happened, his words, but also because you had understood where it came from. Because he was pained from the guilt of his past actions, and you felt his pain too.

He turned to look at you again, as he heard your sobs, and got up from the chair to make his way to you from the other side of the desk.

“I’m sorry… so, so sorry my little song bird…” he wrapped his arms around you, and pressed his head against yours, as his tears rolled down his cheeks, and onto you. “I’ll… make it up to you…” he pleaded. “Just don’t… please don’t… hate me, I… didn’t… wasn’t… I didn’t mean to….” His voice was faint, broken and defeated, and he swayed in place with you in his arms.

It sounded like he was repenting. Praying for forgiveness.

“I don’t hate you… Will,” you told him while wrapping your own arms around him. He was a broken man, and he had acted out of distress. Without intent to hurt you. Without intent to push you away.

He pressed a kiss onto your head as his embrace grew tighter. “I’m sorry,” he still whispered.

You nudged his head with yours, and whispered against his skin “we’ll make it through.”

Because you would. The two of you would. He wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t a villain. It was simply that the guilt he felt got overbearing sometimes, which had caused him to call out in fear of what he thought about himself.

But he loved you, and you loved him. So, you could heal, together. You were certain about it, as you stood there, holding onto each other.

Nozel

Nozel had learned to deal with his family situation from a young age. Though ‘dealing with it’ had turned into something that seemed more like survival. Not that you could see it from the surface. Because, while looking from afar, without seeing into his eyes, his emotions, he was a calm sea. Vast and serene. Though something, someone to be revered and respected, because there was also harshness in the oceans.

But if you had the opportunity to peek under the surface, you’d see a twisting, turning vortex of guilt, pain, sorrow… fear… A lot of emotions one might deem ugly.

‘Unsightly’ he would describe them in himself. Because he couldn’t be any of those things. The Captain of the Silver Eagles, the First Born Son of the Royal House of Silva, couldn’t be any of those things. And thus… to him, in him, they were unsightly.

He didn’t talk about his childhood either. He didn’t talk about his parents, aside of his mother. Which, given the circumstances of her parting, made sense. He would talk about her more because of the fate she had faced.

You had been thinking about starting a family with him. You had talked about it in passing. And as you sat in the living room, him staring out of the window, deep in thought. You talked about how lovely it’d be. “I’m sure you’d be a great father,” you thought out loud, meaning just it, and nothing else. “Just like yours.”

His head begun to turn to you with a slow motion, as if mechanic, and his eyes were wide open. It wasn’t even a glare, but a mad stare.

“I will never be like that bastard!” He shouted, making you press against your seat out of the sheer force in which the words were pushed, spat out of his mouth.

His body started to shake, and the stare turned into a look of horror as his eyes fell down to the floor. Because…. Because… though his father had been horrid, spewed poisonous words in a whole different way than shouting… maybe you had been right and… he was on his way becoming just like his father. Which was among the last things he’d want.

But you… you didn’t quite understand where it had come from. Sure, he hadn’t talked about his father, but you hadn’t thought that there’d be this level of hatred and contempt for him from Nozel. Though you had gathered that Older Lord Silva wasn’t a well liked man, but… surely he… would have been… kinder to his… own children, right?

Right…?

There were a lot of emotions turning within you. Partly from the force of Nozel’s words, and partly from guilt of having failed to see through his silence. Through the things he didn’t want to talk about, and… as you leaned forward, your elbows on your knees and buried your face into your hands, you cried. You cried and you cried and you… didn’t know what to do. What to say?

You felt a weight right next to you on the couch, as a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Nozel I…” you tried while pushing against his chest with a faint motion.

“Don’t…” he started as his hold of you grew more firm. “Look at me…” he continued as his voice broke, and something… as if a droplet, landed onto your shoulder.

The words sounded like a plea. Plea filled with shame and the broken pieces of his soul that he wasn’t eager to show you.

But you did as he wished, and settled into his embrace.

“I’m… sorry, my dear,” he whispered with that same broken tone while placing his hand to the back of your head. “I’ll… be better, than him. I will…” you couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell that to you or to himself.

But whatever his father must’ve been like in reality, you could already tell that Nozel was far better of a man than his father had ever been. He was. Because the man who held you in the soft, gentle, secure embrace felt so very deeply about you and the ones close to him.

He really was like an ocean of secrets.

“I love you,” he professed through another whisper, but while the tone was silent, the proclamation was loud as ever. “I love you…” he repeated, just to make sure that you heard him.

And as you buried your face into his shoulder, and the scent of his haircare products flowed to you, it was as if your tears had disappeared into thin air.

Nozel might not have been the best with words, but he was there, when you needed him the most.

Zora

Zora had had to raise himself for a good portion of his childhood. Though Zara had given him good tools to life, and a lot of wonderful memories, it didn’t mean that Zora wouldn’t have had to toughen up.

His accomplishments, his skills and tenacity were all a result of him having a keen eye for details, while also having had to, quite bluntly, tell himself to do better. Pay attention to his own shortcomings and fix the issue.

But… it had also resulted in him being blunt with others. Though it was all for the sake of betterment, for growth and development of skills, the way he delivered the words were harsh more often than not. Which was something he was trying to fix, when it came to some people, at least.

You knew that he was like that. And you knew that he wasn’t the type of a guy to just sit around and expect you to do all the housework, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t like cooking from time to time. Actually, maybe it was the idea that you didn’t need to cook, because he’d be more than alright with cooking if you asked him to, but rather that you could.

But today the dish wasn’t… cutting it. You had tried to taste it many times and there was something in the seasoning that wasn’t just… doing it for you. But you couldn’t really place your finger on what was wrong with it. Or not… wrong wrong per se, but it certainly could be better.

You leaned against the stove, and sighed to yourself, as the gears in your head tried to turn. But came up empty.

A drawer was opened, and closed. There was a sound of metal clicking against metal and steps coming closer, accompanied by a hum from a certain, masked, someone.

Zora dipped his spoon into the food and took a bite to test the taste. And after he had, he sighed, sounding disappointed before making his way to the spice cabinet and laying thme out onto the table.

“The balance is all wrong,” he said. “It’s mainly salty while you want there to be some sweetness to it for the contrast as well. A bit of acid would do wonders, but the real issue is that the spices aren’t complimenting each other,” he explained while taking the spoon and adding one spice after another along with other ingredients.

And you… took a step back and let him do it. Because if it was ‘all wrong’, why should you have interjected?

In all honesty, it made you feel unappreciated. Like you couldn’t even cook right. If I can’t even cook right, then why is he with me….? You found yourself thinking.

Before you knew it, your eyes had turned to the floor and you were grinding your molars together as tears started climbing to your eyes. And eventually, they ran down your cheeks as you were still immersed into your own thoughts, in how you didn’t think that you could do a simple task correct. Because surely Zora wanted someone by his side who could contribute as much as he did. Surely. So why was he-

“Hey babydoll?”

You looked up, and saw him standing there, having placed his hand onto your shoulder.

His eyes were deep, calm blue. Clear and yet deep blue. And there was worry in them. That was when you realized that you were crying and looked away while wrapping your arms around yourself.

He sighed, and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about the tone,” he said. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and… I’m happy to eat whatever you make,” he tried but the consolation fell short, given how he had started cooking in your place.

You curled around yourself a bit more, without really meaning to, but you did. In any case.

“Come here,” he said while pulling you into an embrace.

Seconds ticked away for a while as he just held you, and the dinner was slowly cooking on the stove.

“If you want me to stay out of it, you need to just tell me, y’know? I know that I can be too harsh, and… And… I try to not be.”

He was trying to help you get better. But he could be a wee bit of a jerk about it at times.

“We both know I can be a real ass jerk,” he said with a hint of amusement, trying to make you laugh.

And it worked. “But you’re my jerk,” you replied with a hint of a giggle in your tone.

“That I am,” he replied. “And I hope you never need to get sick of me,” he continued while pulling away just enough to wipe your tears away.

You gave him a small smile as a reply to his careful one, and went back to cooking, together.

Nacht

Nacht had been a loner for most of his life. Someone who travelled down his own path without caring what everyone else thought. And it had made him someone who spoke directly about anything and everything he deemed to be topical to say.

Though he could also be harsh. Granted that he was the harshest to himself, but still. His directness could be harsh, and you both knew it.

He tried not to be, to you. He tried to treat you with the kindness that you deserved. He tried to treat you with the respect that you ought to be treated with. But sometimes, he failed.

Though watching him scold the Bulls for their shenanigans yet again, you didn’t think that he was trying all that hard to be constructive. Maybe he just wanted them to be efficient during missions, because that would drive the squad forward the best. ‘Not to be wasteful of energy’, or something like that.

“You could try going easier on them,” you told him later on when it was just the two of you. “Be kinder.”

“Kindness is a weakness,” he scoffed. “And Yami has let them slack off enough already which will get them killed. Only a fool would go easy on them.”

You stopped, thinking about what he had just said. Because you were going easy with the rest of the Bulls. You were kind to them. And Nacht. So… so.

You couldn’t help but think that Nacht had, there and then, revealed what he really thought of you. Though it wasn’t directed at you, he had been, still, indirectly talking about you too. Basically he had called you weak and stupid.

Basically.

Which made your eyes turn to the ground as you bit down your molars and tried to will away the tears that were climbing to your eyes. Because you shouldn’t have taken such an off-hand comment that wasn’t even said to you, to the heart in such a way but… But. It had struck a nerve in you.

“Hm? What is it?” He asked, having stopped and turned around to look at you, as if he hadn’t realized what he had said.

“So you think that I’m dumb and weak?” You asked with bitterness lacing your tone as the tears finally glazed over your eyes, but didn’t roll down quite yet.

“That isn’t what I said,” he argued, now facing you fully and taking a few steps closer to you.

“But I am letting them off easier and I am being kind to them. So. If being kind and letting them have a breather is-“

“You’re not responsible for them.”

“Neither are you!” Now tears ran, but you didn’t look at him.

You didn’t look, and he said nothing.

Surely, he could have argued that as a vice captain he was more or less responsible, but not to the same extent as Yami. And at the end of the day, all the Bulls were responsible for themselves. So, he didn’t need to care about what they did with their time. Really.

“You are not weak and stupid,” he said while taking you by the hand. “Quite the contrary,” he admitted. “And I shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly.”

He sounded like he was speaking out a ready made dialogue of a noble man that he used to be. But you supposed that he hadn’t needed to comfort anyone lately either. If ever. If he had ever needed to comfort anyone. Even himself, since he had denied such a thing from himself.

But he could see how the ready made dialogue wasn’t doing it. The words might have been there, but the sentiment wasn’t.

“Darling?” He whispered, while moving again a little bit closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he said while summoning his shadows and tugging you, as if to ask to come along with him. To which you nodded, and he transported you both to your bedroom.

As you stood there, in the sanctity of the room with the door closed, he finally wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “You are not weak. Or stupid,” he repeated. This time the tone was one that sounded genuine, caring, insisting. “I’m sorry for insinuating it.”

You nodded and returned the embrace.

“It’s simply that… not being prepared can get people killed…” there was a reason, in there, why he would remind you of such a thing.

“But people need to live too.” And there was no arguing over it. Because life was meant to be lived.

Not even he could deny it. “They do…” he admitted while holding you closer in his arms.

And it was in that embrace that you could feel his heartbeat, his remorse and regret. But most importantly, you could feel how he did love you. Because he did. With his entire heart and soul.

#black clover fanfiction #black clover headcanons #black clover x reader #fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #william x reader #william vangeance x reader #nozel x reader #nozel silva x reader #zora x reader #zora ideale x reader #nacht faust x reader #nacht x reader #fuegoleon vermillion #william vangeance #nozel silva #zora ideale #nacht faust

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ham1lton · 6 months ago

Note

47 with FA14 please :)

047. the inside of an elevator that won’t move w/ FA14.

— part of a series of drabbles! <3

you were incredibly annoyed. so annoyed in fact, that you were this close to quitting this job. your very cushy hybrid job which paid incredible and gave you your own office even though you mostly worked from home. toto, your boss, had given you the alonso case which meant that you’d be working through your sister’s wedding. the same wedding you’d booked off months ago.

you get in the elevator, slightly fuming, as an older man also got in the elevator with you. he turns to you.

“floor three please.” he asks politely, as you’re standing next to the buttons. you seethe but press the button for him.

as the two of you stand in silence, the elevator suddenly stops. you give each other a panicked look. the silence between the two of you is heavy, only broken by the occasional faint hum of the elevator’s machinery. you click the help button and after a short conversation with the very unhelpful guy on the other end, you’re told help will arrive in half an hour.

“great! just what i fucking needed.” you mutter. he turns to you. “what? like this is a great situation for you either?”

“no, obviously not.” he says, in very accented english.

“so don’t give me that look.” you roll your eyes.

he raises his hands defensively. "okay, okay. truce?"

you sigh, realizing you're being unfair. it’s not like it’s his fault. "yeah, sorry. it's just been a really bad day."

"tell me about it," he says, leaning against the elevator wall. "what’s got you so worked up?"

"my boss just dumped this huge case on me last minute," you say, frustration bubbling up again. "it’s for this big client, alonso or something. now i have to miss my holiday because of it. i had the time off booked for months."

he raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "alonso? that's tough."

"yeah, and all because some big shot can't finalize a business contract on time," you grumble. “what’s so important about this stupid contract anyways?”

he looks away, as if contemplating something. "sounds like a real pain. what do you do, exactly?"

"i'm a corporate lawyer. and you?"

he hesitates for a moment before answering, "i'm... in business. finance, mostly."

you roll your eyes. "well, mr. finance, at least you’re not stuck working on a weekend for some unreasonable client."

the silence that follows feels heavier than before, and he shifts uncomfortably. "yeah, must be tough," he says quietly.

you frown, feeling slightly guilty for venting so much. "sorry, i didn't mean to unload on you. it's just been a lot."

he nods, offering a small, understanding smile. "i get it. sometimes things don’t go the way we planned."

you both fall silent for a second, the hum of the elevator the only sound, as you wait for help to arrive. then, as if compelled to fill the void, you continue. "it's just... my sister's wedding this weekend. i've been looking forward to it for months. and now, because of this contract, i'm going to miss it. i don't even know why it's so urgent."

he shifts again, looking like he wants to say something but isn't sure if he should. "maybe the client has their reasons," he offers carefully. "not that it makes it any easier for you."

"yeah, well, whoever they are, i hope their business crashes and burns," you mutter darkly. "no contract is worth missing something so important."

there's another pause before he speaks again, his voice softer this time. "sometimes, it's hard to see the bigger picture when you're in the thick of it."

you look at him, a hint of curiosity mixed with your frustration. "you sound like you know a lot about this."

he gives a half-smile as he shrugs, almost rueful. "more than i'd like to admit."

before you can ask more, the elevator jerks and starts moving again. you both breathe a sigh of relief as the doors slide open. he gestures for you to go first. "after you."

as you step out, you glance back at him. "thanks for listening. and sorry for the rant."

"anytime," he says, his smile warm but his eyes holding a hint of something you can't quite place. "good luck with that contract. and i hope you find a way to make it to your sister's wedding."

"thanks," you say, still feeling a bit unsettled as you walk away, wondering why his understanding smile seemed to hold more weight than a simple stranger's sympathy.

later that evening, as you’re buried in paperwork, your phone buzzes with an email notification. it's from toto. you open it, and your heart skips a beat.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

subject: urgent update on alonso case

dear l/n,

i have some unexpected news regarding the alonso contract. the client personally requested to change the deadline, granting you the weekend off. i know this is a surprise, but please take the weekend to attend your sister's wedding.

best,

toto.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

your mind races as you read the email again. how did the client know about your situation? you stare at the screen, the pieces slowly clicking into place. the man from the elevator—the one who listened so intently, who seemed to know more than he let on—he must be connected to alonso.

the realisation brings a mix of emotions: relief, slight embarrassment, gratitude, and a touch of something warmer. you can't help but smile, remembering his kind eyes and supportive words. your phone beeps again.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

subject: dinner invitation

dear y/n,

i hope this message finds you well. i wanted to extend an invitation for dinner sometime this week. it would be a pleasure to meet in person and discuss matters beyond business.

please let me know if you're interested and i hope you enjoy the wedding.

warm regards,

fernando alonso.

ceo of alonso corp.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

author’s note: i don’t actually write for fernando but this was calling to me so i decided to fulfil the prompt. i hope this isn’t too ooc. my bad. also reader and ceo!alonso go on the date and fall in love and the week before their wedding he pretends to get her on a contract all over again bc he thinks its funny.

#ham1lton’s drabbles 🝮#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fa14 x reader

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bloodpen-to-paper · 9 months ago

Text

Gonna throw my hat into the ring here, as someone who very recently had a streamer they loved and supported go down for serious allegations and crimes. Feel free to skip around my long ass response, I'll break it down into parts:

---Public Reception

Part of the reason I despise these situations is because people online don't ever know enough to make 100% accurate assessments, but will act like they do anyway (I don't care if its authoritarian, I want a bill where people on Twitter can't post about drama until after at least 5 minutes of being forced to critically think). Having said that, here's my opinions on how everything should go forward:

-Shelby shared her story in order to spread awareness on domestic abuse and the signs, so that others can read those signs and keep themselves safe (or leave an actively abusive situation they've been convincing themselves isn't that bad). That is the priority here, that is what people should be focusing on. If you make this situation about stirring drama with the other CCs, you're a dumbass and you need to stop posting. Give support to Shelby, uplift the voices of women like her sharing their stories, spread awareness on what domestic abuse can look like so everyone can learn, and wait for more information. Its that simple.

-CCs don't owe statements for conflicts they weren't involved in. Philza, Tommy, Quackity, Charlie, and other CCs close to Wilbur who aren't part of this don't owe you an explanation. They're people, they're most likely having to come to terms with the fact that a dear friend, someone who could've been like family, isn't who they thought he was. Have a fucking heart and cut it with the parasocial entitlement. I'm hoping Quackity will remove Wilbur from the Qsmp, but just like with Forever, he probably won't make a big announcement of it, and that's perfectly ok. I understand wanting to make sure you're not supporting a CC who would defend someone guilty of committing domestic abuse, but its still not your right to get anything from these people. If they share, they share. If not, then they don't. If you can't handle that, then leave.

-Having said the above, its worth noting that CCs aren't just a fun group of friends, they're coworkers. Much of what they say publicly and when they say it can be shaped or restricted by situations that can affect their careers or get them in legal trouble. You don't know these people personally or what goes on behind the scenes, its a network and you can't measure their responses the same way you would your own opinion piece. The CCs will always need to be careful about how they respond to an issue, and they will most likely respond in "safe" ways considering what's on the line. Not accusing anyone of anything, nor demonizing them for it, just something to keep in mind. They're human, but they're also working a job.

-If you have Lovejoy or Wilbur-related merch, DON'T THROW IT AWAY OR DESTROY IT. I've seen lots of people pointing out merch can be donated to thrift shops or shelters, and its more eco-friendly than burning or trashing. Remember, anything can be repurposed; a book, a hoodie, there's always someone who can find a use for it. Likewise if you want to keep your old merch, that's fine to. You can wear it if it brings you comfort, or if its something you just like the look of. As long as you're not supporting the source, you already have the merch so don't let people pressure you into thinking you're bad for keeping it if you're not ready to let go/throw away those $70.

---My Opinion Regarding His Response

Everyone and their cousin has been dogpiling on Wilbur's response (rightfully), but I think people online don't understand how public responses work when there's legal team and PR interference. The tweet for me had a weird lack of personal touch and emotion from the guy I've observed to be very personal in his writings, whether its his music or a community post about a life update (blah blah parasociality I know, but I'm letting you know the observations I've made of his behavior simply as someone who notices these things). He also never explicitly stated Shelby's name, rather saying "that person" (you even had the textbook 'black text on a blank white background' screenshotted response). Finally, there was a consistent standing on Wilbur 'not being aware of how the other person really felt' regarding his actions. What I'm trying to say is... y'all really gotta start putting two and two together. Its a textbook PR response. As in, I'd be surprised if Wilbur had over 50% involvement in making it because the wording is exactly how it reads when a response has been initiated by someone's lawyers rather than themselves. The reason he doesn't take more accountability and openly admit to having abused Shelby (other than the obvious public backlash) is probably cause his lawyers are banking on the feigning ignorance angle, that Wilbur didn't intentionally abuse Shelby and was ignorant to how his actions affected her. Its the best way to get him out of hot water on the legal side, because again, this isn't messy drama; its a genuine accusation of a crime. I don't think the response is tone deaf and unaware, I think its a deliberate and measured legal move not even fully created by Wilbur himself. This isn't to say I think he's innocent, but I do know that Shelby and others have brought up some serious accusations, and Wilbur is lawyering up as a result.

---Nuance

Prefacing this part by saying that things are not looking good for Wilbur in regards to what other CCs have brought up about him, and I fully believe and support Shelby, hence why I support that the community should start distancing from him and his work. But I would like to take this opportunity to look into the greater aspects at play. We are within a system that brings up men to do what they want without teaching them to be considerate and aware of the consequences. Men are taught their harmful behavior is perfectly fine, often at women's expense, which makes these situation a very different story depending on who's telling it. Its because of this that we need to critically analyze the system and how it causes men to turn out as they do, instead of giving an immediate opinion without any nuance.

There's a possibility that Wilbur is being genuine in not realizing how bad his actions were. There's a possibility he truly is a manipulative liar who knew exactly what he was doing. He could be a piece of shit. He could be genuinely trying to improve and do better. We don't know. I'd say its pretty cut and dry that he hurt Shelby, and for that I'm glad she's getting justice for herself and spreading awareness. But if we're to entertain the idea of redemption, we need to look at situations like these with nuance so that we can understand the "why". I'm not trying to justify Wilbur's actions or even give him the benefit of the doubt, I have no idea what's going on in that guy's head. I'm just putting this out there because its something I want everyone to think about, especially when it comes to topics regarding narcissism and mental health issues. Don't support him or Lovejoy, just keep something like this in mind for the future.

---The Community/Now Displaced Fans

To everyone who's immediately telling Wilbur's fans (the ones that don't support his actions and are actively mourning no longer being able to enjoy his stuff) to just listen to other music or move on, and who are celebrating each negative new thing that comes out about Wilbur's current status, sincerely, shut the fuck up. You are completely lacking in empathy or emotional intelligence, and what you're doing is the last thing the community needs. Wilbur and his work could have and for many did get fans through some of their hardest moments, and losing that wonderful sense of community you get from streamers and their work (especially with the roleplay stuff) is awful. It fucked me up losing that after almost a year, for some of his fans its been even longer.

If you're a (former) fan of his, its ok to feel like shit. We're human, we get attached and we grieve losing something like this because that's how capable we are of loving. Take your time, as long as you know where to stand (supporting Shelby and raising awareness on domestic abuse), you're doing good. You can keep enjoying his characters and work and making content about it, separating the art from the artist (though don't stream his music from platforms that would give him the money, find a way to pirate it).

This sucks. I feel it as a casual fan who was once hugely into his content, I can imagine what its like for those who were huge supporters all the way up until now. You didn't do anything wrong supporting someone you thought was a good person, its just a thing that happens and its so fucking shitty. You ain't alone though, I know some of you have that knee-jerk reaction to avoid anything to do with him but reaching out to others in the community and actually processing it all is way better, you won't be bottling it all up. Don't be afraid to continue engaging with this part of your life until you're ready to move on from it in your own time, and be kind to yourself. From someone who went through exactly what you are now, trust me, you'll get through it.

#shubble situation #wilbur soot #psa

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celestie0 · 9 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.7 to lose someone you love

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 7/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 8.5k

a/n. sighhh i'm rly sorry for the wait. and thank you sooo much to the love for the last chapter omg :') this chapter is gojo pov and it's a bit different than the rest, but i still hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. if there are typos, they're not typos they're actually 100% intentional and you are the silly one

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When Gojo was just four years old, he called for the paramedics for the very first time.

He had wandered around the house, wide and innocent blue eyes searching the room for the landline in the dim light of the evening, his lip quivering in a pout. His small arm reached up to pet around at the top of his parents’ dresser before his fingers wrapped around the phone. He couldn’t remember what the number was at first, the one his mother always told him to call in case of an emergency, but he remembered he scribbled it down somewhere with red crayon in one of his coloring books. By the time Gojo first realized he needed to call for help, located the landline, looked through all of his little portraits of dinosaurs and spaceships sprawled across the carpet of his room, found those three numbers, and then finally dialed them, his father had already been seizing and shaking on the bathroom floor for longer than twenty-four minutes.

He was just a child. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know any better.

Gojo spent the remainder of that night hugging his mom in the hospital’s emergency room, his tears soaking through her shirt as she gently rocked him back and forth in her lap while whispering soothing words in his ear. His father lay motionless on the hospital bed before them, eyes shut, and Gojo will never forget the haunting sounds of the machinery that was keeping his father alive. It was a sudden onset seizure, likely stemming from the traumatic brain injury his father had suffered a few years ago, and the prolonged convulsions he experienced on the bathroom floor that night had resulted in severe brain damage. Gojo could still hear the echo of his mother’s silent cry when the doctors informed them that it’s unlikely his father would ever fully recover from this.

No reasonable adult would ever look a four-year-old in the eyes and say if you had called for help sooner or knew what to do, maybe your father would’ve still had the chance to live a long life. Yet, even at his young age, Gojo was aware of the energy in the room, and that explanation was the only truth his mind could grasp onto to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

After two weeks of clinging to life, his father miraculously woke up from his coma and persevered for the sake of his wife and son. Shortly after the incident, he began to have recurring seizures but fought through them each time. Without fail, he made Gojo breakfast in the mornings, even if it meant having to clean up the spilt orange juice on the counter every now and then because of how his hands could not stop trembling. He always walked Gojo to the bus stop, waving him goodbye, despite how troublesome and embarrassing he found it to use his cane. The love he had for his son was so palpable that it eclipsed the bitterness over how his life had ended up because of the blessing it had brought him.

In his prime, Gojo’s father was a renowned soccer player, so incredibly talented at the sport that he left a lasting mark on the way teams strategized, his presence on the field commanding respect, and he was one of the greatest talents the entire college division had ever seen.

He met Gojo’s mother at one of his freshman year games, a pretty lady in the stands that caught his eye from the sight of her laughter among her friends, her radiance drawing him to her from the field, and that’s how their love began. Exactly one year following that day, he stole one of his grandmother’s thrifted rings from her jewelry collection and that was what he used to propose. Gojo’s mother had accepted it with so many tears and so much snot running down her face, and he had never found her more beautiful. They married young and sweet, like most people back then.

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant.

No one knew that would be the last game of soccer he would ever play.

It was a freak accident, a distracted driver behind the wheel of a gray Chevy on a dark and rainy night, veered straight towards Gojo’s parents car to avoid a branch on the road. In a moment that could only be described as his instinct to protect, he quickly swerved his vehicle, taking the brunt of the impact on his side. His family surrounded him at his hospital bedside as they grappled with the news that he would be unable to play the sport ever again due to his traumatic brain injury that would lead to lifelong motor function loss. According to the doctors and police, had he not swerved to shield his wife and unborn child, the outcome would have been far more disastrous. After months of rehabilitation, he regained enough ability to walk and just enough function in his extremities to welcome his newborn son in his arms.

When Gojo was just six years old, two years after witnessing his father’s first seizure, he stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten soccer ball tucked away in the corner of the garage. When he eagerly presented it to his father, excitement gleaming in his eyes, he was only met with a scowl and the demand to discard it, to never bring such things like that to him ever again. His mother protested, ensuing in an argument, and as Gojo lowered his gaze to the ball in his hands, he noticed his father’s faded signature adorned with a heart and message of love for his mother. The ink, once vibrant, now faded with time.

It wasn’t until Gojo turned seven that his father finally relented to teach him more about the sport, knowing it was all his son wanted for his birthday. With determination in his heart, Gojo pleaded for his father’s guidance, eager to kick around a nearly deflated, weathered ball. His father watched his son, expression morphing from reserved and stoic, softening to surprise, then hopeful, and he found himself cheering on his son’s clumsy endeavors on the field despite how many times he tumbled and fell. Because that was his son, his pride and joy, reminiscent of him embracing the sport that he himself had cherished so many years ago.

As Gojo grew older and excelled at the sport, securing victory after victory in every youth league, his father’s health steadily declined. The recurring seizures caused by the brain damage from his prolonged convulsions on that fateful night exacerbated over the years and started to take an increasing toll on his body. Yet still, he never missed even a single one of his son’s games. Whenever Gojo swiftly sent the ball flying through the net, the first person his eyes would search for on the field was his father, the joy in his eyes being all he cared about in the world. Gojo lived to make his father proud, because it was the only thing that made him feel like he could make up for what little he had done to protect his father that night.

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better.

The day following Gojo’s eleventh birthday, his father had his second major seizure, falling into another coma, but this time he never woke up. Two years later, his mother made the tough decision to end his life-support, and then he was gone from their lives. Gojo’s mother was inconsolable, and he knew that his father took a piece of her soul with him to heaven that night. The piece that allowed her to smile.

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning.

But why was he remembering all of that now?

The shrill of Gojo’s alarm clock woke him up from the intrusive memories that were washing through the fore-front of his mind, and he grumbled to himself before whacking at his nightstand haphazardly to shut the thing off. He ran a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away, features instantly settling into an annoyed scowl as he blinked his eyes open and the filtering sunlight through the windows harassed his vision.

He laid there for a few seconds, mending to the pounding headache at his temples with his fingers rubbing circles, and then he finally sat up in bed. Blinking at his sheets, the images of last night start to flash through his mind. The heavy music, the dim lighting of the bathroom, the dizzying jealousy, and the taste of you on his tongue–

The memory is supposed to arouse him, and would on any normal day, but because you had left him standing there stunned with no release of his own at all, he instead just feels a pulsing, soul-deep throbbing pain at his crotch that could really only be due to the fact he was left high and dry by you last night. He groans at the sensation, palm pushing down on his lower abdomen to try and relax the torture, which barely helped. It’s either he jerks off or takes a cold shower, and given the former was likely not possible for him right now since his god-forsaken brain decided to push the traumatizing experiences of his childhood to the forefront of his headspace first thing in the morning, meaning it’s unlikely he’ll be able to settle into the memory of you bent over that bathroom counter for him, he decides on the cold shower. And it’s safe to say that today already fucking sucked.

The moment the chill water hits the skin of his body, he recollects the look you had on your face right before you walked out on him. Soft, searching, to him almost seraphic, but you also looked wounded. And something from your anger with him since before he even had you in that bathroom, to the agonizing moment you left him in there by himself, told him he’d messed up big time with you somewhere along the lines.

He knew he had been a jerk last night. He didn’t really have much of a right to be seethingly possessive of you, but the sight of you kissing another guy had him seeing red and his knuckles turning white. He finds himself clenching his jaw at the unwelcome memory even now. He figured he probably ruined what would’ve otherwise been an enjoyable night for you, and so you decided to get revenge by walking out on him. However, he can’t shake the feeling that things are messy and complicated now, primarily because of him, and he felt like he needed to apologize for dragging you into his weird, confusing emotions.

He gets himself dry and dressed, grateful for the barely sufficient relief he had down south, and sighs as he grabs his phone and taps on your name, thinking about what to say to you, and just settles on typing out Hey, can we talk? and then presses send. He turns the ringer of his phone off, tosses the device onto his bed and then heads out the door.

Geto was sitting on the couch in the loft, rubbing an ice cube across his forehead as he sprawled on the cushions and let out low and consistent groans to himself. Gojo flopped down on the armchair across from him and assumed a similar position, rubbing at his temples to nurse his own headache. Geto opens an eye to look at him.

“Morning,” he grumbles.

“I take it I’m not the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a truck?” Gojo asks.

Geto makes a disgruntled noise and throws his head back on the cushion. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. God knows how much I had last night.” He reaches over to the console table in the center for the bottle of Ibuprofen and tosses it to Gojo, who catches it and stares down at the label. “I didn’t really see you drink that much though. Don’t know why you’re hungover.”

Gojo sighs. He wasn’t hungover. His headache was from the fact that had a lot on his mind. Like the feeling of your skin last night. And then the pain of being blue-balled. And also for some reason his father’s death. Very exhausting to juggle those thoughts at once.

Gojo twists the cap off the bottle of Ibuprofen and pops two pills, drowning them in his mouth with Geto’s glass of water, then runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The man across from him raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asks.

“Super peachy,” Gojo replies.

He sighs. “Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t affect your play today,” Geto warns him, sinking further down into the couch. Gojo lets out an exhale through his nose. Geto usually pushed further for answers whenever he was in a mood, so the fact that he didn’t this time meant that hangover was bad.

“I’m more worried about you. You think you’ll be fine in a few hours?” Gojo asks. Geto just waves his hand in the air in response as he grabs the hand towel on his chest and drags it up over his face, shielding himself from the light of the room.

“I have no choice but to be fine. We have to win this game,” is all he says through muffling cloth.

Gojo nods, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the carpet. It was finally the game of the 28th, arguably the second-most important game of the season. If they take home the win, they’re automatically seeded into top sixteen teams, which means they’ll only have to win four more matches after today to take home the championship. But if they lose, they’re seeded to the bottom, and then four turns into a daunting eight. In the history of the league, not a single team has ever lost their pre-seed game and still continued to win the playoff championship. So Geto was right, they have no choice but to win today. Otherwise, they could kiss goodbye to a 12-year UTokyo championship streak.

“Not going for your run?” Geto asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Nah, not feeling up for it,” Gojo replies.

He clicks his tongue. “Never skip the pre-game ritual, man.”

Gojo groans, knowing that he’s right, and so he reluctantly gets up off the chair and heads back into his room. His phone lay there on the bed, facing down, and he felt so tragically taunted by it that he weighed the options of whether or not he should check if you replied back before his run or after his run. And then he’s wondering why you affect him this much in the first place.

He resolves to check after his run, and only gets one arm through his shirt before his hands betray him and he snatches his phone, eagerly tapping the screen to turn it on.

He sees your name at the top, where you had just replied barely a minute ago. Sure, we can talk. He blinks at his phone when he sees the polite period at the end of your message, and the proper capitalization, not to mention a vocative comma? He was starting to feel really nervous.

He didn’t care that you had only replied a minute ago, he quickly typed out his response and sent it.

|| 10:35am Gojo: Do you know how to get onto the stadium field today?

He sees you typing, and he’s holding his breath.

|| 10:36am you: yes, I do. I’m going in w the newsletter journalists. Was this what you wanted to talk about?

What did he want to talk to you about exactly? Something like I’m sorry about being an ass last night, totally not cool for me to be that territorial over you, although I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again because seeing you kiss someone other than me kind of made me want to die. Also, I’m sorry for acting like you’re just someone I know, I don’t know why I did it. I guess it’s because I didn’t know if you thought of me as any more than just someone you know either, and that thought was frightening. Did I mention I hated seeing you kiss someone that wasn’t me?

He’s never really been good with words. Or feelings.

10:37am Gojo: No, it’s not, it’s something else. I’ll come find you on the field before the game starts

He stands there, gaze fixed on his phone screen for the minute-long pause you took to respond, that for him felt like tortured eons, just for you to send-

10:39am you: k

Gojo finishes getting dressed for his run, anxiety brewing in his stomach drearily, and when he heads out the door of the house, the fresh morning air doesn’t help calm him down like it usually does. Of course, as he’s running, his thoughts wander to you. He’s thinking about the smell of your hair–or was it the perfume on your skin?–either way, it was intoxicating. The curve of your neck, that spot that made you whimper– fuck. Think of other things. Like the sound of your voice, soft and sometimes needy, but he enjoys it that way–makes his head spin. Or when you’re being sweet and thanking him for something you shouldn’t, because to him everything about you was a privilege and never a task. Even in the hot spring sun of the late morning, he finds himself missing the warmth from your body, and that look. That goddamn look in your eyes when you’re peering into his like you want him to–

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

His legs stop him on their own, like they know something about the feelings in his chest that he doesn’t, and he’s standing still on the sidewalk of the neighborhood now. Short puffs of air escape his lips from his blood pumping fast through his body, and he could physically hear the sound of you in his head. Intimate enough to where he turns to the side slightly facing his surroundings, like there was no way it was just a memory and you weren’t actually near. He finds himself swallowing hard and having to consciously keep moving forward.

Gojo makes it back to the house, freshens up for the second time today, and gets dressed into his UTokyo soccer uniform with his signature #10 jersey. He leaves with Geto to campus, where all his teammates gather before eventually boarding the bus to the UTokyo stadium field ten minutes away. Coach Yaga yells their ears off in the locker rooms in an attempt to get their plays for today through their brains, and the exhilarating noises from the stands as they make their formal entrance through to the field fills Gojo’s senses, along with the obnoxiously loud music playing as pre-game rituals settle in. Gojo sets his bag down on the bench and joins the others in warm-ups for about fifteen minutes, before catching a chance to sneak away and look for you across the expansive pristine grass.

After lightly jogging around the perimeter of the field for a couple of minutes, he finally spots you, his raised eyebrows now flattening under the fringe of his hair as he relaxes. He didn’t realize he was tensing his shoulders until now. You were just beyond the sidelines near a hydration station, fidgeting with something in your camera case, lips pressed together in a frustrated expression, and he saw your body sulk with the sigh you let out as you must’ve realized you had forgotten something. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile, an unconscious reaction to seeing you look so damn cute from your troubled face decorated with a pout. And then he remembered he had been looking for you, and he had found you, and the only thing to do next was to be near you.

He ambles up to you, and you only catch sight of him when he’s just a few feet away and finally standing in front of you. He sees your eyes widen slightly, lashes blinking once, twice, and then there’s a blush of color to your cheeks as you fidget with the stadium access badge hung around your neck. He noticed there were grass stains on your jeans over your knees when he looked down.

“Hey,” Gojo greets you over the loud music playing on the field.

“Hi,” he sees you say, and he realizes he can barely hear you.

“Let’s go over there,” Gojo yells, jerking his head over to the side.

He leads you over to an area tucked near the east side entrance, a corner slightly underneath one of the sectioned stands where the loud cheers of the stadium somehow reflected off less. It was about as private or silent of a place that the two of you could manage to have a conversation on a soccer field before a match, if you could just ignore the dressed up school mascots rehearsing their walk-ins and walk-outs through the entryway.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits the concrete slab wall, and he’s in front of you as he watches you study him for a second, taking in the sight of his uniform, before your eyes finally meet his.

“Are you ready to take your photos today?” he asks you, poorly attempting to make small talk despite the images of you with him in that bathroom last night flashing through his memory. Now was seriously not the time to be turned on.

You nod, and respond “I am”, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

He sighs. “Listen, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. For dragging you into that bathroom with me, although you did ask me to-” He sees you narrow your eyes and cross your arms across your chest. “Sorry,” he sighs, “Seriously, I just…I don’t know what got over me then.”

“You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?” you prod at him. He briefly considers pretending he doesn’t hear your question over the sound of the stadium, but he knows he wouldn't get away with that, not with the way you’re looking at him like he’s just one more fuck-up away from making you storm off.

He looks at your lips. “I guess the only thing I know is that I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Satoru. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened. What I’m asking is why.”

He’s struggling now, searching his head for answers, like he’s fighting for his life on a test that he didn’t study for. When he looks down, he notices your foot has been tapping impatiently. And when he looks back up, there’s that wounded expression from last night again. “I don’t know,” is all he can offer.

You uncross your arms from your chest, lips parting slightly as your eyebrows pinch upwards with a disheartened look. He sees your gaze shift slowly across the features of his face, searching, and he wonders if you can see something within him that he can’t. The thought terrifies him. “Fine. It’s my turn to speak.”

He nods slowly. He wasn’t sure what you wanted to say to him. He imagined you would just cuss him out with a few choice words for being a raging asshole last night and then you’d be on your merry way. But he senses sincerity in your voice. Not that he was phenomenal at reading people, though.

He watches as you clench and unclench your fists at your sides nervously, then twiddle with the strap of your camera, then tuck your hair behind your ears, then blink rapidly as you look up at him, then worry your bottom lip between your teeth, then open your mouth to speak just to close it again.

“Do you need me here for any of this?” he says in an attempt at a joke to ease you, but when all you give him is a glare, he’s fearful enough to be serious again.

“I like you.”

He blinks. “Thanks? I like you, too.”

“No, no. I like you as in I have feelings for you,” you clarify. Gojo’s eyes widen at the confession, and he stands up straighter.

“Oh,” he finally replies when he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, “I…I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Holy shit, if that was how you felt, then he really has been a raging asshole this entire time.

You roll your eyes. “I know. You’re a hopelessly dense, menacingly flirty, sleazy frat dude college athlete,” you sigh, “But I still like you. Unfortunately, tragically, annoyingly, much to my dismay, against my better judgment,”

“Okay, I get it-”

“I think it started that night you stayed with me when I was stranded with my flat,” you confess suddenly, your chest rising a little bit faster, and his expression softened. “I just really appreciated you being there for me.”

His voice is gentle when he speaks next. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I would’ve been there if it happened ten times over,” he pauses, “although I’d seriously question your ability to drive if it happened that many times.”

“And I think it started when you walked me out to the practice field for the first time, and you told me you cared about my dreams,” you say with a slight step forwards to him, unable to acknowledge his words at all, as if there was a script you needed to stick to that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart in front of him.

He finds himself instinctively leaning towards you, close enough to where he notices you’re wearing a different perfume today. “But that was before the night of your car incident,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you nod, and there’s that look in your eyes that he loves, “and I also think it started that first night we met and you looked sad when I said we weren’t friends.”

Gojo’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he finds himself breathing shallowly as he listens to your words. “y/n…I think you’re working backwards here.”

“I’m trying to say I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you say to him, “they were tiny at first, I didn’t really see them, but now they’re too big for me to hold all by myself.”

Gojo nods slowly, and he already knows what you’re going to ask of him next.

“I like you in a way that makes me want more from you,” you admit, eyes steadily on his with resolve, “I don’t want to be just someone you know, or someone only for sex-”

“y/n-” he tries to interrupt you.

“And I certainly won’t be someone that sits around to wait for a guy if he doesn’t want me back,” you say, but there’s an apprehensive look in your eyes when you speak next, “so, I need you to answer to my feelings.”

Gojo blinks at you, his heart beating fast in his chest from your confession, and he feels like with every testing second that he fails to answer you back, you slip further and further away from him.

He knew he had affection for you. He always wanted to be close to you, even when he already was, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to take care of you, and see that softness in your expression when he knew you felt safe and happy. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and it took him this damn long to realize as he stood in front of you that he had no interest in being with anyone else either. So then why did his chest feel so tight? And why was he struggling so much to give you an answer?

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the memories of his life flashed through his mind, a chill running down his spine as they knock the wind from his lungs and he feels that same sense of dread that has been following him like a ghost since that day when he was just four years old, standing in the hallway, wondering why his father was having a nightmare on the bathroom floor when he should’ve known it was something far worse than that.

Gojo blames himself for so much that had gone wrong in his life. And he should know that it’s not his fault, but all of his grief was greedy to breathe and live, desperate to find a reason for why he had to lose someone he loved, and his grief found a home in all of his guilt.

And he was terrified to lose someone close to him again. Even if he decided to see what could become with you, even if he thought for a moment that he was allowed to feel any sort of happiness with you, the thought of falling short and failing frightened him. He was so tired of adding to a long list of regrets in his life. And he knew he wasn’t what you needed— what you deserved.

“I…” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” He knows he sounds convincing enough from the way the light in your eyes dimmed, anticipation faltering and replaced with a sad expression over your features. He needs to take a shaky breath to continue speaking. “It seems I’ve led you on in a lot of ways, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen anymore.”

You’re silent for a long moment, twiddling with your fingers as you look up at him. “I see…” you say, and when he sees your lower lip quiver slightly, he feels sick. His instinct is to reach out for you, pull you closer to him, but he knows that’s not a luxury you would allow for him, and he knew it wasn’t one he deserved either.

Your voice is trembling when you speak next. “I appreciate you letting me know. And you don’t have to worry about not leading me on anymore, because this will be the last time you see me.”

His entire body runs rigid.

“Why?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“So I can get over you.”

All he can do is stand with the feeling of a chill in his bones.

“And I ask that you’ll respect my space while I do,” you add on at the end.

He’s silent for a long moment, then lets out the breath he was holding in. “I will,” he says, the promise leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s a moment where you both just look at each other, as though the two of you were trying to hold onto the moment, but you’re the one to break out of it first, and he’s the one to wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” The words already sounded like goodbye. “I’ll make sure you look nice in your photos,” you say with a small smile, holding your camera up slightly, “and good luck today.”

He wonders if he’ll regret this moment.

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so that you can walk past him and back out to the field. Gojo takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and relaxes his shoulders. Well, that was intense. Definitely not the direction he thought that conversation was going to go in at all, but that’s fine. He handled it fine. Totally fine. Things were going to be totally fine. He just has to play the match now.

The first step he takes back towards the field, he feels his uneasiness return, with the second step the feeling of his heart beating becomes violent in his head, with the third step he swears he can’t feel the tips of his fingers, with the fourth he feels severely nauseous, and with his fifth- was he seriously about to throw up?

He barely makes it back onto the grassy field cutting across the obstacles of people at the sidelines, using all his strength to not double over before he reaches a table and grabs one of the water bottles. He sees a group of men, all dressed in suits and loitering near the team manager’s station, perk their heads up at the sight of him and he’s groaning internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to any damn recruiters, but he sees one of them bold enough to approach him in his periphery. He sighs, taking one last gulp of water, and tries to stand up straight and look like he wasn’t going insane.

“Hi, I’m Jousuke Tsuda, recruiter for Tokyo Metropolitan’s national league team,” he says and stretches his hand out for Gojo to shake. The man looked aged, with thick creases to his forehead that could only mean he’s witnessed a hell of a lot of life and he has the soul to prove it.

Gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of Tokyo-Met’s team, and he grabs onto the man’s hand in as firm of a handshake he could manage. “Gojo Satoru.”

The man laughs. It’s deep with a slight crackle. “I know your name, son. Every recruiter in the country does. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you right now.”

“I’m flattered.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you feel pressured.”

Gojo only hums to himself.

The man glances at his watch. “I know the match starts in a few, but if I could have a moment of your time. Take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

The two trail down the line of the field. “I’ll get straight to the point, kid. Tokyo-Met’s really keen on scouting you for the national league following your graduation,” he says.

Gojo feels like he should be excited about that news, actually, he should be ecstatic and groveling at this man’s feet, but instead he just feels empty and hollow inside.

“Forget the fact that you’ll be playing in the nation’s most revered team,” the man continues, “but compensation is high, too.” He pulls his phone out from his front suit pocket, tapping away at his calculator app, then turns the screen towards Gojo. Holy shit. “I’m talking about a 350 million yen per year contract here. I could advocate for higher based on how well you perform the rest of the season.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Gojo responds.

The man is silent for a second then sighs. When the two of them reach a somewhat secluded bench near the corner of the field, he sits down on it and expects Gojo to do the same, to which he complies.

“You know, I’m used to much more enthusiastic reactions from players that hear this kind of news, although they’re usually ecstatic for barely a hundred million a year compared to what I’ve just offered you,” the man says.

“I guess it’s the pressure,” Gojo says to him, “it’s got my emotional response circuit all fried up, y’know?” He was pulling excuses out of his ass.

A small hmph noise is heard beside him before he sees the man pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his slacks. “I know your father has left big shoes to fill, kid. I can’t imagine the fear of feeling like you’ll fail, or the anxiety of an injury taking you out any time you’re on the field, not wanting history to repeat itself.”

Gojo’s eye twitches and he narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. “My dad got injured in a car accident, not while playing the sport.”

“I know,” he responds, finally pulling a cigarette out of the pack, holding it between his two fingers as he rests his wrist on his knee. “The story touched the hearts of everyone in Tokyo, and the entire soccer community in general. I remember reading about it in the school newspaper. Back in the day when they still printed those things out.” Gojo’s surprised, and he’s only given a sideways smile before the man continues. “I knew your father, went to the same college as him.”

“I don’t think he ever mentioned you,” Gojo says.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “He despised me. I was a money-hungry finance major that saw a huge opportunity in mediator sports recruitment agencies. Figured if I could sign a player like your father to my start-up, I’d be set for life. He was a smart man not to sign, regardless of how things turned out.” He shakes his head musingly. “I gave up after that and got a real job. You’ll find a lot of your hopes and dreams die in college.”

“I see,” Gojo says.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and looks over with a serious expression on his face. “Tell me, son, what does this sport mean to you? Why have you dedicated your entire life to playing it?”

Gojo only gives him a cursory glance.

“Is it the fame and attention? The pride? The thrill? The prospect of earning millions and then retiring at thirty, and you get to watch your wife and kids playing in your grand estate’s pool on a sunny summer Sunday while you’re swirling around a glass of ‘90s scotch in your hand?” he asks, tone derisive but luring. “Or does it mean something more to you?”

Gojo looks down at his hands that were clenched tightly into fists. He relaxes them so that his fingers fall open weakly and his palms face the sky. He remembers the feeling of being a kid, the smell of freshly cut grass consuming his senses, the sight of bruises on his knees from how many times he fell on the field chasing after the ball, and the admiration in his father’s eyes every single time he stood back up. “It’s a chance to prove myself,” he finally says.

“Prove yourself of what?” the man pushes.

“That I’m capable of greatness,” Gojo admits, “like my father.”

The man nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Yes, your father was a great man. But not because of how he played the game. He was a great man because he knew which sacrifices were truly important.”

Gojo looks at him wearily. “Are you trying to tell a player you’re attempting to recruit that the sport isn’t important?”

He shakes his head, looking straight ahead. “No, it’s important. But it’s the meaning you give to your life outside of it that gives it importance.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow at him, not really sure what to make of the cryptic sentiment.

The man claps his hands together and stands up. “Alright, I’m sure that’s all the time you’ve got for me. Think about my offer, and if any other recruiters approach you with better ones, just know I’ll push for higher.” He hands Gojo his business card and brings his cigarette to mouth, balancing it between his lips. “Reach out if you have any questions.”

Gojo looks down at the card, his finger tracing the edge of it as he studies the shimmering gold lettering. “Why not just hit me with your best offer and leave? Why bother having this kind of conversation with me?”

The man pulls his cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his two fingers once again. “We’ve all got regrets we want to make right, kid,” he says. And with his hands in his pockets, he walks away.

Gojo watches the man as he makes his way down the sidelines back to the cluster of men in suits. When he hears the referee whistle, he shoves the business card in the pocket of his uniform shorts, and makes his way towards the center of the sidelines.

His teammates instantly come up to him with optimistic smiles and encouraging pats on his chest and back, trying to keep the energy high to manifest a win for today, but Gojo just feels exhausted and like he’s drowning. He has so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he can’t even begin to explain, and he just wants someone to see through him at this moment.

The teams stand on the field for the national anthem, and then Osaka Uni’s team disperses while UTokyo’s alma mater plays. Coach Yaga yells for all the players to huddle before the coin toss and reminds them of their plays for the afternoon.

Nanami pulls his sweatbands onto his wrists, Geto pulls his hair back up into a bun, Chosou pulls tightly on the straps of his goalie gloves, and Gojo pushes his hair up off his forehead to snap his headband onto his face. He looks around to his other teammates and that sense of pride he feels to be a part of this team swells dully despite his emotions.

UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kick, and Gojo finds his place in the center of the field. The crowd is already cheering preemptively, their pride in their home team evident in the passion of the filled stands, and Gojo peers across the large expanse of the field as he rests his foot on top of the soccer ball. It’s a scene he’s seen a hundred times in his life, but the sight is daunting today. He takes his foot off the ball when he hears the referee signal the start of the match with a short piercing shrill of his whistle, and the second Gojo draws his leg back and his foot makes contact with the ball, sending it flying forward, he can already feel that something feels very off.

Every single time he had the ball in his possession, his footwork felt heavy and delayed. His teammates had set up more than three chances for him to score, and he shot wide every single time. The crowd’s cheers started to diminish, and he could feel the growing discontent and exasperation from all eyes on the field. Ten minutes before halftime, they were down 1-0, and stakes were starting to feel high.

One of his teammates passes a ball right to Gojo’s favored foot, the crowd instantly erupting with noise and stands to their feet as Gojo shuffles the ball past the penalty line, through Osaka’s defenders, eyes locked with the perfect opportunity to strike. This was good, he had his rhythm back, even if just for a moment, and he can see it, clear as day–the trajectory to the goal. With the feeling of slick sweat on his face and determination in his veins, he withdraws his leg back to kick the ball. The world went silent in his head, the only sound being the beating of his heart, and-

“this will be the last time you see me.”

When he recalls your voice, everything moves in slow-motion as his ankle slips slightly on the grass from his moment of hesitation, and then the ball is swiftly stolen by an opposing team player and maneuvered past him.

“Fuck!” he hisses, immediately turning his head around as he helplessly watches the opponents players move with fervor in pursuit of another goal. The crowd hushed in horror as Osaka passed the ball through UTokyo’s defense, swiftly steadying down the side and sending the ball flying through Chosou’s outstretched arms. 2-0, and the lead ref calls for halftime.

“Dude,” one of his teammates comes up to him as they walk back towards the benches and throws his arms up in the air, “what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Seriously, man, not a single goal in the first half? You know how many times I’ve set up a shot for you?" another one of his teammates chimes in, nudging Gojo’s shoulder way harder than he’d usually warrant, and shortly after, a blaming fest begins among the players.

“Enough!” Coach Yaga yells out. All of the players quiet down and look at him, some grudgingly gulping down water while others just try to regain their breath. Gojo’s arms just hang at his sides in defeat. “We’re pushing everything on offense now, we can’t afford to miss any more shots,” Coach Yaga says, his fear of losing the match evident too despite his rough tone, “Satoru, I’m switching you out. Dai, take his place.”

“What?” Gojo asks incredulously, charging forward so he’s in front of the older man. “I’m not getting benched.”

“You will, because I say so,” Coach Yaga says sternly, “you’re distracted, boy. I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m n-”

“Just sit down,” Coach Yaga lets out a disgruntled noise. “When players are distracted, they get injured. Have faith in your teammates.”

“Coach,” Gojo asks again, this time almost pleading. He hardly ever questioned Coach Yaga’s calls, he had a great deal of respect for the man. But something within him just absolutely refused to get benched today.

Coach Yaga stares at him for a long moment, and it’s only when one of the refs chirps their whistle that he finally exhales and gives him a reluctant jerk of his head towards the field.

Geto sets up the perfect shot for Nanami to sweep for a kick that barely lands through the goalie’s lunge for the ball, and then on the next play, secures another goal himself. The score is tied, 2-2, with eight minutes left on the clock. Gojo manages to steal the ball on a defensive play, and it’s only really a stroke of luck that he manages in one solid pass the entire game, straight to Geto’s foot, crowd roaring, and he watches his best friend shoot and sink within the last minute and a half of the game.

3-2. UTokyo’s win.

Gojo sighs, exhausted as he makes his way to the bench, crouching down and zipping open his duffle bag. Spirits are low among the team despite the excitement from the crowd over their win because of how hauntingly close the loss felt during the last moments of the match, disinterested in celebrating at all as they meekly dispersed across the field. Gojo knew he was going to get a massive yelling-to from Coach Yaga and he could feel the searing disappointment from his teammates for not carrying the game more. This was just a bare win, could’ve gone either way, and his performance today wasn’t a good look for any recruiters either. He felt so emotionally and physically drained from this entire day, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he could feel any better.

Shuffling through his bag for a water bottle, his knuckles hit something cold and metallic-sounding tucked away inside. He hums to himself curiously before grabbing it and pulling it out.

strawberry vanilla soda.

Hm. This wasn’t the one you gave him a couple of days ago. He already drank that one. Did you sneak this into his bag? His brow furrows, and he stares at the sparkling smiling sloth on the label. When he turns the can in his hand, he sees a little note messily scribbled in black ink.

good luck today! u got this :) ur a star

His eyes widened.

And putting his heart through a shredder would’ve hurt less than when he realizes what an idiot he’s been this entire time.

He’s instantly searching the field, peering through crowds of people, mascots, banners, flags, for any sight of you. He’s not sure how or why he goes in the direction that he does, but deep down it’s because he knows you like taking millions of pictures of flowers, and the west side exit has endless blooms of them. And so when he runs out that way, cleats tapping against the concrete pavement that leads out into the courtyard in the front of the stadium, and spots you standing there, he finally lets out the breath of air he feels like he’s been holding in his chest all day.

You’re aiming your camera at teal and orange petals scattered across the decorative florals lining the raised concrete planters, then pull it down from your face and twiddle with the settings, tilting your head to the side. You then pluck at one of the blooms that was spilling over the edges, bringing it to the tip of your nose curiously. And he just watches, chest heaving from the urgency that he rushed to get to you, heart aching from the desperation of wanting to be near you. He wanted to ask you how you were feeling, he wanted to know how your pictures came along, he wanted to know what you were doing after this, and he wanted you to be with him. But most importantly, he wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the last time he ever saw you again.

It isn’t until a minute after that you seem keen on his presence too, and you swiftly turn your head in his direction, surprised. “Satoru?” you say. He wonders if he’ll melt. He wonders if those ice-cold barriers he’s built over the years could thaw just from the way you say his name.

But when he takes a step forward, you take a step back. And he halts. The expression on your face was unfamiliar to him. Once soft, curious, trusting. Now you looked at him like you were guarding something, keeping it safe from him, and he no longer had the right to intrude. And then he realizes the hell he’s put you through all this time.

He regrets pushing you away.

“I know I said I’d respect the fact that you want space,” he says through bated breath, “but I…I just can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”

You’re solemn when you look at him, reading the plea in his eyes, and then slowly shake your head. He feels like he can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

And then you walk out of his life.

a/n. thank you for reading! i have a few more author notes that explain a few things that i couldn't really find a way to fit into the chapter organically, but wanted to address before moving on, if you're curious you can find them here. hope to see you in the next one! pls lemme know if i missed any tags i'm sorry if i did :')

➸ take me to chapter eight!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle @purplehallow11 @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @erencvlt @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @hojoslutoru @drthymby @ninitoru @btszn @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @fvsm4x @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @cierocanteat (thank you to everyone <3)

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pastel0rchid · 29 days ago

Text

A Gift from the Gods (4)

Hiccup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: None

A/N: I finally finished this chapter. I'm so sorry that it took way longer than normal. As I've explained in some of my posts, my last year of college is absolutely kicking my butt. I hope this was worth the wait <3

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

The Dining Hall was packed… too packed.

It was filled to the brim with Vikings of all different shapes and sizes, young and old sitting together at the long tables spread throughout the room. It was the most people you had seen together in a very long time.

And the sound.

Dragons were loud, that was a known fact. But a room bustling with Vikings was something entirely different. Years of being around the creatures and hunting in the forest had made you sensitive to sound, and you could feel a throbbing in your head just from how much noise was filling your ears.

Conversations began merging, everything sounding the same. The only thing you could make out was the deafening voices surrounding you.

Gobber had placed you off to the side where Stoick had ordered him to, wanting you to be in his line of sight at all times. The rope tied around your wrists anchored you to a nearby wooden pole. No chair was provided to sit upon, leaving you standing from how closely tied to the pole you were.

No food was offered either.

Your stomach growls for the umpteenth time in the past hour, your eyes glaring at the plates of food that were carried around the dining hall. It had been so long since you’d last eaten anything, the last meal you remember being the fish you had caught when the sun was just rising, and here it was, the sun having already set.

You could feel the gazes stuck on you like little pinpricks on your skin. That was one thing you were grateful for after living so many years out in the wild, your hunting and hiding skills had evolved into something much more than what was considered normal.

Trailing your gaze over the crowd of Vikings, you stop on Stoick, whose eyes are locked on you as they have been for the past few hours. His gaze was hardened as he ate while focusing only on you, not even looking over when other Vikings would come up and talk to him.

Deciding to keep your eyes on him as well, your wings twitch slightly in aggravation. You were hungry and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fly far away from this island until you were sure they could never find you again.

You felt taunted every time he took a large bite of his food. It was as if he knew exactly the effect it had on you, your irritation growing more and more. Before it could finally boil over, a presence invaded your bubble, and a hand entered your line of sight holding a bite-sized piece of meat.

Stoick’s glare harshens at whoever stands beside you. Finally breaking the staring contest between you, you’re met with familiar forest green eyes looking down at you with that soft gaze.

Hiccup was holding a plate piled high with food in one hand and a small piece of meat in the other hand. Glancing between his hands and his eyes, your brows furrow as confusion quickly overtakes your irritation.

He was… offering you food?

Instead of responding to your questioning look, he just continues to hold the piece of meat towards you, a small smile appearing on his lips as he nods towards the food, imploring you to take it.

You couldn’t seem to understand Hiccup. He was so different from the Vikings he was surrounded by. He didn’t seem motivated by war or bloodshed but by knowledge and curiosity.

He intrigued you just as much as you intrigued him.

Leaning forward cautiously, you take the meat from between his fingers before immediately chewing and swallowing. The taste was heavenly after years of bland fish and constant berries.

The next few minutes were filled with silence, just Hiccup holding out bites of food and you accepting them without complaint. Many Vikings stare at the scene with either repulsion or bewilderment, not understanding why the chief’s son would willingly help a creature unknown to them.

Your anger slowly dissipates with each bite swallowed, your belly filling with more food than you’ve eaten in a long time.

Soon, the plate was empty and you were satiated.

With no words spoken between you, Hiccup stares at you for a few seconds before he walks towards his father, dropping off the emptied plate with the pile of others. You watch as he leans to whisper something in the Chief’s ear, something that causes the larger Viking to quickly turn towards his son with a look of shock.

You wonder about their conversation, though you have a deep suspicion that it was about you, especially with how the father and son duo continuously glanced in your direction. They exchange words quickly and quietly, Stoick gestures somewhere with an annoyed look before Hiccup nods, smiling triumphantly.

Confusion blossoms within you, especially when Hiccup walks back over towards you and unsheathes a knife from his thigh holster. You pull your wrists away quickly when he goes to reach for them, his eyes meeting yours as his movements stop. Your eyes narrow into a glare with no heat behind them, and his hands hover in front of you.

“It’s okay. I convinced my dad to let you go for a flight, as long as the other riders are there too.”

His voice was as soft as his gaze was, and you felt yourself getting lost in it. It reminded you of the way your mother used to speak to you or the way your father used to look and speak at your mother. It was something that had become so foreign after so long without it.

A promise of a flight sounded like music to your ears, even if your every move would be watched.

A few silent seconds pass before you hold your bound wrists to him in a symbol of trust growing between the both of you, watching how his smile seems to brighten at this revelation.

There was that same feeling that fluttered in your chest. You couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite put a name to it.

But, oh, did you enjoy it.

No matter how much it also terrified you.

Hiccup grabs your hand while your mind is lost in thought, a small sound of shock leaving you from the sudden touch. He begins dragging you towards the large, wooden doors of the Dining Hall, calling out to a rowdy group off to the side.

When you go to look over at them, your eyes instantly lock on Astrid and your wings bristle against your back. Your mind plays back to how she was the one who had hit you over the back of your head with her axe, the spot throbbing as if an angering reminder of it. Her own eyes were squinted into a glare before she followed the group towards the doors as well.

Your lips twitch with the desperate need to want to snarl, a move you always did when you felt threatened, something you had learned from the dragon herd you lived with for so long.

The night wind brushing against your skin almost distracted you though.

Hiccup’s hand still held your wrist while leading you over towards the group of dragons with the riders following, Astrid’s glare prickling against your back the entire time.

Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of the dragons, a beautiful mix of species that got along with each other better than they ever would in the wild. One by one their heads turn to look in your direction, Toothless and Stormfly specifically perking up at the sight of you.

Once you’re close enough, the two dragons you knew bound over with the others slowly trailing behind and a smile finally tugs at your lips for the first time in a while. Your hand slips from Hiccup’s hold, your focus entirely on the creatures.

These beings were familiar, you knew how to interact with dragons better than you ever could with humans. Fingers gently trailing across Stormfly’s chin, your smile brightens at the pleased chirp you receive before her head nudges against the bandages on your arm.

“It’s alright, I know you were just protecting your human.”

Your voice was a soft whisper while your other hand began to scratch at the top of Toothless’ head, a loud rumbling escaping from the dark dragon. You couldn’t hold it against them for trying to hurt you. You knew that the riders were a part of their pack and that dragons would do anything to protect their own.

Giving a little more scratches towards Toothless and Stormfly, and a few towards the other dragons, you finally look over towards the group of riders. The ones you didn’t know much of were staring in shock and Astrid’s glare remains with her arms crossed across her chest. Hiccup, though… his eyes held wonder.

The fluttering returns.

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of that feeling, but it doesn’t cease. You’re afraid it never will.

Instead of speaking, you just spread your wings in anticipation of flight, the dragons following suit. You watch with a small smile as the dragons rush over toward their riders, urging them onto their backs as if they, too, desperately want to join you in the air.

Waiting until at least Hiccup is mounted onto Toothless, your wings give a harsh flap before you’re rocketed off the ground. The wind against your face and the effortlessness it took to continue rising into the sky, your smile only widens more the higher you get.

You could hear the uncertain voices of the riders and the excited roars of the dragons. Everything was peaceful in the air, you could just shut off your mind and fly. You weren’t being watched by the people who had taken you from your island, you weren’t an orphan, you weren’t an outcast.

As your eyes flutter close, you stop flapping your wings and allow yourself to fall.

#reader insert #hiccup x reader #httyd fanfiction #httyd x reader

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itsphoenix0724 · 1 year ago

Note

If it hasn’t been requested can you do Azriel with peony, perhaps a masquerade where he meets someone of another courts nobility (perhaps she’s been hidden away) the mating bond snaps and he goes on a quest to learn who she is?

Peony (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

❀° Event Masterlist ❀°

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for participating in my writing event! I'm really sorry it took so long to write I was very sick, but I hope everyone thinks it was worth the wait! I apologize if it's not the best it was written mostly in a fever-filled haze. Keep a look out for more stuff soon, and thank you all so much for your patience <3

You absolutely despised balls. Although, this was officially the first ball you’d actually been allowed to attend. You loved your court and your people wholeheartedly, but some of its traditions were ludicrously outdated.

As tradition, you weren’t allowed into society until you were seventy-five. So until now, you had not been allowed at any court relations, balls, or celebrations. Being a Lady in the Spring Court wasn’t always the most exciting life.

Applying one final coat of stain to your lips, you looked over yourself in the mirror. You had chosen a flowy gown in Spring’s signature pink, with falling petals cascading down the dress, and jewel-encrusted flowers had been woven through your hair. You hear a small rasping as you turn and look to see your brother standing in the doorway.

“You look beautiful.” Tamlin steps into the room. He holds a small box in his hands and sends you a smile that you can see in the mirror. “It’s alright if you’re nervous.” You glare at your brother as he moves closer lifting a beautiful necklace out of the box in his hands. As Tamlin clasps the jewels around your neck, you move your hair out of the way.

“I’m not nervous.” you admonish, Tamlin tips his head even though you can tell he doesn’t believe you. The necklace is made of heavy pink sapphires, and you recognize it as one of the pieces from your mother's collection. You whip your head around at your brother who is still giving you a knowing look at your recollection.

“She would’ve wanted you to have it, plus it matches your dress.” You laugh even though your eyes shine at the mention of your mother. Tamiln holds you at arm's length and looks over you once. “Be brave. Stay close to Luicen tonight. He’ll be here to pick you up shortly” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and leaves the room.

You secure the mask on your face and wait for Lucien to knock on your door. He arrives a few moments later dressed for the ball with a fox mask on his face and a matching grin on his lips.

“Well, well, what do we have here? I truly believe I’m in the wrong room. The Lady of Spring is usually covered in mud and smells like a horse,” he looks around as if he’s lost and you can see him barely containing a laugh. Still, he offers you an arm and you take it, but not before smacking him on the shoulder.

Lucien escorts you down to the ballroom and all of a sudden the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You catch sight of all the faelights in the room barely flickering for a second. Your companion doesn’t seem to sense anything, so you allow the courtier to continue to escort you into the ballroom.

The first thing you notice is the sheer amount of people packed into the room.

You’ve never been in a room with this many people before.

Lucien must notice the way your feet seem stuck to the floor. It’s almost like you’ve stepped into quicksand, the more you try to move forward the more you remain rooted to the floor. He waits patiently, rubbing soothing circles into the crook of your arm until you’re ready to advance further.

“You can do this,” Lucien murmurs as you collect yourself before nodding and allowing him to lead you into the room. Two of the servants throw the doors into the ballroom open, and the sound hits you in the chest like a lightning strike. The notes of pianos and strings ricochet off of the opulent walls of the ballroom, and your heart matches the pace of the music.

You want nothing more at that moment than to dance.

Lucien, the good friend he is, senses your desire and takes you for a turn around the dance floor. Sweeping you into the thrall of the party, you and Lucien dance the night away.

Although, you’ve had the most peculiar feeling all night.

Something is watching you. Something is following you. You can sense it. A strange cold drift almost haunts you all night. It’s not a particularly bad thing. A tug on your wrist to avoid bumping into a waiter, an ever so slight lift of your skirts so you don’t trip on the dance floor, and a cool brush against the back of your neck when you get too hot.

You think you can almost see it every once in a while, but all it is is a faint flickering of darkness that you chalk up to a trick of the candlelight.

Eventually, you feel the flush start to creep up your cheeks and the heaving in your chest tells you that you need air before you collapse. You excuse yourself from Lucien and escape the ballroom to get some air outside.

The strange feeling even seems to encourage this, almost tugging you into the starlit expanse of the gardens.

Away from the light, you can see it now, the dark tendril of smoke that’s been with you all night. It curls around your wrist like a snake and when you reach your other hand out to touch it leans into your touch like a cat.

However, a moment later, it snaps away from you racing into the garden’s maze.

You run after it, sprinting into the darkness to follow the shadow as it winds its way through the maze of hedges. It seems to have a clear destination in mind, never once stopping to consider a direction.

You’re out of breath and somewhere along the way you’ve abandoned your shoes to match the relentless pace, but you’re determined to see this through.

It rounds one more corner when you see him standing in the maze’s center.

When you crash into the middle his head snaps up to look at you. You’re panting, barefoot, and the bottom of your dress is completely caked with mud. You look after the shadow who curls around the man’s ear in a way that resembles whispering. From behind the black mask the male wears hazel eyes meet yours. Under the intensity of his gaze, you feel like you’ve been cornered by an apex predator. As the rest of the garden is blanketed in total darkness, more shadows rush around your feet. The male steps forward, heavy boots dragging on the gravel. They’re so at odds with the dress shoes the males of the Spring Court usually prefer. You’re entranced by the hand that reaches out to grab your own.

He draws your hand to his lips and presses a warm kiss to the back of your knuckles. Heat rushes up the back of your spine, and that’s when you feel the golden thread snap into your soul. The male stumbles back from you, green-gold eyes widening in shock, as you feel a burst of shock from low in your chest.

It is even more confusing when you realize the shock doesn’t even belong to you- it belongs to him.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when you hear a call of your name followed by heavy footsteps. Just as Lucien and Tamlin round the corner to the center of the maze the male in front of you, your mate, has disappeared into the darkness. Dissolved like he wasn’t even standing there in the first place.

“Sister! There you are,” Tamlin stands in front of you and grabs you by the shoulders shaking you back into your body. “Why are you out here? What happened to your dress? It's covered in mud!” He searches your eyes for an answer you’re in too much shock to give.

“We found your shoes in the garden,” Lucien adds looking unimpressed at your bare feet. “I know you don’t quite have a grasp on ball etiquette yet, but running around barefoot usually isn't in the realm of appropriate.”

“I was following a shadow! It led me here and there was a male-he disappeared right before you got here, and he-” You rub the place in your chest, the golden string still buzzing with life. The only proof that this wasn’t some figment of your imagination. Lucien and Tamlin exchange a look with each other before both of their heads turn to you.

“Sister, there’s no one here. Perhaps you’ve caught a chill, or maybe all the excitement is overwhelming you. Let's get you to bed,” Tamlin loops your arm through his as he attempts to lead you back inside.

“Tamlin, I am not crazy!” You plant your feet on the ground resisting the pull of your brother.

“No”, Lucien adds holding up your shoes in one hand, “You’re just chasing shadows barefoot through the garden and talking to disappearing men.” Tamlin shoots Lucien a pointed look as he continues to lead you back to the manor.

“Come on, we’re going inside.” with one final pull you follow your brother, knowing he won’t even listen to you until morning.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Azriel lands on the floor of Rhys’s office feeling like he’s been stabbed.

His shadows are going wild, writhing over every surface in the office screaming at him to go back to spring to get you. He doesn’t hear Rhys calling his name, doesn’t feel him until Rhys is on the floor in front of him shaking Azriel out of his daze.

“Az, brother, are you alright? What happened in Spring?” It was supposed to be a routine visit, check to see what Tamlin was up to, and get back to the Night Court before dawn. His only rule was that he couldn’t be seen. He didn’t expect to find his mate in that garden.

He can’t even speak, the shock stealing away his voice as he reaches a hand out to Rhys collapsing the obsidian walls in his mind to let his brother in.

“Rhys you have to help me find her.” His voice sounds grated. Something keeps tugging around his heart, pulling him back towards you. He doesn’t even know your name just that he needs to be near you again.

Rhys nods, looking over the memory again, trying to find any sort of clue as to who you were. Azriel tugs on the bond in his chest, trying to reassure himself that this was real.

“I’ve seen that necklace somewhere before, let's check the library” Rhys helps his brother to his feet winnowing them into the winding library. “We’ll find her Az I promise.” He claps his brother on the shoulder as he begins his search.

Rhys and Az spent the rest of the night pouring over tomes and tomes of jewels spanning across the entirety of Prythian. They found a mention of the necklace in the Summer Court, the entire court known for the beautiful gems it produces. They eventually found out it was a gift from Summer to be passed down to the Lady of Spring which only left them in more confusion.

“Spring doesn’t have a Lady anymore.” Azriel’s frustration only grew. The longer he was away from you the more insane he felt. He always thought the myth about the need you felt for a mate was exaggerated, but now he knows it wasn’t a lie. The only thing he can think of now is being near you again.

Rhys wracks his brain for anything that could help his brother find his mate when he remembers his visits to Spring as a boy.

He recalls then, flashes of a girl hiding in the stairways of the Spring Manor, always trying to listen into the meetings between his father and Tamlin’s. He always saw you in the stables, tending gently to the horses. He assumed you were a child of one of the servants but what if…

“Azriel, I think there might be a Lady in the Spring Court.” He reaches out his hand to his brother to let him see the memories, and Azriel knows it’s you instantly, can feel the bond singing in his chest at the sight of you even in memory. “And I think I know where you can find her.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re brushing the mane of your favorite horse, trying to ignore the call in your chest pulling you elsewhere, when you feel the brush of cold against your cheek. Your head snaps up, looking around you to find the source. You see the shadow coiling in the top corner of the barn before it shoots off again. Just like last time you play into its game of chase following the snaking path back into the maze. You keep up much better in your riding boots instead of your bare feet skidding on the gravel path. You find the male at the center again, this time both of you unmasked, taking each other in under the light of day.

“Hi,” it’s the only thing you manage to choke out your soul begging to go to him. You suddenly feel insecure in your muddy boots and loose tunic, but the male is looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He dips his head offering you a small smile.

“Hello, my name is Azriel.”

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #phoenix's-bouquet

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di-42 · 6 months ago

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May's Magnificent Fictions

First off let me share with you a little side note, because the brain wants what the brain wants. After an inner struggle I've finally decided to settle on using the noun "fiction" as countable when referring to works of fanfiction. I will stick to this. It has been bothering me.

And now for something completely enjoyable, let me present to you the lovely fics I've been lucky enough to read in May. I't's been a busy, at times stressful month and I haven't had the chance to read as many as I would have liked. I only made a tiny dent in my Marked for later list, which keeps growing and isn't it wonderful? I still have so much beauty, creativity and bliss to look forward to.

I'll try and tag the writers whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved they are.

WIPs:

The first two WIPs of this list have made me realise that my new favourite trope is the "they never met" one. Or it might just be that both writers are incredibly good!

My Heart Was Always Yours by @addledmongoose

I love this fic and the author's other work so much that sometimes I worry the writer might think I'm stalking them or something! (I'm not! I promise! I only kind of start staring at my phone around 6pm on a Friday night UK time waiting for an update, that's all!). Anyway. like I was saying, in this fiction Aziraphale and Crowley never met until present day and, at the beginning of the story, neither of them knows the other is an angel or a demon. They have both been tasked by their respective head offices to retrieve Raphael's trumpet so Armageddon can start and they both want to find it and destroy it. So they embark on a journey together, thinking that the other is human. This story is so good. It has an incredibly well thought out plot, the characterisation of both, Aziraphale and Crowley are spot on, their interactions are funny and witty but also deep and very sweet. But the point that's dearest to me is that it shows the character of Aziraphale the respect it deserves, which sadly happens less often than it should. The way the writer describe the building of their relationship and their trust will fill your heart with warmth. The stoty has alternate Aziraphale and Crowley POVs and it's narrated in the first person, which will read funny at first but it will flow within the first couple of chapters and it will have been worth it!

This fiction is updated officially every Saturday but if you're very lucky and depending where you are in the world it might be Friday. Only a few more weeks to go, though, it's almost complete and I'll miss it (But I'll re-read it!) Rated M.

The Last Angel by @bellisima-writes

This is another excellent "they never met" story. In this universe, Crowley and Aziraphale were stationed on earth, Armageddon happened, and Hell won the war. All the angels have been killed, except one. This story only has the first 6 chapters out, but you can already see the wonderful job the author has done of thinking how Aziraphale and Crowley would be without having ever met each other, what would be the same and what would be different. And the same goes for other characters, too: so far we've had an insight of how Beelzebub is like in a different universe and hints at how other characters would behave as well. It is full of promise, it sets expectations that I'm hoping will be subverted and the writer is doing such an excellent job with it all. Please go and show this story some love, you won't regret it!

This fiction is updated weekly, definitely every Friday, but I understand from now on every Wednesday and Friday. Rated M.

The Escort by VinyamaDN @vinyama-23

Human AU where Crowley is an escort and Aziraphale hires him for a date. They start getting to know each other and the rest is history. This story touches very delicate subjects, but it's also funny and fluffy. Please read the tags. Rated E.

Whickber Street by Caedmon @caedmonfaith

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale has a bookshop in Whickber Street and Crowley opens a comic book shop on the same road. It's a slow burn, from one-enemy-to-lovers story, full of humour, charm and fluff. Featuring all the shopkeepers in Whickber Street, which is a treat! Update every Monday and Thursday without fail. Rated E.

Complete works:

And Now All Of My Garden Is Grown In Lavender by ilikeblue

I'm so grateful to my lovely mutual and penpal @dashuntsel for recommending this great human AU. Aziraphale is a successful queer romance author whose books are being adapted for TV. At the start of his career, his agent, Gabriel, insisted he claims to be married in order to gain more readers. Now that the spotlight is on him, Aziraphale needs someone to play the part of his husband. Did I mention that Crowley is Aziraphale's gardener and friend? I'm sure you know where this is going. This story has a little angst and lots of good vibes of trust, friendship, love and loyalty. And a happy ending! Rated E.

Lit by @fellshish

Fellshish is one of my favourite fiction writers and this piece doesn't disappoint. Making people laugh is much more difficult than making people cry and fellshish succeeds in the task so effortlessly! (They can also make you laugh while wanting to cry, but for that you'll have to read their other stories. This one is angst-free). Time-wise this story can be collocated after season 1 and is not canon compliant with season 2. Crowley enrolls in a literature course without realising it was a fantasy literature course. The book that will be read this semester is "Good Omens - The Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter, Witch". And the class will get to meet the author, Neil Gaiman. This book seems to describe only too well the event leading to the failed Armageddon, including things that only Aziraphale and Crowley would know. How is that possible? And what would happen if it fell on heavenly or hellish wrong hands? And, oh Satan, did someone say TV adaptation?? A truly amazing, funny piece that will make you feel better after a hard day at work. Rated Teen and up.

Gate Duty by Ginger_cat @gingiekittycat

Not really a crossover, but a Good Omens fiction with elements of The Good Place. You can absolutely read it and enjoy it if you haven't seen The Good Place. placed in time post season 1. Aziraphale is called back to heaven to Gate Duty and he's decided to go despite Crowley's protest. Crowley has Beelzebub assign him to Gate Duty as well, so they don't have to spend 300 years apart. So they set to out to judge the souls and decide whether to send them to the good place or the bad place, as they have rebranded heaven and hell. In the process they meet a few souls that you might or might not know, not the focus of the story. This fiction manages to be funny and incredibly angsty at the same time and it was incredible to see how some of the details in it would resonate with season 2, which wasn't out at the time the fic was written. Rated E.

Of Size And Other Matters by LCwrites

Lovely from strangers to lovers, fake relationship human AU. Aziraphale needs a date to accompany him to an event hosted by his brother, Gabriel. Crowley receives a text from a stranger, clearly by mistake, but why not having some fun? I really like the dynamics between them, the ease and the trust. A tiny bit of angsty pining but quickly and happily resolved. Rated E.

One shot:

Not Nice by Sad_chaos_goblin @sad-chaos-goblin

Great one shot that follows the wall slamming scene!What would have happened if the former nun hadn't interrupted their "Intimate moment"? This fic is a treat, sweet and hot and fluffy all at the same time. Rated E.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfiction recommendation #good omens fanfic rec #good omend fic rec #good omens fiction #good omens fic rec #thank you for my pornography #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

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pocket-sized-nightmare · 1 month ago

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so i saw this geminitay fanart by @aresonist today and might have gotten a little inspired to write a fic about it. especially because we have another life series premiering today and i'm very excited about it. so have some silly little gempearl nightmare angst (and op i hope you don't mind me using your art as inspiration!)

The sculk is hungry, and it comes with death.

Gem has never seen so much corruption in one place. It spreads as far as her eye can see until it trails off into darkness and inky black skies. Six games’ worth of loss is contained here. Three lives lost for every player, over and over. Death after death, kill after kill.

Some of the destruction is hers. She doesn’t want to know how much.

She blinks, breathes, and takes a step forward. Worldwalkers know how to navigate dreams, and Gem is no exception. She has endless control over the world inside her mind. She can make maps of every construction and wake herself up from the worst nightmares. It would take a true horror to keep her captive. Still, though, her dreamscapes are usually complicated. This is just… sculk. So much sculk. Gem can’t help but feel a sense of morbid curiosity about it.

Another step, then another. Nothing changes.

“Hello?” Gem calls. “Anybody home?”

There’s no response. It occurs to Gem that yelling in a field of sculk is a surefire way to summon a warden. She claps a hand over her mouth to silence herself, then slowly removes it. If something does try to kill her, she can just wake up. No harm done, right? Just a little insomnia. “Hello? What’s going on here?”

Silence. Complete silence.

“I know something’s hiding! You can just come out and get me, you know. I’m not scared of you!”

Come to think of it, there’s not a single sculk shrieker in the field at all. There’s not even a sensor. It’s all just empty space. Remnants of death with nothing to show for it.

Is this how winners feel?

Gem shakes her head to clear the thought. Worldwalkers know dreams better than anyone. This must be some weird half-memory from exploring Caves and Cliffs for the first time. Or maybe some unresolved panic from the escape world between Hermitcraft Seasons 8 and 9. That was pretty empty, right? She was wrong about the whole six-games’-worth-of-death thing at the beginning. This has nothing to do with the Life Series. This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the next game is set to start tomorrow.

Gem blinks. She breathes. She takes another step.

“This is fine. I’m fine. I’m so fine. It’s just a dream. I know how to deal with this. I’m completely–”

There’s a sudden tug on her left foot. She looks down to find it completely buried in sculk.

“Do you see that button right there?” she giggles to Scar. “Can you press it?”

Gem feels her breath catch in her lungs for a moment. “Nope. Absolutely not.” She wrenches her foot upwards, just barely managing to pull it free. “Not funny.”

Another step, then another, then–

“No!” Bdubs yells from below her, with zombies closing in. “It’s over for me…”

Her foot is buried deeper now. Try as she might, she can’t move it anymore. “Hey, no, stop it,” she admonishes the corruption. “Let go.”

“How did Pearl blow up? Wait, did–”

Gem grabs her boot with both hands and pulls. The sculk refuses to give. “Let go of me,” she snaps louder. Why does her voice sound so anxious? She isn’t afraid. This is her dreamscape, after all. “That one wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Somebody rigged that for us,” she grins, elbowing Scar. “Thank goodness, though. That worked out so well.”

Her right foot is trapped now, too. There’s no way her dreamself is getting out of this one. “Okay, okay, I get it. The infection was deadly. I know what I did. You can stop now.”

“Wow, maybe it actually is an apocalypse!”

“Yeah, that’s enough of that.” Gem envisions a sunrise-orange light in front of her. It spreads, brightening across her whole field of vision. This is the easiest trick in the book for her – she’s done it practically since birth, before any of the memory tricks or lucid dreaming, even before her full powers awakened. “I’m getting out of here.”

She swings her sword almost lazily, and it slashes across Joel’s chest. He’s weakened from the zombie attacks – he’s dead before he hits the ground.

The light flickers out in a puff of smoke.

“What?” Gem’s heart slams against her ribs. She desperately kicks and twists her feet within their sculk prison, but all it does is bury her deeper. “No. That’s not supposed to happen. That never happens.”

Only the most awful of nightmares can keep a worldwalker asleep. Gem isn’t being chased or stalked. Nothing is trying to kill her. It’s just her and her memories in a field of sculk. It’s fine. It’s fine. Waking up should be effortless. She can’t be trapped.

“Scar just murdered me!”

Gem makes one more desperate attempt at tearing her feet free. The force knocks her off balance, and she falls backwards to the ground. Sculk crawls across her body instantly.

“No.” Gem struggles against the dreamscape, but it only grows stronger. “No, stop! Let go of me! It was just a game! It’s over now! Let go!”

“I don’t want to kill her! Pearl, I don’t want to kill you!”

She tries to summon another sunrise light, but it fizzles out in front of her. Both her arms are pinned down. It won’t be long until she’s buried completely. “Stop! Let me go!”

“No, Gem, stop it!” Pearl shrieks. Blood drips from the cuts along her arms. She’s down to two hearts, then half a heart, and then…

Gem kicks and struggles against the sculk. Nothing she does is any use. She can’t move. She can hardly breathe. All the death she’s caused is coming back to eat her alive, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t escape it.

“Gem,” a familiar voice murmurs from somewhere outside the dreamscape. “Are you alright?”

“Let go!” Gem claws at the corruption, pleading with her subconscious in a last-ditch attempt at escape. She can’t be here. I killed her. I killed her so many times. Her death is written into half this stuff. I did this. It’s my fault. I can’t bring her here.

A soft touch grabs gently at her arms and tugs at her body. “Gem, stop. You’re thrashing around. It’s alright. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“No, stop!” Gem screams, struggling harder against her restraints. “It’s not okay! We can’t go back!”

“Come on, Scar,” Pearl sobs, trying not to look at the dying form of her partner. Gem is putting up the best fight she can, but void, it’s all too much. Pearl is watching her die. All Gem wants is to go back to safety, where she can curl up in Pearl’s arms and smile and say it’s all fine. She needs it to be over, but she can’t let it end. She can’t let it end, because ending means dying, and it hurts, it all hurts so badly, and Pearl is still screaming. “Come on, Scar, you’ve got this! You can do this!”

Sculk crawls across Gem’s face and creeps up to cover her mouth. She knows it’s her own death coming back to kill her again. She’s running out of time.

“Gem.” Kind hands dig through the sculk, gently beginning to pry her free. “Shh. It’s alright. You’re having a nightmare.”

Gem sobs, still kicking and struggling. She can barely breathe.

“Hey. Hey, shh, it’s alright.” As the familiar voice surrounds Gem, the sculk’s hold on her begins to loosen. “Stop struggling. You don’t need to fight. Fighting won’t end this. You’re having a nightmare.” One arm slips free, then the other. “Today’s a scary day. I know. It always is. Take a deep breath, alright? I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it doesn’t look good. You’re having a nightmare. It isn’t real. I promise.” She squeezes Gem’s hand. “I’m right here. Try to wake up with me.”

Gem spits the bitter sculk out of her mouth and forces herself to address the voice, the one who’s trying to save her, the one who’s always been there. The voice of her partner.

Pearl’s voice.

“Pearl, stop,” Gem murmurs. “It’s not right.” Her energy to fight fades until she falls still, lying back against the corrupted ground. “I can’t…” Her chest hurts. “Don’t save me. It’s not right. This is right. I… I killed…”

Pearl can’t hide a soft gasp – Gem’s first sign that her words are breaking through to the waking world. She brushes her hand across Gem’s forehead. “Never.” Her hands slip under Gem’s shoulders, moving effortlessly through the bonds holding her partner down. “That game is over. We’re here together now. We’re starting fresh. Tomorrow will be tough, but it’ll be alright.” Pearl is still there. She isn’t recoiling in horror. She isn’t afraid. “I’m right here. We’re both still here. Try to wake up.”

Trust blossoms in Gem’s chest alongside a small sunrise light. The nightmare is letting go. She might get out after all. “Don’t let go of me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pearl gives Gem the softest, kindest forehead kiss she’s ever felt. It’s a tether to the waking world, a single anchor point. Pearl is her anchor. Pearl is strong. Pearl has won before, has lived this endless field of death, and she’s come out the other side to help others through it. Despite all the carnage, Pearl isn’t leaving. She and Gem will face the next nightmare together.

As the sunrise light spreads across her vision, Gem uses the last of her strength to reach up and wrap her arms around Pearl’s shoulders. With a gentle hug, Pearl pulls her free of the trap.

Gem opens her eyes and looks around at the soft lantern light of Pearl’s bedroom. Pearl is still holding her close. “See? I knew the sleepover was a good idea. Start days are hard. We’ve all dealt with it.”

“Scary,” Gem murmurs softly. “So much sculk. It wouldn’t let go…”

“But it did,” Pearl whispers back, combing her fingers through Gem’s hair. “You’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” Gem repeats, like she’s trying to believe it. “It’s okay.”

“And it’s going to stay that way.” Pearl kisses Gem again. “We’re only halfway through the night, okay? We can still get some sleep.” She lies back down and holds out an inviting arm to Gem. “We will take on tomorrow together.”

Gem curls up against Pearl and closes her eyes. “Thank you.”

Pearl smiles as she wraps her arm around Gem. “For what?”

“For not letting me lose myself.”

Gem’s dreamscape is eerie and quiet for the rest of the night, but every so often, the ambient hum of Pearl’s base breaks though to calm her. Secret Life is over. Every death game ends. Pearl is still there, and so is Gem.

There’s always a way out.

#pixel writes #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #gempearl #shiny duo #hermitcraft #life series #secret life #can't wait for the new game tomorrow!!!

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masn-mount · 1 year ago

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'the oldest book in the world'

note: bestfriend!jude!

this is my very first time writing a Jude fic! I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading and please let me know what you think. xx

warnings: not any really, just swearing,

words: 5,2k (got carried away like always)

"You're going to fall over," your voice is soft, a total contrast to the look you shoot Jude's way when you see him lean forward at the edge of the boat you've rented for the afternoon.

"I'm the king of the world!" You roll your eyes at his outburst even if you can't help the smile that pulls at the corner of your lips. He looks back at you, his unbottoned white shirt flowing behind him as he stands with his arms wide open by his sides.

"I'm being serious Jude, get down here." The trip to Greece after the season had finished was mentioned months ago and you gladly agreed to it when Jude asked you if you'd want to join. You had been looking forward to it, it was nice seeing your friends and spending some time with them but more than anything you had looked forward to a week with Jude.

The two of you have been friends since you were kids and for years you brushed off your crush on him. You were only eleven the first time you had looked at him and thought he was cute but that was it so surely your little crush on your bestfriend would go away with time.

To you Jude was the boy you would spend hours with playing football in your backyard until you both were too tired to stand. When girls at school started taking interest in boys he was the one all the girls asked you about, "you're his bestfriend, you have to know who he likes," is what they’d tell you but you didn’t know or want to know so instead you focused on summer break and how for four years the two of you would spend your days on your bikes, exploiting every possible road until you found a new ice cream van for the day.

He has always been that boy to you and when years passed and you still looked at him the same way as you did when you were eleven you thought of him as the boy who could be something so much more if things weren’t so complicated.

You were thinking back to the day Jude told you he was moving to a completely different country. Dortmund wanted him and as excited as he has been about the move he was terrified to tell you but when he shared the news and the biggest smile he had ever seen broke out on your face he knew he had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

Jude had pulled you into his lap and he just sat back and listened as you spoke about how proud of him you were and how you couldn’t wait for your first trip to Dortmund meanwhile all he could think about was how badly he had wanted to kiss you.

The next morning you woke up early.

You decided to stay back at the villa the previous night, you told your friends it was because you weren’t feeling well but in reality it was because after your little trip down memory lane you were finding it difficult to focus on anything or anyone other than Jude.

A night in to clear your head was what you needed.

It didn’t work but it was worth a try. ed.

You were laying out by the pool, endlessly scrolling through all your different social media apps while you waited for your friends to wake up.

Work and school had been stressful so you wanted to take advantage of every moment you had away from it. You knew Jude felt it too and even if he rarely ever complained about his busy schedule you had noticed a change in him since your arrival to Greece. He felt more relaxed, shoulders not as tense and bags under his eyes not visible. You knew he had a lot on his mind with the constant speculations about his future and where he would play next so you never asked him about it unless he was the one to bring it up.

You had just put your phone down next to you when your silence was disturbed by someone jumping in the pool. Your eyes flew open behind your sunglasses when your skin was met by the cold water. “Morning, angel.”

“Morning, twat.” You muttered, eyes watching Jude as he swam towards the edge of the pool with his eyes closed and smile on his face. Your eyes stayed on him as he splashed water in your direction.

“That was for not being very nice,” you just shook your head at him before laying back in your previous position, trying to ignore how you could feel his eyes lingering on your body. “Lost my sunglasses last night.”

“That's too bad," you couldn't even fake annoyance towards him as he splashed more water in your direction before he effortlessly got out of the pool. You weren't going to pretend like you weren't shamelessly checking him out but it was only fair since he had done the same. “What are you doing?" You laughed when his hand reached for your glasses.

"I told you, I lost mine."

"How is that my problem?" He just laughed before telling you that technically it was your fault because if you had been at the club with him he was sure he wouldn’t have lost them.

“Who even brings sunglasses to the club?” You asked to which he just shrugged before telling you to scoot over which you did, making room for him to lay down next to you. You changed position after a few minutes, laying down on your front as Jude reached for the sunscreen laying above your head under your shorts. You were about to ask him if he wanted you to help him put some on when the lotion hit your back. "I already put some on."

"Y'looking a little red and I know you can't reach by yourself." His hand felt soft on your skin as he slowly rubbed the sunscreen up and down your back. You had to bite your lip from making any kind of noise when he moved back down your back after rubbing some on your shoulders, neck and arms. His hands were moving dangerously low, fingertips reaching just under your bikini bottoms. “Y’want me to do your legs?” You only nod, not trusting your voice in that moment.

It should be innocent but nothing with Jude was ever innocent which you got confirmed when he rubbed up your thighs until his fingers stopped just under your ass. Your body was feeling like it was on fire and you knew he could sense your body tensing at his touch by the chuckle that left his mouth. “My head is telling me to throw you back in that pool since you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

"Hey, m'just helping out," he held his hands up in fake surrender before leaning forward and kissing the back of your shoulder. "All done," you watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his lips before he gently tapped the back of your thigh. "Do me now?"

The dynamic between you two had been like this for years, you enjoyed the flirtatious aspect of your relationship because you didn’t overthink it. You knew Jude was that way with other people too but then there were those nights where he would keep his arm over your legs or around your shoulders when you’d sit next to him and the longer the night got the closer he’d pull you in until you were almost sharing a chair. All of it had your heart raising, especially when he would be so close that you could feel his lips against your ear just so he could tell you that you looked unreal, how the dress you were wearing fit you perfectly and how you were the prettiest girl in the room.

It has been just that, sweet words and innocent touches until it turned into nights spent together. It was convenient really, just two friends keeping each other warm during the nights but both of you knew it was much more than that.

You wanted to spend your nights together and neither of you could stand the idea of the other spending it with anyone else.

When you that night in Greece ended up in his bed yet again you wanted to curse yourself out because you’d promised yourself that last time was the last. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, your back flush to his chest and all you could feel were his soft breaths against the back of your next. The sun wasn’t up yet which confirmed that you hadn’t been asleep for long. You closed your eyes and tried going back to sleep but Jude’s fingers aimlessly drawing different shapes across your lower stomach made it impossible.

"Go back to sleep." His rough voice so early morning almost startled you a little.

"I can’t."

"Stop overthinking and you will,” you didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling.

"What are we doing, Jude?"

"Sleeping."

"Are we being stupid?"

"No."

"I think we are."

"Always so fucking stubborn," a silence follows his words before he speaks again, "who even cares anyway?" You weren’t sure what he meant, if he was talking about your friends because you knew they didn’t care but you did so to think he was in the same boat as your friends hurt you more than you’d like to admit.

“I do,” you whisper and that was your way of telling him that whatever this was, it was fucking with your head but no response came as Jude’s scores filled the room.

You both wake up a few hours later and act like your conversation never happened and when your friends see you leave his room, in nothing but his shirt from the night before they all look away.

You stayed away from Jude that day, spending most of it by the pool with your girlfriends and when he’d be at the pool you would walk to the bar and when he’d call your name out you’d pretend like you didn’t hear.

The evening rolled around, everyone were chatting away, excited, happy and drunk and you were too focused on the conversation you were having with a girlfriend to notice Jude making his way over to you. He stopped next to you, his hand coming to rest on your hip, “you don’t ignoring me for whatever reason yet?”

You weren’t so your eyes remained locked with your friend who was finding the entire situation too amusing. “So fucking stubborn, like always,” is what Jude said before walking away.

You didn’t know what time it was when you decided to be the one to call it a night but your eyes were heavy and you were cold so all you wanted was to get back to the villa. You stepped out before everyone else, followed closely by Jude who pulled you in for a hug. “You’re shivering, I keep telling you to bring a jacket but you never listen, so you?” You feel done ignoring him for the night so you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him a little before looking up at him with a pout on your face.

"It's your job to bring the jacket," he laughs before apologizing for forgetting to bring one and he didn’t want to tell you that it had been because you hadn’t picked one out for him that night.

"I haven't told you yet but thank you for coming. I love having you around, y'know?"

"Of course, wouldn't miss it," he kissed your head before moving his lips down to your cheek. You expect him to move back but instead you feel him press more kisses to the apples of your cheeks.

"I hated not talking to you all day," he whispered, his kisses were light but made your heart speed up and your cheeks heat up. A final kiss was pressed to the corner of your lips before he untangled himself from you when he heard a friend of his call out for him.

You tried to control the flush growing on your neck and face but on the entire walk back to the villa you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on your skin because that entire moment had felt so intimate. Almost too intimate.

It was cliché, the oldest book in the world - girl falls in love with bestfriend.

Jude was someone you considered near perfect. He had the prettiest smile you had ever seen and the biggest heart you had ever known. He was driven, talented, funny and he cared about you more than most people did so of course you couldn’t be just friends with someone who made your heart beat extra hard each time you just heard them laugh.

You hadn’t just caught feelings, you had fallen completely head over heels with someone who had never shown that they feel even remotely the same.

The oldest book in the world sucked and right now you were getting past the chapter where you laid in bed crying as your friend, Lea rubbed your back, whispering that everything was going to be okay because boys were boys and sometimes they're too stupid to see what they have right infront of them.

You woke up with swollen eyes and the shower you took didn’t help you feel better.

You didn’t only make breakfast awkward for yourself but for everyone else too when you leaned away from Jude and dodged the kiss he had leaned in to give you. His friends all laughed, wondering what he could have possibly done to have his girl give him that treatment but they quickly stopped when Jude frowned at them and Lea told them to shut up and eat.

Jude stayed away for the day, not because he wanted to but he knew something was on your mind and that you didn’t want to talk to him about it. Lea had confirmed it to him later that day, letting him know that you just needed some space but that you were fine.

You weren’t fine and he knew that, your eyes didn’t have that glint to them that he adored and your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

He did well, stayed away for the day, got ready by himself in his own room and when he saw you walk out of your room he almost felt like you were trying to torture him. You were wearing a blue mini dress that was complimenting your skin perfectly. Your hair was curled to what he thought was perfection and he simply couldn’t take his eyes away from you. “You’re catching flies, mate,” was what his friend told him before he shoved him away, eyes back on you to see you standing before him. “You look really nice,” he never went a day without telling you that so the words only came natural to him.

You have him a soft smile, “thank you, so do you.” Your conversation didn’t drag longer.

You were having a good time. You were smiling, laughing and dancing like nobody was watching. You talked to the boys who approached you but couldn’t even pretend that you were interested for longer than a minute because none of them were Jude. Lea told you that you needed to kiss someone, to maybe bring someone back to the villa because the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else but you couldn’t do that. You had regretted not taking Lea’s advice because when the boys got back home, an hour after you had already left they were accompanied by four girls you had never seen before.

You pretended like it wasn’t bothering you, striking conversation with all of them and playing nice but when Jude started getting a little too close to one of them your face instantly fell. He was making her laugh and when he leaned in a little too close to whisper something in her ear you felt tears cloud your eyes so you got up and out of there before causing a scene.

You were definitely blaming the alcohol.

You couldn’t imagine how you looked, tears streaking down your face, makeup looking a mess by now along with your hair you had just tossed up in a messy bum. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were still wearing your uncomfortably tight dress you would have jumped into the pool instead of sitting at the edge of it.

"I won't save you if you jump in," you jumped slightly, "sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"I can swim,” you don't look at him when he sits down next to you.

"Why are you crying?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don-, don't sit here!"

"Oh? I don't see any sign claiming this is your spot," for the dramatic Jude looks around himself before his eyes settle on you, fighting the urge to reach up and wipe the tears that were still falling down your face, "nope, no sign."

"Okay, well...don't look at me with your stupid pretty eyes."

"You think I have pretty eyes?" When you don’t reply, Jude let out a sigh. "Babe, I hate seeing you upset."

"Don't make me upset then,” you hiccup, hands going to wipe away a fresh set of tears.

“I’m the reason you’re upset?” He am almost sounded offended, “can you tell me what I did?” You were just sitting there, not looking at him because you were sure that if you did you would completely break down. “Y/n, this is childish.”

"Don’t fucking tell me I’m childish when I’m upset!” He doesn’t say anything so you continue, “and don’t bring back a bunch of girls that we don’t even know to our villa without as much as asking us like a bunch of self centered bastards!” You look at Jude for the first time since you sat down and he looks completely taken back by your outburst. You sigh before telling him that you’re sorry.

"You're fine."

"I'm not and what I said, I don’t mean it. You're not self centered."

"But I am bastard?" You just laugh at him before shaking your head. "You can talk to me, y'kow?"

“I just-, today and yesterday has been difficult. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve missed you a lot.”

"I've been here the entire time."

"Not really, you’ve not been with me."

"I bet you haven't even noticed,” your voice is barely a whisper.

“I always notice when you’re not around. Being with the lads is nice but I was looking forward to spending majority of my time here with you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that it could make the tears stop falling because you weren’t even sure why you were still crying.

“You looked pretty cozy with that girl.” It was meant to be a lighthearted comment but the confusion on Jude’s face told you he didn’t take it that way.

“Is that what this is about?”

“You think I’m crying over that?” You were but he didn’t have to know that.

"Then why did you bring it up?” You didn’t have a response because he was right, you don’t know why you had brought it up. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting strange. You’ve been avoiding me for two days. Everything was going perfectly fine with us, we were good and then suddenly you start acting distant and I don’t know what to say or do.”

"Please, can we just drop it?”

"You're confusing the fuck out of me, y/n."

"Do you not think I’m fucking confused too?”

"About what?"

"I can't do this, Jude."

“You have to be more specific.”

“This! The,” you take a deep breath knowing that once you say what you were about to say there was no turning back, “the kissing, Jude. The cuddling, the holding hands, the fucking teasing, touching and flirting! The sharing bed, I can’t do any of it.”

"That's what this is about?”

“I really wish you could stop acting like it doesn’t mean anything!”

“I’m really not following.” That was your chance to tell him that it was nothing and to just forget about it and you could just go to bed and and pretend like this conversation hadn’t happened.

Tomorrow would be a new day and you would just have to accept that he didn’t have those kind of feelings for you which was fine.

Maybe it wasn’t fine but you would have to learn to accept it but instead of dropping it you shake your head. “How are you not following? I can’t have you kiss me, Jude. I can’t have you hold me and pretend like it doesn’t mean anything because it does to me.” You take a deep breath and ask him to not interrupt you when he’s about to say something. “I can’t let you have me just to not have me, it’s not fair anymore.” You wanted to scream at yourself to be quite because you had said enough but you couldn’t stop yourself. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been since we were like fourteen. I know you’re my bestfriend and I know that’s all you see me as, which is fine,” you laugh a little, “I think it’s fine. It will be fine but I just, you’re the first person I want to call when I get good news. When I see a stupid or funny video on Tiktok you’re the first person I want to send it to. You make me so happy and I feel so lucky to have you in my life but I can’t continue acting like these feelings aren’t just eating me up.” You feel like you might fall apart when Jude wipes the single tear that has fallen from your eye. “You’re my favorite person.”

You felt like your heart was going to beat out chest.

Jude’s eyes burning into you wasn’t helping but you sit there and look back at him as you wait and hope that he can say anything to help you ease your heart but he doesn’t so you speak again. “I’m sorry.”

He inhales sharply, head leaning back as he lets out a low laugh. “Wow,” that wasn’t exactly the first thing you had hoped he would say. “You’re in love with me?”

"Don't make me say it again.”

"Why now? if you've felt like this for so long, why not tell me before?"

"I don't know, Jude."

"You've felt like this the whole time?" You almost feel like he was making fun of you, like he was dragging it out until you’d just run away and refuse to ever see him again.

"Yeah, the whole time."

"Well, fuck," you clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, feeling nothing but embarrasment by his reaction, even if it was completely valid. "I don't even know what to say. I wasn't expecting this."

"Yeah, me either." You say, barely a whisper and you feel him more so close. Your eyes are locked and you feel like you’re barely breathing when his thumb caresses your cheekbone before wiping away another tear and you just shake your head before closing your eyes. Jude leans his forehead against yours and all you can feel is his hot breath on your lips.

You know he was trying to think of something to say, anything to make you feel better. “You don’t have to say something because it’s what I want to hear, Jude.” His brows furrow before he nods, whispering that he knows. “I’ll be fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

"I know, I know." He kisses you on the cheek, does what you had just asked him not to do and you want to cry because you can't even find strenght to push him away. "It's just a lot, I don't know what I'm thinking or feeling." You just nod, feeling guilty that you had dropped something like this on him out of nowhere. "I feel so much for you, you have to know that.”

“I do,” he acknowledges your words with a nod before he lets go of you and lays down on the grass. You still sit there, unsure of what to do.

You hear glass shattering before Jude’s name is being shouted and you just smile at him before nodding towards your friends. Telling him to just go without having to use your voice because you’re not sure how much more talking you can do for the night.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing it before he stands up, helping you up too in the process.

"I'm just going to see what they want, alright?" You repeatedly nod your head, wanting to tell him to just hurry up so you can disappear to your room and hope the ground swallows you up.

"Yeah, that's fine. Go." You say, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

"Okay." He nods before walking backwards towards where your friends are, eyes not leaving yours for a moment before he turns around and jogs the short distance there. You walk the same way, catching Lea's eyes and you just shake your head at her before hurrying the other way and once your head hits your pillow and silence surrounds you all you can think is holy shit.

The next morning you feel like hell.

You skip breakfast and don't leave your bed until the afternoon, nobody comes looking for you, everyone well aware of the conversation you and Jude most likely had.

You took a quick shower before getting ready for the last day in Greece. You were glad it was coming to an end because you knew you wouldn't see Jude for a few weeks, maybe even months and that would help you forget everything that had happened.

Once you got ready you made it out with the group to some day club. Shots were being sent around and thrown back everywhere you looked and you were doing your best at pretending you weren’t feeling miserable.

When you look at Jude and see that he is completely fine you realize that the hardest part hadn’t been pouring your heart out to him but it would be seeing him carry on like nothing had happened and even if it was selfish it’s how you felt.

You get back to the villa before everyone else, your excuse was that you still had a lot to pack. You were walking around your room, picking up all your heels and sandals when you hear a knock on the door. “You need help?”

“It’s fine. I just got my makeup left to sort out after.”

“Why did you leave so early? I could have helped you pack.”

"Felt done, really." You smile at him, trying to focus on the task you had at hand and not about how he was laying in your bed, shirtless and looking more handsome than ever.

“Honestly, I feel like I’ve always been pretty in tune with my feelings,” you just nod, not entirely sure what he’s trying to say, “but last night, it just fucked it all up.”

“I really want us to just forget about it.”

“I let you talk last night so I’d like to talk now, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure.”

"You mean a lot to me, a lot more than most people. Genuinely fucking adore you and yesterday when I said I wasn't sure what I was feeling it was true. It was a lot at once, a million thoughts running through my mind, yeah?"

"Yeah."

“Me saying that, it wasn’t because I don’t care for you because I hope I’ve made it clear that I do but I just needed to think about how I wanted to approach all of this because once certain things are said, we can’t go back.” He gets up from the bed and sits down on the floor next to you before taking your hand in his. “I talked to mum this morning, told her what you said.”

"Jude! Why the fuck would you do that?”

"I needed to know if it was obvious and I was just being dumb or something." You shake your head at him. "Guess mum's always know, yeah?" His knuckles graze your cheek, like they had done the night before and he inhales once before his hand falls to the side of your neck so he can pull you even closer and God, you're just so close and you're glad you're sitting because you're sure your legs would have given up on you by now. He takes another deep breath and smiles softly at you before he leans forward so he can kiss your jaw and up to the corner of your lip and all you can do is whisper his name. "I don't want to have to stop kissing you." You're not sure where this is going but you can't pull away so you sit there, fingers drawing shapes on his thighs while you wait for him to continue. "I miss being with you, joking with you, making you and having you make me laugh." He smiles at you before continuing, "I miss holding you at night." Your breath hitches at his words, mind racing and heart pounding. "I think I've always had these feelings but I've been good at hiding them because I didn't want everything to change but fuck that." He leans forward and kisses the skin just under your eye. "It's natural with us so nothing will change, yeah?" You just nod. "I've never felt this way before so it's terrifying the shit out of me but I know what I'm feeling now and that’s that I’m so in love with you too.”

You're not sure what to do or say so you wrap your arms around his neck and let him pull you into his lap and when your palm rests against his chest you swear you can feel his heartbeat so clear, perfectly in sync with your own. "Just took me a little longer to realize." You laughed softly and Jude thought it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. "Wanna be mine then?"

"Was I not already?"

"Yeah, you always were which is why I still can't believe your jealousy led to all of this."

"What? Don't be ridiculous," you say, leaning away from him when he tries to attack you with kisses.

"You so were."

"I wasn't!"

"It's fine to admit now." You just shake your head. "Come here, m'silly girl." He says, smiling as his tongue pokes out to lick his lips. You lean your forehead against his and let his familiar perfume wash over you as you let out a content sigh. Jude reaches out and pushes a strand of your hair away and behind your ear, his fingers gently brushing across the apple of your cheek before his thumb runs over your bottom lip and the entire thing makes your heart flutter.

"You make me so happy." A grin breaks out across his face and he didn't want to waste any more time before he leaned forward, closing the short distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss that filled your entire body with warmth and you really could have stayed in that moment forever, especially when Jude smiled into the kiss making you giggle against him before he pulled you back in for another kiss.

Maybe the oldest book in the word wasn't that bad.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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authorhjk1 · 1 year ago

Text

Doctor's Orders

Kim Bora and Kim Yoohyeon X Male Reader

This isn't what you agreed to. Not at all.

After the long flight, you only want to relax. Ahin left Paris two days earlier than you, having to attend a fashion show and some other scheduled events. While walking through the airport, you picked up two gorgeous women. It was surprisingly easy. Although you now start to realize that the older one might have picked you up. She was very straight forward to say the least. And even when the younger one, who seemed a little shy, suggested the roleplay stuff, you still agreed.

You sigh as you look around the "waiting room". What did your horniness get you into now?

The place is clean, and a couple of chairs have been set up around the living room. On the table is standing a glass of water, which you got after making an "appointment" at the front desk. Front desk? More like their kitchen counter.

The younger girl disappeared after handing you the glass. She walked into the room on your left. The other woman took the room further down the hall. You don't know how long you have been sitting here now. 10 minutes, in which nothing happened.

You shake your head in disbelief. Why do you always fall for this kind of stuff? You are really glad that you don't have many female business partners. They would all use this to their advantage. You feel like, since you came to Korea, your need for sex has drastically increased. And you doubt it's because of the different climate.

"Mr (l/n)?"

You look up from your phone, seeing the young brunette step out of her room. Her cute, innocent face is quickly replaced by a mischievous one as she bites her lip, looking at your rolled up sleeves which expose your forearms.

"Please come in for your appointment."

"Thank you."

You are still not really sure how to react. This isn't an actual visit to the doctor. Usually a nurse would show you to the doctor's room, not the doctor herself. You remember the argument the two girls had over this topic vividly. They both wanted to be the doctor desperately, because a doctor is more sexy than a nurse in their eyes. At the end, they both decided to be doctors.

"Please have a seat, Mr (l/n)."

You sit down on the small operating table aka one of their desks, which has been cleared of their stuff. The hard wooden surface is covered with a blanket and a pillow, so your back won't hurt as bad after a while.

The young brunette sits down in a chair in front of you.

"Our nurse told me, you have certain difficulties."

She bites her finger after talking, glancing at your lap.

"Yeah."

You still have to get used to this. Roleplay was never really your thing.

"Would you like to elaborate?"

It feels kinda weird to say it out loud. But the way the young brunette looks at you, makes you cooperate. Her body is worth participating in this stuff.

"I-I have a problem with my...."

You subtly point at your lap.

"Oh. I see."

She gives you a sweet smile. The older girl told you to be a like a shy patient. You hope you are doing well.

"I-I can't stop cuming."

"What do you mean?"

As if she is listing to a really interesting story, the Korean girl rests her chin on her hand.

"Everytime I see a beautiful woman, I have to... You know?"

You try to look embarrassed, which honestly isn't very hard right now.

"Is there anything else?"

Of course there is. The older girl told you what to say.

"I-I cum too much. The last time I slept with my girlfriend, she almost drowned in it."

"Is that so?"

The brunette leans back in fake surprise. Your cheeks become red, not because you are shy, but because of the exaggeration.

"Why don't you lay down for now and I will take a look?"

"A-Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm a doctor after all."

You lay down on the table, before watching her walk closer.

"You said you do that, whenever you see a beautiful woman, right?"

Although she sounds kinda professional, you do hear her curious undertone.

"What about right now? Do you have the urge to...?"

She still gives you a sweet smile, but her hand is doing one particular motion. You hesitate, trying to find out, what would turn her on the most.

"Don't be shy, you can tell me."

Dr. Kim puts her hand on your chest as she stands next to you.

"I'm your doctor."

Of course you would. But you wouldn't stop there. You would pull that white coat off her shoulders, and make her lie down herself. The open coat shows more than a doctor would usually accept. The knitted crop top underneath is see through alright. Her black bra is holding her breasts, which seem to be perfect handfuls.

She slightly leans over your face. Her exposed midriff looks like a work of art. You almost reach out to touch her tummy. You wonder what it would look like, if you would cum on her.

(Author's note: Don't mind the ears.😅)

"I-I do."

You finally answer. Yoohyeon's eyes visibly darken with lust.

"You think I am pretty?"

As if she has done this a hundred times, her hand reaches out for the zipper of your jeans.

"You are gorgeous."

"Come on. Please stay professional."

She gives you another sweet smile. The fact that her toned midriff is a little closer to your face now, didn't escape your notice.

Kim Yoohyeon slowly pulls your pants down. They are still around your thighs, but she is already hooking her slim fingers underneath the waistband of your boxers. Her eyes, which were locked on yours earlier, are now glued to your crotch.

"It looks like you have a rather BIG problem."

Yoohyeon bites her lip. She is unable to hide how wet this all makes her. She loves roleplaying. And this scenario makes her want to get pounded like there is no tomorrow. She knows that her body is build to be fucked. To be admired and then used like a toy. To be worshipped, before being sprayed with load after load of cum.

When she looks into your eyes again, she knows that that's exactly what you want to do to her. And you see the sparkle in her eyes, telling you to do so.

Once Yoohyeon finally pulls down your underwear, she eyes your cock hungrily. Still trying to be professional, she pretends to examine it. Although you know she is just looking for an excuse to touch it.

To get a better view, the young brunette is now kneeling on the desk, your legs underneath her. She leans down and takes your dick into her hand, still staying in character.

You can't take your eyes off her cleavage. Yoohyeon's tits are slightly pressed together by her arms as she leans on the left one, while the right is reaching for your cock. You are already hard enough for your cock to stand up straight as Yoohyeon only holds onto your tip.

"Do you take any medication?"

You shake your head. Her chest makes it hard to concentrate.

"How often do you cum in a day?"

You shrug your shoulders. The older girl gave you an exact number.

"Maybe ten times?"

Yoohyeon bites her lip once more. You can feel her hand slowly closing around your tip.

"I bet you cum buckets."

Her thumb plays with your tip as she looks down at it.

"This is kinda unfair, you know?"

She looks down on you.

"What?"

"You saw my private area, but I didn't see yours yet."

You try to keep that shy patient persona.

"That's not really professional."

Her cheeks turn a little red.

You notice that she has begun to slowly stroke your cock. She starts at the tip and it feels like ages, until her hand reaches the base.

"But it might help, doctor."

Yoohyeon pretends to dismiss the idea.

"You are pretty after all. I can't control it."

You see her blush again.

"Am I so pretty that you have to see me naked?"

You nod slowly, looking into her eyes.

"I would love to see your pussy, doctor."

Yoohyeon blushes harder then before. She keeps her coat on, but slowly undoes the button on her brown pants.

"I mean,"

She opens the small zipper and you can see that your doctor is not wearing any underwear.

"a doctor should treat a patient as best as she can."

Looking through her zipper, you see Yoohyeon's neatly trimmed hair. You catch just a glimpse of her lower lips, before she starts to pull down her pants.

She is still hovering on top of you, which means, she can't get her pants off completely either. You take hold of her waist with both hands and lift her up. Yoohyeon giggles as you put her down right above your face. Due to the movement, her coat has fallen in front of her center.

Parting it like a curtain with both hands, you hold onto her waist once again. Yoohyeon's pussy is on display for you as you admire its beauty. Her lips have a slightly darker tone compared to her skin. You can already see that she is tight, without even having to touch her. Her clit is partially hidden underneath the upper part of her lips. Her neatly trimmed hair has a darker color than her dyed hair.

Slightly tilting your head, you swipe your tongue along Yoohyeon's pussy. She sighs as she feels your hands moving around on her skin. You smack your lips, before sucking a little on her lower lips. She doesn't taste as sweet or fruity as the other girls. But you can't deny that it's equally delicious.

"Oh god."

Yoohyeon moans, when you finally let your tongue flick against her clit. Your right hand still holds onto her waist, while the left travels up her midriff. You feel the hardness of her abs underneath her skin as you keep stimulating her clit with your tongue.

"Holy-"

The brunette's breath hitches, interrupting her words. Your fingertips reach her knitted top and dive underneath. From now on, you start to suck on her clit, occasionally flicking it with your tongue. The pressure on her pearl makes Yoohyeon feel hotter and hotter on top of you.

"Yoohyeon feels hot."

She moans as your hand reaches her black bra. You are surprised she is talking about herself in the third person.

While your tongue and lips keep moving around and against her clit, your hand roams around her bra. Only the soft fabric separates your fingers from her sensitive nipples.

"Yoohyeon feels good."

You hear her sigh as you reach underneath her bra. This is a first for you. No one ever talked like that during sex. But for some reason, Yoohyeon is able to pull it off.

As your hands cup her breasts underneath her bra, the brunette slowly starts to grind against you.

"Your doctor wants to ride your face."

Her moans become louder as she does what she announced.

Slowly, the woman on top of you starts to ride your face. Your thumb grazes her nipple as her head falls back.

"Yoohyeon is gonna cum!"

You do your best to hear her moan her own name, when she cums. You suck and lick the brunette's clit, while your left hand keeps squeezing her tits. Your right hand has reached her ass by now. You hold her right cheek as you control her pace.

The young girl's hands are both buried inside your hair, holding onto it as if she is actually riding a horse. Her hips buck wildly. She loses her rhythm.

"Yoohyeon cums!"

With a loud shriek, Yoohyeon announces her orgasm.

After hearing her say her own name, you didn't expect anything else out of the ordinary. That's why you were unprepared. Without much of a warning, Yoohyeon begins to squirt. As she cums violently, her juices drench your face. You feel your hair getting wet as you have to close your eyes.

When Yoohyeon finally stops, you feel her pussy rub against your lips.

"More please."

Yoohyeon sighs as you open your eyes again.

"Make your doctor cum again."

You wonder if it's possible to drown in this situation. But as you look at Yoohyeon's body on top of you, you decide to take your chances.

With both of your hands on her waist, you pull the young brunette even closer. As she starts to ride your face, you begin to eat her out.

The pillow underneath you, your hair and your face are all wet. But you still can't have enough of Yoohyeon's pussy. One of the young girl's hands is now in tangled with her own short hair, while the other is keeping your hand on her ass in place.

She makes you squeeze her cheeks occasionally as she rides your face. Moan after moan falls out of her mouth, one dirtier than the other.

"Does your doctor's pussy taste good? Do you want her to cum all over your face again?"

You answer all of her questions by drawing the word you would like to say on her clit.

"Yes."

The brunette doesn't stop. She keeps asking more questions, enjoying the feeling of your tongue on her pearl.

"Is Yoohyeon a good doctor? Does she take good care of her patient?"

You answer her silently.

"Oh fuck."

She sighs as she feels her second orgasm approaching.

"Yoohyeon is going to cum on your face again."

Her breathing becomes faster.

"Please make Yoohyeon cum!"

You squeeze her ass one last time as you eat her out, making her orgasm for a second time.

"Fuck!"

You feel like you are standing underneath a waterfall.

Yoohyeon's legs buckle and she falls down on your knees, right in front of your cock. Her juices drench more than just your face. Your shirt is soaked in a matter of seconds as her cum makes you completely wet.

"Do you always cum this much, doctor?"

You tease the brunette as you start to enjoy this roleplay stuff.

"Only with a patient like you."

She is still breathing heavily as she is lying on your legs. Her back pressing against your knees.

You are about to say something, when you hear a nock on the door. You and Yoohyeon lock eyes.

"Dr. Kim?"

"Fuck!"

Yoohyeon whispers and tries to get off of you. Participating in the roleplay, you start to pull your pants up. The brunette does the same as she gets off the desk. Just as the door opens, she manages to straighten her coat.

The black haired woman in the door looks at the both of you. She is wearing a white coat herself. A stethoscope is hanging around her neck.

She didn't close her coat either, showing off her skimpy top. A black bra is visible underneath. Her exposed skin seems flawless like porcelain.

"What is going on?

Kim Bora sees you lying on the desk. Your face and shirt, the pillow and the blanket are wet. Yoohyeon's face is still a little flushed after experiencing two orgasms in a row. Her hair is disheveled, due to her hand in her hair earlier.

"Dr.Kim! How many times have I told you, how clumsy you are?!"

The woman who just walked in, glares at the other one, before she scans you up and down. Your face is still completely drenched and your shirt is soaked.

You see SuA's eyes rest on an empty glass on the small nightstand nearby.

"I-I just tripped and spilled some water on him."

Yoohyeon bows at her college.

"I'm sorry."

SuA shakes her head.

"Aish. How did you even pass the doctor's exam?"

The younger one blushes in shame.

You are surprised at how good their acting is.

"Have you been fooling around with a patient again?"

Yoohyeon shakes her head.

"No, unnie."

"Then are you at least treating him properly?"

SuA crosses her arms in front of her chest as she watches Yoohyeon nod.

"And what does he have?"

"He has a problem with his intimate area."

You stay quiet, enjoying the show. After all, you don't usually see two insanely hot girls argue like that.

"What's wrong with his cock?"

Raising an eyebrow at the other doctor's choice of words, you see Yoohyeon's face flush.

"He seems to have too much cum inside of him."

SuA nods.

"I see. And how did you plan to cure it?"

You see the older woman take a step closer towards you.

"I thought of some medications maybe?"

As the older girl shakes her head, you know what kind of treatment she is going to propose.

SuA takes another step towards you, standing right by your side. As she leans down, you admire her face, which is just as breathtaking as the other doctor's.

"The only proper way to cure him, is to make him cum as often as possible."

"But he said he already cums pretty often."

The brunette, still a little shy, has folded her hands in front of her core, glancing only once in a while in your direction.

"How do you cum?"

The older doctor focuses on you.

"I-I usually jerk off, because my girlfriend can't keep up."

"I see."

SuA's finger taps her chin as if she is trying to figure out an insanely hard math problem.

"I think I have a solution for that."

She looks at you first, then at Yoohyeon.

"How much pounding can your little body take?"

"E-excuse me?"

Yoohyeon looks at SuA in surprise.

"I mean, how long can our patient fuck and cum in you, until your body gives up?"

"R-right now?"

If you weren't hard before, you definitely are hard now. Since you saw them at the airport, you imagined yourself fucking the two of them. But hearing SuA talk like that, makes your imagination about Yoohyeon more vivid. Especially after seeing and tasting her pussy already. You do wonder the same thing. How much pounding can Yoohyeon's body take?

"Of course right now. Why would he need to make an extra appointment, when he is already here? Just let yourself get used as a cum dump."

SuA's unfiltered language makes you want to do just that. Use Yoohyeon's perfectly sculpted body as a cum dump.

Looking closer, you see a small dark spot form on the brown fabric between her legs. Her lack of underwear exposing her inner desires.

"Don't be shy, Dr. Kim. This is a normal treatment."

SuA leans down to get a better look of your face.

"What do you think? How many rounds can you go before you are satisfied? Are you going to destroy her pussy before you coat her whole body in your cum?"

You have to hold yourself back to not just jump off the desk. To not grab Yoohyeon by her waist. To not bend her over the table. To not fuck her brains out, until she is a whimpering, cuming mess, your cum leaking out of her.

"I'm not sure if this is really professional."

Your doctor snickers at your remark, her black hair falling into your face.

"I told you," her fingers dance over your pants. "this is normal. If we don't treat you know, you will have to come back three times a week."

She nods towards her colleague.

"Do what you want with her."

"Really?"

Your eyes leave SuA's face to look at Yoohyeon. The brunette is just standing there. Her hands are still folded in front of her, hiding her entrancing midriff. She is unaware of the small wet spot on her crotch, which is slowly, but constantly, growing. You see her bite her lower lip, but avoid your look.

Now that it's finally time for you to enjoy that body of hers as much as you want, you actually don't know how to start.

"Don't worry, sir."

SuA pats your thigh, her hand dangerously close to your crotch.

"Don't think about pleasuring her. Our patients always cum first."

The older girl looks at the younger one.

"Come here, Dr. Kim."

Yoohyeon shyly tugs her short, brown hair behind her right ear, before walking a couple of steps closer.

"Time for you to be his personal cum dump."

You watch SuA reaching out for Yoohyeon's crotch. The older girl starts to undo her pants. The brunette keeps her coat on as you watch her pants fall to the ground. Once again, you are blessed with the sight of Yoohyeon's delicious snatch. The small strip of hair, right above her clit, seems to act like an arrow. As if it's saying "here is the treasure".

Unable to hold back any longer, you get off the desk. SuA flaunts a satisfied smile as she sits down on the chair, which Yoohyeon sat on earlier.

When you reach the brunette, you kiss both her cheeks. You wanted to do that, since the first time she smiled at you. Subconsciously, your left hand finds its way to her pussy, while your right is holding her chin up.

Yoohyeon closes her eyes as she gets attacked at two different places at once. Her lips part slightly, when they meet yours. Her thighs rub against your arm as you dip your fingers into her honey pot.

"No need for formalities."

SuA interrupts your small make out session.

"Just use her already."

You take a step back from Yoohyeon to look at her flawless body one last time, before turning her into a mess. The brunette looks up at you. And although she still seems coy, you do see the way her eyes sparkle slightly. How her lips curl upwards in a small smile.

"I'm gonna fuck your brains out, Dr. Kim."

Your words make Yoohyeon bite her lower lip.

You spin her around, making her coat twirl around her. Pushing her towards the desk, you bend her over it.

"Finally some action."

Under SuA's commentary, you hike up Yoohyeon's coat and admire her firm ass. You let your hands roam her soft skin, until they both reach her tiny waist. Only now, you actually realize how petite Yoohyeon is, in comparison to you. You wonder if SuA just wanted to turn you on earlier, or if it was a sincere question. Can Yoohyeon's body take your pounding?

Time to find out, I would say. Without having to say a word, you already feel SuA's hands on your belt. She quickly removes your pants, like she did with Yoohyeon. You step out of them, your cock now resting between Yoohyeon's cheeks.

The brunette's head is resting on the desk as you align your dick with her pussy. You feel its wetness on your tip.

Yoohyeon moans into the blanket, when you finally push inside of her.

"Damn, you are tight."

It isn't an overstatement. Yoohyeon's pussy is as tight as her body. You wonder, how many people already used her body like this. She is build to be used like doll, so you guess you aren't the first one.

With every thrust, Yoohyeon's walls seem to suck you in. With your hands on her tiny waist, you pull her towards you, everytime you move forward. At first, you promised yourself you would cum all over her tight midriff. But now, once you have gotten a taste of Yoohyeon's pussy, you wonder if you could pull out in time. Whatever! You just have to cum twice then.

"Oh my god!"

Yoohyeon sighs as her eyes are shut tightly. While you pick up the pace, you make the desk shake a little.

SuA sat behind you at first. Now, she is sitting next to Yoohyeon on the desk.

"Wow. I'm sure you are the biggest she's ever had."

A whine from Yoohyeon confirms SuA's theory as you thrust into her harder.

Small red marks appear on the brunette's skin as your hands hold her slim frame in place. Her head is being rocked back and forth on the desk. SuA changes her position from sitting to kneeling to get a better look. She leans over Yoohyeon's upper body and places her hands on the younger girls ass. Spreading her cheeks apart slightly, SuA watches you railing Yoohyeon from behind.

"You are really stretching her out. Fuck."

You can only agree, feeling the brunette's walls around your cock.

"Please don't stop."

Yoohyeon's whimpers become louder and louder. Her eyes are still shut as her left cheek is pressed against the desk. Her hands are holding onto the blanket as if she is afraid you are going to pull her off it.

"Fuck Yoohyeon harder!"

You listen to the brunette as SuA keeps her eyes glued on the action beneath her.

"Make her take it."

SuA winks at you, before leaning down. As you fuck Yoohyeon, you watch SuA letting a string of saliva fall out of her mouth. You feel it hitting the lower part of your cock, before you push into the younger girl again.

Yoohyeon has become quiet and so you look up to look at her. Her face is now completely buried in the blanket. You wonder if she is still able to breath. She is biting into the fabric, trying to prevent herself from screaming. There is someone else in the room next to this one after all. But that's something for another chapter.

"You rail her so good."

SuA coos as she watches you fucking Yoohyeon further and further into the blanket. Slowly, Yoohyeon's feet lose their grip on the floor. As you make her legs feel like butter, her feet slide away from underneath her.

The brunette's hands open and close in fists as you slightly lift her off the ground. She is hanging in midair, her head still buried in the blanket.

You see SuA biting her lower lip as she prevents Yoohyeon's coat to fall over, and cover her ass. Apart from her sweet face, her art like midriff and her tight pussy, it's one of Yoohyeon's most admirable assets. It definitely doesn't compare to Sohee, but it's nice and firm.

You slap Yoohyeon once or twice as you feel her walls closing around you further.

"Yoohyeon feels good! So good!"

The brunette starts moaning loudly again as you make her cheeks sting.

"Yoohyeon is gonna cum soon!"

She whimpers into the blanket and you focus back on holding her waist, to fuck her harder. SuA takes over with visible enjoyment. Her hands find Yoohyeon's cheeks again and again as the sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the room.

"Yoohyeon cums! Yoohyeon cums!"

The brunette's body breaks down for the third time. SuA's work has already left red marks on her ass, which match your own on her waist. Yoohyeon shakes her head, face still buried into the blanket. You feel her pussy contracting around you. Her juices spill out of her again. They coat your cock even further, spraying the wooden floor as well. As much as Yoohyeon squirts, her pussy is surprisingly dry in comparison. She is still wet enough to fuck her properly, but she isn't as wet as you expected. That changes now as she now almost drowns your cock in her juices.

"She isn't much of a doctor. But she has talent in being one needy slut."

SuA's cheeky comment makes you think about fucking her as well. Her face and figure are just as alluring as Yoohyeon's. The older girl's tits seem to be bigger, which makes you glance at her cleavage more often than appropriate.

As you catch your breath from pounding Yoohyeon off the floor, you get caught by SuA.

"No, no, no. What a naughty patient, looking at your doctor's tits."

Before you can protest, the older girl has already gotten off the desk. While you are still inside Yoohyeon, SuA takes your hands, positioning them around her own waist. Almost standing on your toes, SuA looks up at you.

"Come on. Take a closer look."

You glance down, seeing how SuA's top is being stretched by her breasts. Her black bra is at least one or two sizes bigger than Yoohyeon's.

"What do you think about your doctor giving you a nice, comfy titfuck?"

That is definitely something you would never say no to. SuA seems to agree, not even waiting for your answer. She gets on her tiptoes, whispering into your ear.

"I bet you want to cum all over them."

She looks down, pushing them against each other with her hands, creating an even bigger cleavage.

"Coat my tits in your cum, baby."

You never thought it would be so easy to pull out of Yoohyeon's pussy. Although it tries its best to stop you from leaving, you eventually turn your full attention towards SuA. Yoohyeon is still recovering as you watch Sua getting on her knees in front of you.

You originally planned on cuming inside of Yoohyeon's tight snatch, but SuA's chest looks too inviting to pass up on.

"Let's get you nice and wet, sweetheart."

The older girl takes your cock into her mouth. Still coated with Yoohyeon's juices, SuA makes it even messier. You sigh as you feel her tongue twirl around your tip, while her hand strokes your base.

You see Yooheon move again, while SuA sucks your cock. The younger girl sighs as she now fully lies on the bed. She watches her band mate giving you head, her eyes barely open after having just orgasmed on your cock.

You focus back on SuA. She gives your cock one last wet kiss, before guiding it underneath her skimpy white top. You feel your dick glide under her black bra as the Korean girl pushes her tits together. SuA begins to move up and down, sandwiching your cock in between them. You feel her soft skin and the rough material of her bra against your dick. Watching it slide through her cleavage, you can't help but moan. When she presses them together like this, SuA's tits are so big, they almost engulf your cock.

You never expected it to feel this good. This is probably the first proper boob job you are receiving. SuA's tits are warm and soft as your cock glides through them.

"Do you enjoy your doctor's tits, baby?"

You nod as you have to hold onto the desk behind her. The older girl gives you a knowing smile as she keeps going. She moves up and down on your cock, making it slide in and out of her cleavage.

"Imagine how you cum all over my tits. You deserve it, good boy."

Her endless name calling makes you weak. The material of her bra creates a great contrast to the smoothness of her boobs.

Whenever SuA lowers herself, to wrap her tits around your base, she keeps her eyes on your tip. Sticking her tongue out, you feel it brush against you occasionally.

"Fuck."

You groan, knowing that you can't keep standing for long. A familiar feeling is spreading in your crotch. Your hand moves from the desk to the back of her head. Whenever she leans down to lick your tip, you try to push her a little further.

"Such a needy patient. You can't get enough of your doctor's tongue, can you?

SuA coos as her tits glide along the length of your shaft. That feeling inside of you builds up more and more.

The Korean girl lets some spit fall out of her mouth. It lands on your cock, before she starts to spread it all over your cock with her tits.

"I'm gonna cum soon."

You sigh as you feel SuA's tits around you. The feeling is amazing. You can't believe how good this feels. Because her bra and her top are keeping your cock trapped between her breasts, SuA only has to push them together. It makes it easier for her and makes you feel even better.

"Cum for me. Cum all over my tits."

SuA purrs as she watches you from her kneeling position. She enjoys the emotions, which play across your face. She is a person who enjoys making her partner feel good almost more than her own pleasure. Yooheon could tell you more than enough stories about that.

The younger girl is now scooting closer after your announcement.

Both of your hands are holding SuA's head as you slowly start to trip over the edge. She can feel you twitch between her tits.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Cum for me!"

You shoot your load all over her cleavage. Your cum lands on her tits and her white top, staining it in the process. A few drops reach SuA's collarbone.

"Wow."

Yooheon watches with wide eyes as you cum all over her friend. She can feel her pussy reacting to the sight. SuA kneeling in front of you, your cock still underneath her top and bra. Your cum is marking her tits and clothing as she leans down to wrap her lips around your tip. SuA cleans off the remaining drops of cum from your cock as Yooheon watches. The younger girl wants to go for another round. She almost needs it. She needs to have you fuck her again. And this time, she wants you to cum on her as well.

"Please fuck Yooheon's slutty little pussy again."

She whines, unable keep her desires in check. Although you just came, you know that you don't have a choice. SuA's tongue and her tits make you hard almost as fast as they made you orgasm. The way she looks, coated in your semen, makes it immensely easier to prepare yourself for another round.

"Mmmm... You taste so good."

SuA purrs as she lets your tip escape with a pop. Licking her lips, she looks down at herself.

"This is still a lot of cum."

She scoops up some of it, which was sticking to her tits, before sucking it in as if she is enjoying some noodles.

"Use her some more. Just treat her like a cocksleeve."

You are surprised how SuA talks about the younger girl. But Yooheon is already lying on her back, her legs spread invitingly. Except for her pants, the brunette still has all her clothes on as well. She shows off her tight midriff as she pushes her doctor's coat to the side a little. When she reaches down, you watch her parting her pussy lips for you.

"Please use me. Fuck me and cum in me or on me as much as you want."

You step closer, before aligning your cock with her pussy once more. She moans loudly when she feels you enter her again. You thrust into her slowly and deeply. Your hands are on her waist, holding her in place as you fuck her. Your thumbs slightly press onto her toned stomach, making her moan in delight. Yooheon's eyes are now closed, enjoying the feeling of your cock inside of her.

As she starts to move to your rhythm, you feel the brunette's legs wrap around you, pulling you further towards her. You feel her pussy getting tighter as you move faster. SuA is now sitting on the desk as well. Leaning against the wall, she is sitting behind Yooheon, patting her head, which she put onto her lap.

"You take his cock so good, Yooheon. You are a good doctor, aren't you?"

The brunette nods, her eyes still shut tightly.

Your hands move down to her ass, grabbing a handful of it. It makes her hips lift off the blanket, which enables you to penetrate her even deeper. Yooheon's reaction is immediate as her moans increase in volume.

You pull her further towards you as you trust into her harder, feeling her pussy getting even tighter around you. The young girl is getting louder, moving her head from side to side as you fuck her.

Yooheon's eyes open, looking into yours. You can see her lust for you in her eyes, the same lust that you have for her. A sultry moan escapes her lips, voicing how much she loves the way you plow her.

"Are you going to cum all over her as well?"

SuA licks her lips as she looks up at you, feeling Yooheon's head being rocked back and forth in her lap. Her top is still stained and the few drops of cum she hasn't devoured yet are sticking to her chest.

"On her abs. I'm gonna cum on her abs."

Yooheon nods wildly at your prediction.

"Please do! Please cum on Yooheon's tummy!"

The brunette reaches her arms out and grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you closer to her. You continue to thrust into her, loving the feeling of her tight pussy around your cock.

"Oh!"

Yooheon moans.

"Im so close."

You feel her pussy getting even tighter around your cock. Her moaning becomes louder, matching the speed you are fucking her with.

"Make her cum. Make your doctor cum all over your cock again."

SuA makes you thrust harder into the tight girl underneath you. You can feel her pussy squeezing your cock even tighter. You can tell she is about to cum, her body starting to shake. You reach your hand down to her clit, rubbing it gently.

That's all it takes. She screams out loud as her body shakes, her pussy gripping your cock tightly.

"Yooheon cums! Yooheon cums!"

You can feel her pussy spasming around your cock, trying to milk you dry. You let go of her ass and grab onto Yooheon's soft thighs, pulling her towards you. Her pussy keeps milking your cock, keeping it hard to hold onto reality yourself.

Yooheon's orgasm pushes you over the hill as well. You thrust into her contracting snatch one last time, before pulling out.

"Mark her with your cum."

SuA says excitedly as she watches you pulling out. When you cum, you do what you planned on doing, since you saw Yooheon's toned figure. You start to shoot your load all over her tight midriff. More and more of your cum hit her white skin.

Yooheon moans as she feels the warm, sticky fluid on her stomach. Some of it falls into her belly button as you make sure to coat as much of her body as you possibly can.

"Fuck, you are gorgeous."

You pant as you admire your work. Yooheon's tight tummy is full of your cum. The white streaks glisten in the lamp light. The brunette's smile lights up her face as she enjoys your cum on her body.

SuA jumps into action, leaning over Yooheon's tired, cum covered body.

"Such tasty cum."

You hear her murmur, before you watch her lick your jizz out of Yooheon's belly button. The older girl laps up some more, before moving in, to give Yooheon a kiss. The two of them make out, pushing your cum from one mouth to the other and back.

You watch them, unable to do much more. You already came a lot before this appointment. But, as said before, that's something for a different chapter.

______________

Hi, everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. While writing this, I honestly fell in love with Yooheon's midriff. I'm not sure why, I obviously knew how she looked before. But something changed while writing.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #dreamcatcher #yoohyeon #kim bora

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