#Metal lobby signs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liveyun · 2 months ago

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no escape | k.th

title. no escape

pairing. kim taehyung x fem reader/oc

genre. squid game au, thriller, pwp, smut

warnings. 😵‍💫. guard!taehyung, player!oc, consensual sexual acts in forms of power play, bandage, orgasm denial, face fucking, spanking, taehyung is. . . arrogant and cocky (pun intended) , his hands, taeconda wbk lmao, edging, finger sucking, some softness

wc. ~3k

a/n : i haven’t watched the drama yet, so please forgive me if there are any factual mistakes (shouldn’t be lol, there’s barely any plot) and this is my second time writing smut/first time writing fellatio so please let it slide if it sounds bad because i was way too impatient to wait and the rumors and or the theories (unlikely) of him appearing in the third season are making me delusional fr 😈

The corridor is suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint whir of crusty old machinery.

Dim overhead lights flicker intermittently, casting dark shadows that stretch and contract like phantom limbs.

You shouldn’t be here. The thought screams louder with every step you take, but it’s drowned out by the pounding of your heart. A part of you relishes because of your rebellion; full of zeal, while the other part is shrinking with fear. Yet, you don’t know which one is responsible for your heart to go hayware.

Either way, you keep on walking.

You grip the edge of the wall tighter, your fingertips brushing against the cold metal, as if the steel could tether you to sanity.

The restricted zone feels different — emptier, darker. As if even the quiet of this lobby is asking you, no, demanding you to leave — but rebellion is so sweet to taste, that perhaps even death cannot make you step back. The air smells off, tinged with the faint metallic tang of something you don’t want to name. The kind of place where secrets go to die.

You force your breath to slow, ears straining for any sign of movement, any hint that someone else might be lurking. But there’s nothing. Just the silence pressing in on you from all sides.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You flinch.

The voice is low. Dulcet — so smooth it feels like liquid heat is being poured into your ears. You’ve never heard this voice before, and yet it crashes into you with the force of a thunderclap. That calm, quiet power, threaded with something dangerous, coils down your spine and settles deep in your stomach.

The serenity of the voice scares you.

Your entire body goes rigid, blood freezing. Slowly, so painfully slowly, you turn your head. He’s standing at the other end of the corridor, blocking the entrance, and perhaps, the only escape.

Red jumpsuit, square mask. The highest rank among the guards. The ones who don’t ask questions.

For a moment, neither of you move. The fluorescent light above him buzzes faintly, casting an uneven glow over his figure. The mask stares back at you, empty and unyielding, a void you can’t read.

But you feel his eyes. You feel them trailing over you, assessing, dissecting, pinning you where you stand. You feel naked under his gaze despite being fully dressed, and you feel an odd feeling in your insides..

“Lost?” he asks, and the way his voice dips at the end makes your breath hitch. Fuck, oh god.

It’s not just the sound of it—it’s the way it slides under your skin, makes your insides tingle. And he knows. This bastard knows. You can’t see his face, but the slight tilt of his head, the way he lingers just long enough to watch your reaction—it’s deliberate, calculated.

You swallow hard, but your throat feels like sandpaper. “I… I—”

He takes a step forward. You take one back. The air shifts, heavier now, charged with something you can’t quite name.

Your pulse races, each beat like a drum in your ears.

You don’t know if you’re exicted or scared.

“You know what happens to rule breakers, don’t you?” His gloved hand flexes at his side, the movement deliberate, almost lazy. A predator sizing up its prey.

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Save it.” Another step, and he’s close enough for you to catch the faintest trace of his cologne beneath the sterile scent of the suit. It’s woodsy, faintly spiced, and it lingers in the back of your throat like a memory you didn’t know you had. “You don’t belong here. And yet…” He tilts his head slightly, the square on his mask glinting in the dim light.

“Here you are.”

You hate the way your knees threaten to buckle, the way your breathing hitches despite your best efforts to keep it steady. You feel absolutely mortified to feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen like slow fire. There’s no telling what he’ll do. Report you? Drag you back? Or worse — handle the punishment himself.

And God help you, but a part of you is equally as thrilled as terrified to find out.

He’s close now — so close that the full, metallic scent of the corridor is drowned out by something else entirely. Something warm, woodsy, and faintly spiced, like cedarwood and smoke. It lingers in the air between you, curling around your senses, filling your brain up with fog.

The mask tilts, as though he’s watching you with a predator’s curiosity, drinking in every nervous shift of your weight, every shallow breath. You feel overwhelmed and squirmish, hyper aware of him observing your each move.

“What’s the matter?” he murmurs, voice low and unhurried. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your throat feels dry, words caught somewhere between your lungs and lips. You shift back, but the wall at your spine reminds you there’s nowhere left to go.

It’s just you and him.

He leans in just enough to make the hairs on your neck rise, his gloved hand brushing the wall beside your head — close, too close. It’s then you notice his hands: large, impossibly large, even beneath the thin sheen of the gloves. His fingers are long and deft, curling lazily into a fist before releasing, a movement so absentminded it shouldn’t make your stomach flip.

Shouldn’t fill your head with images which practically threatens to take away the little sanity left in you.

“You’re scared,” he muses, more to himself than to you. “But not of what you should be.”

His head tilts again, the mask’s material catching the overhead light. Slowly, his hand rises, not toward you—but toward his own face. His gloved hand rises to the edge of his mask, fingers brushing the seam. He hooks a single finger beneath the edge of his mask.

You barely notice that you’ve stopped breathing.

“You want to see who’s really watching you?”

You can’t stop your eyes from widening. “You want to see who you’re really dealing with?” The words are laced with danger, meant to come about as a taunt. But they dont, they instead spread a fire inside you, like how the veins of a leaf spreads across its surface area.

Slowly, almost languidly, he pulls the mask away, revealing the face beneath.

Oh.

Dark, sweat-dampened hair clings to his temples, framing a face that seems carved from shadow and starlight. His eyes are sharp, but, but they hold a soft glimmer — hooded, which gleam with cruel amusement framed underneath thick, strong brows. His lips are slightly parted, as if he knows you’re looking and wants you to keep doing just that.

He is breathtaking. He is gorgeous. And he knows that.

It’s the small things that undo you. The faint sheen of sweat along his sharp jawline. The curve of his smirk, too soft to be mocking but too dangerous to be kind. And that scent —closer now, filling your lungs and making you lightheaded.

“Well?” he asks, voice silkier than before. “Do I live up to the mystery?”

Your mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Your gaze drops despite yourself—past his throat, past the open collar of his jumpsuit, to the slender column of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

Fuck this man.

But it’s his hands that do you in. Bare now, he tugs the gloves free, one finger at a time. His skin is warm-toned, his fingers long and lean, the kind of hands that could either cradle or crush without hesitation. He flexes them casually, like he knows you’re watching.

They are clean. Beautiful. Neatly manicured. . .

“Lost for words?” His voice is teasing, but his eyes are sharp, drinking in every flush of heat that creeps up your neck.

You can’t look at him, but you can’t look away, either.

An image flashes up in your mind. His fingers, the same fingers, rubbing your clit with smooth, slow circles as his other hand restricts the airflow from your throat.

Oh fuck.

You grit your teeth, not trusting yourself enough to conceal any noises that may spill out. However, you fail to supress yourself from squirming, your thighs rubbing themselves together unconsciously as the erotic image flares up your brain.

And he notices that too.

His eyes narrow, and a dry laugh escapes his lips — something similar to a mock, but closer to amusement. You feel your throat dry on the realisation as you try looking away, but the next thing you feel are his hands on your chin.

“You dirty little thing,” his hands are warm — but the tips of his digits cold as they squeeze your cheeks, puckering your lips out, his face inching closer till you can see your own reflection in his pupils.

You feel like closing your eyes, but you can’t.

His breath is warm. Minty. Sweet on your cheeks as he draws each word out like rich honey. “You could be killed here for breaking the rules, but you are thinking of something else. Isn’t that right, doll?”

You feel your clit throb at the nickname.

You shake your head, or atleast you try to. Could there be anything more humiliating than fantasizing about someone as him? Probably. But right now, you feel like not giving him the satisfaction of submission.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, the plush muscle coating his lips in a sheen layer of saliva.

He shakes his head, and a dry, unamused laugh leaves his throat.

“Filthy little liar,” he coaxes. “Do you know what do liars deserve?”

Your eyes widen, but somehow you feel that it’s not going to be the end of you.

Your eyes burn with tears.

And so do your wrists — they are tied behind you with a rag, and your knees actually feel like they’ve been scraped. But oh, sweet heavens, you feel like you could die after this. His cock rams into your mouth — not even half-way through, and hits the back of your throat. Your instincts have your throat constricting, eyes watering, and body squirming.

It’s nearly been 20 minutes, or so you think, since you’ve been kneeling down, getting fucked in your mouth by none other than the arrogant, handsome guard whose cock is so impossibly thick, you feel your jaws hurt. Suit hunched down to thick thighs and cock fished out of black boxers, you feel like this man actually is going to be the death of you.

Your pussy convulses, gushing out another stream of viscous fluid as his hips snap towards your face once more. He moans, a sweet, honeyed sound which makes your insides churn, a smooth beat which has your ego inflating. Your arms feel numb and your wrists hurt at the loss of circulation, but you remember how cruelly he’d tied your arms after your own fingers had reached down to releive the ache of your weeping pussy after the first thrusts of his cock into the wet cavern of your mouth.

He sneers, and grabs your hair — but his touch is surprisingly gentle, unlike his thrusts. Twists your hair into a makeshift ponytail, and forces your head on his length.

“Your mouth feels so good, ahh~”

He likes edging himself — or you. He’s been impossibly close thrice, throbbing and pulsing in your mouth, hissing at your tongue licking a particular angry vein on his cock, but he pulled away each time with a harsh grunt.

His eyes are sharp — glimmering under the dull lights of the lobby. He holds the back of my head and pushes himself down your throat, and you feel yourself gag, your mouth dripping with drool, his cock impossibly closer to your throat, still not down the base. “Y-yeah, you dirty liar, choke.”

It wasn’t definitely your first time with a man — but this man? You had no words. You felt your cheeks warm up, your cunt clench and gush out. You moan, the sound muffled by his cock, and looked up into his dark eyes, wordlessly begging for more. . .

What had gotten into you?

Your senses were overwhelmed ; the taste of his cock, its hardness prying your throat open, the smell of his sweat, the glimpses of his golden skin under his suit and impossibly silky hair sticking to his forehead — and each thrust sending you to a gateway of primal lust.

His hands leave your hair.

And what he does catches you off guard. You were busy eyeing his form, and he takes the advantage of that. His hips buck back to your mouth, freely thrusting as if you were a toy — nudging your throat open as he moaned in victory, his hands on his hips, teeth tugging his lower lips as he presses his cock closer.

“Look at you,” he lets out a small laugh. “Such a good girl. Taking cock so well.”

Your insides feel mushy with the praise. He fucks you through as you willed your throat to relax, knowing that each spasm tightened your throat around his cock, turned him on even more — you could already feel his cock throb back again.

He grits his teeth, and then your mouth is empty.

He’s pulled back — his wrapping around his length, and good heavens, even his enormous hands dont make up to the size of his cock as he lazily strokes his shaft. Red, so red it’s nearly a shade of purple — enlarged and throbbing. Your tongue flicks out as you whine at the loss of cock and he smirks ; as his thumb swipes the pearling pre come over his sapping tip, twisting his strokes as they get frantic, rushed, and more desparate.

“So eager for cum, are you?”

He tries sounding tough, but his voice wavers, ending off in an airy note. Fuck, he is close. His lips part and his head is tossed back as he fucks his fist, jerking off you resist the urge to squirm. The sight is so unbelievably hot — the arrogant guard is about to come.

He looks down at you as the first rope of his seed hits your agape mouth.

Warm, salty, and slightly bitter.

He fills up most of your mouth with his come as he keeps on jerking, and you must say that his aim is pretty accurate. Although some of it dribbles to your cheeks and chin as he groans, a sound so primal you feel your cunt clench and throb, knowing that you made him come so hard that you can see his eyes rolled to the back of his head as the last splurt of come hits your tongue.

You eagerly gulp down his release, surprised at how pleasant he tastes, and how easily you agreed to shallow down.

He, however, doesnt stop.

He leans down to you, close, impossibly close till you can feel the warmth of his face radiating to you. His hand cradles your face as one of his fingers swipe at the come on your cheeks and brings it to your lips.

“You don’t wanna waste it, do you?”

You happily oblige.

But you don’t stop either — you swirl your tongue around the digit, long and slender, similiar to how you’d done to his cock. You see his nostrils flare, and another arrogant smirk tugging up his lips as he narrows his eyes at you, pulling his finger away with a pop.

His hands reaches down to straighten up your shoulders — as your tits perk up, still clothed, but the outline of your pebbled nipples are prominent.

Your cheeks burn at the intensity of his gaze on your chest.

He squats down to your height — and before you realise, your arms are bound free. They feel numb and cold, and you flex them around a bit as blood rushes back to your wrists. You feel slightly awkward and blue balled, still feeling your wetness cling to your folds and your abdomen swirl with heat, but —

His arms slide underneath your thighs as he throws you over his shoulders.

“Wha. . . !! ” your throat feels sore, but you hope he gets the surprise you feel being over his shoulders, limbs held down by him, ass in the air and arms holding onto their dear life on his suit as he carries you both forward. Anyone could see you like this — your bare cunt and ass on display, but you don’t think it bothers him.

Or you. If anything, you feel your heart pick its rate at the idea of being caught.

One of his hands lands a slap on your cheeks and your body jolts forward as you yelp, feeling the sting on the muscle as his huge arm caresses the area, your body carried away by him with long, huge and hurried strides. To somewhere you possibly don’t know. . . .

But you aren’t scared, as ironic as that sounds.

“Did you think we were done already, doll?”

a/n : how did we like it? 😈 your feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading 💜

#taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung angst #bts angst #bts fics #taehyung fanfiction #squid game au #bts x reader #bts x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x female reader #taehyung x you #bts imagines #squid game #bts fanfic #btswritersclub

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alltheirdamn · 4 months ago

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Diamond Dolls | Joel x stripper!f!reader

Chapter I : Diamond Dolls Club

Series Summary: Running from the past led you straight into the arms of club owner, Joel Miller. He’s quiet, respectful, and devastatingly handsome. He’s nothing like any man you’ve come across, and it’s so hard to keep your heart guarded when he’s tearing down the walls. Chapter Summary: After fleeing Miami, you find yourself a spot at Diamond Dolls, and meet Joel Miller. The man who can change everything. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, Joel is in his early 40s reader is in her mid-20s, mentions of alcohol, strip club setting, nudity, sexual tension, mutual pining, eventual smut, explicit language… more tags will be added as the story goes A/N: Well, a very belated hello to everyone! I've been in the darkest recesses of a writers block, and had to drag myself to the surface to finally finish this one out. It's a slow start, but it's something nonetheless. Anyway, love you all lots and i hope you stick around for this lil story <3 xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

One week ago

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were holed up in the bathroom of a shady hotel, listening to the sound of pleasured moans coming from the bedroom. Your friend, Diana, had been going at it with some stranger for the last half hour, and you were scared. Private parties were typical for the dancers. In fact, Richie loved it. He loved being the type of owner who showcased all his dancers in whatever way he pleased. But you knew something was off when you stepped out of the black Escalade and into the hotel lobby. This type of party differed from the rest; you had this nagging feeling it would all go wrong.

And it did.

The sound of heels rattling inside your bag drifted through the empty parking lot as you neared your last resort. Diamond Dolls. Your gas tank—and lack of money—only got you as far as Austin, Texas. It wasn’t an ideal place to end up, but beggars can’t be choosers, so it would have to suffice.

It was early afternoon, no doubt the slowest time of day since only a handful of cars were parked in the lot aside from yours. With the sun still shining, the neon pink lights of the sign above the door were turned off, but it still looked inviting. Diamond Dolls was already far different than your club back in Miami; it was different in a good way.

At least, you hoped it was.

Cracking open the front door, you shuffled your bag over your shoulder and took a deep breath. This was your only shot at putting your life back on track, and you prayed you’d be given the chance to set things right. You couldn’t go back to Miami. Not now…not ever. The bridges you burnt could never be rebuilt; running away would only take you so far.

A few patrons turned their heads your way when the sun streamed through the hazy club, no doubt an annoying reminder that the world still existed outside this tiny place. The entire club was drenched in low neon blacklights, the purple and pink hues painting the shadows in a sultry ambiance. Above you, diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling, twinkling lights refracting off the gems that clung to the metal branches curving upward. The black leather couches around the stage were shiny and clean, another sign that this club was far better than where you came from.

High-top tables scattered the open areas in the club's corner, tiny tea lights flickering on their marbled counters. Everything was meticulously detailed, as if whoever owned it had put all their effort into making this space unique and beautiful.

Across the back was the bar; the counter stretched from end to end with an array of liquors stacked on glass shelves that hung from the wall. Behind the counter was a lone bartender busying himself with cleaning glasses.

Perfect, you thought. This was your opportunity.

“Hey,” you cautioned, walking up to the black countertop. “I was wondering if you guys are taking in any new dancers.”

“Can’t say for sure,” the bartender shrugged.

He had a snug black top stretched across his chest and dirty blonde hair that stuck back along his scalp with too much gel. A few tattoos marked up his forearms, disappearing under the cuffs of his shirt and reappearing along the column of his neck. Instinctively, you knew he was well paid by any female clients who came into the club late at night. A few drinks and maybe a few flirtatious conversations made him a wealthy man by the end of his shifts.

“Who should I be asking then?” You questioned, tapping your nails along the edge of the counter.

The bartender glared at your nails as they tapped repeatedly on the counter. You retracted your hand with an apologetic look, letting your arm hang heavy at your side. He bristled at your presence, obviously unamused by your friendly antics. Charm wouldn’t work here…noted.

“Joel’s up in his office. Why don’t y’go bother him.”

“Joel…” You echoed.

“The owner?” He cocked a brow, almost annoyed that you didn’t know who Joel was.

Obviously, you didn’t fucking know.

“Gotcha,” you nodded.

The bartender slung the drying rag over his shoulder, retiring the glass he had been cleaning to the other stack of dishes. He pointed down the hall near the stage toward the black-painted door to the right.

“You’ll find him in there,” he said.

You muttered a quick thank you before walking down the hall and past wandering eyes. Smoothing down your hair, you inhaled sharply before rapping your knuckles against the door.

“Come in!” A deep voice called out.

You timidly turned the doorknob, peeking your head around the door with a sheepish smile. An older man, probably no more than forty, leaned back in a leather chair. He had on a simple black button-up, the sleeves rolled up his tan arms, exposing the muscles and veins that spidered from his fingers to his biceps. You lifted your eyes to his face, brown scruff covering his jaw, small patches of gray threading through the wiry hair. His plush lips curved into a slight grin, his bottom one plush and pouty—a very dangerous thing to see when you realized he could potentially be your new boss.

“How can I help you?” He asked, clearing his throat.

Your eyes shot up to his, immediately pulled under the dark brown waves that swam through his irises. You expected the club owner to be less appealing, maybe even a bit sleazy, given your track record of who you’ve met in the business. You didn’t expect him to be this attractive.

You stepped over the threshold, unsure if you should shut the door behind you. You didn’t know Joel, nor could you trust him to be different from the other men you had encountered over the years. Despite your weariness, he motioned for you to shut the door and extended a hand toward the chair in front of his desk.

“I was, um, wondering if you were taking any new dancers?”

You didn’t mean to word it like a question, but your uncertainty got the best of you.

“Might be. Y’from here?” Joel asked, his southern drawl thick with each syllable.

You slid down into the chair, letting your bag drop to the ground by your feet. Joel tracked your movements, watching you squirm under his heavy stare while he waited for your response.

“Miami, actually. Just drove in this morning.”

“What brings ya’ to the Lone Star State?” He asked, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

“Family,” you lied a little too quickly.

Everything about being a dancer was a lie, and you weren’t about to change your ways for some owner you didn’t know. Joel stretched his arms over his head, his biceps flexing as he interlocked his fingers behind his neck. It should be a crime for someone to be this handsome; clearly, he knew what you were thinking because his lips twitched with an amused grin.

“Y’got experience in a club?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Worked at my last one for three years.”

Joel’s eyes raked over you, lingering on your glossy lips and finally trailing back up to your eyes. Your skin flushed under his stare, your ears burning the longer he drank you in with slow, deliberate passes over your body as you crossed and uncrossed your legs behind the shield of his wooden desk.

“I’m assuming you’ll want to see me dance,” you said, filling the dead air between you.

“Not necessary.”

You stared at your hands in your lap, crestfallen. This had been your last resort, and you were down on your luck now. You barely had a hundred dollars in cash left in your wallet, and you told yourself it was for emergencies only. You weren’t even sure it was enough to cover more than a night's stay in a motel somewhere in town. There wasn’t anyone you could call. There was nowhere else to go.

A soft creak of his chair stirred you from your swirling thoughts, and you looked up to see Joel bracing his elbows on the desk. He was so much closer now, his age materializing into something softer as he studied you. Worry lines creased his forehead, smoothing out around his temples where his brown hair curled behind his ears. Even if this meeting was all for nothing, at least you got to enjoy a small glimmer of hope dressed as a beautiful Southern gentleman. You reached for your bag, ready to beeline it out the door and back to your car before you could make any more of a fool of yourself.

“I don’t need an audition, sweetheart,” he said softly.

You blinked up at him, both confused and hurt. He didn’t need to kick you while you were already down; he made it very clear you weren’t getting a spot in the club. You lifted your bag into your lap, shoving the chair back hard enough to make the legs scrape against the floor.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet me. Have a good day.”

The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they didn’t sound much better either, but you didn’t care. There was nothing for you here, and you needed to search for a place to stay before the day slipped away. Clinging to whatever dignity—and hope—you had left, you turned for the door without another glance over your shoulder.

“Wait.”

Joel’s voice radiated through the room as your hand hovered over the door handle. You half-considered dismissing him and continuing with your hopeless day, but a nagging voice inside your head told you to stay. Steeling your emotions, you turned to him with your arms folded over your chest.

“Come back at nine. You’ll be on stage tonight,” he offered, rising from his seat.

“What?” You balked. “You just told me you didn’t want to see me audition.”

Joel shoved his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants, his shoulders lifting slightly with a shrug. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and shove you out the door. But there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone nor a look of deception in his soft eyes.

“I never ask my girls to audition,” he explained.

“Why? What if I’m bullshitting you?”

“I’ll find out if you are, but I got a feelin’ you won’t let me down.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

Joel dipped his head toward you, his lips curving at the corners under his thick mustache. You were in deep shit, knowing you’d get to see that warm smile every day. With nothing left to say, you muttered another thank you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway before he could retract his offer.

An upbeat tempo thrummed through the air as you passed by the stage, and you took a quick peek at the girl spinning on the pole, her blonde hair falling in a cascade of curls down her bare spine. The handful of patrons you had spotted coming into the club were now crowded around the stage, enthralled in her body as she moved to the rhythm of the music. Crisp dollar bills scattered the glass stage, falling at her feet as she lowered herself onto her knees. Your steps faltered as her eyes connected with yours, a friendly smile ghosting over her face before she returned to her routine. Digging through your bag, you reached for your wallet and dished out a couple of bills to toss onto the stage. It wasn’t much, and you knew better than to lessen your savings, but it was enough to show your respect for her hustle. She understood this life as much as you did.

You spent the better part of the afternoon driving around the city, familiarizing yourself with the sidestreets and small shops you would come to frequent. There hadn’t been much luck finding a place to stay for the night, but you hoped you’d have enough money after your shift to afford a room, at least for the weekend. You were more than ready to sleep anywhere that wasn’t your car and even more ready to have cash in your pockets again.

Anxious to start your first shift, you circled back to the club much earlier than Joel had asked. The sun was barely kissing the horizon as you put your car in park, the neon lights above the building flickering to life as the night swallowed the sky. You were two hours too early, but you didn’t want to wait any longer. You wanted to be on the stage now.

Searching through the bags of your belongings stuffed in the trunk of your car, you found your pile of club outfits and began piecing together different options to wear for the evenings. You laid out a matching pink lingerie set, the bra entirely rhinestoned in refractive colored jewels. It had done numbers on stage, a perfect outfit for making first impressions. You scoured for one more set—a just-in-case outfit—and found a thin, black lace teddy at the bottom of the pile. You could pair it with your taller heels and use it as your outfit for your second dance on stage. If you got that far. Everything else looked unappealing, but you’d have time and money to shop during the weekend for new clothes. New everything, if you were being honest. You were starting from the ground up in Austin.

As you tucked your clothes in your bag, you heard the sound of car keys jingling behind you. It was instinct to tense up at any noise in a parking lot, and your defenses were always up to foreign noises. Spinning quickly toward the sound, you came face to face with the same blonde you had seen on stage earlier in the day.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologized.

“No, it’s okay,” you assured her, releasing a shaky breath.

She was wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, her feet stuffed in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. With her hair pinned up and most of her makeup wiped off, you knew her shift was over.

“You must be the new girl Joel told us about. I’m Monica.”

She extended a hand toward you, and you quickly introduced yourself.

“Sorry, I probably look like a mess. I just got in today.”

Monica looked over your shoulder into the trunk of your car, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the mess. Everything left of your life was stuffed into only a few bags; it was embarrassing, to say the least.

“Do you have family in town you’re staying with?” She asked.

“I do,” you lied. “I just haven’t had time to stop by yet and drop my things off.”

Monica looked between you and your car, skepticism crossing over her features. Dancers were great at lying but even better at discovering one. She saw through you in less than a minute.

“Let me give you my number,” she offered, pulling her phone from her purse. “When you’re done for the night, just call me. I’ve got an extra room you can crash in for a couple of nights if you need it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. That’s, um, that’s way too kind of you,” you stammered.

She bristled at your words, shoving her phone in your hands to exchange numbers. You typed with shaking hands, the numbers mixing up as you deleted and retyped repeatedly. Handing the phone back to her, you waited for a text to ping through the air, and it did.

You made your first friend in the new town and only hoped things wouldn’t end like they did in Miami.

“There’s plenty of girls still here for the night,” she started. “They’ll set you up in the dressing room and make sure you’re taken care of tonight. If anyone gives you hell, just tell them Monica’s looking out for you, and I’ll set them straight.”

You laughed softly at her gentle threat. You weren’t expecting such hospitality so quickly, but it was refreshing to know someone cared about you. After a few more minutes of casual conversation, she parted ways for the evening, and you were left standing in front of the neon lights beckoning you inside.

Showtime.

The crowd inside the club had doubled since you had left earlier in the afternoon; the couches and bar tops were littered with groups of men and women all drinking high-priced drinks and shadowed in plumes of smoke. Three bartenders worked behind the counter, their routine flowing together as they worked in tandem, taking orders and making drinks.

As you walked down the hallway by the stage, you noticed Joel’s door shut to the club. It confused you since the club was ramping up for the night; owners were usually out mingling with customers and dancers. You considered knocking on the door and thanking him again, but the thought passed just as quickly as it came, and you found your way to the dressing room.

The room's bright lights were stark in contrast to the rest of the club, and you had to squint your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Only two girls occupied the room, working on their hair in front of the vanity. The second you entered their eyesight, they turned with wide grins.

“You’re the new girl!” One squealed, her brown curls bouncing around her shoulders as she ran up to you.

She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her heavy vanilla perfume floating around her body and onto yours.

“I’m Heather,” she said, pulling away. “And that’s Carolina.”

She gestured back to the other brunette, who gave you a shy wave. She was shorter than Heather, her hair cut into a sharp bob and streaked with caramel highlights. You waved back, introducing yourself to them both. Heather bounced back to the vanity, moving her array of makeup to the side to make room for your things.

“There are open lockers to the side over there, so feel free to stash away anything you need,” she explained. “If you need a curling iron or hairspray, you can always grab mine. And Carolina has extra body glitter, too, but I’m guessing you have your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my bag, but thank you. You guys are really sweet.”

You sat next to Carolina, dumping your makeup bag on the counter. Carolina worked at fixing her black nipple pasties, both of them on display under her sheer red bra. Her curves filled out her mini-skirt, the red material matching both her bra and Pleaser heels. She was fiery; you liked that.

“Joel said you’re from Miami,” Heather started. “This has got to be way less exciting than your old club, huh?”

You tensed up at her question, deciding on what to divulge. Heather and Carolina were sweet, but they were still strangers, and after last week…your guard was higher than ever. Pulling out your foundation and eyeshadow, you quickly started your makeup routine, dodging any invasive questions they tried to ask.

“How long have you both been working here?” You asked, flipping the focus onto them.

Heather fluffed her hair in the mirror, adjusting her purple halter top over her breasts before turning back to you.

“I’ve been here since Joel opened the club, so almost five years,” she stated.

“And I’ve been here for a little over a year,” Carolina said beside you.

“How is Joel?” You asked. “As an owner.”

Heather and Carolina let out a little giggle, clearly something private between them that went unsaid in response to your question.

“We like to say he’s like a recluse,” Carolina explained. “He hardly ever comes around during business hours. He just stays quiet and tucked away in his office. We pay him house fees at the end of our shift, and he leaves us alone.”

That piqued your interest. How could a club owner be so hands-off? Or maybe this was normal, and everything you had experienced in Miami was incredibly unprofessional. It was unprofessional, but you only assumed parts of it were like having your boss pimp you and other girls out for drugs and money.

“Isn’t that weird, though? I mean, most club owners don’t do that. They’re usually��.”

“Creepy and a bit unsettling?” Heather offered.

You nodded slowly, focusing on yourself in the mirror as you lined your lips with a pink lip liner.

“Joel isn’t like that, I promise you. He’s probably the most respectful man I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t even think he’s seen our tits,” Carolina giggled. “I can’t even tell you the last time I saw him outside his office during a shift.”

You shuffled off the vanity chair, returning to your bag to pull out your first outfit. As you peeled your shirt off, you mused over their casual information on Joel. You couldn’t make sense of it; how was Joel real? He must be too good to be true. He had to be.

“But how does he know what’s going on around here?” You pressed.

“His brother, Tommy, comes around, checks in on us, and reports to Joel if there’s anything worth knowing,” Heather shrugged.

“That’s it?”

“Yep!” Both of them said in unison.

Carolina strolled to one of the lockers behind you, retrieving a red garter from her back to tie around her ankle. You eyed her as she tightened the straps of her heels and adjusted her bra one last time. As she flounced to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave you a slight wink.

“You’ll be just fine here, doll. I promise.”

The moment your heels clicked against the glass floor of the stage, everything in your mind turned off. You gave the DJ— Bradley, call me Brad, doll— your music of choice before stepping onto the stage: a slow, sensual track that made the crowd turn their heads in curiosity. Until then, Heather and Carolina had taken turns onstage doing routines to high-tempo songs, keeping the crowd engaged and rowdy. But that wasn’t your forte.

You started things slowly, wrapping your hand around the pole and teasing the crowd with meticulous movements of your body that swayed to the beat of the music. Your fingers teased the outline of your breasts, cupping them seductively as you made eye contact with a few men sitting near the edge of the stage. Their undivided attention on your body was exhilarating; the promise of money dropping at your feet was enough to keep you going. Hooking your leg around the pool, you pulled yourself up, spinning in gentle turns as you flowed with the music. Everything you did was unrushed, and you took your time commanding the stage.

Eventually, the tips started piling up on the stage. More clients drew closer, their eyes hungry and watchful. You slid onto your knees, crawling toward a younger man who hovered by the side of the stage, his button-up shirt disheveled and wrinkled—no doubt from a private dance he paid for only an hour ago. You graced him with an inviting smile, swaying your ass back and forth behind you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he crooned, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the music.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you replied.

You knew how to bait them and make them chase after you. The thrill of it all was intoxicating, like the world was a blur around you, and all that existed was just the stage, the money, and your ability to make men crumble at your feet. Dragging yourself onto your knees, you coasted a hand down your abdomen, grinning as he tracked your fingers as they dipped over your navel. The money roll in his hand caught your attention, but you refrained from staring too long. Eye contact was crucial—if you kept him reeled in, the money would come to you.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked, breathless.

“More than you know.”

He curled a finger, beckoning you closer. You didn’t like when clients reached for you, but you saw the crisp fifty-dollar bill hiding in his palm. Like a moth to a flame, you drew closer to the edge of the stage, letting his fingers work at the waistband of your thong. He didn’t prod or explore; his touch was respectful and gentle. Blowing him a kiss, you tucked the money under the thin fabric before returning to the center of the stage to finish your set.

The music drifted to an end, the applause from the crowd around the stage rippling above the sound as the DJ returned to his playlist of choice. You gathered the tips off the stage floor, stuffing them into your moneybag as you left your set.

For some strange reason, you were disappointed to see Joel’s office door shut off to the club despite Heather and Carolina’s words. You understood he didn’t come out during business hours, but part of you wished he had watched your first routine. Wasn’t he curious? And why did you care to have him watch you perform? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress him…Okay, maybe you were…

Passing the DJ booth, Brad gave you a proud smile and a small congratulations. You hurried back into the dressing room, frantic to change into your next outfit. Heather lounged along the benches in front of the locker, her nails tapping against her phone screen as she typed furiously.

“Ugh!” She exhaled. “Men suck.”

You giggled as you plopped beside her, enjoying the simple camaraderie of being in another sisterhood with other dancers. You missed your girls in Miami, but that wouldn’t stop you from making new friends. And from what you’d already experienced in your short few hours at Diamond Dolls, these girls were genuine and caring.

“Who’s the guy?” You asked.

“His name is Michael. We’ve been seeing each other on and off the past year, and he’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I give all my time and energy and get nothing in return. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

You knew it too well. You had never been lucky in relationships; they were messy, and it was hard to come across a man who truly understood your field of work. Some of them loved the idea of having someone overly sexualized and, in their words, slutty. They considered every stripper to be the stereotypical version of a woman, all glitz and glam and naked on display. You were more than that, but none stuck around long enough to find out.

“Can I give you some advice?” You offered.

Heather stopped her typing, giving you her full attention.

“Men don’t deserve shit. If he’s not going to give his time and dedication to you, then he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your respect. You’re worth more than that. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”

“Those types of men don’t exist,” she laughed. “They’re all sleazy and just want their dick wet.”

“I don’t know. I think there could be some good ones out there.”

Unwanted images of Joel flashed through your mind. There was no way you actually were thinking of him in this setting. You knew nothing about him or the type of man he was, so you couldn’t let your mind wander to the thought of him as a love interest, nor did you want that. He was a stranger and your boss.

“Well, if you find one, send him my way.”

“Absolutely,” you smiled.

As you both sat in comfortable silence, you worked at sorting through your wad of cash from your set. Smoothing out the bills and organizing them, you counted out over two hundred dollars. Not the best for your first routine in the club, but it was more than you had walked in with. And it was enough to hopefully find a place to stay over the weekend. However, Monica’s offer still remained in the back of your head.

It was well past three AM when you decided to call it quits for the night. After two more sets on stage, you collected another four hundred dollars, leaving you satisfied for your first shift. Clients were generous, and the atmosphere inside the club was intoxicating. You wanted more, but you wouldn’t be greedy. Not yet, at least.

After peeling off your clothes and replacing them with the sweats you had walked in with, you said your goodbyes to the girls and made your way to Joel’s office. A flight of butterflies swarmed in your stomach as your hand wavered over the door. Why did he make you so nervous? You were never nervous around men; you were usually quite the opposite. But Joel…You couldn’t get a read on him. You didn’t know what to expect, which made it so much worse.

“Hi,” you said quietly, softly cracking the door open.

You peered into the office, spotting Joel hunched over the desk, rifling through some papers. He glanced up quickly, his eyes shifting back down to the papers…Then, immediately right back up to you. You didn’t miss how his gaze drifted down your body, the hunger flickering to life behind his irises. You were in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but you might as well have been naked with the way he undressed you with his heavy stare.

Your name fell softly from his lips, his mouth curving up in that same grin you melted over earlier.

“Heard you were the star of the show tonight,” he smiled.

“I don’t know about that,” you laughed.

Sliding into the office, you shut the door behind you, leaving only a few feet of space between you and Joel’s large frame. Somehow, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his gravity pulling you forward.

“No need to be modest, sweetheart. Everyone was talkin’ ‘bout you out there.”

“How do you know that? The girls told me you stay in here all night.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He wore that snug black button-up, and the soft material still deliciously clung to his muscles. His biceps flexed under the shirt, and you trained your eyes on him to keep the temptation of looking at bay.

“Don’t worry, I hear everythin’ inside this club. Got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“How’d you get into the business?”

“That’s a story for another time, sweetheart. It’s late, and I’m sure y’wanna get home,” he chuckled.

A mystery. That's what Joel was: an absolute mystery. You couldn’t dig under his walls, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let him dig under yours. If he kept his life close to his chest, then you’d do the same.

“What’s your price for house fees?” You asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Flat rate of twenty dollars. You can tip out the bartenders and Brad if y’want, but I pay them well enough that y’don’t have to worry ‘bout it.”

“Twenty?” You gaped.

His brows furrowed together, trying to understand your shock. You pulled a twenty from your money bag and walked toward his desk to slide it to him.

“They charge you less in Miami?” He questioned, reluctant to take the money.

“No, it’s not that. They charged a lot more…Like over a hundred some nights.”

It was Joel’s turn to stare at you dumbfounded; his lips parted in confusion. Wasn’t it normal for house fees to be that high? Or had you been lied to all these years?

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”

“I swear I’m not. That’s what the club owner charged us down there.”

Joel ran a hand down his face, his eyes squeezing shut. You swayed awkwardly, your fingers digging into the material of your money bag.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. ��Didn’t mean to cuss at you like that. Just surprised me, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” you replied quietly.

“M’gonna take real good care of you here, ‘kay?”

His words shouldn’t have affected you, but heat crawled up your neck as you tossed his words over inside your head. Once again, Joel was proving to be far different than what you were used to back in Miami, but you wouldn’t let yourself overthink it.

“Thank you, Joel. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t gotta thank me none, sweetheart. Y’get home safe. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

You cringed at the statement, another reminder of the web of lies you were already weaving. You’d tell him the truth eventually, or maybe not at all. You wouldn’t jeopardize your chance at a new life here.

Joel’s eyes did one final pass over your body, and your anxiety nearly drove you right into the door when you turned to leave. He needed to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t need any more fuel to the fire burning inside your stomach.

You spent far too long hovering your finger over Monica’s contact information, debating whether or not to take up her offer of a place to stay. You had enough money for a hotel room, but the idea of saving it and tucking it away sounded more appealing. You didn’t know Monica— or any of these girls— but her willingness to help you earlier proved how loyal these dancers were to one another.

Dialing her number, you tapped your fingers against your steering wheel, watching through your dirty windshield as patrons filed out for the night. You wondered which of these cars belonged to Joel and promptly stopped yourself from wondering about anything else. Why was every thought beginning and ending with him?

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh… Monica?” You reintroduced yourself, stumbling over your words like it was your first time speaking.

“Look who made it out alive in her first shift!” She said cheerily. “I’ll shoot you my address, and you can drive over. I’ve already got the guest bedroom set up for you.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude on you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re not intruding at all, honey. I’ve got the house to myself this weekend and could use the company.”

“I really appreciate it, Monica. Thank you.”

The city was nothing like Miami at night; the streets were empty, and the air was silent and calm. You kept the volume low on the radio as you drove to Monica’s house, enjoying the sound of the breeze as it drifted through the crack in your window. You focused on learning the street names as you passed every intersection, replacing the thoughts of Joel’s warm smile with things that would prove to be more important to you. But the memory of his eyes and smile still lurked in your mind, and no matter how many green lights you sped through, you couldn’t escape it.

Monica’s home was tucked away in a residential neighborhood nearly half an hour outside the city, her tiny home the only one with a porch light still flickering under the dark sky.

You barely opened your trunk when you heard Monica’s voice trailing down the driveway.

“Hi!” She squealed.

You turned to find her bounding down the pavement barefoot, her blonde hair tousled into a high ponytail and her pajamas hugging her curves. Setting your bag on the ground, you emptied your arms to welcome her into a hug, which should have felt awkward given you had hardly known her less than a full day, but with Monica…It felt normal.

“Thank you again,” you exhaled, your body slumping into her tight embrace.

“Oh, don’t even mention it. My ex has the kids this weekend, so the place is extra lonely.”

“You’ve got kids?” You asked.

It wasn’t an accusatory question; you had danced alongside several women who were single moms supporting their children. Not to mention, Monica looked way too young to have kids, let alone more than one.

“I’ve got two,” she explained with a tired smile. “Twins, actually. Jackson and Luke. They just turned three in June.”

You shuffled your overnight bag over your arm while Monica led the way to the front door. The moment she opened the door, you were welcomed into a very lived-in home. Kid's toys littered the ground, while mismatched socks and shoes lay around in other spots. You smiled to yourself, seeing such a cozy place; you missed being in a home. Living in shady apartments and hotels left you bitter and yearning for somewhere to call home.

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” she laughed absentmindedly. “The boys tend to destroy any clean area in the house.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all. I love it.”

She glanced back at you, quirking an eyebrow at your statement. It was true; you did love it. And you loved being welcomed into a home without feeling like a total burden. Monica gave you a small tour of the house before guiding you down the hall to the guest room. It was set up with a queen-sized bed and a small vanity in the corner—perfect for a night or two to get you back on your feet.

Once settled in, you returned to the living room, where Monica was lying on the couch.

“Thank you so much again,” you said, collapsing into the cushions.

“Of course, girl. I tend to be the motherly one out of the group, so if you ever need anything, you can always come to me. How was the first night?”

You stretched your legs out along the sectional, burrowing further into the pillows as you let your body unwind. Monica mimicked your movements, curling up under the small blanket draped over her body.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted. “Being in a new club is always scary, you know? But everyone has been so welcoming, and the customers are great. And Joel is…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Joel is what?” Monica pressed, giggling slightly.

“He’s amazing. I’ve never met a club owner like him. He really cares about all of you girls, and it shows. I’m not used to that.”

“You had it bad out there in Miami, huh?”

You shifted slightly, trying to mask your unease with the question. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Monica; she hadn’t given you a reason yet not to, but the question was too fresh to answer. Glimpses of that night suspended themselves in your head, moments you couldn’t shake and only hoped you’d never have to relive. Everything you saw… everything you did… you wanted to forget.

“Is it alright if we don’t talk about it?” You asked, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

“Of course, honey,” Monica said softly. “Whatever happened out there, just know it’s in the past, and you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me. I’ll take care of you, and so will Joel.”

Joel.

Everything kept circling back to him. He was an enigma dressed in all black with a warm smile and a country twang. You were used to men being nice; they almost always had an ulterior motive for their kindness, but not Joel. His kindness wasn’t self-fulfilling, as far as you knew, and you could see how serious he was about the safety of everyone in the club. Maybe things would turn out differently here; maybe things would be okay.

The early morning sunlight slowly began to seep through the living room curtains as you and Monica fell into endless conversation. Eventually, she mumbled something about needing a few hours of sleep before needing to run errands, and you took it as your sign to retire to bed. As you settled under the covers, you forced your mind away from the wandering thoughts of Miami. It was easy to forget everything that had transpired in the hotel room when you kept yourself busy, but in the silence, there was nowhere to run from the memories.

“Alright, which one of you are we fucking first?” One of the guys asked.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his belt, as he asked the question. Your stomach rolled with nausea as the realization hit you; Richie had pimped you out. This wasn’t a party; this was a setup. You swayed in the corner of the room, eyeing the door to figure out how to escape without being snatched up by one of the men. But there were too many of them and just the three of you to try and fend for yourselves. What did it matter, though, when your two closest friends were already drugged out of their minds?

You couldn’t have slept more than one or two hours. The sun was too bright inside the bedroom, and your body was coated in a thin sweat as you jolted from the bed. You were safe. You were in Texas. You were at Monica’s house. You repeated those reminders as you rolled out of bed and entered the guest bathroom. The reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger; your eyes puffy and your face pale.

“You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself.

Splashing cold water on your face, you took a few minutes to gather your bearings. The days spent on the road running from Miami were catching up to you, and so was the anxiety that you had kept at bay.

“Hey!” Monica called from somewhere down the hall.

You braced yourself against the bathroom sink, swallowing the startled gasp that threatened to bubble out of your mouth.

“I’m headin’ out to the grocery, so if you want me to grab anything for you, just shoot me a text! I left breakfast on the kitchen counter for whenever you’re hungry,” she continued.

“T–Thank you!” You stuttered.

Dammit, you were okay.

You waited until you heard the sound of the front door closing before emerging from the bathroom. In your slim hours of sleep, Monica had cleaned up the house from the night before. Toys were piled in small bins beside the couch, and the miscellaneous clothes and shoes had disappeared, most likely to their respective places in the laundry or kids' bedroom.

The lingering smell of breakfast led you into the kitchen, where a plate of eggs and bacon sat neatly on the counter. Monica was truly a godsend, and knowing you were in good hands settled some nerves. Settling onto the kitchen barstool, you inhaled the aroma of the plate of food and reached for the fork. Your hand wavered as you spotted a piece of paper tucked under the plate's corner, dainty handwriting scribbling across the note.

In case you need it, here’s Joel’s number.

You stared at the series of numbers before you, your throat dry. Joel. The man that was giving you a second chance at this life you had decided to live. Joel. The man with a kind heart and even kinder eyes. Joel.

The one person who could change everything.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x stripper!reader #joel miller x stripper!reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au

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thenatashamaximoff · 8 days ago

Text

Something Wicked

Summary: After the dark entity known as the Scarlet Witch takes control of Wanda Maximoff, she unexpectedly breaks up with you as a twisted reward for saving her. The pain of the breakup lingers for six long months as you try to cope and move on, finding solace in your own pursuits. However, just as you begin to find your footing again, you are revisited by old friends as they request your aid when the Scarlet Witch resurfaces.

✎

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 3459

Heavy rain pummeled against the roof above you, but your attention was elsewhere. You marveled at the captivating beauty of your own veins, their emerald hue ensnaring your attention once more. The delicate skin on your forearm barely concealed the intricate network of verdant pathways pulsating just beneath the surface. It was a mesmerizing sight, an otherworldly shade of green that seemed to radiate with vitality. It was as if nature itself coursed through your very being, and you couldn’t help but be awestruck by the phenomenon as if you were seeing it for the first time again.

Your fingers wove through the thick fur of the small dog lying before you, a patient in need. Its shallow breaths and pained whimpers tugged at your heartstrings, yet the pain the animal was feeling caused a tightness to grip your muscles. As you touched the creature, you could feel its distress, intimately aware of every ounce of suffering it endured.

Drawing upon the energy within you, you channeled it toward the dog, willing healing and comfort to permeate its being. Gradually, its breathing steadied, the whimpers fading into silence. A surge of relief washed over you as the dog let out a joyous bark, springing to its feet on the metal examination table. A smile stretched across your features, mirroring the elation in the owner’s eyes as he stepped forward.

“Thank you,” he uttered, his voice laced with a mixture of gratitude and awe. His laughter mingled with relief, and he extended his hand for his furry companion to shower with affectionate licks. “That was incredible.” You drew in a low, shuddering breath, your arms trembling as you attempted to shake off the residual pain you had absorbed from the dog. As he embraced his pet, his fingers finding solace behind its ear, his gaze locked with yours, brimming with wonder. “I must admit, I was skeptical at first, thinking it was just another one of those scams. But witnessing your work… I’m glad I went with my gut.” He pressed his lips tenderly against the top of the dog’s head, a thin layer of tears glistening in his eyes as he inhaled deeply. With a determined nod, he raised his chin, composing himself. “I’ll see you around, doc.”

You chuckled softly, the sound laced with warmth and camaraderie. “Hopefully not too soon,” you replied, a gentle jest dancing in your words. A soft smile adorned your face as the owner departed, the room enveloped in a sense of profound gratitude and hope.

You lingered in the lobby, your gaze fixed on him as he hastily pushed open the glass door and scurried towards his car, seeking shelter from the relentless downpour. The heavy droplets cascaded from the sky, each one threatening to soak him to the bone. The urgency in his movements was palpable, his determination to avoid the drenching rain evident in every hurried step.

A jolt of thunder rattled the building, forcing you out of your stupor. You exhaled heavily as you approached the door. Through the rain-streaked surface, you peered out into the desolate parking lot as your last patient drove off into the night, your lips pressing together in a tight line. With a firm grip, you clasped the bottom of the OPEN sign, flipping it to CLOSE, while your other hand swiftly secured the deadbolt.

Standing there for a moment longer, you observed the heavy raindrops pummeling the pavement under the dim glow of the streetlights. A sense of foreboding weighed upon your shoulders, causing your gut to knot with unease. Determined to shake off the disquiet, you turned on your heels, ready to retreat back into the safety of your establishment.

But as you spun around, your heart leaped into your throat, freezing you in your tracks. A figure materialized in the doorway to your only examination room, shrouded in darkness. Steadying your voice, though your heart hammered against your ribs, you spoke with a measured tone, “Sorry, but we’re closed.” You moved to the side, taking refuge near the desk on your left. Your hand traced the inside of the counter, inching closer to what it sought. “You’re welcome to return tomorrow to make an appointment.”

A soft voice, laced with intrigue, cut through the tense air. “Or we can do it now.” The figure moved forward, stepping into the light, and relief washed over you as you met the familiar, piercing gaze of Natasha Romanoff. Releasing the handle of the concealed gun beneath your desk, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while.”

“Nine months.” You shrugged nonchalantly, nodding subtly as you added, “Approaching ten soon.”

A faint smile tugged at Natasha’s lips as she gracefully approached, taking in the surroundings of your humble business. Her eyes wandered, absorbing every detail, as if memorizing the essence of your new life. “I imagined you doing a lot of things when you left,” she remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of astonishment. “Being a vet wasn’t one I anticipated.” Her gaze flickered back to you, her eyes meeting yours as you leaned against the desk. “Do you even have your license?” She arched an eyebrow teasingly, evoking a huff from you.

“What do you want, Natasha?”

Her lips curved into a more prominent yet gentle smile, but her eyes betrayed a hint of mischief. “What makes you think I want something?” she returned, feigning a wounded expression.

A trace of annoyance flickered across your face as you cleared your throat, not easily swayed by her act. “I haven’t heard from anybody on the team since I left,” you stated.

Natasha’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more earnest expression. “I know,” she admitted, her voice carrying a touch of remorse. “We’ve all been… busy. But that doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten about you.”

A pang of vulnerability resonated within you, a mixture of yearning and the lingering sense of abandonment. You had made the difficult choice to walk away from the team, to forge a different path for yourself. Yet, a part of you had always hoped for a connection, a reassurance that your absence hadn’t rendered you completely forgotten.

“So why now?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of uncertainty. “Why reach out after all this time?”

She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering and earnest. As she poised herself to respond, a voice interjected before she could utter a word. “Because we need you, Y/N.” Startled, your eyes darted towards the source of the second voice, your attention suddenly drawn to another figure standing at the entrance of your examination room. Lost in the sight of Natasha, you had failed to notice the presence of a companion.

Your curiosity piqued, you shifted your focus towards the newly arrived figure, taking in their appearance and attempting to piece together the puzzle before you. Who was this unexpected partner accompanying Natasha, and what role did they play in this unfolding situation?

A scoff caught in your throat as Vision stepped into the room, his presence commanding and analytical. His unwavering gaze remained fixed upon you, intensifying the unease that simmered within. Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but release your disbelief. “You couldn’t have waited a few more seconds?” Natasha’s low question resonated in the room, its undercurrents of exasperation and frustration unmistakable.

“You were drawing it out,” Vision claimed, his tone devoid of emotion. “Time is of the essence, and we have little to spare.”

Your attention shifted, focusing your gaze squarely on Vision, a flicker of resentment igniting in your eyes. Your question, however, was directed towards Natasha, a mixture of confusion and disdain permeating your words. “Why is he here?”

The Russian’s response was steady, her voice tinged with a sense of understanding. “He insisted on coming,” she explained. “She’s back, Y/N.” It took a moment for the weight of her words to sink in, for the significance of their presence to fully register. Your gaze reluctantly shifted from Vision to meet hers, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach as the realization dawned upon you. “The Scarlet Witch has returned.”

A surge of sensations swirled within you, a maelstrom of recollections, regrets, and feelings. The return of the enigmatic and powerful being known as the Scarlet Witch held implications that stretched far beyond your current circumstances. It signified the revival of a chapter you had hoped to leave behind, a chapter that had left its mark upon your very soul.

As the gravity of the situation settled, a wave of emotions crashed over you, leaving you gasping for air. The resurgence of the past had brought forth a flood of unwelcomed memories and unresolved pain, and the mere thought of confronting it once again threatened to suffocate you. In that moment, you knew you couldn’t face it head-on with the Avengers.

You pushed past them, making your way to the hidden staircase around the corner. Their footsteps echoed behind you, their presence a constant reminder of the choices that lay before you. You remained silent, determined to retreat to the solace of your apartment, to gather your thoughts and find a momentary respite from the chaos unfolding.

Entering your kitchen, you could feel them looming behind you. Natasha’s voice cut through the air, her concern discernible. “Y/N, did you hear me?” Her gaze fixated on you as you retrieved a box from the freezer, allowing the door to swing shut. Her brows furrowed in confusion, Vision standing by her side. “Y/N-”

“I heard you,” you asserted, avoiding direct eye contact as your focus shifted to a frozen meal, the instructions becoming a temporary refuge. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Vision, his voice filled with urgency, interjected, “Wanda is in danger. How can you let her suffer-”

You cut him off, your gaze finally meeting his. Anger burned in your eyes, a testament to the pain that still lingered within. “The same way she let me suffer,” you declared, your voice laced with bitterness. The words hung heavily in the air, a raw truth that underlined the depth of your hurt. “You two wasted your precious time coming here. I’m not going back.”

A tense silence settled in the room, the weight of your decision palpable. The Avengers, once your allies, now stood before you, their expressions reflecting a mix of concern and disappointment. The path ahead seemed uncertain, and while part of you longed to join them, to embrace the cause once more, the scars of the past held you back.

With a heavy sigh, Natasha’s gaze softened, her words carrying a weight of understanding. “I know what she did to you. I know the pain she caused, but you also know how dire the situation can become. It’s going to escalate, and without your help, more lives will be at risk. More lives will be lost.” Your eyes locked onto hers, imploring you to remember the purpose that once drove you. “You were an Avenger, Y/N, because you believed in putting an end to that agony.”

Her words reverberated in the air, stirring a mix of emotions within you. Memories of your past life as an Avenger, the camaraderie, the shared purpose, surged to the surface. The weight of responsibility and the desire to protect innocents clashed with the scars of your own personal pain.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to shield yourself from further harm and the realization that your abilities could make a difference in preventing a greater catastrophe. The echoes of Natasha’s plea resonated in your mind.

Taking a deep breath, you met her gaze once more. “You don’t know anything,” you expressed flatly. “I hope you can find a way to save her without me.” With those words hanging in the air, you turned away from them, putting your focus back on the frozen meal in your hands as you stepped over to the microwave.

“She still loves you.” You felt yourself freeze at the android’s voice, your grip tightening and ultimately crumpling the box. Natasha’s voice was low when she attempted to stop him, but he continued with no regard for her. “She never stopped loving you, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that,” you claimed, your voice barely above a whisper, yet you knew he heard you. You dropped the meal onto the counter with a loud thunk as you leaned against it, bracing yourself. “Don’t manipulate my emotions so you can have your happy ending.”

The memory you had fought so hard against managed to trickle in through the cracks Vision’s words caused, and tears pricked the backs of your eyes as you looked at Wanda in your mind. Her soft features, usually filled with warmth and love, were now only filled with sorrow and agony. The pain of the past surged through your veins, threatening to consume you once again. You closed your eyes, desperately trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, yet it only gave you a clearer view of what had happened.

“You’re wrong,” you sneered, pivoting to face the pair. “Wanda never had any true affection for me, and the Witch only aimed to exploit my vulnerability.” With your arms tightly folded across your chest, you leaned against the countertop behind you and subtly shook your head. “Picture this, Vision: rescuing the person you cherish from a… an ominous force, only to have her confess that she’s never reciprocated your love.”

The weight of those words hung heavy in the air as you paused, your gaze fixed on a distant point. The bitter taste of betrayal lingered on your lips, and a mixture of hurt and anger etched itself on your face. The truth had been unveiled, revealing a painful reality that shattered the illusion of love and trust you had held onto.

The memories flooded your mind, each one a piece of the puzzle that now formed a clear image. You recalled the moments of tenderness, the stolen glances, and the whispered promises of forever. But now they seemed like mere illusions, a cruel facade that masked the true intentions of the Scarlet Witch.

A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, there was a sense of disbelief, a desperate desire to deny the harsh reality that had been thrust upon you. On the other hand, a wave of seething anger swelled within, fueled by the profound sense of betrayal. How could someone you loved so profoundly deceive you in such a way?

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you continued to steady yourself against the counter. The pain in your voice was undeniable. “The two of you can relax here for the night and wait out the storm, but I expect you to be gone in the morning.” Leaving your untouched dinner behind, you moved past Natasha and Vision, disappearing into the recesses of your apartment. The heavy thud of the closing bedroom door echoed, and a deep exhale escaped your lips as your back pressed against it.

In the quiet solitude, a whispered “I’m sorry” lingered in the air. The memory of her apology played like a haunting film on the back of your eyelids. You recalled the way she looked at you, a mix of remorse and helplessness, and your naive laughter that had once dismissed her regrets. At the time, you hadn’t fully grasped what she was apologizing for… until she mustered up the confidence to continue.

Shaking your head, you pried yourself away from the door, crossing the room to the edge of the bed. As you began to untie your shoes, you grappled with memories that threatened to overwhelm you. You tried to push them back into the vault you had constructed, sealing it shut to prevent the flood of emotions. Yet, despite your efforts, the vault had opened, and you allowed yourself to remember - her smile, the depth of her eyes, the infectious laughter that once filled the room.

A vice tightened around your heart as you recalled the tender moments, like the gentle sweep of her hand through your hair, a simple touch that held profound meaning. The recollection of nights entwined together, limbs and blankets creating a comforting chaos, brought both warmth and pain.

The struggle to forget was real, but the past insisted on resurfacing. With each memory, the walls you had built threatened to crumble, exposing vulnerabilities you had meticulously hidden.

The soft knock barely registered in your mind, lost beneath the weight of your thoughts. It wasn’t until a voice - steady, familiar - cut through the haze that you blinked back into the present. Your gaze lifted, sluggish and unfocused, until it landed on Natasha standing in front of you.

Your eyes flickered, landing on the frozen meal - now fully cooked - resting in her hands. The same one you’d abandoned in the kitchen. The same one you had no energy to make for yourself.

You hesitated. Accepting it meant letting her stay, meant listening to whatever argument she’d prepared to drag you back into the fight. But when your stomach let out a low, insistent growl, the choice was made for you.

Wordlessly, you took the meal.

She sat beside you without invitation.

“You’re right,” she murmured as you shoveled a forkful of food into your mouth. “I don’t know anything.”

You chewed slowly, your eyes fixed on the meal rather than the woman beside you. But she wasn’t finished.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Wanda after everything,” she continued. “I just know that whatever it was, it was bad enough to make you leave. To move across the country. To try to disappear.”

You swallowed, the food suddenly feeling heavy in your throat. “How’d you even find me?”

A low chuckle slipped from her lips, quiet and knowing. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you lifted another bite to your mouth. “Too busy to stop by, but not too busy to spy.”

She exhaled through her nose, but there was no denial. Only quiet acknowledgment.

“You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” she said, her voice steady, unwavering.

And the worst part?

You knew she was right.

You let Natasha’s words settle in the space between you - heavy, unshakable. She never wasted time on trivial things. If she was here, it meant things were worse than she was letting on.

Your grip tightened around the fork as you forced another bite past the growing lump in your throat. “I already told you - I’m not going back,” you muttered, barely above a whisper.

Natasha didn’t argue. She didn’t scoff or roll her eyes. She just sat there, hands resting on her thighs, watching you with that quiet patience you hated. She knew you too well. Knew you’d be the first to break…

And you did.

“Is she really that far gone?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, quieter this time.

She inhaled, slow and measured. “She’s unraveling.”

A shiver crawled down your spine.

You remembered it too clearly - the way Wanda’s power frayed at the edges when the Witch began to take control, the way she trembled beneath its weight, fighting a battle no one else could see. You had been there, helpless as the Scarlet Witch whispered promises and lies in equal measure, clawing her way to the surface mercilessly.

And you remembered the way Wanda looked at you before she lost the fight - eyes wild with desperation, fingers twitching as if reaching for something… for you…

And then—

She let go.

But you held on.

The memory burned through you, a sharp ache settling deep in your chest. You swallowed hard, blinking against the image, forcing yourself back to the present.

“She’s looking for something,” Natasha said, her voice quieter now, almost secretive. “Or someone.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “And let me guess - you think it’s me.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just held your gaze, steady and unflinching.

You scoffed, setting your meal aside. “I left for a reason.”

“I know.”

“She made her choice.”

“I know.”

Jaw clenched, you exhaled sharply through your nose and pushed off the bed. Sitting felt suffocating. Pacing was better—movement was better than feeling.

Natasha stayed silent, watching as you wore a path into the floor. Then, finally, she spoke, “She’s not just looking for you, Y/N.” A pause, weighted and deliberate. “She’s calling for you.”

Your stomach twisted. Whether you wanted to believe it or not, she was right. And you both knew it.

“You might be the only one who can reach her before it’s too late.”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda #maximoff #wanda x reader #maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #steve rogers #captain america

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justletmesmokeandsleep · 24 days ago

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Is this what you read about?

GHOSTFACE!RHEA RIPLEY X READER

Summary: rhea takes you to an abandoned library as a surprise date, with another little surprise in store

Warnings: rough sex, strap on, name calling (mami, baby, angel, darling, slut), slight spanking, mask kink, knife play

Let me know if I missed any!!

"Rhea, where the hell are we?" You say as you pull into a dark parking lot. About an hour ago rhea came up to your shared bedroom and stated she was taking you on a date. You got dressed in a cozy sweater and grey skirt with some patterned tights and loafers. You had been sitting in the passenger seat, reading your newest book, when you looked up.

"Just a little spot I caught wind of" Rhea states with her signature devilish smirk. She parks the car and you both get out. As your walking to the front of this building you catch glimpse of a sign that reads 'north orange branch library'. You remembered reading about this, the library was shut down a few months ago and had been completely abandoned since, though it still seemed to be in pretty good shape.

You reach the door right as rhea unlocks it, not bothering to question how she got the key as you walk inside. You walk through the lobby and as you're standing near the front desk you realize the whole place was practically untouched. Shelves and shelves of books, dvds, magazines, and even computers. As you're standing there you hear footsteps approaching behind you, instantly recognizing the sound of your girlfriends boots

The footsteps come to a stop directly behind you. You can feel her body heat from how close she is. Just as you're about to say something you hear her speak.

"Run."

She states simply. You're confused "what?" You question, nearly laughing. You're about to turn to look at her when you feel a cold steel blade against your throat. You gasp at the feeling on the metal against your skin

"I said run."

The raven haired woman removes the knife from your throat and without a second thought you run through the library. The mix of fear and arousal fueling your every bound. You rush part rows and rows of books, looking for a hiding spot. You finally spot a desk nestled nicely in a far corner of the library, you scoot the chair out enough to wedge yourself under the desk. Once you believe yourself to be well hidden you shed your sweater, leaving you in your undershirt, and start to try and listen, straining your ears attempting to hear the footsteps of your hunter.

And then you finally hear the heavy footsteps of combat boots on the thick carpet, and they're close by. Your breathing picks up and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the breathing. The footsteps, your trying desperately to hear them again, figure out where she could be. You finally hear something "gotcha." The familiar aussie accent echos through your ears as the chair in front of you is abruptly pulled away. You were found. You had choice to make and you had to make it fast, so before rhea could get you in her grasp you duck under the side of the desk and take off down another row of books.

You turn to see if the tall woman was following you and to your surprise when you glance back you're not met with the stunningly crystal blue eyes you're used to but instead the black ones of a ghostface mask. You gasp at the sight and stumble backwards, falling right onto the floor. Watching in an intoxiacating mix of shock, fear, and arousal as her masked figure stalked towards you. Still on the floor you start to crawl backwards until your back hits a bookshelf "nowhere to run now, pretty girl" you hear the tattooed figure announce as she places down her bag.

Your breathing quickens as the tall figure reaches you and squats to your level. She brings the sharp blade to your face, trailing the sharp tip of the knife from your ear to the corner of your lips. Not sharp enough to cut but sharp enough to feel the scratch. She then places the blade at your throat like before, you can't help but gasp and squirm slightly as cold steel contacts your skin. You hear a dark chuckle from rhea as she turns the knife, now using the side of the blade to tilt your head upwards to make eye contact with her. Or with the mask.

"Such a little slut for mami, aren't you?" You let out a slight whimper at her words, she trails the tip of the knife from your throat to your shoulder. Your eyes shut and you continue to breathe heavily as the cool blade glides against your skin. "I asked you a question and I suggest you answer, sweet girl" still trying to regulate your breathing, you don't register her words until you feel the sting of the blade leaving a small slash into your upper arm. You moan in a mix of pain and pleasure at the sensation. "I said answer me." She states sternly, you look up at her "Yes mami" you respond. Her body relaxed at your words, satisfied at the answer.

She leans back slightly, retracting the knife from you skin as she does so. She looks at you for a moment, deciding her next move. "Off" she states gesturing to the grey tank top you had been wearing. You take a second to register the words but quickly do as she says, not wanting another lick of the knife, kicking off your shoes in the process. She admires you for a bit longer before leaning back into, placing the knife back at your throat. She leans in more, slipping a hand behind you, at the base of your spine. You gasp slightly and arch your back into her, she let's out another dark chuckle. Her hand slowly travels up your spine to your bra clasp, snapping it open easily. You let the straps fall down your shoulders and arms before tossing it to the side with your shirt

She looks down, admiring you. "Such a pretty little angel" she says before moving the knife again. She trails the sharp tip down the center of your chest before turning it sideways and pressing the side of the blade against your nipple. You groan and arch into the cold sensation. She then continues trailing the knife around your body, she appears to be following the knife with her eyed but you couldn't tell with the mask. "Please" you half whimper, "Please what, baby? Gotta use your words angel" she responds without missing a beat. You take a breath before continuing your plead, "Please can I see you, mami?" She halts her movements. "You wanna see mami?" She asks as she stands and turns to walk away, you sit there confused until she continues, "you're gonna have to come earn it." She unbuttons and slides off her black jeans and hops onto a near by table, you sit there, dumbfounded and admiring her. "Come here, angel" she says, and pats the inside of her thigh. You finally get up, slightly shaking, and walk over to her. You're standing maybe a foot away from her face, awaiting your next command. "C'mon baby, on your knees"

You drop to your knees without hesitation, you look up at her and she moves her hand to the back of your head. "You know what to do, be a good girl." You move your eyes to her clothed core, placing a gentle kiss against the fabric, causing rhea to gasp slightly, before tugging her panties down her legs and discarding them with the rest of the clothes. "Fuck" you mumble under your breath, even in the dim light of the library you can see her wetness glistening. She applies a slight pressure to the back of your head and you waste no time following her silent command. You dip your tongue down to her entrance, sliding through her folds and up to her clit. You feel her grip your hair tighten as you repeat your movements, she tilts her head back. You can tell she's trying to keep herself together. You move your tongue up to slowly circle her clit, she let's out a drawn out groan. You continue your circles, slowly but surely increasing your pace. "Cmon baby you can go a little harder for mami" she states in a tone clearly telling you she put of breath. You smile slightly knowing that your the one making her lose her composure like this. As you continue your circles on her clit you push your tongue into her harder than before. "Oh fuck! Just like that angel!" She nearly screams as her thighs close around your head, but your movements never falter, determined to make her cum on your tongue. And with just a few more flicks of your tongue she releases with strained whine, clearly biting her lip under the mask.

You pull back and look up at her catching her breath. Having gained some confidence you ask "did I earn my reward mami?" She chuckles darkly before replying, "not quite, darling, now let's see how much of a good girl you can be." She then stands and lifts you on to the table as if you weighed nothing. You then watch as she walks over to where her bag was place, pulling out her favorite deep purple strap. You continue to admire her as she adjusts the harness around her hips. "Like what you see, pretty girl?" She chuckles. "Mhm" is all you can manage as she makes her way over to you. She makes it to you and flips you over on the table, having you now on your stomach. You gasp at the quickness of her actions and watch as her hand moves to grab the knife laying on the table. Next thing you know the blade is being dragged up the the back of you thighs. You can feel the way the nylon of you tights stretches to try and follow the blade as trails closer to your ass. She reaches the hem of your underwear and you feel a small prick along with hearing the sound of tearing fabric as she cuts through your tights and through the back of your underwear, leaving the perfect rip in the fabrics for her to fuck you.

Her hand moves to your hair, leaving soothing scratches, it's only then that your realize how quickly you had been breathing. She let's you catch your breath for a second before taking the tip of the strap and rubbing it up and down your newly exposed slit, you let a loud gasp at the touch and lean your head back into the hand still resting on your scalp. She repeated this movement until you where whimper under her, "Please...rhea" you breath out only to be answered with a sharp smack to your ass. "You know better, baby, try again" she states as she continues her movements. "Please mami" you correct "please fuck me".

You finally feel her slide the tip of the strap into you, "good girl" she moans out as if she were truly entering you. You gasp at the fullness and reach one hand out to grip the end of the table, the other is folded under your chin. Once she bottoms out she gives you bit to adjust before moving, but the moment she does you let out a moan of pure pleasure before pushing your face into your arm to silence yourself. Apon noticing this rhea grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your hair back as her quickly goes for slow and gentle to fast and rough, "If I wanted you to be quite I would have told you too, now don't hide your pretty noises from me, okay darling?" At this point her rough pace has your eyes rolled to the back of your head with your mouth dropped open in a silent scream but you manage to pull yourself together to whimper out a "Yes mami". She releases your hair from her grip but continues her rough treatment of your cunt, both hands gripping your hips as she thrusts in and out of you.

She’s so rough with you that tears start to brim in your eyes and soon enough your gasping for breath while moaning and screaming for her. Unable to focus on anything but her strap and the way it stretches and fills you with every thrust. “Mami” you moan out to her, “yes, what is it darling?” She asks, already knowing what your about to say. “I’m so close mami please can I cum for you?" You plead in a rather pathetic manner, but you’re too fucked out to care. She then rather abruptly pulls out of you, flipping you over onto your back, pulling the mask off and tossing it to the side. “I want to look into your eyes while you come for me, okay baby?” She wastes no time and thrusts the strap back into you, “okay mami” you manage to whine out between gasps me moans. The pleasure is to overwhelming to keep your eyes open and you allow them to slip closed, only to be met with rheas firm grip around your throat. “I said I wanted to look into your eyes, angel, now open them before I stop” not needing anymore warning other than that you snap your eyes open. You are instantly met with rheas beautiful crystal blue eyes, her face red and flushed from the heat of the mask, her hair that was neatly pulled back now has strands falling into her face. The look of her alone could’ve been enough to make you cum but that plus the feeling of her relentlessly pounding into you throws you violently over the edge. You cry out her name as you cum around her strap, still not breaking eye contact, no matter how much your eyes wanted to close.

You simply lay there a moment, catching your breath before rhea pulls some wet wipes from her bag to clean you up. Once you are both redressed you walk out of the library together and you sleep the whole drive home.

Thank you everyone for reading and I am once again so sorry for the wait, I hope it was a good read cause I’ve never really written something like this before ❤️

#mami rhea #rhea ripley #rhea ripley smut #fanfic #the judgment day wwe #rhea ripley x reader #demi bennett x reader #wwe x reader #wlw smut #ghostface #wwe smut

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msschemmenti · 6 months ago

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girls night

jj x reader x emily

prompt: y/n is garcia’s neighbor and the girls come back from a rather rowdy night of salsa lessons and drinks and forget which apartment is garcia’s.

a/n: another crack drabble from my notes app but i couldn’t decide between jj and emily

“pen where are your keys?” emily spoke around a hiccup. they’d all had waaay too much to drink tonight and it was hitting the older woman as she swayed in the lobby of penelope’s apartment building. salsa dancing always brought out the women’s inner alcoholic and it was a miracle they’d even made it to the apartment building in general.

penelope, ever the excitable drunk, circled the lobby in a conga line of one but stopped next emily with a grin. “in here!” she grinned wiggling her cupcake shaped purse in front of emily’s drooped eyes.

the woman nodded and dug around in the cupcake until she felt the metal of the keys and pulled them free from the bag. “alright ladies, i think we’re ready to tackle the stairs now.”

“the stairs?” jj whined pushing herself up from the wall and toward emily.

“yes the stairs. the elevator is broken,” emily gestured to the metal doors with the paper sign on them. both jj and garcia boo’d loudly and mimed throwing tomatoes at the door. “plus i think we need the physical activity to sober up a bit. move out, soldiers.”

jj rolled her eyes and threw a dorky salute emily’s way before practically pulling herself up the stairs by the railings. garcia following closely behind and emily playing caboose on the train of drunk women. they make it all the way to her floor and pause in the hallway.

“pen did you decorate the entire hall?” jj asked in confusion. the normally empty hall looked like garcia’s home exploded all over every door.

“yeah! we had a neighbor decorating party. so now every door looks like mine.” garcia twirled unsteadily and poked one of the wreath covered doors.

“well which one is yours? it’s usually pretty easy to tell when i’m sober but i’m struggling a bit here.” emily asked as they walked the hall looking at each door.

mid spin garcia stops in front of a door with a potted planter and rainbow doormat and grins, “this one!”

jj furrowed her brows, “i thought you lived on this side facing the street…”

“the street is this way, jayje.” penelope singsonged as she extended her finger to boop her nose. “just get the key on my pink key ring. that’s where i keep my apartment key, so when im like this i can remember.”

emily looked jj wearily and shrugged before fishing out one of the two keys on the pink key ring. “as long as one of us is confident in this decision…” she mumbled before trying the key. when it didn’t turn she gazed up at the blondes in confusion. “um it’s not working.”

“oh oh wait, try to jiggle it. sometimes it gets stuck.”

emily wiggled the key all kinds of ways— unknowingly making quite a bit of noise in the hall. she turned to question garcia to complain when the lock turned in her hand and the door pulled open from the inside. all three women froze in shock and slowly allowed their eyes to pan up over the woman holding the door in her hand.

“hi,” she spoke with a laugh as she took in the hazy drunken cloud that was clearly covering the three agents on her doormat.

“garcia, who’s the hottie in pink?” jj whispered out of the side of her mouth, eyes never leaving her woman.

“jen,” emily groaned swatting the blonde’s hip as she watched the blush cover the woman’s cheeks.

“oh my god, y/n! what are you doing in my apartment?” garcia grinned, ignoring her bickering coworkers to pull her neighbor into a hug. y/n pushed her glasses up her nose and patted garcia’s back affectionately.

“penelope, you live across the hall babe.” y/n chuckled sweetly as she held the technical analyst by her shoulders to look her over. “and it looks like you’ve had quite a bit to drink, huh?”

penelope grinned, “uh huh. are you sure i don’t live here? it’s so pretty.”

“yeah hun, i’m sure. here why don’t i help y’all get inside and settled for the night?” y/n asked slipping her feet into a pair of slippers by the door and grabbed her keys. she turned to face the two other women leaning on either side of her doorframe. “and maybe i can introduce myself to your friends.” she spoke with a wink before corralling all the agents across the hall and over to penelope’s door. which looked pretty similar to her own.

emily shoved the keys toward y/n clumsily, “you probably need those.”

y/n accepted the key with a laugh and unlocked the door. “thanks hun,” she pushed the door open and held it open for all three women to file in. “welcome to you actual home penelope.” all three agents fell onto the closest flat surface and released various groans and sighs of relief at not being stood upright. “god you guys really got your fill on whatever alcoholic drink you could. i’m gonna go find you guys some water and advil. don’t move— unless you think you’re gonna puke.”

as soon as the woman turned her back to head into the kitchen, jj and emily both sat up to face garcia. “when’d you get a hot neighbor?” jj asked accusatorially.

“yeah! last i heard there was some old mean lady across the hall. you’ve been holding out on us.” emily chided, poking garcia’s shoulder pointedly.

“down you animals, she moved in a couple months ago. we’ve been a bit busy with you know the dark evil cruelest corners of the US. sorry i didn’t find the time to throw in my new neighbor is hot and single and very into women.” garcia rattled off with a shrug.

“well yes, we’ve been busy but sometimes hot neighbors trump serial killers.” jj replied matter of factly causing emily to tilt her head in thought.

“shut up jj.” she deadpanned with a shake of the head.

“hey!” the blonde called with a pout.

before anyone could actually continue the conversation y/n rounded the island with three glasses of water and a palm full of pain killers. “it seems in your inebriated states, you’ve all forgotten how open floor plans work.”

“oh my god, i think she heard us.” garcia whispered [not actually] to the now blushing women next to her.

“what did y’all drink?” y/n asked watching as each woman downed their water and pills.

“something called the green fairy. very good and very effective.” garcia replied.

“that’s for sure.” y/n nodded in understanding before turning her gaze to the other two women. “as flattered as i am ladies, you can come introduce yourselves when you’ve sobered a bit. that’s if any of you remember this tomorrow.”

“i don’t think either of can forget a face like yours.” emily flirted with a smirk, almost seeming completely sober. until a hiccup distracted her.

“we’ll see about that.” y/n laughed before heading to the door. “i trust all of you can at least get yourselves ready bed. i’ll lock you in for the night.”

“thanks y/n!” garcia sang they watched her disappear through the doorway.

“no prob, pen. come get your keys tomorrow! good night ladies.” the three women heard the door lock from the outside and the echo of the other woman’s door closing in the hallway.

“someone remind me to flirt with her tomorrow.” jj spoke, eyes half open but finger pointed to where y/n had been standing last.

“i’ll set a reminder in my phone.” garcia said pulling the phone from her pocket.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau x reader #msschemmenti #jemily fanfiction #jemily

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where-dreamers-go · 30 days ago

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"Rescue" Leon Kennedy x Reader

(A/N: And so I finally write down an idea that’s been cinematically in my mind then made it a soulmate au. Leon Scott Kennedy is back in action! What happens when he realizes he’s closer to his soulmate while on assignment?

Warnings: angst, strong language, canon violence and imagery descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff, and use of (Y/N) for your name.

Word Count: 4,145 words)

~~~

Mornings set the tone for the rest of the day. On most days. The hours ahead were hopefully to be positive ones. Your day started incredibly early. On purpose and with intention. Around you, wall were white and decorated with monochromatic modern art. Metal chairs were arranged in a rectangular fashion with an empty coffee table in the center as you sat. No magazines or pamphlets to entertain. Each step taken by others on the tile floor echoed in the lobby. There were no conversations or passing comments to fill the space. The sound of your breathing was louder than whatever the receptionist was busying herself with behind the tall desk. Just about ten minutes, you thought as you checked your watch. Talk steady. If they don’t mention a start date, ask. They definitely need more people for data entry. You got this. On your lap, you nervously spun a metal ring around your left index finger. The circular crystal embedded into the metal was currently light blue. Pretty normal. A sign you were not too far nor too close enough to your soulmate. If it was a mood ring the color would had signaled you were possibly calm. Despite your nerves, you felt good about the day ahead. It was an opportunity for something new.

. . .

Rumbling and the occasional bounce of the vehicle were unfortunately the only normal occurrences in Leon Kennedy’s day. Passing into the edge of a town, the team of agents were in route to a facility. A science center in appearance, there was nothing in advancement happening that late morning. The Umbrella Corporation made sure of that. An alert of bioweapons sightings came in two hours ago. To make matter complicated, not all civilians had evacuated the building. So saving any civilians was added to the to-do list. If Leon could save someone, he’d at least smile. “ETA: Two minutes.” The driver called out, another agent. Leon glanced out the small window. All geared up, his vest held nearly every weapon and tool he would need. Beside his watch on his left wrist sat a personal item, a metal bracelet. Both sturdy and a comfort on dark days. Its small crystal within darkened into a deep blue, almost purple. A little too close, Leon thought and hoped it would lighten by the time they moved in. The man could only hope.

. . .

“Shit.” Leon grimaced as he reloaded his gun. The lobby was trashed and blood-stained. Broken chairs and other bare furniture was scattered across the floor. Added a freshly eliminated infected. “Hate to see the break room.” Based on the intact entrance doors and windows, the bioweapons’ forced entry was not through the front of the building. Chris peered around and stated, “I’ll take the right side and sweep the first floor. You take the left.” “Got it.” Leon headed down a hallway. Its usually closed door was splintered across the tile. He avoided stepping on any debris that would crunch under his boots. There was no telling how many infected were in the building. Not until the other agents checked in. After taking a quick look at his watch, Leon registered the drastic change in color on the crystal bracelet. “Oh, fuck.” Leon sighed and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Not here. Why do they have to be here?” Steadily checking the hall, all his senses were alert for danger. His mind, however, was tumbling with the worst questions. What if you worked for Umbrella making bioweapons? What if you were a bioweapon, infected and doomed? Just make it quick, Leon thought somberly.

. . .

Adjusting yourself quietly off of your half-asleep leg, you leaned against the tile wall. Hunched in the back corner of the largest restroom stall was turning into a new, unwanted activity. I should’ve left as soon as the interview was over, you thought for perhaps the twelfth time in the past two and a half hours.

Over your time hiding, screeches could still be heard every so often. Piercing and making your blood run cold. Always when hope of it being gone rose in you, your heard it. Frightening and disheartening. You counted yourself lucky. For your quick thinking and for having your phone on silent, you were still alive. Too bad the cell signal sucked on the third floor. If only your heartbeat was the loudest sound that morning. How is this evening happening? You wondered as you counted the tile again. Feeling distressed would sure to wreck havoc on your system later. Raising your head, you swore you heard a sound. Please be nothing. The sound grew faintly louder. Soles of shoes out in the hallway. You remained silent. Not knowing who or what rampaged through the building after your interview left you at a disadvantage. One you were well aware of. At first, you had suspected an armed attack to the company, however blood-chilling roars proved otherwise. I wanna go home. You thought, still as stone on the floor. You were not about to meet any creature face to face. Bipedal or not. Small thumps shook the main door of the restroom. Is someone trying to come in? How well could that lock above the main door hold for?

THUMP ping WHAM

You covered your mouth as you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Hello?” A deep voice called out. “Is anyone in here?” Heart beating rapidly, you did not dare to move. Could you trust the stranger? This random man? How long were you intending on hiding in a stall? Bending lower, you observed dark boots slowly making their way into the restroom. A room with five stalls. “Listen, I’m here to help.” Likely, you thought suspiciously. “It’s too dangerous to be in here,” he said three steps closer. “We’re on orders to rescue civilians.” And he totally knows I’m in here. Government or something? “My name’s Leon. I can get you out of here.” Fine. Fine. Okay! “Are those things still out there?” You asked in a broken whisper. Fear and hours of silence effecting you. “Yeah.” “Crap.” “Tell me about it.” Your eyebrows pinched together. Didn’t expect him to say that. Easing yourself up to stand, your body was more than a little relieved to be off of the cold, hard tile. You took a steady breath. As quietly as you could, you unlocked the stall door and peered out. Icy blue eyes regarded you immediately.

“I’m Leon.” Said the man with dirty blond hair. A bulletproof vest covered his torso and overall distracting from his casual clothes. “Are you all right . . . ?” “(Y/N).” You answered, trying really hard not to glance a the gun he held. With all the other ‘tools’ on his person, he seemed pretty legit to you. “Is . . . everyone else hiding too?” Lips pressing together, Leon glanced away for a moment. Oh, no. “We still haven’t done a complete sweep of the building yet, but the team has found others.” He stated. “I’m sure they locked themselves in their offices if they didn’t run out.” “Do you know who’d be in an office now?” “I have no idea.” You said honestly, “I was just here for a job interview.” His eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh yeah?” His tone was steady. “Guess I’ll keep looking.” You shrugged. “I hope you have better luck next time,” Leon turned back to the open door. “Let’s get going. Stay close.” “Okay.” What choice did you have otherwise but to follow him? You were ill prepared to observe the aftermath of whatever happened. The eerie emptiness and scattered belongings throughout the hall. Maybe this guy was your ticket out, your guarantee of going home. Anything was better than your earlier options.

Leon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said ‘sweep’. With his weapon ready, he checked every open room. Thankfully nothing scary showed itself. “Any chance they gave you a tour?” Leon asked as he glanced up and down a hallway. “No. But they have some pictures on their website.” “Helpful.” “Not really,” you whispered. Glancing over his shoulder, Leon gave you an amused look. Oh. Good sarcasm. You tore your gaze away. An open door down the hall became occupied uncannily fast. So quietly. Someone leaned against the doorframe. Stepping out, their professional attire looked wrong, hanging where it shouldn’t. A gravely, strangled breath carried towards the pair of you. Leon turned with aimed precision. Remaining still, you felt coldness creep up your arms. Something was very wrong. The person hobbled into the hall with unblinking eyes and a strangled screech. Their pace increased as they angled in your direction.

BANG

You covered your ears a second too late. What used to be an employee laid in an unmoving heap on the tile floor. Discolored and inhuman. “What happened to them?” You asked with a shaky voice. “They’re infected,” answered Leon as he turned down the other half of the hall. You kept up without missing a beat. “So a zombie?”

GRRAAAH!

Two more infected raced out from the open room behind you. Jaws slacked and fingers clenched forward like claws, they targeted the pair of you. “Crap,” you exclaimed. Before you could move anywhere, Leon had opened fire on the infected. Aim perfect and practiced. The threats were down before your heart rate raised too high. Grumbling under his breath, Leon went forward to inspect the room. “Stay right there.” He advised as you remained by the hall’s intersection. “Sure.” Freaking zombies, you thought. Out of everything -- anything. Zombies. Briefly, you peered around and thankfully nothing moved. Leon’s handling this well. Maybe zombies aren’t new? And real. You cringed at the thought. Witnessing and knowing what had rampaged through the building earlier wasn’t a comfort. A bit of scary closure maybe. “All clear in there,” Leon announced as he joined you. “We’ll see the rest of the floor and meet back up with the team downstairs.” “Cool.” You breathed out a short reply. “Don’t worry,” Leon assured you, “I’ll get you outta here.” “I appreciate it. Really.” He sent you a small smile. It warmed the hope in your heart.

The rest of the hall held knocked over seating areas and ignored art. Beyond it was a closed set of doors. Unlocked and probably designed with fire safety in mind. Leon paused as he reached one of the doors. Does he hear something? You dared not stand too close. Not that standing near your new acquaintance was disagreeable. Simply, you did not want to be in his way.

WHAM

“Leon!” You jumped back against the wall. On the floor with growling and grunting was a struggle of alarming visuals. Both Leon and an terribly disfigured infected fought for purchase, for an upper-hand. For survival. Frantically watching over Leon with increased anxiety, you didn’t move. You didn’t even scream. Should I kick it? With a frown, Leon hit the infected back to get out one shot. It was enough. Leon scooted back before rising to his feet. “You all right?” He turned to you. “Me? Sure. You?” “I could use some pizza later.” Leon said as he cautiously entered the section of the hallway. “Sounds good,” you added as you followed him and dearly hoped your stomach wouldn’t start vocalizing its agreement. Especially after witnessing that frightful fight.

Glancing around, the plain walls gave a stark contrast to what could be lurking behind every door. Every unexplored corner. “We almost made a full circle,” you announced as you spotted a familiar elevator at the very end of the hall. “Then we’re out of here and --” “What?” Leon’s arm came up to block you from moving forward. A well defined, muscular arm. You didn’t notice anything abnormal. Yet that didn’t make you feel any less hesitant of what lay ahead. So you elected to stand behind Leon. “Show yourself.” Leon called out with his gun raised to a doorway. “If they’re still human.” You whispered.

Steadily with raised hands, two people in business casual attire walked out of an office. They appeared healthy. Definitely unnerved in their situation. But human nonetheless. “We just want safe passage out,” said the taller of the two men. No duh, you thought as you brought yourself to stand beside Leon. “Then stay close.” “Who are you?” Asked the second man wearing glasses. “I’m Leon Kennedy. I’m on orders to --” “Rescue us?” Interrupted the first man. “Let’s not waste time.” “Right.” Leon subtly turned to check on you. Blue eyes giving you a quick once over. You gave a brief, if not tiny, smile of encouragement.

The faster we’re out of here the better. At least those two had each other. You thought as you followed Leon across the echoing tile. “Which department are you from?” You glanced over your shoulder to notice the shorter man directing his question to you. “Oh, I don’t work here,” you answered. Both man shared concerned frowns between themselves. Therefore, you followed up quickly with, “I was here for a job interview. For data entry.” “And you didn’t do it from home?” Asked the taller man. “I . . . didn’t see that option.”

Being as the men asked no more questions, you set your sights straight ahead. Thankfully, stepping around a trashed bulletin board. You kept closer to Leon than your new group members. Definitely not going to work at any place associated with this one, you thought as all of you reached the end of the hall. Stealthily, Leon crept into a stairway and quietly beckoned the three of you onward. “We’re three floors up,” whined the taller man behind you. “I’ve never not taken the elevator.” “Good time to try them out,” commented Leon as he headed down stairs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Better than ten flights of stairs, you thought to yourself. Even better with Leon leading the way. He probably did the ground floor too. Hope of safety and freedom, you lively took each step. Easily done even with two grumbling men following after you. You’d think they’d be more thankful. They work here! You frowned. Did they call for help? “Uh, Leon?” You inquired. “Yeah?” He paused to look up to you. Patience in his eyes. “Are there any more of those . . . things in the lobby?” “There shouldn’t be.” “That’s not very confident,” sneered the shorter and obnoxious man. You rolled your eyes. “Let’s keep going,” Leon announced and took two steps at a time.

With the door to the lobby in sight, you were anxious to see if the rest of Leon’s team found other survivors. Surely, there were people who weren’t infected. What do we do when we’re out? You wondered. Were other buildings attacked too? You swallowed dryly. Where does Leon go?

SLAM

Yelping, you peered above as a broad shouldered infected burst through the second floor’s door. “RUN!” At Leon’s order, you rushed passed him to the door. In seconds, you were back in the same lobby and surrounded by broken furniture as your heart pounded in your chest. Electing to head towards the reception desk was your first thought. The front entrance was further off and a little too good to be true. “Hey,” you stumbled as the two men pushed passed you. The men did not utter a word to you nor did they let up their speed. They knew where they were going. They knew where to hide. Both heading towards a far door. But what if they run right to a zombie? Fear rushing through you again, you made your way to the tall desk. After checking inside the space, you entered through the unlocked door. You were safe for the time being. Just wait for Leon. That’s all. You thought as you tried calming your breathing. He’ll be fine. We can go home. I can, you corrected yourself. Everything will be fine. Quietly, you sat on the cushioned chair. You’re safe. Just breathe. Besides your breathing and heartbeat, you did not hear anything else. A relief for sure until you immediately considered your new friend. The brave man you left in a stairwell alone with some monster. Your stomach dropped as you remembered him being tackled earlier.

“(Y/N)?” Called out a familiar voice. “Leon,” you exclaimed happily and jumped out of your seat. In another breath and a few echoing footsteps, Leon was in front of the receptionist desk. A smirk soon curving his lips. “Rethinking a job position?” Leon asked with raised eyebrows. “No.” You hastily exited the tiny room. He didn’t appear injured. “Where are the others?” “I think they took the stairs.” Pointing off in the direction they had gone, you asked. “Are they going back up?” A frown creased Leon’s concerned expression. Their actions troubled him. “They could’ve left, right?” You glanced towards the entrance. “Yeah . . . So why go down to the basement?” “There’s a basement?” Icy blue eyes regarded you. “Not that I’m scared of basements,” you said quickly. “We can check it out. Maybe they’re stealing or something.” “We have to get you out of here.” “Them too. Who knows what they’re doing? They might need help. Not with stealing hopefully.” Expression softening, Leon nodded. “Come on. Stay close.” “Will do.” You whispered with a determined nod of your own. “Not too close to step on your heels though.” “Heh. That’s the least of my worries.” “But everything should be good now, right?” “Let’s hope.”

Together, Leon and yourself made a beeline for the basement door. An easy task even with knocked over display cases of assorted business accomplishments and dead infected in your path.

Despite everything, you thought, at least Leon is easy to get along with. The lady who interviewed me was . . . seemed bothered to talk. Oh well. Coming up to the door, Leon raised his left hand to the handle. It was then that you finally noticed his bracelet as you stood mostly behind him. A crystal so dark a shade, you nearly mistook it as onyx. You took a quick glance at your ring. “Oh.” Heat rose to your neck. “Yeah,” murmured Leon over his shoulder. “Some first meeting, huh?” “Yah think?” Of all other things to happen today. My soulmate is rescuing me from zombies? What the heck is going on? You blinked and asked without another thought, “You knew this whole time?” “There was no one else in the restroom.” “Touché.” Stepping back, you observed Leon peek beyond the door. You weren’t quite sure what to make of the indistinctive sounds coming up. Leon did. Grabbing his walkie talkie, he communicated the news to his team. Something about an umbrella and biological weaponry. The others advised a warning regarding the two employees. What is his job exactly? Efficiently and quickly, Leon checked over his gun and remaining supplies. Set for another round of sweeping. “Stay here,” he ordered firmly as he pushed open the door. “But--” “Here.” You sighed and leaned against the wall. “Fine, but come back in one piece. This place has made me nervous all morning.” “Then we’ll have lunch somewhere else.” In a blink of an eye, Leon was out of your sight. Every minuscule sound afterwards made you jump or hurriedly check your surroundings. Being alone again activated the rest of your fear. It was a wonder how being in good company, very capable company, eased your worries. He’s my freaking soulmate, you thought as you attempted keeping your breathing even. And he’s down there with two strangers or fighting off infected like a regular Thursday for him. You sighed again. Tuesdays suck.

. . .

“Damn it,” Leon leapt out of the way. A basement of a science center should had been much quieter and clear than how Leon found it. Somewhere behind a generator, the two men -- scientists -- were terrified and hardly conscious. In the open area beyond, storage containers stood a large infected. Slender with thick legs, the infected had a new target. It lowered to the floor with a deep growl. Just my luck, thought Leon. Thankfully, the experienced agent was more motivated than usual. With Chris and the rest of the team on the way down, they’d be finished in no time, which left good news in regards to his soulmate. You were alive and well. Leon was determined to keep you safe no matter the danger. “Who’s hunting who, pal?”

BANG BANG BANG

. . .

Anxious and heart rate moderately high, you remained close to the basement door. Nothing came in or out of the lobby. All around you had remained silent as chaos erupted beyond the closed door. Half an hour of not knowing what occurred in the basement felt like two hours worth of unnerved twitching. Is the whole basement full of infected? You thought as you fiddled with your ring. What if one comes out? What if Leon doesn’t --? “Ah.” You nearly jumped a foot back as the door opened and a team walked out wearing protective vests. Not one could you recognize. Each armored and live human eyed you before heading to the exit. Even the two men from earlier were dragged out. Weird. You thought, expecting someone to at least converse with you for security reasons. “Uh…” Despite the clear lack of danger, the situation appeared all the more odd. Confusing too. Less odd, thankfully, when a familiar dirty blond haired man stepped out into the lobby. “Leon.” You rushed up to him without a second thought. A little beat-up with red marks, Leon turned in your direction. “How are you not one bruise?” You exclaimed. “Give it time.” Leon smiled. “Are you okay?�� You asked. “A little hungry, but fine.” You shook your head. “You’re something else, you know that?” “In a bad way?” “No… Different in a very…unexpectedly impressive way. If that makes sense?” “Heh.” Leon rubbed the back of his neck. He is pretty handsome, you thought off-handedly. “So, if all’s well, what now?” “We get out of here.” He answered simply before adding, “medical checks, debriefs, reports.” “I’ll take that over infected.” “Me too.” Icy blue eyes studied you softly. All seriousness and survival focus faded away. He was Leon Kennedy. A man who probably did not expect to find his soulmate amongst entering chaos. “Leon!” A muscular man called from the entrance. “Let’s go!” Without a word, Leon and yourself headed out of the building. Armored and unmarked vehicles were pulling into the parking lot. An organized sign of clean-up. It was going to be okay. You survived and your soulmate found you when all was terrifying. The rest of the day lay ahead. “So…about lunch?” Leon murmured.

. . .

Music smoothly filled your living room as a movie played with interruption. Something calm and a little nostalgic. Just what you needed. Days had gone by after all the checkups and documenting of the events that had taken place at the science center. You hadn’t even looked at your résumé after that. On a brighter note, the ordeal had placed your soulmate in your life. When each document had been signed and you were free to go, you were able to start getting to know each other in a domestic setting. No infected sightings. No upcoming job interviews. Both of you were completely safe and quite comfortable. Relaxing on the couch, you found solace in being all snuggled into Leon’s side. Cozy and cared for. He had an arm wrapped around you as his other hand played with the soulmate ring on your finger. Together and alive. You counted yourselves lucky. Situations could had been extremely different. Over the past week or so, nightmares plagued your sleep and made days uneasy. So having Leon, your soulmate, who completely understood helped. Life didn’t have to be all scary. Neither of you needed to run from one day to the next. You were able to take things slow or any pace you desired. All would be okay. Leon had promised safety. You had no doubt he meant it.

Nudging your head against Leon, you caught a glimpse of his smile. Like a sunrise. “Leon.” “Hmm?” “We could pretend we met in a grocery store or something.” “Oh, yeah?” He pulled you closer. “Like during a holiday rush. It gets wild…I’ve heard.” “Which aisle?” You snickered, “Toilet paper aisle.” “Nothing says ‘want a date’ like two ply.” “Homemade pizza does.” You kissed his chin and was rewarded another smile from Leon. “You had me at ‘not really’. After I asked if they gave you a tour.” “That’s so random.” “You were just being you. How could I not like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “Is this a soulmate thing?” “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what it’s called.” Gently, Leon leaned in to kiss your forehead. His smile curved against your skin. “I’m just glad I found you.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Leon Scott Kennedy Tags: @bumblebeesfromvenus @c4rl40n4 @d333athw1sh

** Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy soulmate au #leon kennedy fluff #where dreamers go #protective! Leon #leon scott kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy oneshot #angst #angst with a happy ending #it took so so long to figure out why this wouldn't save in drafts..

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w1w2 · 1 month ago

Text

A Contract of Silence

Previous part | Part 2 | Next part

Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 6,5k

Synopsis: Y/N adjusts to her new life in Giselle’s cold, opulent world, where every moment feels like walking on a tightrope.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The streets blurred outside the cab’s window as Y/N stared at the bustling cityscape. The contract she had signed felt like a phantom weight in her bag, an ever present reminder of the choice she had made.

It was a strange feeling, this mixture of apprehension and determination. She had spent the past few days packing up what little she owned, saying goodbye to the familiarity of her old life. The tiny apartment she had shared with her family, filled with secondhand furniture and fading wallpaper, now felt like a lifetime away.

When the cab pulled up to the building, Y/N’s breath hitched. The high rise towered above her, a gleaming monument of glass and steel. The doorman opened her door with practiced precision, offering a polite nod as she stepped out.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, taking her single suitcase with ease. “Miss Uchinaga is expecting you.”

The words sent a chill down her spine. Y/N forced herself to nod, clutching her bag tightly as she followed the doorman through the grand lobby. The space was vast and pristine, with polished marble floors and soaring ceilings. Even the air smelled expensive, a faint mix of fresh flowers and something clean and metallic.

Her nerves prickled as she stepped into the private elevator. The doorman pressed the button labeled “PH” and offered her a brief smile before stepping back.

“Have a pleasant evening,” he said as the doors slid shut.

Y/N wasn’t sure if “pleasant” was the right word for what awaited her.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a space so grand it momentarily stole Y/N’s breath. The penthouse was a masterpiece of modern design. Clean lines, muted tones, and carefully curated art pieces gave the space an air of effortless sophistication.

The living room stretched out before her, dominated by floor to ceiling windows that framed the city skyline like a work of art. Sleek furniture in neutral shades of gray and cream was arranged with precision, and every surface seemed to gleam under the soft, ambient lighting.

“Miss Y/N.”

The voice was unmistakable, sharp, composed, and commanding.

Y/N turned to see Giselle, she was dressed impeccably in a black blazer and tailored trousers, her hair pulled into a low ponytail. She moved with an air of authority, each step deliberate, her movements fluid and purposeful against the polished wood floors.

“You’re late,” Giselle said. Her tone wasn’t scolding, but it carried a weight that made Y/N’s cheeks flush.

Y/N fumbled to pull her phone from her bag, typing quickly before showing the screen to Giselle.

“I’m sorry. There was traffic.”

Giselle’s gaze flicked to the screen, her expression unreadable. “Follow me,” she said curtly, turning on her heel.

Y/N followed, her footsteps hesitant as Giselle led her through the expansive penthouse. The space was larger than anything Y/N could have imagined. Every corner seemed to radiate wealth, from the sleek, minimalist kitchen to the artfully arranged bookshelves lining the walls.

“This will be your section,” Giselle said as they stopped at a hallway branching off from the main living area.

Y/N peeked inside as Giselle gestured toward the rooms. The bedroom was impossibly large, with a king sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a plush gray headboard. A soft rug covered part of the hardwood floor, and a floor-length window offered an unobstructed view of the city skyline.

Next to it was a bathroom that looked like something out of a magazine. The marble countertops gleamed under recessed lighting, and the oversized tub practically invited her to sink into it and forget the world for a while.

“There’s also a small sitting area,” Giselle continued, motioning to a cozy space with a loveseat and a sleek black coffee table. “You’ll find it adequate for your needs.”

Y/N nodded, pulling out her phone to type a response.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Giselle glanced at the phone briefly, her expression betraying no emotion. “Dinner is at seven. Don’t be late.”

With that, she turned and walked away, her posture as straight and poised as ever.

Y/N stood frozen in the doorway of her new room, her suitcase still clutched in her hand. The space was undeniably luxurious, but it felt... cold. There were no personal touches, no warmth. It was a far cry from the chaotic coziness of her family’s apartment.

She set her suitcase down and perched on the edge of the bed, staring out at the glittering city beyond the window. For a moment, the surrealness of it all washed over her. She was here, in Giselle Uchinaga’s penthouse because she had agreed to a life she didn’t fully understand.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her phone again and opened the notes app.

“I’ll make this work.”

The words felt like both a promise and a challenge. Sliding her phone back into her bag, Y/N stood and began unpacking, the faint echo of Giselle’s footsteps lingering in her mind.

By the time she finished unpacking, the clock on her phone read 6:57 PM, just enough time to head to the dining room.

The dining room was as grand and intimidating as the rest of the penthouse. A long glass table stretched across the room, its polished surface reflecting the cold, sterile light of a modern chandelier that hung above it. The chairs, sleek and minimalist, seemed almost too pristine to touch, their design a perfect match for the rest of the penthouse’s austere elegance.

Y/N hesitated in the doorway, feeling small and out of place in the cavernous space. Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, which she still hadn’t put down since unpacking. Across the room, Giselle was already seated at the head of the table, her posture impeccable, a glass of deep red wine cradled elegantly in her hand.

She didn’t look up as Y/N entered, her gaze fixed on a tablet resting on the table beside her. The faint glow of the screen illuminated her sharp features, making her seem even more untouchable.

Y/N’s stomach churned as she glanced at the chairs lining the table. Each one seemed too formal, too far removed from the world she knew. She fumbled to pull her phone from her bag, typing quickly before holding up the screen.

“Where should I sit?”

Giselle’s eyes flicked up briefly, her gaze cool and assessing before it dropped back to the tablet. She gestured to the chair directly beside her.

“Here. Always next to me, for appearances.”

Her tone was as measured and detached as ever, but the command in her voice left no room for hesitation.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard as she slid into the chair Giselle had indicated. Her movements felt awkward, as though she were trying not to disturb the air in the room.

Moments later, the housekeeper appeared, moving with the quiet precision of someone well accustomed to working in the shadows of power. She placed a plate in front of Y/N with a practiced grace that made the act seem almost ceremonial.

The meal was exquisite. The duck was perfectly seared, its skin crisp and golden, while the roasted vegetables were arranged in an artful pattern around the plate. A delicate drizzle of sauce completed the dish, its aroma tantalizing.

But Y/N could barely taste it.

The tension in the room was suffocating, wrapping around her chest like a vice. She cut into the duck with careful precision, her hands trembling slightly as she brought a bite to her mouth. The flavors, though extraordinary, felt muted against the backdrop of her nerves.

Across the table, Giselle ate with the same calculated precision she seemed to apply to every aspect of her life. Her movements were methodical, her gaze focused on her plate or her tablet, as though Y/N wasn’t even there.

The silence was unbearable. Y/N glanced at her phone, considering typing something to break it, but the thought of interrupting Giselle’s icy composure made her hesitate.

Halfway through the meal, Giselle set down her fork with a soft clink. The sound, though subtle, made Y/N’s heart jump.

Without a word, Giselle reached into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out a small black velvet box. She placed it on the table between them, her movements as smooth and deliberate as always.

Y/N stared at the box, her heart racing as Giselle flipped it open to reveal a dazzling diamond engagement ring. The light from the chandelier above caught the stone, sending tiny rainbows scattering across the table.

“We’ll need to make this believable,” Giselle said matter of factly, her tone devoid of emotion.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she stared at the ring. It was stunning, far more extravagant than anything she had ever imagined wearing. She fumbled with her phone, typing quickly before holding it up.

“You’re giving me this?”

Giselle arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk. “It’s not yours,” she replied. “It’s a prop. You’ll wear it at all public appearances, starting tomorrow.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she reached out to take the ring. The velvet box felt soft against her skin, a stark contrast to the weight of the moment.

She slipped the ring onto her finger, her breath hitching as it slid into place. The diamond sparkled brilliantly, catching the light with every slight movement of her hand.

“It fits,” Giselle observed, lifting her glass of wine and taking a slow sip. Her tone was neutral, as though she were commenting on something as mundane as the weather.

Y/N hesitated, then typed another message, her thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Does it look convincing?”

Giselle’s eyes flicked to Y/N’s hand, her gaze sharp and calculating. For a moment, she seemed to study the ring as though evaluating its worth before leaning back in her chair.

“It will suffice,” she said simply. “Just remember, this is for appearances only.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening at the reminder. She forced herself to take another bite of the duck, but it felt like swallowing stones.

When the meal was finished, Giselle set her napkin down. She rose from the table with effortless grace, smoothing the front of her blazer as she turned to address Y/N.

“My assistant will contact you in the morning to finalize preparations for the Lueur gala. Be ready.”

Her tone was calm and detached, as though she were delivering instructions to an employee rather than speaking to the person who was now supposed to be her fiancée.

Y/N nodded quickly, fumbling to pull out her phone. Her fingers moved across the screen, typing out the expected response.

“I’ll be ready.”

Giselle’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, sharp and assessing, as if she were scrutinizing Y/N for any sign of weakness or hesitation. Y/N felt her cheeks warm under the weight of that stare, but she held her ground, her back straight and her expression composed.

After what felt like an eternity, Giselle gave a faint nod of acknowledgment before turning on her heel and walking away. Her steps were soft against the polished floor, the sound fading as she disappeared into the shadows of the penthouse.

And just like that, Y/N was alone.

The silence in the dining room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the chandelier above. The table, with its sleek glass surface and untouched place settings, felt impossibly large.

Y/N’s eyes drifted down to the ring on her finger. The diamond caught the light from the chandelier, scattering tiny rainbows across the table. It was stunning, a perfect piece of craftsmanship, its beauty undeniable. And yet, all Y/N could see was the lie it represented.

It was beautiful, flawless and completely fake.

Her chest tightened as she studied the ring, her thumb brushing absently against the cold metal band. The weight of it was heavier than she’d expected, a constant reminder of the role she had agreed to play.

For a moment, the enormity of it all threatened to overwhelm her. The contract, the charade, Giselle’s icy demeanor, it felt like stepping into a world that didn’t belong to her, a world where warmth and sincerity were replaced by calculated appearances and unspoken expectations.

Taking her phone, Y/N opened the notes app with a trembling hand. Her vision blurred slightly, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess of doubt and determination.

“I’ll make this work.”

She stared at the words, her lips pressing into a thin line. They felt like both a mantra and a desperate plea. She didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself or simply reminding herself of why she was doing this.

She thought of her mother, whose hands had grown rough from years of endless work, and her siblings, whose laughter had become rare under the weight of their struggles. They deserved better, a future free from the shadow of her father’s debts.

The coldness of the penthouse, the sharp edges of Giselle’s personality, the suffocating pretense of their arrangement, it didn’t matter. As long as it helped her family, she would bear it all.

Y/N closed the app and slipped her phone back into her pocket, her fingers lingering on the device for a moment as though it were her lifeline. She took a deep breath, the action doing little to calm the storm inside her.

Rising from her chair, she pushed it back gently and glanced around the dining room one last time. The space felt cavernous, the cold light of the chandelier only amplifying its emptiness.

Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked back toward her room. The penthouse was eerily quiet, the silence pressing against her like a weight. The city lights glittered beyond the windows, but they felt distant, like a world she could see but never truly be a part of.

When she reached her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, her eyes drifting to the skyline visible through the large window.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to wonder what Giselle was thinking. Did the CEO feel the same weight, the same sense of isolation? Or was this world so familiar to her that she didn’t even notice?

Y/N shook her head, pushing the thought away. Giselle’s world wasn’t hers to understand. All that mattered was playing her part and doing it well.

She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands resting in her lap as she stared out at the glittering city beyond. The faint reflection of the diamond ring in the glass caught her eye, and she tightened her fists slightly, grounding herself in the decision she had made.

“For them”, she reminded herself again.

She exhaled slowly, lying back on the bed and closing her eyes. The city lights flickered against the walls of her room, but Y/N didn’t look at them. Her thoughts were already focused on the day ahead, on the expectations waiting for her.

Tomorrow, her new life truly began.

Morning sunlight poured into the penthouse, streaming through the towering windows and casting long streaks of light across its sleek, sterile surfaces. The golden glow softened the sharp edges of the modern furniture, but it couldn’t warm the cold, impersonal atmosphere of the space.

Y/N stood by the window in her room, staring out at the sprawling cityscape below. The world outside felt impossibly far away, the lives of the people bustling in the streets below so different from her own. Her reflection in the glass stared back at her, small, uncertain, and out of place in the luxury surrounding her.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She glanced down at the screen.

“The stylists will come to your room at 3pm. Your gown has been delivered at your doors.”

The message from Giselle’s assistant was as curt and professional as ever, but it sent a jolt through Y/N. She turned to look at the gown hanging on the hanger by her door.

It was stunning.

The gown was a masterpiece of shimmering fabric and intricate detailing. The deep emerald green material caught the light, shifting between shades of forest and jade with every movement. The neckline was elegant, dipping just enough to be daring but not over the top, and the intricate beadwork along the bodice shimmered like tiny stars.

Y/N hesitated, stepping closer to run her fingers lightly over the fabric. It was unlike anything she’d ever worn. It felt delicate, almost too precious for her to touch, let alone wear. The sight of it filled her with conflicting emotions, excitement at the thought of stepping into a world she’d only seen in magazines, and dread at the realization that she didn’t belong there.

"What if I embarrass her?"

The thought crept in unbidden, making her chest tighten. Giselle had been clear, this was business. A performance. Mistakes weren’t an option.

The hours leading up to the event passed in a blur. Y/N barely had time to think as a team of stylists and makeup artists descended upon her room, transforming her into someone she barely recognized.

A stylist stood behind her, carefully curling her hair into sleek waves that fell over her shoulders like liquid silk. The faint smell of hairspray lingered in the air, mixing with the soft hum of conversation from the team. A makeup artist leaned in close, her brush sweeping over Y/N’s cheekbones to highlight them with a subtle glow.

“Hold still,” the artist murmured, tilting Y/N’s chin slightly as she worked on her eyeliner.

Y/N obeyed, her thoughts spinning as she stared at her reflection. The girl in the mirror didn’t look like her. She looked polished, sophisticated, a version of herself that belonged in Giselle’s world. But beneath the makeup and carefully styled hair, Y/N still felt like an outsider.

When the team finally stepped back, murmuring their approval, Y/N slipped into the gown. The cool fabric slid over her skin, fitting her perfectly. The weight of it settled around her like a reminder of the role she had to play.

She took a tentative step toward the full length mirror, her breath catching as she saw herself fully for the first time. The emerald gown clung to her figure in all the right places, the shimmering material accentuating her every movement.

“You look incredible,” one of the stylists said, their voice filled with genuine admiration.

Y/N gave a small nod, her lips curving into a polite smile, but inside, her nerves were fraying.

When she finally stepped out of her room and went into the living room, she froze.

Giselle was waiting for her, standing by the massive windows that framed the glittering city skyline. She was breathtaking.

The CEO was dressed in a fitted black evening dress that hugged her figure with an elegance that seemed effortless. The gown’s neckline plunged just enough to command attention, while the intricate detailing along the sides shimmered faintly under the light. Her dark hair perfectly straightened, framing her face.

For a moment, Y/N forgot to breathe.

Giselle turned at the sound of Y/N’s heels clicking softly against the floor. Her sharp gaze swept over Y/N from head to toe, taking in every detail with a calculating air.

“You’ll do,” Giselle said simply, her tone brisk but not unkind. She extended her arm. “Let’s go.”

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before looping her arm through Giselle’s. The contact sent a jolt through her, but she quickly steadied herself, her heart pounding as they walked toward the elevator.

The mirrored walls of the elevator reflected their image back at them. Y/N glanced at their reflections, Giselle, poised and commanding, and herself, trying not to let her nerves show.

“Smile,” Giselle said softly, her voice low but firm.

Y/N turned her lips up into a small, tentative smile, hoping it would be enough.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped into the underground garage, where a black car was waiting for them. As they approached, the driver opened the door, bowing slightly as he gestured for them to enter.

Y/N slid into the car first, her gown rustling softly against the leather seat. Giselle followed, settling beside her with the kind of grace Y/N could only dream of emulating.

As the car drove further into the city, Y/N stared out of the window, her fingers tightening in her lap. The city lights blurred together, their glow reflecting in the glass.

Tonight, she would step into Giselle’s world, a world of power, elegance, and scrutiny.

Her heart pounded with anticipation and fear.

The car was enveloped in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the engine and the occasional soft sound of the tires rolling over uneven pavement. The dim glow of passing street lights flickered across the interior, casting fleeting shadows on the leather seats.

Giselle sat beside Y/N, her posture impeccable as always, her gaze fixed on the window. She seemed completely at ease, her sharp features illuminated by the city lights streaking past. To Y/N, Giselle’s composure felt almost otherworldly, a stark contrast to the storm of nerves building in her own chest.

Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, clutching it tightly as if the device might somehow anchor her racing thoughts. Her fingers hovered over the notes app. She wanted to type something, anything, to break the silence. But what could she say? Giselle had made it clear that this was business, and Y/N worried that even the smallest misstep might chip away at the carefully constructed façade they were about to present.

Her thumb brushed the screen, but before she could decide, the car began to slow.

After putting her phone back in the bag, Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked out the window. The grand entrance of the venue loomed ahead, its golden lights spilling onto the red carpet that stretched toward the towering double doors. Paparazzi crowded the sides, their cameras already flashing like strobe lights in the dark. The muffled hum of voices filtered into the car, growing louder with each passing second.

The driver exited and circled around to Giselle’s door, pulling it open with practiced precision.

Giselle moved first.

As she stepped out of the car, her expression transformed in an instant. The cool detachment she had worn moments ago melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that lit up her face. It was as though she had flipped a switch, her entire demeanor shifting to exude warmth and confidence.

Y/N watched in awe, momentarily stunned by the sheer charisma Giselle seemed to radiate. This was the Giselle the world knew, the poised, charming CEO who could command attention with just a glance.

Giselle turned, extending a hand toward Y/N.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting, as though she had been waiting for this moment all her life.

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. She slipped her hand into Giselle’s, the coolness of Giselle’s skin sending a small jolt through her. She pushed the feeling aside as she shifted toward the open door.

The moment her feet touched the ground, the flashes erupted in a frenzy. The noise was deafening, cameras clicking, voices shouting questions, the murmur of admiration spreading through the crowd.

“Giselle, who’s your stunning date?” “Giselle, over here! Look this way!” “You two look incredible!”

The chaos of the moment was overwhelming, and for a second, Y/N froze, her body stiffening under the onslaught of attention.

Giselle’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, grounding her. The older woman leaned in just enough for her voice to reach Y/N’s ear without being overheard.

“Remember to smile,” Giselle murmured, her tone low and intimate, as though they were sharing a private joke. “They’re watching everything.”

Y/N nodded, forcing her lips to curve into a soft smile. Her heart raced as the cameras continued to flash, capturing every step they took together.

Giselle’s hand rested lightly on the small of Y/N’s back as she guided her down the carpet, her movements fluid and confident. She stopped occasionally to pose, her expression never faltering, her smile effortlessly charming.

Y/N followed her lead, doing her best to mimic Giselle’s ease. The weight of the ring on her finger felt heavier now, a tangible reminder of the role she was playing. She glanced briefly at Giselle, who turned to meet her gaze with a look so convincing, so full of warmth and affection, that Y/N almost believed it herself.

As they posed for photos, Giselle’s hand lingered on Y/N’s waist, her fingers brushing the fabric of her gown. Y/N’s cheeks burned under the scrutiny of the cameras and the admiring whispers of the onlookers.

“She’s stunning, Giselle!” someone called out from the crowd.

“Congratulations to the happy couple!”

Y/N’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but Giselle’s subtle squeeze on her hand brought her back to focus. She took a deep breath, her lips curving again as she stood a little straighter.

Finally they reached the doors of the venue, a staff member opened them with a bow, gesturing for the pair to step inside. The noise from the paparazzi faded slightly, replaced by the hum of conversation and the soft strains of a live string quartet playing in the background.

Giselle turned her head slightly, her lips brushing close to Y/N’s ear as she spoke. “That’s the easy part. Now the real work begins.”

Y/N’s heart sank slightly at the words, but she nodded, her fingers tightening around her purse. The cameras outside might have stopped, but inside, the eyes of the city’s elite were already on them.

When they stepped into the grand hall, Y/N felt every gaze in the room land on her. Her smile remained, but the weight of their attention was suffocating.

Giselle led her further into the room, her hand never leaving Y/N’s back. To the world, they looked every bit the perfect couple. Poised, elegant, and untouchable.

Inside, Y/N’s nerves roared, but she kept moving forward, staying close to Giselle. She reminded herself again of why she was here, of the family she was doing this for, and of the promise she had made to herself:

The venue was even more dazzling than Y/N had imagined. The grand hall seemed to glow, its golden lights reflecting off the cascading crystal chandeliers that dripped from the vaulted ceiling. Every detail spoke of extravagance, from the polished marble floors to the intricate floral arrangements that adorned each table. The faint sound of a string quartet filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took it all in. This was a world she had only ever glimpsed through the glossy pages of magazines. Everywhere she looked, people moved with an effortless confidence, their designer gowns and tailored suits exuding wealth and influence.

Giselle’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s back, the subtle pressure a constant reminder of her presence. It was an unfamiliar gesture, not cold, but not exactly comforting either. It was calculated, like everything else about Giselle.

They moved through the crowd together, Giselle’s elegance and poise drawing every eye in the room. Heads turned as they passed, whispers trailing in their wake.

“Is that Giselle Uchinaga?” “And who’s she with?”

Giselle handled it all effortlessly, her charming smile never faltering as she exchanged pleasantries with the city’s elite. Her voice was warm and polished, every word perfectly chosen to leave a lasting impression.

“This is Y/N,” Giselle said smoothly as they stopped to greet a particularly curious couple. Her hand lingered on Y/N’s waist as she added, “My fiancée.”

The words sent a ripple of surprise through Y/N, even though she had known they were coming. It was the first time she’d heard Giselle introduce her that way, and it felt strange, like a borrowed identity she wasn’t sure how to wear.

As the conversation continued, Giselle effortlessly guided it, ensuring that Y/N wasn’t left behind. She wove their story together with precision, painting a picture of a devoted couple with a seamless blend of truth and fabrication.

“She’s been an inspiration to me,” Giselle said at one point, her voice carrying just enough sincerity to make the lie convincing. “Her strength, her resilience, it’s one of the things I admire most about her.”

Y/N glanced at Giselle, her heart twisting at the ease with which she spoke. It was all an act, of course, but Giselle played the part so well that even Y/N found herself momentarily believing it.

A small group began to form around them, drawn by Giselle’s magnetism and curiosity about her fiancée. Y/N responded with simple gestures and soft smiles, her hands moving in small, precise motions whenever someone asked a question she could answer through sign language.

“She’s charming,” someone murmured from the group.

“Giselle’s so protective of her,” another whispered.

The words floated around Y/N like a cloud, both flattering and suffocating. She focused on keeping her smile in place, knowing that every movement was being scrutinized.

The chatter of the crowd had softened to a hum, the buzz of voices fading as the evening began to wind down. Y/N found herself drawn to one of the grand windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The view was breathtaking, a vast expanse of glittering city lights that seemed to stretch endlessly, like a sea of stars scattered across the night.

She pressed her fingertips lightly against the cool glass, her reflection faintly visible against the dazzling skyline. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, her chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. This quiet moment felt like a fragile bubble, separate from the noise and expectations of the evening.

Her eyes dropped to the diamond ring on her finger. It caught the faint glow of the lights outside, its brilliance reflecting in the glass. She lifted her hands to adjust it, the smooth band sliding slightly against her skin.

The weight of it was grounding, a constant reminder of the performance demanded perfection, every movement, every smile, every interaction carefully measured to fit the image Giselle wanted to project.

Y/N’s chest tightened slightly as she stared at the ring. "This is my life now," she thought. A life of pretending, of fitting into a world that didn’t feel like hers.

The sound of footsteps behind her broke her reverie, the sharp yet soft rhythm unmistakable. Y/N didn’t turn right away. She didn’t need to. Giselle moved with a kind of precision that was impossible to miss, her presence filling the space without effort.

“Tired?” Giselle’s voice was low, pitched just enough for Y/N to hear and no one else. There was no warmth in it, but it wasn’t cold either, it was neutral, like an observation rather than a question.

Y/N turned to face her, her gaze meeting Giselle’s. The older woman’s expression was as composed as ever, her sharp eyes studying Y/N with an intensity that made her chest flutter uncomfortably.

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, unsure how to answer. Her hands instinctively moved to sign, but she stopped mid motion, her stomach twisting. "She doesn’t understand," Y/N reminded herself.

Instead, she nodded, a small, hesitant motion.

Giselle’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her expression didn’t shift, but something flickered in her gaze, a brief, almost imperceptible pause as though she were processing the unspoken response.

“We’ll leave soon,” Giselle said, her tone neutral, as though discussing a routine matter.

For a moment, Y/N thought that was the end of the conversation. But then Giselle added, almost as an afterthought, “You handled tonight well.”

The unexpected comment made Y/N blink, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She had expected critique, not praise, and the words, however simple, made her stomach twist with something she couldn’t quite name.

Her mouth opened as if to respond, but she closed it again, unsure what to do. Instead, she offered a small, uncertain smile, hoping it would suffice.

Giselle’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned away slightly, slipping seamlessly back into her composed demeanor. “We can’t go yet. Not before we say goodbye to the hosts,” she said.

Giselle extended her arm, her posture as poised and effortless as always. Y/N hesitated for a heartbeat before looping her arm through Giselle’s. The contact was still unfamiliar, but it steadied her, giving her a sense of direction as they moved back toward the crowd.

As they walked, Y/N caught glimpses of people turning to look at them, their gazes lingering with admiration and curiosity.

“You’re doing fine,” Giselle murmured under her breath, her voice so low it was almost lost in the hum of the room.

Y/N glanced up at her, catching the way Giselle’s eyes remained forward, her expression unreadable. Was that reassurance? A reminder to stay in character? She couldn’t tell.

The hosts stood near the center of the room. The couple, a man in a sharp tuxedo and a woman in a flowing burgundy gown, exchanged delighted glances. Their smiles widened as Giselle and Y/N approached, and Giselle’s charm seemed to amplify.

“A pleasure to meet you,” the man said, extending a hand toward Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, then reached out and shook his hand, offering a polite smile. Her voice might have been silent, but she had learned long ago how to let her body language speak for her.

Sensing the unspoken question in their expressions, Giselle spoke up. “Y/N doesn’t speak,” she explained gently, her tone perfectly pitched to avoid making it seem like an inconvenience. “But she communicates beautifully in other ways.”

The woman’s curious expression softened into something warmer. “Oh, how lovely,” she said. “Do you use sign language?”

Y/N nodded, her movements measured and fluid. She lifted her hands and signed a response, her fingers forming the words. “Yes, I do.”

The woman’s eyes lit up, and she signed back slowly, her movements deliberate but kind. “Your dress is lovely.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a genuine smile, her hands moving again. “Thank you. Yours is beautiful too.”

The woman’s expression softened, her smile widening. “She’s wonderful,” she said to Giselle.

“She is,” Giselle replied, her voice carrying just the right amount of affection to make the act convincing. “I’m lucky to have her.”

The words hung in the air, stirring something in Y/N that she couldn’t quite name.

Before leaving, Giselle exchanged a few polite words with the hosts, her poised demeanor drawing admiration. Once their brief conversation concluded, she maintained her air of elegance, guiding Y/N with a light touch on her back.

The whispers followed them out, blending with the fading music and laughter.

When they reached the car, Giselle opened the door for Y/N, the action smooth and automatic.

As Y/N slipped inside, she caught a final glimpse of the grand venue. She exhaled softly, her body sinking into the leather seat as Giselle slid in beside her.

The door shut, sealing them in silence once more.

By the time they returned to the penthouse, Y/N felt like she could finally breathe again. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped out into the expansive living room, her legs aching from the unfamiliar heels and her face sore from maintaining a perfect smile all evening.

The silence of the penthouse enveloped her immediately, stark and unyielding compared to the vibrant hum of the event. The cold, polished surfaces of the furniture and the vast emptiness of the space made it feel less like a home and more like a museum.

Giselle, however, looked as composed as ever. Her expression was unreadable, and her posture as impeccable as it had been when they left. She strode into the living room with the same controlled grace she always carried, her movements precise and deliberate.

“Good work tonight,” Giselle said, her back still to Y/N. Her voice was calm, devoid of the warmth she had displayed at the event. The affectionate tone and radiant smiles were gone, replaced by the cool professionalism Y/N had come to expect. “The media will eat it up.”

Y/N hesitated in the doorway, her fingers brushing against the strap of her clutch. Her phone felt heavy in her hand as she pulled it out and began typing, each word deliberate and slow.

“Do you think they believed us?”

Y/N stepped closer and lightly tapped Giselle on the shoulder to get her attention. Giselle turned, her sharp gaze locking onto Y/N’s. For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes scanning Y/N’s face as though searching for something. Then, with a faint nod, she replied, “Of course. They believe what they see.”

Her tone was matter of fact, but there was an edge to her words, a quiet confidence that left no room for doubt.

Y/N nodded slowly, her chest tightening as she typed another message.

“You’re very convincing.”

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint smirk, the expression barely touching her eyes. “It’s what I do,” she said simply, as though her ability to manipulate perception was as natural as breathing. Without another word, she turned and strode past Y/N, disappearing into her private quarters.

Left alone in the vast emptiness of the penthouse, Y/N remained standing near the elevator, her phone still in her hand. The cold, clinical silence of the space pressed down on her, amplifying the faint hum of the city outside.

Y/N sank onto the couch slowly, her body sagging under the weight of the evening. The cushion beneath her felt far too soft, the stark contrast to the hardness of the night catching her off guard. She slipped off her heels, letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud. Her bare feet tingled as they pressed against the cool surface of the rug, a small relief from the ache that had settled in her legs.

For a moment, Y/N stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the notes app icon. Her mind replayed the night’s events in vivid detail, Giselle’s touch on her back, the way she had leaned in with whispered reassurances, the convincing affection in her gaze as she introduced Y/N to the crowd.

It had all felt so real.

But now, in the cold emptiness of the penthouse, the illusion was gone. The Giselle who had smiled at her so warmly, who had acted as though Y/N were the center of her world, had vanished the moment they’d stepped through the door.

The disconnect left a hollow ache in Y/N’s chest. She had known it was an act, of course, but seeing the shift so starkly still unsettled her.

Y/N opened the notes app and stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance.

Finally, she typed a single sentence.

“I’ll keep up the act.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the words, the weight of their meaning settling over her. She didn’t have the luxury of faltering. Her family was depending on her. For them, she would endure the coldness of this world, the carefully constructed lies, and the unrelenting presence of Giselle’s scrutiny.

With a heavy exhale, she closed the app and set her phone down on the coffee table.

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the city lights twinkled in the distance. They felt so far away, as though they belonged to another life entirely. A life where she didn’t have to carry this weight, where she wasn’t bound by a contract or a diamond ring.

But that life wasn’t hers.

Sliding back against the cushions, Y/N closed her eyes. The quiet of the penthouse seemed colder now, but she reminded herself of the promise she had made.

"For my family," she thought.

And as the tension in her body eased slightly, she let herself drift into an uneasy sleep, the weight of the diamond ring still heavy on her finger.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #giselle x fem reader #aespa giselle x reader #giselle x reader #giselle uchinaga x reader #a contract of silence

213 notes · View notes

chuchurio · 2 months ago

Text

“Perfectly fine."

* Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes your project partner and things don’t go as planned. You distance yourself only to run into him at a party.

Genre: slow burn, a bit angsty, College AU, polar opposites, Gojo making a fool of himself,

WC: 7.1k

Warnings: Drinking. That’s it lol.

You were supposed to be having fun at this party. You’ve been waiting for the weekend to drink and forget your responsibilities. You’re not new to the image of drunk college students and sweaty bodies with the linger of hormones in the air.

It was normal. Everyone wants to unwind, and give in to the haze and blurs that alcohol provides. Sure, a majority of you were drinking under the age requirement but there’s a liberty not many experience when you willingly take a sip of that bitter mixture.

This still fucking sucks.

You drag out a sigh and fix your posture against the wall. You weren’t usually stuck to it, even when people would push and shove. You’d usually be slotted between people, rolling your hips and gravitating toward anyone allowing the rhythm to erase time. This though? Not cool and it hasn’t been ever since he popped up.

He was such an obnoxious idiot that you swore to steer away from him because although you weren’t one for prejudice— he was someone you’d never consider talking to. He’s always been there, and could almost make you believe in that little cliche of red strings.

If there were any romantic feelings involved of course.

That wasn’t the case. .

It started in the communications course you took. The class was just a filler for you, something that was supposed to be an easy pass. You were sitting alone like in most classes you didn’t care much for. Your advisor had said the class would be the easiest ‘A’ you’d receive in the semester, feeling dumb if you didn’t take it. So you did what any person would do for a degree.

The metal chairs had enough space to move but not enough to where you could accidentally touch elbows. It’s a cramped place, but it’ll have to do for a few months. It’s common for students to leave an empty seat for their bags or even just simple boundaries.

God knows you needed a bit of that.

Nonetheless, it was short-lived, a loud thud making your body take a screenshot and your blood freeze. The backpack was thrown carelessly by your feet, already a bad sign. you look up to see who is disturbing your peace.

“‘Voluntarily signing up’ is not what I would call it.” He complained on the phone with a frown, annoyed at the receiver.

The man was handsome. You couldn’t lie, he had a charm to him that didn’t require speech, a little smile and it’d bring a flock of women, blue eyes that you’d poke fun at if it wasn’t for how.. complimentary it was on him? He had nepo baby written all over him.

Best you mind your business.

Good for you.

Then he outstretched his legs over the table, pretty close to your notebook as he continued to yap ignorantly while remaining too close for comfort.

You held back a glare and flickered your eyes over to him, slowly scooting your notebook to the left, deciding to go a passive route. Until he moved them again—

“Excuse me. Can you please not?” You requested softly but he didn’t even offer you a glance. Were you not loud enough? What the hell is this dude’s deal?

He continued to talk without regard to what you asked for – as if you were a fly buzzing along his ears.

This is the part you truly regret. Deep, deep, down.

You harshly shoved his legs off the table, earning a stumbled sentence out of the white-haired guy.

“Fuck– hey! It’s rude to interrupt a phone call!” his gaze fell on you and found your eyes staring right back at him with a smidgen of anger.

Gojo hadn’t taken a glance around the room, too busy being annoyed to take into account who was in the class. All he asked for was a free period. He wanted time to maybe go lounge around the many campus lobbies, give a pretty sight to tourists who’ll be in awe of his appearance, or even bother his friend Suguru about the latest mistakes he made.

Instead, he was placed in a boring ass communications class.

He’s been trying to contact his advisor to fix this shit all week, and he’s been ignoring his calls. He had been ranting to Suguru the whole way, flashing a smile toward familiar faces. To the ones he’d fuck around with at least.

Now he was here, staring right back at your pretty eyes. His tone took a turn from its original annoyance.

“Well, You’ve got all my attention.” his voice was smooth, similar to how a hot pan bubbled cold butter. It could’ve sent chills down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his facade.

“Watch your legs.” You repeated more sternly. You could feel his eyes scan you — honestly, he’s shamelessly moving his gaze up and down your figure. Your eyes narrowed at the blatant stare.

He chuckles, giving you a practiced smile that comes with ease, “Didn’t think it got in your way, faults mine.” He didn’t actually pay attention to what he had done before, his mind set to ask about the woman beside him.

“What’s ya name?”

You make a hum, not giving him a proper answer.

“Okay – mmm, I like it. Easy name to call out for you.” He gave you a wink, only earning a confused look from you. You weren’t picking up any of his bullshit, this was easy to see, you were a good observer after all. If your demeanor didn’t show it, surely your grades did.

Your nose scrunched in distaste, his flirtation crashing against the wall you built around yourself. There was an awkward silence, his smile growing strained as you exchanged opposite expressions. You only sighed and muttered a little ‘Please don’t let it happen again.’

It was disappointing, to say the least.

But not for Gojo. You were pretty but not anything he’d go for initially. He had a large pallet, just not a frequent one to stay with a single option. Why do that when he could get a bit of here and there? He respects the grind you got, he can see it in the way you meticulously toy with your pen, how you didn’t hide your view, flickering occasionally in coordination with the important things around the room. Not people though.

He can be observant too when it benefits him.

After this interaction, there wasn’t much to it. You didn’t think he’d even sit there again with the way things went the first day. To your surprise (and misfortune), he would sit there every class. He learned your name through the professor, explicitly accentuating the syllables in your name. You learned to ignore him, offering hums as responses. He grew tolerable, not likable, but tolerable.

The only thing you two really had was a greeting, the most exchange of words you both had aside from the little banter you shut down. It was the same shit every time too–

“Y/n, the only thing I like about this class, how’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Perfectly fine.”

It became a common exchange at each class meeting, some days there was more than just that. Regardless, you kept it at a minimum for your sake. You weren’t a bitch, you swore up and down to yourself that you just can’t keep up with his lifestyle.

The first thing you notice; is his popularity. People took the time out of their day not only to say hi to him but to have a full-on conversation. He wouldn’t rush it either, he’d stand outside of class just to wrap it up. You could never have that much attention.

The next thing to catch your eye was the amount of women around him. Again, it’s none of your business – however! When you do run into him, he’s either standing there with charm mode activated or with discomfort. The discomfort is usually when he’s rejecting a girl- again, that’s neither here nor there.

And finally, the biggest problem was; that he was pretty. It might seem like he was harmless, but that’s how he dragged you in. And you weren’t going to be one of them.

All you have to do is stay away from Satoru Gojo, and you’ll survive the class. That plan would’ve gone great if this communication class didn’t require a partner project.

The professor didn’t like you, because ‘GOJO’ is written beside your last name in big fat letters. You had to be cursed, there was no way they partnered you up with him! His name settled beside yours like it was taunting you right in the face. You heard a faint snicker, making you glance in its direction. Gojo failed to hide his smirk, the cough he made couldn’t disguise it. You sat there, trying to make an excuse, your brain and mouth not cooperating to form words but rather sounds.

“So, Y/n, you’re the lucky gal huh?” You looked up at him, slight disgust making him put his hands up in defeat with a lazy smile appearing in defense.

You frantically look around if anyone is just as disturbed by their assigned partner, but no one bats you an eye.

“Fuck.” you grumbled weakly, with a sigh. You’d have no choice anyway.

It was the start of this whole mess.

It was a challenge to meet up at first. You’d text a time, sometimes a day, and his response would be along the same lines.

‘Ohhhh I have practice today’

‘Ahh that was today?? I’m not on campus’

‘I was free buttt I’m tutoring’

That tutoring one was a complete lie to begin with, you caught on after seeing him with girls from the cheer team, sometimes the volleyball players. You had no faith in his reliability.

You’d show up to the library, silently skimming and taking notes on what was needed, the smell of food in the dining hall would occasionally greet you when you studied there. One of these days you were bound to run into him, which you did.

His laugh came to a rough halt, shoes squeaking in a stop too. “Y/n?? Woahhh didn’t think I’d see you here.” He looks surprised, a bit guilty? He should be anyway.

You flicker your gaze to the pretty brunette beside him. She wasn’t fazed by the interaction, continuing to sip on her drink while looking directly at you.

“Yeah.. who’d figure I’d come study… at a library..” you uttered out. He makes a wince, scratching the back of his neck. “I dont have my laptop on me right now…” it was like he was trying to negotiate.

He suddenly perked up, the imaginary lightbulb obvious with the way his demeanor changed. “You can come to my dorm tomorrow, swear I’ll have everything laid out for you,” you narrow your eyes, not convinced.

“I already have most–”

He pushes up his glasses, doing one of his poses (were they timed? You weren’t sure) “I wouldn’t be an amazing partner if I didn't offer, I know.”

That’s how you ended up walking up to his dorm building. Good thing you set things straight beforehand, a little plan for you two to follow.

You had taken the time out of your day to research the information that might align with your points, making a document of the ones that would support your argument. You gave him a few links and met to discuss which would work. It’s as easy as it sounds.

It didn’t go as you thought.

“Gojo please just read this last paragraph so I can take my ass to bed.” You complained, shaking the distracted man to offer a sliver of attention to the listed sources.

He scoffs and lets out a loud dramatic sigh, “I will! I will! Just let me finish this level real quick.”

After a few hangouts, you’d expect him to stop being so childish. You thought that it was one of those things where the person acts like an idiot but is secretly a mastermind of sorts. You’ve been trying to get him to meet up again and it’s been difficult to pin him down.

It’s like everyone wants Gojo for something, Not you though, you’re forced to.

“I have to walk back to my dorm and it's freezing cold–” He wasn’t listening to you. You glared at the white-haired man, irritated.

You couldn’t take it anymore, with a huff you reached for his phone – with much protest – and turned it off.

“Seriously. We need to get it together! I need a good grade!” He only whines and tries to reach for his phone again.

“Come onnnn just let me finish it!” he reached up, making you flex your arm higher.

“No. We’re getting this done–”

He scoffs again, “I’m taller than you don’t forget that.”

He flexed farther than you, his arm pressed against yours as you fought to keep it out of his reach. You’d try to push him off, annoyed he gave it a shot. He does the same, trying to gain the upper hand.

“Dude it’s not that serious!” He huffed out, your arm moving swiftly in the air to keep out of his reach.

“I should be saying the same to you-” You yelp at the sudden weight that toppled over you. Gojo overpowered you quickly, making you fall in defeat. His hand shot out in an attempt to not completely fall on you.

You freeze, staring back at him with a surprised expression. He does seemingly the same with his smile nowhere to be seen.

You blink. He blinks.

He stares. You stare.

After a few awkward seconds, you clear your throat, turning your head to the side to avoid eye contact. Breaking him out of his trance, he swiftly backs up, trying to act nonchalant about the accident.

“I’ll read through it tomorrow.” He said, leaning his back against the small makeshift desk. You sit up, gently scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” You reached for your books, closing your laptop and gesturing to his door, “I should like, probably head back–” He agreed almost immediately, helping you pack your things.

But that wasn’t the only time things... Were weird.

A few days later he began to greet you outside of class. It was something small, but it made a difference when the people he hung out with gave him a strange look. You’d only offer a little wave and remain casual or else you’d overthink the way you walk too.

Then he began to frequent the actual library suggestions. Letting him know that you research the topics a few hours before discussing them with him. It was a way for you to think... Until he started appearing for that as well.

You were sitting at a small cubicle-like table, the booths private with the only way in being from the left. He was busy lazing around on his phone, flickering to you once in a while. You were silently reading over the added post, with a sigh. “I don’t know why you keep reading over it, is it that bad?” he asked mindlessly, earning a bit of a scowl from you.

“An A is considered anything above a 93, for this specific project,” you read it out loud, hoping he’d feel the same about it. He just looked at you, before shrugging and going back to scrolling through his phone. “I’ll take a C too.. It’s passing,”

“That’s it?? You’re just conceding that fast??” He raised a brow, looking over at you with confusion, “Conceding is a bit dramatic don’t you think?–” You shake your head and push back your hair from your face as if it’d fix the score details.

He has caught onto that habit, the way you want to be upset but don’t know if to focus on working with the new information or if to let the feeling take over. He sighs and slides over to your side, “Alright what about the rest of them?” You open your mouth to rebuttal, wanting to tell him that it didn’t matter because an A is the only reasonable grade.

“Aht– I said what are the other scores, we know an A is higher than a 93.” You go silent, reluctantly sharing your laptop screen with him.

“92 to 85 is a B, and 84 to 78 is a C,” He nods slowly, listening to you read the score grades for the project. “And a D?” You shot him a glare, making him raise his hands in defense. “Kidding– jeez tough crowd.” He mumbled.

You can see him looking at the scores with the same disdain. He makes a hum, his thumb pressing to his chin before making a hum. “The most you’re getting out of me is a C,”

You gasp, shaking your head, “Seriously?? Not even a B??” Your voice held a tremble, in disbelief at his honesty.

“I can give something in the low 80’s if I try–”

“That’s not even closer to a B Satoru!” You whisper yelled, nudging his shoulder. He dramatically fell back, a whine leaving his mouth. “Have some mercy on a soul like mine, don’t you have some compassion?” He batted his lashes, your stare in disgust as if he were some pest.

“Seriously, I’ll help you out just tryyyy for that A pleaseee” You groaned out, trying to come up with a sort of excuse that’d encourage him. “A deal. Care to give me an offer?” He said teasingly, sitting up and once again interested, hoping you took the bait.

You huff, gnawing at your thumb to think. Something that Satoru would want.. a motivation of sorts.. He already has money and luxuries she can’t even afford.

He was watching silently, he’s grown to find pleasant the way your features would seem alert when you tried to focus. Your brows would crinkle just a bit, lips wrapped around your finger while you nibble on your nail in thought.

“How about.. You do most of the talking for the presentation.. And I’ll do all the slides, you won't lay a finger aside from researching!” You quipped, looking over to see him looking at you silently. He hummed in response, “Hmmm I guess.” He said softly.

That’s when you noticed just how close he was, his leg pressed close to yours, resting his chin against his palm as he kept his eye on you.

He was close, too close for comfort, your body growing warm at the proximity. You swore you saw his gaze flicker down, his words leaving an unkept flutter in your stomach.

“Is there anything else an A can get me?” His voice was low, the question technically innocent. Your body felt otherwise.

Your mouth goes dry as if kindergarten had never done its job to teach you the alphabet, like the letters look more like symbols and you can’t communicate— that type of feeling.

You tear your gaze away, a choked laugh making its way out. “W-We can go to that dumpling stand near campus. It’ll be on me.” You scoot away, your attention diverted elsewhere.

Unbeknownst to you, he was disappointed at your retraction, strangely hoping you would’ve remained in that position.

—————————

Days would go by, forcing him to stay late to study, reaffirming his tone to perfection. He would complain at first, reluctant to show up. You went as far as getting in contact with that pretty brunette he was with last time.

“So.. He’s actually trying to get a higher grade than a C?” She asked with a hint of surprise to her tone. You nod, trying to get her on board with your meticulous plan, “An A to be exact.. I really need the grade..”

“And he agreed to it?” She asked, eyebrow raised. You nod once again, “He’ll focus on speech and delivery, while I do the background stuff.. I just need him to remain concentrated.” His word was something but having extra help wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

“Wow.. is that so?” she trailed off, making you a bit nervous. You quickly reassured the woman, “Are you dating him? Because I don’t have intentions of–” The girl’s eyes widened before letting out a dry laugh.

“That’s not it- I’m just surprised he is promising to try for an A… he’s more of a.. you know,” she makes a little motion with her arm and shrugs, “Go with the flow typa guy.”

You felt a growing embarrassment wondering why you assumed that was an option to begin with—specifically the dip in her stomach while waiting for her response.

You’d come to find out the girl’s name was ‘Shoko’ and thankfully so she did help out to keep him in line. Sometimes he’d come whining, dragged along by the unphased woman, other days she’d manage to steal his phone and hand it to you as ransom. She was great truly.

Eventually, he’d start showing up on his own. Dragging Shoko to your sessions so she could listen to him recite the presentation. You’d both share your laptop even if he brought his own, he would get you snacks and even show you the research and points he found.

Shoko even jokes you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. You want to beat yourself for feeling pride at the thought.

You’re brought out of your thoughts to Satoru calling out your name, “Finally, been repeating your name for a while now– you ready?” He asked with a smile, the sight bringing you another wave of nervousness for some reason.

“Yeaahhh…” you trailed off before shaking your head and making a disappointed hum. He wouldn’t admit it, but he found it rather cute.. The more he talked to you, the more expressive you had become.

Just how far would he go to see it all?

“Hey, we’re prepared. You prepared us very well.” He was trying to ease you, flashing you another smile and a playful wink, “Now let me win it for ya.”

This was it. The outcome was now in his hands.

“I know you will.” You said softly, and somewhere there, you could see the peaks of his ears crimson up, but he’d clear his throat and turn away.

“ ‘kay then, let’s not lose points for showing up late.”

————————

You’re sitting beside Satoru, his body draped across the lounge chair at the library. You’ve been refreshing Canvas for the past 10 minutes, waiting for your final grade to appear.

“I’m sure they’ll post it soon, chill,” he commented mindlessly, his arm lazily nudging you. You shake your head, gnawing at your nail as you wait for the blank line to be replaced with a number.

He kept his eye on you before sitting up and scooching closer to where you sat. He rests his cheek against his hand, watching you silently. Finally, he catches your attention, hesitantly glancing in his direction.

“You okay?”

“I’m.. fine.”

“Just fine?”

You couldn’t help but feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to hide the appreciation for his concern,

“Perfectly fine.” You finally spoke, taking a deep breath and nodding, as if affirming your last statement. He lost your gaze to the screen again, staring expectantly and fidgeting with your nails by flicking them against each other.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm as he stopped you from continuing the nervous action. That alone made you slowly turn to him. You silently stare, unsure whether this squeezing in your chest is a good sign.

He replicated your smile, “You gave the right links, You didn’t stutter, that’s a good grade to me.” he reassured you. You only nodded again, your brain telling you to retract from his hold, but your body didn’t listen. He looked back at you with the same expression, beginning to gently run his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Actually, I was thinking we could–” Your laptop made a happy chime, an email regarding to the updated grades. “It’s in!” You pull your hand away with no thought, leaving Satoru with a slight sulk.

You scroll through the assignments, clicking the ‘grades section and waiting impatiently for it to load.

“Holy shit..” you muttered to yourself, a bright smile forming on your lips.

Sure it wasn’t 100, but a 95? You’ll take it.

Satoru shoves his face a little closer to the screen and a genuine laugh left his mouth at the score. “Didn’t I say you’d be okay?”

You roll your eyes, the smile you wore was more relaxed and relieved. “Yeah, yeah, you were right.”

He leans closer, his expression taunting with the little snicker he made, “That means I winnn” he made a dramatic pose, tips of his fingers to his forehead like he was a know-it-all to begin with.

True.. You didn’t think he’d get the same grade as you but surely opening the site– he got the same score.

“Huh… I guess you do..” You mumbled, biting your lip at the number while he continued flaunting the score.

—--------

It wasn’t a date. You reminded yourself of it constantly; it's a truce, an agreement, a celebration of your passing grade. Even then, You were fidgeting with the ends of your sweater, readjusting your scarf every ten seconds. Not because you were nervous or anything.

“Heyyy You got here before me.” He said with a smile, his breathing fanning out in white puffs. You nod, glancing over to the sidewalk, “Better than one of us being late.” He shrugs, beginning to walk in the direction of the stand.

“How far is it again?” You made a hum, trying to guess an estimate, “About a 15-minute walk or so..” He nods slowly before nudging your shoulder, “Brought your wallet, right? Because I left mineeee” With that tone, it was obvious he left it on purpose.

“You’re rich.” You deadpanned, watching him snicker before making another shrug, “And? Free food is priceless.” You roll your eyes, a little smile forming on your lips.

After a while, you did get used to him. He wasn’t as bad as you thought, for the most part.

“I think this just proves we should be partners for the rest of class?” He suggested coolly, earning a scoff from you and a side eye, “Yeah right.. we had to lock in near the end because of how busy you were.”

He made a dramatic sigh, “You’re keeping me away from success Sweetheart.” The pet name didn’t fall on deaf ears, a tingling spark waking your senses at the sound of it.

“Are you saying I’m a lucky charm?” You asked with a brow raised.

His grin said it all, glancing down at you. “Definitely my lucky charm, yeah.” This was just typical Satoru, his comments coming off as flirty. His charming smile activated, so normal of him,

But when did it start working on you?

You look away, needed after this gnawing sensation has started to make itself known, none of it being good.

There was a time when even looking in his direction made you scowl, where you heard him at a distance and felt exhausted before seeing him.

But here you are. Talking about anything and everything, he’s listening to you, and you’re openly letting him know.

There’s an exchange of words rather than an assumption.

You continue walking down the sidewalk, laughing at another stupid retelling of his daily adventures.

“The scooter did happen to fuck up over a tiny rock and I ended up crashing into a girl scout’s cookie table..” You couldn’t even discreetly laugh, your voice echoing in fits of laughter. He didn’t have to worry about the cold when you had him feeling warm to the corner of his ears.

“You’re obnoxious.” You watch him make a dramatic gasp, hand pressed to his chest.

“I made up for it! I offered to buy the stock they brought but they were convincing enough to make me work beside them.” You cross your arms and nod. “An appeal for their business… I see the vision..”

He scoffed, nudging your shoulder playfully and making you do the same with light banter. It was childish and you couldn’t help but play along.

“You know you didn’t put your scarf on properly right?” He quipped out the topic. You glance down, trying to readjust it. “What? I was just trying to stay warm there–” He makes a hum before stopping in his tracks, taking a spot in front of you. “You won't be able to keep the cold out like that…” he murmured, his voice much lower when he came close.

Your voice grew dim, unable to utter a word as his fingers unwrapped the knitted fabric. His eyes were focused on wrapping it a lot more snugly. “No cold right?” His voice was soothing, kicking out any chill there was before.

“No..” you said softly, looking to the side to keep your heart from dysfunctioning, his thumb pressed against your chin, lifting it to offer a better angle and leveling your gaze. “I’m not there— but here.” his voice was dangerous to you, caught in sight like a deer in headlights. It was the proximity, unable to stop yourself from looking down at his lips. He must’ve caught on because his own flickered down to yours.

His thumb pressed to your bottom lip as if he were questioning the realness of the situation. You didn’t stop him, closing your eyes as he drew closer.

“Satoruuuuu! ‘S that you over there?”

You opened your eyes, the moment cut short.

He cursed under his breath, immediately pulling back. He held a tight smile, his expression complex to decipher. “Ah heyyyy, long time no see..”

You glanced in the direction of the voice, catching a glimpse of a long-haired blonde woman. She was rather pretty, and the clothing she wore defined her figure. She eyed you for a long second, not hiding it at all.

You made an awkward shuffle, pointing to the stand, “I’ll um.. I’ll go get us some.” he opened his mouth to speak, wanting to stop you, but nothing came out. “Yeah.. thanks..” he said softly, redirecting his focus to the blonde, giving you small glances.

You walked over to the stand, making sure not to stare just yet.. eventually you couldn’t help but glance back. The woman was devouring him with a stare, batting her lashes, smiling sweetly, all of the above really.

You felt your stomach twist, forcing yourself to look away. A few minutes passed ordering your food, to be honest that was the last thing on your mind but you had to find a way to distract yourself.

He didn’t mean anything to you.. or that’s what you want to think. You don’t know where this courage had come from, maybe it was the stolen glances or the time spent together, but you felt like things between the two of you could grow different?

You held a soft smile, hearing your name be called close by. The worker handed you the two food trays, giving them a small ‘thank you’.

You made your way to the two, hoping to maybe go eat this at the park nearby, or maybe even at the bench near the campus water fountain, his presence was nice—

“So.. that’s that girl who passed by our cheer practice huh?” The girl spoke, her eyes focused on the white haired man. Her eyes would squint, judgmentally.

“You dating her?” She asked with a pout, and the idea made your stomach flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

“Nahh just a partner for class.”

You stopped in your tracks, your feet growing heavy out of nowhere. Your heart was accelerating in the worst way, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“Then why are you here?” She asked, looking up at him with faux innocence. You could feel mockery in her voice as if she were ready to start criticizing you without even speaking to you.

“Didn’t want to disappoint. There’s just not a lot of me to go around ya know?”

Your heart expands into your throat, body cold when you hear the words leave his mouth. But of course, you forgot.. you weren’t technically friends.

This was a transaction of sorts, he'll cooperate to give you a good grade, in return he gets the grade too. It was such a simple process that you must’ve forgotten along the way.

You aren’t friends.

You guys weren’t in similar groups, your contact list could never double to his, Satoru wouldn’t glance at you if it wasn’t for the required project. It was conventional.

And unfortunately, not realistic. Satoru would never see you for more than a classmate who helped him out.

The amount of fabric didn’t save you from the cold breeze that filled you. There was no wind blowing but you felt like a simple graze would make you crumble into the air.

You backed up, trying to not make a sound on your way out. Even if they did hear your feet hit the cement, he wouldn’t glance because well.. he got what he needed, the reason to hangout was over. You can go back to your dorm, begin on personal projects and be satisfied with guaranteeing your full credit.

You’re upset that you can’t feel relief.

That’s how you ended up at this frat party. You’ve been ignoring Satoru for the past few weeks, at all costs. You’d see him appear, and you’d immediately walk the other way. There were times where he’d wave for your attention, to where you just kept your eyes away from him.

Even when you did this, you had to remind yourself you didn’t like him to begin with. He was annoying, spoiled, and self absorbed.

But you hated to remind yourself of things you didn’t truly believe. Somewhere along the way you used those reminders to excuse the ache of the many things he wasn’t.

So there you are. Red solo cup in hand and the wall your only support. Your eyes flicker over to the DJ, the table he used was decorated with littered cups and bold people dancing on top.

You wish you were that drunk, a part of you knew if you were, it wouldn’t be for fun. That’d be sad and you can tough it out! You don’t need any liquor to move on-

“Y/n?”

That voice brought a mirage of a person. They mixed drinks but not enough to give auditory hallucinations right?

You look up to confirm the owner, your chest feeling tight all of a sudden.

Satoru is staring at you, surprised. He tried to wave in your face, only making you glance the other way. “Hey it’s been a while!” He yelled excitedly over the music. You still didn’t answer, your eyes focused on your cup.

You knew he was uncomfortable by the way he shifted, only moving a bit to let people push past him. He sighs, “wallflower huh? I’ll try it out.” He said coolly.

He proceeded to follow your posture and pressed to the wall. You could almost get Deja vu from how things were going. It was silent between the two of you, he would occasionally steal you glances, and you?

Well you acted dumb.

You swerve the drink in a circular spectacle, watching it glimmer with the neon purple of the black light. This was stupid. You, feel stupid.

“So.. you come here often?” He smirked, flashing you the signature charm. You groaned and rolled your eyes, already beginning to walk away.

“No wait— shit—“ he reached for your arm, softly grasping it before you were fully out of his view. It was gentle enough to shove him off but.. the touch was enough to stop you and wait.

“How are you?” Your brows furrowed at the question. All these lights rotating from bright colors to dark ones, you saw him under every shade and the question still didn’t seem to have an answer.

You press your tongue to your cheek, coming closer just because you don’t want to hear any more people give you drunken apologies for pushing you around. You don’t bother looking at him, glancing back down at your cup.

“I’m fine–“

“Just fine?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

He nodded slowly, if it weren’t for the ambiance, you could swear there was a bit of a frown at the response. He fumbled with the edge of his cup, for once keeping silent. “Is this what you stopped me for?” You ask, a little upset.

He looks up, opening his mouth to speak with a confident smile before struggling with the sentence. “Look. I’m sorry about that whole thing last time, I didn’t think she’d talk to me for so long.” You scoff, ripping your hand from his grasp with a little mutter of something along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself’. He didn’t like how he left things open-ended with you, but even worse—

He hated how there was no banter like before.

“Wait! Y/n come on – ” He reached for your wrist again, causing you to press it to your chest. You shake your head and slip past people, wanting out of this place.

Partying was fun, the lights, the alcohol, and the music gave you this pedestal that you’ll probably never find in the day-to-day. You’ll even do risky dances to regret and laugh about later.

But when you’re suffocated, the party is a loud trap. It cages you with semi-aware adults, the music is muffling your ears – and your senses are numb. No one moves but you’re pressed against their bodies, caging you. The heat makes the air as useless as water in your lungs. Something once good becomes the worst.

Now add the guy you almost kissed with that.

Your body is boiling for you to get the fuck out.

You push against others, way past the excuse me’s as you feel your throat form a lump and your arms becoming tougher as they block you from sweaty bodies. The lump was growing and it only tugged at the nerves that start the faucet.

You can hear Satoru right behind you, actually struggling to get by when everyone wants to speak with him. A popularity problem you’d guess, unrecognizability saving you for once.

A long time ago you might’ve asked to be in that place. Tonight you’re grateful it helps you slip away.

You could feel the fresh breeze strike your cheek, making your head whip in its direction. Finally, after pushing a random guy to the side without much protest–

You could breathe.

You inhale deeply, your lung capacity going to its limit just to bring some color back to your face. The night was colder than when you had got there, but your body was too hot to feel like a disturbance.

Then there was heaving right behind you, repeating the same actions you did. “Shit– y/n give me— a minute,”

“No, Satoru — what else do you want from me!?” You exasperated, but he shook his head, you could see his brow twitch upward. He was gasping for air, trying to catch his breath.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t accept it.”

“It was unfair to you—“

You scoff, your eyes narrow and your throat begins to tighten. The imagery flashes through your head. His slender fingers wrapped around a few strands, his voice trailing off when he’d look down at you, and that stupid fucking look that was the bridge of this whole shit.

“You lead me on like– like I’m another one of your distractions!” You didn’t mean for your voice to tremble, but it wavered enough to be noticeable.

He tried to follow after you again causing you to harshly shake it off not wanting to be near him.

“Is that how you saw it?? I was just-“ he looks just as frustrated as you, trying to understand you while you’re glaring at him with the same eyes he falls into.

“Your grade mattered that much?— you used me?-“ he immediately began shaking his head at your accusation. “I didn’t even say that!-“

“No? You implied it. I heard it all!” You confirmed his worries, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t know what I was saying alright?” His explanation wasn’t enough for you; it was too vague to fix the damage.

You scoff, muttering a simple ‘of course’ and glaring at the grass. The sound of the music was more audible than your voices, obviously trying to find a way to go about this.

“Y/n. It isn’t just about the grade— I didn’t care for it!” You shake your head once more, laughing dryly.

“That’s what you wanted me to see, I knew you were a fucking liar, self absorbed asshole!—“

“Oh! Oh yeah?? And you have a stick up your ass all the time! You don’t give a fuck about anything else!“ he retorted back, “Always focused! The perfect student! hardworking! I’m not good enough for you!”

You looked up at him, confusion overtaking your frustration. “You.. what?”

“I can’t have a day where you don’t appear, it annoys me – aside from dealing with your nagging in class, I could hear your damn voice in my sleep, you just had to be my partner?”

You scoff, “You suck at this.”

“Shut up. I’m trying here-” he pushed back his hair, frustrated with you. That seems to ease when your chuckle follows.

“I thought you held brawns and beauty,” you mumbled sarcastically,

“No, that’d be you.”

The silence had never befell you both this quick. Breathing was terrifying, looking at him was terrifying, but more so was the acceleration of your heart. You were afraid that your body was pumping blood too fast, that the rhythmic drumming in your ears was audible.

Satoru watches your silence, before deciding that his tongue was too tied for once. His hand hesitated, before reaching up to cup your cheek.

Your lashes batted against your soft skin, staring up at him with a silent question. It didn’t take long for him to lower his face to yours. There was no hurry, no comedic comment, just his pride stepping down for once.

His lips pressed against yours in a gentle kiss, the tension alleviating from weeks of pent-up emotions. He was infuriating with his comments, and stubbornness you sometimes couldn’t stand,

regardless, your arms loop around his neck, pulling him for another once he begins to pull away.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #jjk #satoru gojo #Churi's Melodies ⋆｡♫

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beefcakekinard · 1 month ago

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I wish you would write a fic where... Tommy confronts a monster (maybe they're of his own making)

Tommy's a strong guy, physically. And he's no slouch at compartmentalizing - at filing the sludge away, locking it up until he's not thinking about it, until it doesn't even touch him anymore. He broke up with Evan a week ago and he's sealed that up so tightly he hasn't felt anything at all about it. This should be a piece of cake in comparison.

His feet still feel weighed down with lead as he steps into the hospital.

It's an odd hour of the morning between shift starts and lunch, so the lobby isn't exactly bustling. His footsteps carry in the wide open space. A woman behind the counter at the gift shop smiles at him as he passes. His own expression feels odd on his face, a frozen rictus grimace, and he hurries on before she gets the chance to start a conversation.

Tommy makes it to the elevator bank and hits the button. It's no time at all before he's in the elevator car, picking the floor he needs, and watching the doors close. The lead in his feet spreads upwards, like capillary action, finding his stomach and settling there in the pit of it. For a brief moment he doesn't know what he's doing there, in the elevator, in the hospital. He almost convinces himself to just leave and go home, but by then the doors are opening.

He follows signs down the hall into a small room with a desk, where he checks in and sits to wait in a stiff plastic chair. He isn't waiting long before a woman in a lab coat calls his name. Tommy follows her into a cold, windowless room. His entire body feels heavy now, overfull with dread as he approaches the metal table in the middle. The woman pulls back a sheet.

"Yeah," he rasps. "That's him. That's my dad."

Tommy feels - he doesn't know quite what he feels. His dad's face is ashen, lifeless; strangely distorted by its own stillness. Like it's just... collapsed, without the scaffolding of life holding it in place. Tommy's eyes instinctively skip down to his dad's hands, an old habit so deeply ingrained in him that he still can't help expecting blows, even as old as he is, as big as he is. Even though his dad is dead.

The woman says something. The awareness of another voice in the room is all that Tommy's able to process behind the sludge oozing out of its carefully constructed containment, dripping black and tarlike through the ridges and valleys of his brain. He feels like he shouldn't be breathing, between the sludge and the lead and the room occupied by his dad's dead body and unlit by the sun.

Tommy signs some forms. He moves on autopilot and the only thing he can think about is the wry little smile Evan would have given him if he'd ever said that, told him I was on autopilot and maybe Evan would have carried the joke, maybe-

Forms signed and copied, Tommy excuses himself in a haste, bursting back into the hall and tearing for the stairs. He takes them two at a time, lunging up them like he's being hunted, and once on the main floor he shoves his way through the first exterior door he can find. He manages to take two steps and lean over some bushes before he's vomiting, bile crowding up his throat and nose and forcing its way out.

As he watches it drip to the ground, he's surprised it's not black.

#ask tag #my fic #bucktommy #tommy kinard #reginamills #thanks for the prompt and sorry for the wait!!

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firemeyr · 7 months ago

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WOO this one ran away from me, not going to lie. Loved writing it though :D Prompts used, courtesy of @stealthetrees: 'Commander Fox becomes super popular among the Jedi younglings cause he takes them on field trips around Coruscant since it’s too dangerous to go elsewhere' and 'in an effort to make Coruscant better, the Guard attempts to root out crime syndicates. This sparks a 3 way turf war that rages in the lower levels. ' ____

His comm was beeping rapidly. Quick busts of three high-toned notes, one after another. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. Beep beep be—

Fox groaned into the crook of his arm, his right hand haphazardly slapping his left vambrace, managing to shut up the alarm. And thank the stars for that. He just needed five minutes of peace. Five minutes! He hadn’t even been asleep, just, contemplating the risks and rewards of taking that much needed nap. His allotted despair time however, was up. It wasn’t worth it.

He slid into a proper sitting position, plastiod armor dragging against the metal desk. Propping his face up in his hands, Fox just groaned. It was better than slamming his face into his desk. As alluring as that route was–he might even get mandated rest if he managed to knock himself out–his CMO would kill him if he caught wind that Fox did it on purpose. With one last prayer to the stars to be struck down by a freak malfunction in Coruscant’s weather, he was ready to brave the world once more. Well, he could say he was.

His vambraces clattered against his desk as he dropped his arms, pushing himself to his feet in the same movement. Bent over his desk, he pushed things to the side, halfheartedly trying to tidy it. He could at least stack similar pieces of flimsy and data work together, enough so that he had a clear spot in the middle of his desk. Always had him feeling a bit better, not quite so overwhelmed when he sat down for a long night of signing document after document when he could at least put his caf somewhere.

As he always did, Fox had someplace to be, unable to linger at his desk for long. Once a space was carved out for him to return too, Fox swiped his bucket from the floor and shoved it on his head. Helmet adjusted and back ramrod straight, he did not hesitate as he stepped out into the hallway, office door sliding shut behind him.

Messages hovered unread at the corner of his HUD, red numbers blinking and begging to be read. Flicking his eyes over to them, the messages expanded, allowing him to at least glance over their contents. Several were standard update messages, monotonous and unimportant in nature. One was from Wolffe, still lingering from Centaxday at the bottom of the list. The most recent one was from the Jedi temple, simply an automated reminder of his scheduled event for today.

Oh yes, how could he forget. Fox was the lucky commander chosen to take some probably snot covered jedi younglings on a field trip. Because why wouldn’t he. He just had so much time to spare for these kinds of things that were definitely written into his job description.

Fox closed the messages, his shoulders sinking slightly with a deep exhale. Best to just arrive on time and get this over with. It wasn’t his first rodeo with younglings, nor would it be his last.

The sterile hallway around him opened up, brightening near instantly as he stepped into the main lobby. Several large windows let in what natural light there was on Coruscant, while lamps made up for any dark shadows. Chairs lined the walls, well in view of the half circle desk in the middle of the room. It wasn’t uninviting persay, far from it apparently, but Fox knew it was carefully crafted that way. Their lobby wasn’t one of the most well maintained rooms in the base for no reason.

He nodded to the trooper sitting at the desk, they glancing up at him and nodding in return before ducking back down into their own work. Fox paused at the desk, his hip leaning up against the false-wood. The lobby was clearly still empty and there wasn’t anyone lingering past the glass doors. He had at least a few minutes to kill if the Jedi dropping off the younglings could be trusted.

Reopening the messages, Fox simply scrolled through the updates, only ending up replying to one, and even that hadn’t been urgent. Inbox clear, he stared at Wolffe’s message, most of it cut off in the preview. He had been meaning to reply to it since it was first sent but—life just didn’t stop on Coruscant.

The force was out to prove him correct, as the moment the thought of opening Wolffe’s message entered his head, the lobby’s doors slid open. Closing the messages and standing up straight once more, Fox saluted the Jedi in front of him.

The Mon Calamari Jedi waved his salute away, “Wonderful to see you again, Commander.” “Sir.” He nodded, sight dropping to the two younglings in front of the Jedi.

Twi’lek girl–Ayyn if he remembered correctly–waved at him, rocking back and forth on her heels. She had definitely been excitable the last time he took her on a tour, but listened well enough. The other, a Bothan, was holding tight to the Jedi’s hands, half hidden by their robes as they eyed Fox suspiciously.

Master Dreti, the Jedi’s name finally came to Fox, slipped his hand out of the youngling’s pushing him gently forward. “This is Tav, Commander. He’s a bit nervous about his first field trip.”

Tav clutched his hands tightly in front of himself, body swiveling to look back at Master Dreti. The jedi simply made a shooing motion with his own hands, his face tugged up in an approximate smile.

Fox bit back a sigh and dropped down into a crouch, his elbows resting on his knees and hands brushing up against one another as they hung. Eye to eye with Tav, pardoning the helmet, Fox tried to soften his voice, “It’s good to meet you, Tav. I’m Commander Fox. Just going to be taking you on a little field trip around Coruscant. I swear every other youngling has enjoyed it–right Ayyn?” Ayyn nodded her head viscously, “Yeah! I knowww I told you all about my last one, c’mon!”

Tav looked between Fox and Ayyn. His ears twitched once as he looked back at Fox. “One field trip, kid. If you don’t like it, you never have to go on one with me again, alright?” He shifted his weight, letting one heel fall flat as he offered a hand to Tav. Palm up right and inviting, simply waiting.

Tav hesitated, shifting on his hooves. He glanced at Ayyn and Master Dreti once more. Finally, he reached out and took Fox’s hand. A smile tugged at Fox’s face under his bucket, one he didn’t bother to stamp down. Not like they could see it anyways.

“Good to have you joining us, Tav.” Pushing himself back up with his one planted foot, he stood face to face with Master Dreti again. Tav had tightened his grip on Fox’s fingers as Fox adjusted himself. A moment later and Fox was glancing down at his opposite side, Ayyn having bounded over and practically wrapped herself around his right arm. He felt the smile draining off of his face.

Master Dreti chuckled at the sight, tucking his arms into his overly flowy robes. “I will see you in two hours, younglings. Do behave for the Commander.” He finished his words off with a shallow bow, turning away and exiting the building, everything seemingly having been said.

Fox didn’t feel like it had been. Sure he knew the plan, who these kids were and where to take them, but he always just felt a step behind when it came to handling younglings. Maybe it was the whole force crap.

“Right, off we go then.” He shook Ayyn off of his arm, she doing most of the work as she gladly bounded ahead and out of the building. Tav didn’t seem to be keen on letting him go, walking so close to Fox that he may as well be trying to fuse himself to the armor. Not that Fox was set on forcing the youngling off of him though, it was easier if they could get through this trip without any fussing.

The walk to the bus station, thankfully, wasn’t long. Being quite frankly anywhere in the Senate district, sentients had places after places to visit. There was never a station too far away in this district, simply out of convenience for those poor sentients. Ayyn stayed within Fox’s sight, never wondering too far ahead. She constantly looked back and reeled herself in. Perhaps him snapping at her for wondering too far off ahead last time had stuck with her.

Sentients glanced at Fox, avoided him as he walked past. Even once they had come to pause at the station, despite how many were all waiting on the same shuttlebus, they let him have his own personal bubble. Their chatter quieted down and the stares weren’t exactly hard to feel. Fox kept staring straight ahead.

Ayyn slowly slunk back to his side as they waited. Shuffling step by step closer until she too, was pressed up against his side. Lekku occasionally hitting his side, Fox could feel her glancing around them, at the space they were given.

“Couldn’t we have just taken a speeder?” She whispered, tugging on Fox’s arm.

He did not look down, still staring out at the lanes of traffic, waiting for their vehicle to finally come in sight. “No, your Master said it was good to get accustomed to Coruscant public transit.”

Ayyn groaned, head bonking against Fox’s armor before she shifted away, seemingly unable to stay still for more than a couple seconds.

The shuttlebus hissed to a stop in front of the station, rocking to stop in the air, level with the platform beneath their feet. Sentients flew out of the vehicle as soon as the doors opened, their stream of movement quickly replaced with the many sentients boarding after them. Fox let himself and the younglings fall to the back of the line. He’d rather avoid the accusations of stealing a good seat from a natborn.

Ayyn took the brave step in front of Fox, boarding first. She shivered as she met the constantly cycling air inside of the bus, it surely being colder than the air outside. Only taking a moment to pause and look over the bus, Ayyn slid into the first row of seats, they left empty. Good, they could all sit together. Fox, as much as he might want to avoid conflict right now, wasn’t above kicking someone out of their seat so he could stay with the younglings.

Ayyn pressed up against the window seat, Tav hesitantly sitting next to her once Fox had wriggled his hand out of Tav’s. Sitting down, the aisle to his exposed right side, the bus finally jerked to a start, joining the ever constant flow of traffic.

“Ayyn.�� Fox spoke curtly, the girl already turned to look out the window. “Did Master Dreti give the two of you the rundown?”

“Mmhm! ‘Said we’re visiting the Fobosi District today!” “Yeah, Master said I should really like it, being forestry and all, I think?” Tav piped up, catching Fox only slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected that many words out of the seemingly shy kid.

“Correct. The Fobosi District was founded by many sentients collectively missing the nature of their homeworlds. It is now known to hold the most parks out of any of Coruscant's districts, as well as being home to several plant nurseries, plant shops, and traditional medicinal clinics.” “Oh..” Was Tav’s quiet reply, face tilted downward and furred face scrunched together. “What about the temple? We have all those things and more.”

“I’m sure that you do, but this is simply our destination for today. I’m certain you will find something new there.” He tried to sound confident, masking the fact that he honestly had no clue what Tav expected. Fox had never visited those areas of the Jedi Temple, he didn’t know what the jedi took a liking to and what they didn’t.

Fox leaned back in his seat, leaving the kids to their own. Ayyn resumed looking out the window, often tugging on Tav to point out things, their quiet chatter all too easy for Fox to tune out. He kept his sight roaming over the sentients on the bus, both those sitting and those leaving and those entering at every stop. He couldn’t help but be hypervigilant while away from base, younglings at his side or not. The war was only worsening tensions between clones and civilians, not to mention the ruckus that lower level gangs had been stirring up recently.

“Station 684, Fobosi District, now arriving at Station 684.” The voice crackled over the intercom, muffled with static as it was pushed out of old and half-broken speakers.

Ayyn and Tav were close on his heels as Fox stood stiffly at the announcement, being the first one to exit the bus. This sector of Coruscant was immediately and clearly far, far different from the scenery Fox was usually surrounded by. They had sunk quite a few levels, shadows towering and cutting off most of the sun. It didn’t feel dark, the streets and buildings practically bathed in lamp lights mimicking the sun. Green grew from just about every crack and cove in the district, so much so that they might as well have been drowning in it. “Woah..” Tav whispered at his side, hand fumbling against Fox’s before he found a hold.

Ayyn spun in a tight circle next to Fox, head tilted up and eyes sparkling as she took in the sights. Fox let the chuckle slip out of his mouth. They were just two shinies, stepping foot into what was possibly one of Fox’s favorite districts. It was popular among the Guard for a reason.

“C’mon, airheads. More to see than this.” He waved Ayyn along, Tav, predictably, still right at his side.

Leading the two jedi younglings through the streets, Fox settled into his role as not only a guard, but as a tour guide. He pointed out buildings and plaques, spilling the history of this district he had learned. He pointed out streets and their names and tried not to go into too much detail, like how during his 3rd visit to this district, he had met the great, great grandson of whom Valax St. had been named after.

He let them pause at a sunlamp, great vines covered in yellow flowers snaking up the pole, and let Ayyn wave to another child on the street who was, apparently, kind in the force, despite their parent who ushered their child away. He sighed when Tav complained for the third time about hurting hooves, picking up the youngling and letting him sit on one arm, his other still more than free to point out landmarks. He kept Ayyn in sight, she always a few bounding steps ahead, focusing on her rather than the blinking notifications in the corner of his HUD.

Their path through the district led them to a small park, metal walkways covered with dirt and fenced off. Grass sprung brightly from the dirt and trees waved in the wind caused by Coruscant's constantly recycled and refreshed air.

“This park was established thanks to the Lisar family from Naboo roughly half a century ago. Nearly all the plants here are taken directly from Naboo, including several endangered species, where they are allowed to grow uninterrupted here.” Fox repeated, summarizing approximately, the research he had done on the Lisar Park. It was a nice place really, but it was unlikely the younglings were going to remember half the words he spoke, as enraptured as they were.

“Oh! Oh! A pond!” Ayyn tugged at Fox, pulling him forward only slightly before bounding off towards the water glistening under sunlamps. “Yes a–” Ayyn was already at the water’s edge, leaning over to look at the fish swimming through the water. “--Koi pond.” Fox gently lowered Tav to his own hooves once they joined Ayyn’s side. Tav dropped to his knees, staring intensely at the water as he dipped his finger into the pond. Fox stood behind them, half heartedly observing them. Mostly, he stared lazily out at the walking paths that bent around the Koi pond. The park wasn’t exactly busy today, but Fox had yet to be disappointed by his never-too-careful philosophy.

Several sentients wandered by before any caught his attention. The simple presence of a Falleen had him tensing, scanning their body for any mark of the Black Sun. Said mark laid half-exposed as a tattoo on their neck. Fox loosened his stance, standing between the two younglings as he quickly sent out his own update.

This wasn’t Black Sun territory. Not only was it far too high for them, but it had remained in Guard control almost since they had begun purging the planet of her many crime syndicates. His message, bare and quick, was sent out to his fellow guard the same moment the Black Sun member noticed him. They paused, eyes locked with Fox’s helmet, hand twitching towards a hidden gun.

“Get out of here, Falleen.” Fox hissed out, voice cold and commanding.

The gang member glanced between the two younglings and Fox, a laugh slipping from their mouth, “Or what, Clone? I’m not the only one here.”

That was more than enough information for Fox to act on. He lunged at the Falleen, knocking them to the ground. Pinning their throat to the ground gave him the delay he needed to pull his pistol out and stun the man beneath him. Would hurt waking up from that, but Fox couldn’t exactly get himself to care a whole lot for them.

Standing, he took a picture of the knocked out Falleen, if for nothing but identification purposes. Gave them a reason to push even further into Black Sun territory, if he escaped, if nothing else. Turning on his heel, Fox slipped his pistol back into its holster, once more facing the two younglings. They both stood upright now, wide eyed and speechless.

“Field trip’s over. Let's go.” He beckoned the children towards him, setting off on a brisk pace, following the path they had taken into the garden.

Commander Thorn’s holoprojection appeared above his wrist not a moment after he dialed the man, “Saw your message–” “Yeah,” Fox cut him off, looking to his side as he spoke. Good, the kids were keeping up. “Apparently he isn’t the only one. Guessing they’re going to try to encircle our lands. I needed a squad here about five minutes ago. Get on it.”

“Yes sir. Con and his men should be with you in eight minutes,” “Tell them to make it kriffing six.”

“Will do. K'oyacyi.” “K'oyacyi.”

Fox was forced to slow his steps as he hung up on Thorn, Tav grasping for his hand. The little Bothan taking three steps for every one of Fox’s. Ayyn, too, was just barely staying in stride with Fox.

“What was–What was that?” Ayyn’s voice trembled, glancing over her shoulder at where the pond was once visible. “Coruscant, Kid. Keep moving.” His voice had lost any of the warmth he might’ve once had as he spoke to the children, far too worried about keeping his eye out for threats.

He might’ve enjoyed this, might’ve made it a little game of cat and mouse between him and the unsuspecting Black Sun delinquents, were it not for Ayyn and Tav. He needed them to be back at base, at the temple. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Black Sun even tried to use the jedi younglings against them.

Metal rang out beneath their feet as they stepped out of the quiet garden, the sudden increase in sentients around them painfully obvious to Fox. The pushed through the crowds, Fox no longer caring about going with the flow, like they had on their first time walking these streets together.

Fox retraced their steps faithfully, leading them closer and closer to the bus stop. An arbitrary and uncommunicated meeting spot, sure, but it was familiar for the kids and well out in the open. Easy for his guards to spot him, and easy for him to keep an eye on their surroundings.

A blaster bolt whizzed past his neck, scorching the plastiod armor. It bent unnaturally, running straight into a wall, harmless, besides for some vines. Startled yells filled the air, sentients clearing out of their way. “Sorry–Stars!” Tav squeaked out, “I just–there was–” “Shut it.” Fox took the clear sign and sped up their pace, scooping Tav into his arms before breaking into a sprint, Ayyn only barely able to keep up with the pace, her face twisted with the effort.

Fox counted the seconds in his head as they ran. They were a minute ahead of the meeting time as the bus stop came into view. He skidded to a stop, nearly dropping Tav to the ground as he unholstered his pistols, pointing them towards the ground as he stared at every sentient who had even dared to show their face today. Ayyn was several moments behind Fox, coming to a gradual stop. She doubled over herself, hands on her knees, barely propping herself up as she caught her breath.

A blue blaster bolt skimmed past Fox’s helmet, unflinching as a guard speeder made itself clear in the flow of traffic, redirecting its course to land near the trio. Fox grinned at the sound of a body thunking to the ground.

“Half a minute early, Con!”

“Figured I should try to stay on your good side, Commander.” The trooper yelled out as his partner pulled the speeder to the ledge, Con hopping onto solid ground.

“More effective if I could have someone haul these two back to base.” Fox tilted his head down to the two jedi younglings, already nudging them closer to the guard speeders, where three more had parked alongside Con’s.

“Yes sir.” Con gestured towards two of his men to stay on their speeders, the rest already joining him on solid ground.

Fox guided Ayyn and Tav over to the speeders, pausing before he helped them on. “Hope you two had fun, try not to tell Master Dreti too much about this part of the trip.” Warmth finally bleeding back into his voice as he spoke.

Moments later and they were off, heading back to the Guard’s base. Fox did not spare the time to watch them disappear. He joined Con’s side, pistols comfortably in his hands. The Black Sun was sorely mistaken if they thought that Fox was just going to let the Fobosi District slip away from him. ____

@tazmbc1 and @whiskygoldwings , I believe you both wanted to be tagged? Severely sorry if I misread it and you didn't.

#commander fox #commander thorn #cc 1010 #jedi #minor oc roles #star wars #tcw #writing #I think Fox is the kinda guy who really wants to hate children #but he just cant #my writing

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blog-name-idk · 2 years ago

Text

The Package Thief (KNJ)

Beautiful banner by @btsstan12

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader

Genre: Neighbors/Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor

Summary: You have a new neighbor who is incredibly attractive. Unfortunately, he seems to hate you for no discernable reason at all. Does he think that just because he's hot, he can get away with being an asshole?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader

Genre: Neighbors/Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor

Word Count: 3,473

Warnings: Language, dimples, Namtiddies

~~~~~

The first time you saw your tall, handsome, dimple-cheeked neighbor, you were thrilled to have some eye candy in your apartment building. You had just moved in, and when he smiled at you in the lobby, you could have sworn you heard birds chirp and angels sing.

When you spotted him again while gathering up the packages for your floor, you perked up, hoping it would be your chance to get his name.

"Oh hey! Could you hold that for me?" you called as he stepped past the sliding doors. You juggled the boxes awkwardly in your hand as you hurried forward with a smile, only for the handsome stranger to glare at you as if you were doing something wrong. He then pressed a button that was clearly not to keep the door open, because it slid shut in your face.

"What the fuck?" you asked the air, staring at the metal frame incredulously. Who the hell did something like that? Did this asshole think he was too good to share the elevator with you?

Ugh, it figured. Of course someone that hot would never have learned to be a good person.

With a sigh, you jammed the "up" button with your elbow to wait for the next one. Your ire cooled as you waited, and you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just had to take a shit really badly or something, and what you thought was a glare was actually his constipated face. He would probably apologize the next time you ran into each other.

~~~~~

Your neighbor did not apologize the next time you ran into each other.

If anything, he seemed to glare harder. And then the prick closed the door in your face, again. Unbelievable.

You weren't going to take this abuse laying down, so whenever you were in the position to do so, you returned the favor. It felt good to see the same irritation on his face each time the metal door slid shut, and you relished in your petty victories. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. Did he really think that just because he was hot, he could get away with being a dick?

On this particular day, you had worked late to clean up after a coworker's mistakes, and you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was take off your shoes and bra and listen to some music while you fought off the urge to angry cry.

Of course, because the universe hated you, you got to the lobby to see the smug, obnoxious smirk on your neighbor's face as he jammed the door close button. You clenched your teeth, feeling heat and frustration build behind your eyes, and gave him your most venomous glare as you flipped him off. You were not going to give this horrible piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

Once he was gone, you pressed the elevator button, only to notice the sign indicating the other was broken. So you had to wait for piece-of-shit to get to whatever the fuck floor he lived on before it came back. It was a small thing, but enough to break through the cracks of your composure, and you felt hot tears begin to leak down your face.

You wiped your eyes angrily and took several deep breaths while you pulled yourself back together. Well, if you were going to have to wait, you might as well bring the packages up to your floor again. No point in leaving them down here for anyone to take.

As you waited for the elevator, you wondered how in the world anyone could be such a raging asshole.

~~~~~

"God, someone stole a package again yesterday," groaned Namjoon over a glass of scotch. It was Friday, the first night he had free in weeks, and it felt good to unwind after being frustrated by his bitchy neighbor for so long. Seriously, what was up with her? Did she think that just because she was hot she could get away with stealing peoples' mail?

"Again?" Jimin said in surprise, taking a sip of his own drink. "What about building management?"

"What do you mean?" Namjoon asked with a baffled furrow of his brow. Jimin lived in the same building, but on a different floor. Now that Namjoon thought about it, he'd also never heard his friend complain about a single package stolen.

"Do they just not bring up your stuff soon enough?" Jimin questioned, cocking his head. "The girl who brings the packages for my floor even organizes them by unit order."

What the hell was Jimin on about? That wasn't a thing. Oblivious to his friend's confusion, Jimin rambled on, and Namjoon pondered on this new mystery. The only person he'd ever seen picking up several packages was –

"She's really cute too, and she's always smiling."

Okay nevermind, it wasn't her. He doubted he'd seen an expression on her face other than irritation and spite. She was definitely attractive, but hot bitch wasn't really the type that turned him on.

"Oh, there she is, actually!" Jimin chirped in excitement, eyes sparkling as he waved at someone over Namjoon's shoulder. "Hey, [y/n]!"

The mystery girl in question greeted his friend with a vaguely familiar voice, and when Namjoon turned to see who it was, he felt his stomach drop.

You stared back, clearly just as shocked, and Namjoon did his best not to ogle. You weren't wearing anything outrageous, just tight-fitting jeans, a slinky top that hugged your curves, and heels that highlighted how your ass filled out said tight-fitting jeans. Even without the clothes, the smile on your face was enough to make his stomach do something funny, though it quickly faded when you recognized him.

"This is my friend Namjoon!" Jimin continued cheerfully, oblivious to the tense atmosphere suddenly hanging over the table. "He lives in our building! Namjoon, this is [y/n], she's the building person that brings up our packages."

You gave a forced smile, and Namjoon felt the beginning prickles of nausea and anxiety as he realized he might have made a tiny misjudgment.

"I just do it for our floor because it's on the way," you explained quietly, avoiding his gaze. The edges of your smile grew warmer when you looked at Jimin, transforming your face from glacial beauty to soft sincerity.

"Then I definitely owe you a drink," Jimin responded with a laugh, motioning for Namjoon to scoot over to give you room to sit. He obeyed woodenly, mind racing as guilt weighed down his heart.

"Don't worry about it," you assured him with a chuckle that made something in Namjoon's chest ache. "I'm about to walk home, anyway."

"Alone?"

You looked at Namjoon in surprise, and he realized he spoke aloud. He cleared his throat, feeling like a stupid lump as he looked down at his drink with warm cheeks. Despite the relative proximity of the apartment, he didn't like the idea of you alone this late at night.

"Yeah? It's not that far," you said suspiciously, as if waiting for a snide comment. It made his chest sink, though it wasn't as if you didn't have a good reason for your misgivings. He spoke up again, hoping maybe he could talk to you and have the chance to explain his earlier behavior.

"Why don't you have a drink with us, and we can all walk back together?"

To his surprise, you stiffened and the corners of your mouth tightened into a thin line.

"Why? So you can make me take another elevator?" you asked angrily, making Namjoon flush and Jimin look between the two of you in confusion. "No thanks, my week has been exhausting enough already. I'll see you around, Jimin."

With that, you stomped away in unfortunately righteous indignation, and Namjoon barely had time to admire the sway of your hips before Jimin piped up.

"What was that all about?" his friend asked with a frown, his usually twinkling eyes now boring into Namjoon's. He felt heat creep up his face as he sighed and began to tell Jimin the entire saga, from how he had assumed you were stealing packages and proceeded to close the elevator door in your face, to the current state of antagonism. By the time he was finished, his friend's mouth was hanging open, and he felt more embarrassment at just how childishly he had acted.

"Joonie, I'm just really surprised," said Jimin wonderingly as he rubbed his forehead. "It's not like you to be like that."

Namjoon winced, knowing he was right. He liked to think that he was the more mature, level-headed one of their friend group, above silly squabbles and petty revenge. Obviously he had overestimated himself.

"I hope you haven't done anything recently, I think she's been having a hard time at work," Jimin mused, and Namjoon felt the lead weight of guilt in his stomach grow heavier. At this rate it was going to fall out of his butt. "She was crying in the lobby yesterday."

Well fuck. He really was an asshole.

~~~~~

You had just arrived home and flopped facedown on your couch when your recharging was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. With a groan, you forced yourself up and peered through your peephole. What the fuck?

You made sure your chain lock was fastened before you unlocked the latch and cracked the door open, peering at your visitor dubiously.

"What do you want?" you asked, eyeing a beaming Namjoon in suspicion. You had never seen him look so cheerful, and you had to remind yourself he was not a golden retriever, no matter how cute he looked with flour dusting his nose or how deep his dimples were.

"I made cookies," he said happily, and you realized he was holding a paper plate covered in crumpled tin foil. "To apologize for the way I've been acting towards you."

You felt your brows raise at his statement, and you cast your eyes behind him in mistrust. Where had this one-eighty come from? Was it just because his friend lived on your floor?

Namjoon's shoulders drooped slightly at your lack of response, and he began to shift in place awkwardly.

"Um, I just – so I know I've been a dick to you," he began, chewing his lip and looking adorably embarrassed. "This is gonna sound stupid but I thought you were stealing packages when I saw you holding all of them."

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

"You thought that I would steal a bunch of packages, in the building I live in, while other residents were around?" you asked incredulously, making Namjoon turn bright red and clear his throat.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he mumbled awkwardly. "I just… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I hope we can start over."

He peered at you with such hopeful eyes that you felt your resolve crumble, and when you unhooked the chain from your door you could have sworn you saw a tail wagging.

"Okay," you replied, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the way he had perked up. Those dimples were serious weapons against your ability to hold a grudge. You held out your hand. "I'm [y/n], and I do not steal packages."

Namjoon laughed, a low, rich sound that you felt vibrate in your stomach, and took your hand in a firm, warm grip.

"I'm Namjoon, and I'm an idiot who jumps to crazy conclusions," he said with a grin that deepened the stupidly cute divots in his cheeks. Then he had to let go to save the wobbling plate of cookies from an untimely demise before holding it toward you with a look of chagrin.

You accepted his offering with a laugh, feeling like a warm bubble was floating in your chest. Then you bade your hot, not-asshole neighbor goodbye and set the plate on your kitchen table. You peeked under the foil, and decided maybe one cookie before dinner was acceptable. Or maybe two, if –

You took a bite of the soft, delicious looking pastry and immediately spat it out in disgust. What the fuck.

~~~~~

Namjoon Hyung! It worked!

Jin Wait, you actually made the cookies?

Namjoon Yes! They came out perfectly No fires and only a few cracked eggs on my floor!

Jin I'm impressed How'd they taste?

Namjoon Oh fuck

~~~~~

For the second time tonight, your evening was interrupted by unwelcome pounding at your door. You didn't even bother to check who it was this time.

"What do you have this time?" you snarled through the door, wondering if it was worth it to open it so you could strangle Namjoon's handsome neck. "Oreos with toothpaste filling?"

The knocking ceased, and a small, timid voice spoke up on the other side of the wood.

"Oh… you had one…"

"Unfortunately," you said shortly, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep his woebegone tone from softening your ire.

"I was hoping you hadn't yet," he wheezed through the door. "I forgot to taste them before I gave them to you."

He sounded sincere, and suddenly you realized he was speaking through pants, as if he was out of breath.

"Did you run all the way up here to warn me?" you asked in surprise, mollified enough to unlock your door and open it to reveal a rumpled looking Namjoon, bent over with his hands on his knees.

"Yeah – I didn't want to wait for the elevator," he replied, red-cheeked from exertion. "I'm sorry, I'm actually a disaster cook but I really thought I did a good job this time."

You felt your lips twitch into a smile at the imagine of tall, handsome Namjoon tasting a cookie and then immediately bolting up however many flights of stairs to stop you from eating them. What a clumsy idiot. A clumsy, adorable idiot.

"Do you want some water?" you asked, stepping aside to invite him in.

"That would be amazing," he gasped, giving you a grateful look as he walked inside. As he passed you, you noticed a few beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He really was even more attractive up close.

You directed him to sit on your couch as you grabbed a glass of water, and he picked up the book you had left on your coffee table.

"Oh, you read Murakami?" he asked as he looked at the cover. "I haven't read this one yet, is it any good?"

"It's my first, actually," you replied as you set the glass in front of him, sitting on the couch a respectable distance away. "I think he presents ideas of loneliness and intimacy in interesting ways. Does he always write the women as accessories to the male protagonists, though?"

"Haha… unfortunately, yes," Namjoon agreed, his dangerous dimples making another appearance as he smiled apologetically at you. "Do you read a lot?"

"I try, but not as much as I used to," you said with a sigh, letting your head fall back to rest on the back of your couch. "After work sometimes I'm too mentally exhausted to do anything but exist."

"But you still bring your floor's packages up?" Namjoon said in surprise, turning his wide chest towards you and giving you his full attention. You tried not to stare at the way his pecs strained against his plain white shirt, but between his body and his face there was nowhere safe for your gaze to land.

"It's not like it's that much extra effort," you said with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I when it's easy?"

"It wouldn't even cross most peoples' minds to do it," Namjoon replied, eyes locked on yours and making your cheeks feel warm. "You're a nice person, [y/n]."

"I-it's really not a big deal," you said feebly, your chest fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. You cast about your mind for a change in subject, because the way he was smiling at you was dangerous for your heart. "How did you fuck up those cookies so spectacularly, anyway?"

Your question worked to take that piercing gaze off of you, and Namjoon turned a pretty shade of pink as he looked down at his knees.

"I uh – I'm really not sure," he muttered in embarrassment, making you want to coo at how cute he was.

"Did you… follow a recipe?" you asked in consternation, watching his cheeks grow even redder.

"I… yeah, but…" he mumbled, eyes glancing around before settling on the glass of water. He grabbed it and took a large swig, and you did your best to ignore the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

"But?" you urged, amusement lacing your voice as this once-asshole stammered and squirmed uncomfortably on your sofa.

"Why wouldn't more vanilla extract make it taste better?" Namjoon whined, making you put your hand over your mouth to hide a snort.

"Oh my god, you didn't," you giggled, his chagrined pout doing as much to endear him to you as the previous half our combined. "It also tasted like you switched salt for sugar."

"Dammit," he groaned, flopping backwards so he was oddly contorted on the couch, feet still on the ground but his hips twisted so his back was laying on your cushions. His knees knocked against yours and he shot back up with an apologetic look, but all you could do was laugh harder.

"My friend who gave me the recipe was just impressed I didn't burn anything down," he sighed, though he seemed relieved that you looked more amused than irritated.

"You… you really don't cook, do you?" you chortled, scooting a little closer so you could nudge his shoulder with yours.

"I'm your stereotypical bachelor," he replied with a sigh, draping an arm behind you, across the back of the couch. You felt your heart flutter again at the smooth combination of the physical action with the way he confirmed he was single.

"So no pretty ladies – or men – to teach you?" you teased, leaning further into his body. He met your eyes with his warm gaze, making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

"Nope," he murmured, arm slipping off the sofa to rest lightly atop your shoulders, so precarious that it was clear he was half-expecting you to shrug him off.

"I guess that means I should invite you to stay for dinner," you said with a smile, enjoying the ego boost when his eyes brightened.

"No pretty men – or ladies – who would be upset by that?" he hedged, those dastardly dimples making their reappearance as he leaned closer, gaze flickering to your lips. His arm slipped lower to hug your waist, and you let him pull you closer.

"Only one who would be upset if you refused," you murmured with a smirk, tangling your fingers in his shirt as you tugged him toward you.

His lips were warm against yours, even softer than they looked, and you let out a pleased sigh as you melted into his firm chest. A low groan rumbled from his throat, sending warm tingles shooting from your chest through your limbs, and you sucked his plump lower lip between your teeth.

"I really just thought you were a hot asshole," you said with a laugh, pulling away despite the heat beginning to settle in your core.

"I mean, I was definitely an asshole," he mumbled, cheeks pink as his gaze stayed glued to your lips. Then his eyes widened. "Uh, h-hot?"

You snorted at his surprise, giving him a very obvious once over. Namjoon's face flamed even redder, which was absolutely adorable.

"Have you seen yourself?" you teased, letting your hands rest on his shoulders.

"Nah, too busy looking at you," he replied quietly, and it was your turn to be flustered. How had he turned the tables like that so quickly?

"Ha ha," you said awkwardly, cursing yourself for your inability to formulate a coherent response. He was supposed to be the idiot, not you. At your response, those dimples made their reappearance, and you stood up to prevent yourself from melting into a gooey puddle.

"Anyway, I'm gonna start dinner."

You said it in a rush, in the hopes that Namjoon didn't realize how giddy he was making you.

"Oh! Let me help!"

He began to get up from the couch, and you promptly shoved him back down.

"For the love of god, please don't," you teased with a laugh, pressing a kiss on his nose to ease the sting of your words. "Just sit there and look pretty. Moral support."

Namjoon smiled back at you, eyes warm and affectionate, and you wondered if you would even be able to focus properly while this mancake was lounging on your couch.

"As you wish."

~~~~~

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