#anyway anyway the desk isn’t the point… look at Them…

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

That bit where “you can’t possibly be (fill in the thing here) because you’re so smart!” thing has made me want to fist fight adults my whole life.

They usually meant it as a compliment but it always made me see red. I still see red when I hear someone say something similar about a kid now.

I’m dyslexic and was diagnosed as such in 2nd grade. I’m also convinced I’m autistic and ADHD but haven’t bothered to get a diagnosis as an adult.

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TEACHERS WERE LIKE “I never would have guessed you were dyslexic!”? BITCH, YOU’VE HAD MY IEP SINCE BEFORE THE SCHOOL YEAR STARTED! DID YOU NOT READ IT?!

No. They didn’t. Not till I said something to force them to do their jobs.

The worst example was 7th grade French.

I’d been quiet about the fact that my French teacher was marking down my tests because my spelling wasn’t correct. My IEP specifically said “if it isn’t a spelling test, you can ask this kid to go back and fix it after the test, but spelling cannot count against their grade.” Anyway, I was used to it taking a few weeks before a teacher got around to reading my IEP because it was usually at the bottom of a large stack of them due to my last name being at the end of the alphabet. And one or two C’s at the beginning of the year wasn’t anything I couldn’t come back from.

Well… it never got corrected. He didn’t stop docking points for spelling.

After what I deemed was plenty of time to get his shit together, I confronted him about it.

Now, I’ll tell you, I was in an advanced French class that was designed to give gifted middle school kids a head start on their high school foreign language. We had to be recommended by name by the 5th/6th grade foreign language teacher to qualify for this class.

So I told him “you can’t lower my grade for spelling” and he said something along the lines of “that’s part of the point. It’s French.” And I was like “no, really. You can’t do this to me. I’m dyslexic.”

And guys. This grown ass man looked at a 13 year old kid and with his full chest said “I wasn’t supposed to have any of you in this class.”

Any of you.

It’s a good thing I was already mad or that would have made me cry.

I’d been othered plenty in my life up till then for being weird, clearly a baby queer, having a mom that called teachers out for not using standard English, being dyslexic, etc. This was just the first time that a teacher had been that blatant about it to my face. No attempt of being politically correct or gentle or anything. No, “I never would have guessed!” as a way to try and make it a compliment.

Just flat out “you are not supposed to be here. You are not good enough or smart enough to be here. You existing has made my life harder when you weren’t allowed to do so.”

I marched out of his class and went straight to the Special Ed teacher who’s “class” (it was really a study hall for kids who had a learning disability of some variety and needed the extra help or was at least entitled to it by the state) I had right after French. I would usually use that time to finish my homework so I wouldn’t have to do it at home. Sometimes my homework was already done so I’d help the other kids. The teacher would check in with me to make sure I didn’t need any help, but I never did.

Well, now I needed help.

She could tell I was mad because I’m not subtle and, ya know, the previous class hadn’t ended yet. She asked what was wrong and I didn’t mince words. She told me to stay put and then she marched out of the room.

I wish I’d followed her. I can only imagine the new asshole she ripped him.

Sure enough, statring the next day, every little bit of my IEP was being followed to the letter in French class. From my spelling not counting to the jerk using a microphone for my hearing and sticking me in the back of the class with the speaker instead of just turning one desk 90° and letting me sit there.

I fought for the desk instead of the microphone but he was following the IEP so I didn’t win that one. Besides, now that my needs were being met, I was getting some of the best grades in the class, and therefore belonged in the back “privileged smart kids” seats that he’d put me in.

(Yes, the man segregated his rows by your class grade. We all knew who was doing well and who wasn’t by where he sat you.)

On the bright side, I met a good friend by sitting in the back.

He wasn’t an employee at the school when I returned for 8th grade.

Anyway.

Gifted kids just get neglected because the school feels they can get away with it. They don’t react well when theres a gifted kid with an IEP and knows not to let them get away with it.

They treat those kids like shit. They tell those kids they are special and the future but also that they are a burden and shouldn’t be with the actually smart and special children.

These kids bounce back and forth between class rooms full of other neglected gifted kids and class rooms full of other neglected special needs kids. In the former they are treated like the dead weight and in the latter they are treated like the teacher’s assistant so the teacher doesn’t have to help the one kid who needs the most help in the class, because “they’ll get that kid through this group project. It’s fine.”

These children and bored to tears in one scenario and ripping their hair out from frustration in the other.

Not smart enough and too smart all at once. Out smarting the adults around you but somehow never doing well enough to get all A’s.

Constantly battling the teachers, good and bad over your needs.

Watching your friends fall through the cracks because they weren’t lucky enough to have a parent who worked in this system and taught them how to fight it. Watching some of them deem themselves stupid when they AREN’T but everything is telling them they are and they’ve stopped trying and other friends never learn the basic skills like note taking because they read in class and still get good grades.

Neither one of these friends knowing the point of school is to learn and not to pass tests because the school is telling them it’s all about grades and tests and so you watch all of your friends lack the actual knowledge they’re supposed to be gaining.

“You’re supposed to give me the multiple choice questions.” “You asked me to help you study. If you can’t answer the question without the multiple choice, you don’t know the answer.” Non of the other gifted kids at the table seeing my point and the other kids in our friend group saying “this is why I don’t bother.”

Our school system is so fucked.

That is all.

people misunderstand what ‘gifted kid’ actually means but it’s ok it’s fine it’s cool it’s good

[soupdwelling]

s4 jondaisy on my mind as always

[hjpsdiary]

slytherin boy's headcons (them as ur bf <3)

theodore nott as your boyfriend :

• he’s the definition of quiet but observant; he notices every little thing about you, from your favorite snacks to how you fidget when nervous.

• doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s meaningful—his compliments feel rare and precious.

• surprisingly affectionate in private; he’ll always find excuses to brush his fingers against yours or pull you close when no one’s looking.

• reads a lot and will casually leave books he thinks you’d like in your bag or on your desk.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it—he’ll silently step in when someone’s bothering you or shoot a glare that makes them back off immediately.

• has a sarcastic sense of humor that comes out more as he gets comfortable with you; you’re one of the few people who ever see him smile.

• remembers everything you say, even the small things, and will surprise you by acting on it weeks later.

• not big on grand romantic gestures but makes up for it with small, thoughtful actions, like brewing your favorite tea or saving you a seat in class.

• loves stargazing; it’s one of the rare times he really opens up, sharing his thoughts and dreams while lying next to you under the stars.

• isn’t the best with words when expressing feelings but tries to write them down for you in short, heartfelt notes.

• values trust above all else; if you’re patient with him, he’ll let his walls down completely and be endlessly loyal.

• his love language is acts of service—he’ll carry your books, fix your broken quill, or help you study without you even asking.

• secretly adores when you wear something of his, like a sweater or scarf, and won’t say it outright but will be internally smug all day.

• has a soft, calming presence that makes you feel safe and at ease no matter what’s going on around you.

• he’s not perfect, sometimes retreating into himself when overwhelmed, but he’ll always come back to you, knowing you’re his anchor.

mattheo riddle as your boyfriend :

• the ultimate bad boy with a soft spot only for you; he’s tough around others but absolutely melts when it comes to you.

• constantly teases you but gets genuinely offended if you don’t fire back—he loves the banter.

• incredibly protective to the point where he’ll square up with anyone who even looks at you the wrong way.

• thrives on physical touch—his arm is always slung around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers intertwined with yours.

• has a devilish grin that he only uses to fluster you because he knows it works every single time.

• somehow knows exactly where you are at all times, and not in a creepy way—just always shows up when you need him.

• calls you ridiculous nicknames like “princess,” “trouble,” or “love,” depending on his mood.

• super possessive but not in a toxic way—he just loves reminding people that you’re his.

• absolutely hates when you’re upset with him and will go out of his way to apologize, even if it means swallowing his pride.

• smokes casually and offers you his jacket when it’s cold, the scent of him lingering on it for hours after.

• loves pulling you into trouble with him, whether it’s sneaking out after curfew or pranking someone, but always makes sure you’re safe.

• surprisingly intellectual—he can talk about dark magic theories for hours and gets a kick out of teaching you forbidden spells.

• his temper can flare up, especially when someone crosses you, but he always calms down when you’re around.

• absolutely adores seeing you in his clothes; he’ll smirk and say, “Looks better on you, anyway.”

• deeply loyal—once you have his heart, there’s no getting rid of him, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

• loves late-night conversations, where he gets a little vulnerable and tells you about his past and his fears.

• has a soft side he rarely shows, but when he does, it’s for you—whether it’s stroking your hair when you’re stressed or mumbling “I love you��� when he thinks you’re asleep.

• he’s chaos personified, but somehow, with you, he feels like he’s finally found a bit of peace.

lorenzo birkshire as your boyfriend:

• he’s the smooth talker who flirts like it’s second nature, but with you, it’s genuine—he means every word.

• loves to make you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to crack jokes, pull silly faces, or do over-the-top impressions just to see you smile.

• low-key a hopeless romantic; he’ll surprise you with little handwritten notes, flowers he “found,” or surprise dates in secret spots.

• absolutely loves PDA—he’s the type to kiss your cheek in front of everyone or hold your hand just to let people know you’re his.

• he’s fiercely loyal, and anyone who tries to mess with you instantly regrets it; he’ll defend you without hesitation.

• the type to whisper in your ear during class, making you both laugh quietly, even if it earns him a detention.

• incredibly charming but gets adorably flustered when you flirt back or catch him off guard.

• loves spoiling you in small ways—buying you your favorite sweets, carrying your bag, or sneaking you an extra butterbeer during Hogsmeade trips.

• surprisingly good at comforting you when you’re upset; he’ll listen, wrap you in a warm hug, and crack just the right joke to lighten the mood.

• lives for the banter between you two; he thinks it’s hilarious when you try to outwit him, even if you win.

• would give you his scarf or cloak without hesitation if you were cold and wouldn’t stop teasing you about looking “adorable” in it.

• the type to plan spontaneous adventures, dragging you out of bed to sneak around the castle or explore forbidden areas.

• he’s a mix of chaotic energy and soft affection, always knowing when to be playful and when to be serious.

• low-key brags about you to his friends but pretends he’s “too cool” to care when they tease him about how smitten he is.

• loves running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, especially when you’re sitting close or leaning against him.

• insists on being your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up before exams, Quidditch matches, or even small challenges.

• gets jealous easily but tries to play it off—he’s terrible at hiding it, though, and ends up pouting until you reassure him.

• he’s the kind of boyfriend who’s both your partner in crime and your safe place, balancing wild fun with genuine love.

draco malfoy as your boyfreind:

• starts off guarded, but once he lets his walls down, he’s completely devoted to you.

• the type to act all cool and aloof in public but secretly loves holding your hand or brushing his fingers against yours.

• buys you extravagant gifts, not because he’s trying to show off, but because it’s how he expresses his love—jewelry, rare books, or even something sentimental he knows you’ll cherish.

• incredibly protective; he’d go out of his way to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, whether that means intimidating someone who’s bothering you or walking you to every class.

• struggles to express his emotions verbally but makes up for it through his actions—he’ll always be there when you need him, no questions asked.

• low-key thrives on your praise; hearing you say you’re proud of him or appreciate him makes him feel on top of the world.

• gets jealous easily and tries to play it cool, but his little snarky comments give him away every time.

• loves spoiling you in subtle ways, like slipping your favorite dessert onto your plate at dinner or reserving the best spot in the library for you.

• softens dramatically when he’s with you; he goes from sharp sarcasm to quiet vulnerability in your presence.

• late-night talks are where he truly opens up, sharing his fears, insecurities, and dreams he’s too afraid to admit to anyone else.

• secretly loves when you mess with his perfectly styled hair, even though he’ll complain about it every time.

• will drape his scarf or coat around your shoulders if you’re cold, muttering something about how he “can’t have you freezing to death.”

• loves hearing you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to say something witty just to see you smile, even if it’s at his expense.

• incredibly attentive to your needs—he notices when you’re tired, stressed, or upset, and does everything he can to help.

• he’s not big on public displays of affection but will always find little ways to show you’re his, like resting his hand on your lower back or standing close enough for your shoulders to touch.

• gets flustered when you compliment him, especially if you call him handsome or clever—he’ll roll his eyes, but his pink cheeks give him away.

• he’s not perfect and sometimes lashes out when he’s stressed, but he’s quick to apologize and make it up to you.

• when he says he loves you, it’s rare but deeply meaningful—you can tell he means it with everything he has.

• despite his flaws, he’s fiercely loyal, endlessly protective, and wholly yours, doing everything he can to make you feel loved.

blaise zabini as your boyfriend:

• effortlessly smooth and confident, he doesn’t even need to try to charm you—it’s just who he is.

• the king of subtle but meaningful gestures, like holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair, or placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd.

• loves to spoil you, but in a classy, understated way—think fine chocolate, rare books, or spontaneous weekend getaways.

• very private about your relationship; he keeps most of his affection behind closed doors but isn’t shy about letting people know you’re his.

• gives the best advice; he’s incredibly perceptive and always knows the right thing to say when you’re stressed or upset.

• he’s not big on loud, over-the-top displays of affection, but his actions always show how much he cares—he’s the type to quietly take care of things before you even ask.

• loves watching you talk about something you’re passionate about; he’ll rest his chin in his hand and just admire you with a soft smile.

• has a wicked sense of humor and loves teasing you, but it’s always playful and never hurtful—he secretly loves when you tease him back.

• he’s the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, but you’re the only one who can fluster him when you catch him off guard with affection or a well-timed compliment.

• ridiculously good at remembering details about you, like your favorite drink, your childhood stories, or even the exact shade of your favorite lipstick.

• loves to keep you close—whether it’s casually draping an arm over your shoulder or pulling you into his lap when you’re alone together.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it; one look from him is enough to make anyone second-guess bothering you.

• will casually drop compliments about you in conversations with his friends, but if they tease him about being soft, he just smirks and doesn’t deny it.

• he’s a fantastic listener and always makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the room when you’re talking to him.

• takes immense pride in how you carry yourself and always reminds you of how incredible you are, even if you don’t see it yourself.

• adores dressing up for dates with you and insists on coordinating outfits so you both look effortlessly elegant together.

• late nights with him often involve deep conversations, a bottle of wine, and a lot of soft touches as he shares pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else.

• has a surprisingly tender side—he’ll hold you close when you’re feeling down, whispering reassurances that everything will be okay.

• he’s all about balance: the perfect mix of suave, playful, and deeply caring, making you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

[g0dlyunsub]

make you mine.

spencer notices that you’ve been skipping a few too many team socials.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: romantic confessions, mentions of alcohol, mental health, hurt/comfort, plenty of fluff, spencer is a huge softie

word count :: 2.3k

author’s note :: don’t think i’ve written anything where reader and spencer confess their feelings for each other?? anyways here’s to more hurt/comfort 

accompanying song :: sugar by brockhampton

“who’s up for drinks at o’keefe’s?”

a loud cheer erupts as the elevator doors open and reveals garcia standing in front of the entrance with a gleeful smile.

“count me in!” jj raises a hand and emily promptly follows suit. the two giggle as they lean in to embrace the tech analyst festively decorated with bright red jewelry.

when rossi declares the first round’s on me! the room breaks into an even louder celebration, whistles and applause sounding left and right.

moving past the crowd with a few happy chants of your own, you finally settle in your seat and stretch. sighing, you shuffle through the pile of case files sitting on your desk and stuff several into your shoulder bag. you tie up your hair and take out a pen from your pencil holder. once again exhaling with a deep sigh, you flip through the remaining manila folders, ready to document all of the evidence after today’s investigation.

“you’re coming, right?”

you crane your neck to your left to identify the source of the voice and see morgan, hands on his hips as he scans your face for your usual smile teeming with enthusiasm. you offer a feeble smile instead, shaking your head as you point to the case file you’re working on.

“i’d really love to, but… this paper isn’t going to write itself.”

“oh come on, not again. when’s it due?”

“tomorrow noon,” you mumble, gently rolling your head to the side to relieve the pain that’s been begging for release.

“you’re kidding. well, text me if you need a hand, or if you just want company.” morgan pats your back and turns around to leave, but not without first flashing you a wink. you watch as he slings his arm around garcia’s shoulder and as the rest of the team follow the pair out of the office, each giving you a wave before they disappear into the elevator.

“you’re not going?”

you turn around to see spencer, who’s just coming out of hotch’s office and holding a case file of his own. he turns off the lights upstairs and walks down the stairs, stopping once he’s in front of your desk.

“oh, um, no. i just need to finish writing this up really quickly, and then i’ll head back.”

you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and turn in your seat to get back to work, but spencer pulls up a chair beside you.

“that’s the third time in a row you’ve said no to them. you okay?”

you sit still for a second, unsure of how to respond. when spencer leans his elbow on the side of your desk, you know he’s not going to leave without an answer, so you look back at him hesitantly.

“yeah, i’m good. what’s keeping you here?”

“i just left a request to take two days off.”

“oh, nice. yeah, you seriously deserve a break,” you nod and offer a small smile. despite your friendly expression, the tiredness in your voice overrides your genuine words. before you can expose any more of your sluggish lethargy, you revert your attention back to your documents.

“yeah, and so do you.”

you turn to meet his gaze. a serious expression overtakes his usually lax face, tense facial muscles raising his brows and clenching his jaw.

you don’t know how to dispel the air of its building tension so you chuckle, playfully hitting him in the arm and shaking your head. “oh no, that’s- that’s not necessary. i’m fine, spence. besides, i took a break pretty recently.”

you rub your forehead tiredly as you speak and cock your head to the side, as if waiting for spencer’s dismissal so that you can get back to work.

“you haven’t requested a day off in 102 days. that’s 2448 hours.” spencer lowers his chin and studies you with his unwavering eyes. you feel your heart flutter alarmingly at his stare; you swallow slowly.

of course he’d be the one to count the days, no, the exact hour, since your last break. you try to play it off again by nudging him in the elbow, but he looks way too serious, concerned even. your arm hangs in the air with no warmth to latch on to.

“do you want to talk about it?” 

when spencer leans forward, you feel your throat run dry. holding your breath, you weigh your next words very carefully.

“spence, i’m fine. i don’t need the time off.”

“too late.”

“what?” your jaw sets uncomfortably when you hear spencer’s response, and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes before he quickly narrows them.

“it wasn’t just my request that i submitted. i put in yours as well.”

“wait- wait what?” 

“yeah, hotch just wanted me to leave a physical copy for the sake of documentation. but he approved both of our requests before we even landed.”

“hold up… spence, you just… why would you do that?”

surprisingly, you don’t feel mad. yes, he’s just submitted a leave request without your permission, but maybe this is what you needed. someone to force you to take a break, because otherwise, you’d just work yourself to your death.

“like i said, you haven’t taken a leave in 102 days. constantly overworking yourself is detrimental and can lead to burnout because of the buildup of fatigue. in the long run, it can impair your memory and thinking. so,” he says as he grasps the pen out of your hand and closes your folder, “do you want to talk about it?”

as if he’s perfectly hit your pressure point, the tiredness you’ve been masking this entire time instantly unwinds. you let out a deep, weary sigh.

“you know, two weekends ago, when we went down to south carolina to investigate that case? and i stayed back for a few hours?”

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod.

“well, i met up with a friend from college. we just hung out, you know, tried to catch up with each other.”

when you emit a stressed laugh, spencer reaches for your hand. he gently kneads your palm, and you take it as a signal to continue at your own pace. you turn your head to the side so you can take in the sight of him more fully.

“as we kept talking, i realized how she has so many friends, so much fun outside of her work. she’s even getting married in two months. and i just thought… i honestly wished for a second that she was a little more lonely, like me.”

you close your eyes, instantly regretting your confession. are you really making him listen to your childish concerns? you wish he’d laugh at you, dismiss it as plain stupidity and tell you that you were right to keep it to yourself. but he won’t, because he’s spencer reid.

spencer watches you intently, at how you force out a laugh and brush the tears that are welling up in your eyes. he observes the way you shake your head and refuse to look him in the eye.

“i’m so selfish, aren’t i? this whole thing–it’s so stupid. what am i saying, what am i even doing, wishing for something so foul?” your face crumples as you speak, and the words trail off into an absorbed mumble between your sniffles.

“it’s not stupid. you’re not selfish,” spencer hums quietly, lightly brushing his fingers against your cheek and dragging his thumb across your eyelashes to sweep your tears.

a strangled sob spills from your throat, and you lean into his touch, burying your cheek further into his palm. spencer waits patiently for you to recollect yourself, and coos a constant stream of it’s okay in your ear.

“at first, i thought it was the job, spence,” you finally utter your broken thoughts with a dry laugh, “but then i saw how everyone else was dealing with it. emily, jj, garcia. and then i realized, it’s me.”

spencer swivels your chair and draws you closer to him, so your thighs are lying between his legs. like a confused puppy, you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“you need to understand, y/n, that it takes time to find your rhythm, whether that’s at work, with your social life, or just a new place. so don’t compare yourself to others, because we’re all worried about something, and we’re all at different stages of coping.”

his longing glance breaches your lips, and you lower your eyes shyly. his soft-spokenness, undivided attention, and effortless verbal magic read your emotions like an open book. you don’t have to hide. the tears fall, fast and hard.

“let it all out. it’s okay. it’s always okay to cry, but you know what’s not okay? bottling it up all the time.” he pats your knees and rubs his palms across your trousers soothingly. 

“bottling your feelings constantly, it’s what psychologists call repressive coping. numerous studies have found that repressive coping has been linked to a less resilient immune system, higher vulnerability to cardiovascular disease, as well as proneness to certain mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression,” spencer continues while looking at you sympathetically with his soft brown eyes. 

slowly, you coil your arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace. 

“you’re not really fair, spencer, you know that?”

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t just cite all these cool facts when you speak. i don’t have an argument to toss back at you.”

spencer pulls away from the embrace slightly, and looks down at you with eyes full of mirth. he bursts into a small spate of giggles, and it’s contagious, because you also exhale a bubbly laugh.

“i can’t help it,” he breathes quietly, and the air that exits his lips tickles your eyelashes.

spencer continues to watch you with the same stare a sculptor would possess over a block of marble, and breathes warmth into your body. you finally let your arms loose and withdraw from the hug, grinning shyly.

“let me finish this report, and i’ll head back with you. what am i even going to do with the two days off anyways?” 

“i was thinking that we could check out the steam engine festival that’s happening downtown? the 611 is actually the sole surviving member of fourteen class j locomotives produced by the norfolk and western railway, and there’s going to be special excursions reserved for interested passengers.”

you laugh as spencer happily goes on his ramble, and you go back to writing your report – this time with a rejuvenated spirit.

“be honest, spence. you submitted my request because you wanted someone to go with you to this festival, didn’t you?”

“what? no!” spencer shakes his head, but your suspicions only grow when he starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“if you say so,” you grin cheekily, “but i could really use a drink tonight. you coming?”

spencer nods. he waits for you to finish up your edits and sign off the last page of the document, and helps you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag. with a boyish smile, he offers you his elbow, and you loop your arm in his. 

there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to be hopeful for, and a lot to love spencer for.

“spencer?” you ask quietly. spencer hums back in response. 

you don’t know why, but a sudden wave of confidence washes over you, urging you to say your next words without holding back.

“i like you.”

you thought your years spent concealing your feelings for spencer would have culminated in a much more formulated confession, but it’s too late to retrace your steps.  

almost immediately, spencer looks at you with widened eyes. you’re almost scared he’s going to abandon you and run away in a nervous flight, but he stays put, his cheeks flushing with the shade of deep red.

“y-you can’t be drunk already,” he stammers and then abruptly chuckles, making you wonder if he’s just attempted to respond to your confession with a joke.

but maybe you are drunk, drunk from the hazy feeling of love and the highs of spilling the emotional torrent earlier. you furrow your brows and fix your stare on the office floor.

“no, spencer, i like you as in i really like you. like, romantically.” 

spencer hesitates this time, moving only to press the elevator call button. you think you’ve just screwed up, right then and there, because his brows shoot up in surprise while his lips thin into a line. 

but then slowly, he smiles, his hazel colored eyes light up, and his gaze darts left and right excitedly. 

maybe all of the stars have aligned perfectly, because the air starts to collapse in on itself rapidly, and he stoops down to press a shaky kiss on your lips. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever shared with him, so different from when he hugs you, when he ruffles your hair, when he pats your back. it’s so tender and he leaves you to glow in the warmth of his lingering touch. 

it’s only after he does this that you realize that you’ve actually just confessed to your coworker, the man you’ve had a crush on for so long, the reason why you show up to work with a smile. before you can second-guess anything, spencer grabs your wrist and pulls you in. it starts with small pecks, but then he works up to a bigger kiss; by the time the elevator arrives, you’ve fully melted into his arms.

“2190 days.”

you look up to meet his blissful gaze with your own love-tainted eyes. “hm?”

“that’s the number of days that have passed since i first met you and started to work with you. i uh,” spencer swallows, toying with the strands on his leather bag nervously. 

he opens his mouth, only to shut it immediately after. he looks at you with a shy smile, the bashfulness dimpling his cheeks, and then clears his throat.

“i like you too.”

[starman-john-tracy]

Straightforward [RP]

scramjettracy:

John clearly means business. Which is good. So does Scott, even if he wishes that the business might include the faintest of smiles from his brother. Well, fine. It was good for him to get involved on the ground every so often, Scott wasn’t going to let himself feel guilty about ensuring he did. Much. He can hear the tension in John’s voice as he finds himself asking a question rather than giving confident data-backed advice based on state of the art structural information he’d usually have at his fingertips. Either Alan or Virgil would have that information but neither are chipping in right now. Presumably Alan is helping find a spot to put Two down out of the storm that seemed to be pounding both the outside of the research station and the inside of Scott’s skull. Atmospheric pressure? They weren’t that high up and he was well used to altitude. Or was it the sense of wrongness that was still nagging at him? He tilted his head slightly as if that might clear it. Enough. To business. “General rule of thumb? We keep them close enough that if you can always leap under one if the bit in the middle aims for your head.” He quickly raises three other poles to secure the exit route while Johns consults his map again. Scott’s pretty sure he’s memorised it, given there wasn’t a lot to do on the flight out other then study it, but his brother feels more at ease when he’s navigating so he lets him get on with it. Then they're off again, into the increasingly dingy corridor. It isn’t the dark that is making him uneasy - the residual light from the windows and their helmet lights means they won’t hit anything, but even still the unease increases with the darkness. For a moment he wonders if John is feeling the same as he reaches for Scott’s hand, but no, he’s only trying to wrist-tow Scott in the right direction. Unnecessary but again, he lets it be. He wouldn’t have fought off a hand hold either. John cautions against tripping. Scott’s more concerned about whacking his head - for one with such a big footprint the building has oddly low ceilings. The rooms they pass are reasonably nicely laid out but are in chaos - the vibrations from the avalanche have left them looking more like they’d been ransacked. Unless they have been ransacked… Scott frowns at a heap of paperwork next to a desk which just… wouldn’t have fallen that way. He is about to point out the one upright desk with all its drawers pulled out when John drags him onwards.  “Yeah, a real mess. Where are these people anyway? The corridors seem…” Scott begins but John is already speaking as he leaps backwards and catches the rear of Scott’s elbow with one of the poles on his shoulder. Padding only works so well and Scott has to take a couple of seconds to silently swear his way through the pins and needles before he can figure out what the gleaming fluttering apparition that jumpscared his brother actually was. Not snow, but paper.  Who uses paper these days? He reaches down to pick up a sheet but his hand and his heart freeze in place as he recognises the logo at the top of the page.

"What?" John recovers from his fright enough to peer over Scott's shoulder, ready to apologise for smacking his brother with the pole. "What's-" The words die in his mouth. "Oh." He breathes instead. "That's..."

The Tracy Industries Logo.

Old and faded and at least a generation out of date.

John slides the sheet out of Scott's numb hands and peers at what appear to be old schematics for some kind of combustion engine. Huh.

"These guys... used to work for Dad?" He suggests, brows furrowed. John's never heard that they ever had a mountain research base in the Southern Alps, but he's also aware he wasn't even born at the time these papers were letterheadded. He reaches out to rifle through the filing cabinet the papers fell from, overturning page after page of TI branded page stock, but the roof groans above them —an ominous reminder that the avalanche is still moving outside, slowly pushing the walls inward.

His fingers smooth over a crumpled page with an early concept for an energy efficient jet fuel blend.

"Should we take these...?" John suggests, his mouth feels dry. Anything with a connection to their Father feels like a precious relic, and this just seems like an absurd place to leave them rotting away. "...We should keep going though." He drags another ceiling prop out his pack and hurries to set it up. "We might not have much time."

There are two people in here, after all - possibly trapped, possibly injured.

He pulls up the map again. The red dots that represent Alan's last known location of the two scientists look like they're further along the corridor they just branched out from. Oh. That's strange. John had thought it was a dead end.

Sticking his helmeted head back around the doorframe; John frowns sharply.

Oh yeah. There's a crumpled wall of rubble where the rest of the corridor should be. The ceiling has clearly caved in in this section, and John thinks he can practically feel the structure's precariousness. The whole place is trying to fall apart.

"Don't think we're getting through that." He comments flatly, stepping out into the corridor to survey the damage. He calls out; "Hello? This is International Rescue," and slides one foot closer. The floor groans alarmingly under his weight - like it too is ready to collapse. But those researchers have to be right behind the wall. "Can anyone hear me?"

The flickering emergency light above John casts his silhouette in a pale, ghostly glow as he turns back to see Scott.

"We're going to have to find a way around."

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING  

It was the weekend.  

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.  

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.  

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.  

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.  

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.  

He checked his phone. No messages from you.  

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.  

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.  

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”  

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”  

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”  

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”  

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.  

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.  

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.  

Pedro knocked.  

Nothing.  

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”  

Still nothing.  

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if—  

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.  

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.  

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.  

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.  

Snoring.  

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.  

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.  

God, you were adorable.  

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.  

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.  

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.  

He’d give you another hour.  

Maybe two.  

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING  

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.  

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.  

The problem?  

You were not a morning person.  

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.  

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”  

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”  

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”  

“No.”  

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”  

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”  

He smirked. There we go.  

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”  

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”  

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”  

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.  

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.  

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.  

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.  

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.  

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."  

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."  

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.  

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.  

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.  

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"  

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."  

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."  

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."  

Your stomach twisted at that.  

He had noticed.  

Of course, he had.  

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.  

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"  

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."  

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"  

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."  

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."  

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."  

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.  

Damn it.  

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"  

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON 

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away café—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.  

For one, he had somehow procured a car.  

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.  

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”  

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”  

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”  

“Would I lie to you?”  

You didn’t dignify that with a response.  

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.  

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”  

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”  

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.  

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.  

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.  

And then—  

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.  

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”  

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”  

“No, you don’t.”  

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.  

Okay. Fine.  

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.  

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.  

Your brows furrowed.  

“Wait a minute—"  

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.  

Not just any bookstore.  

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.  

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”  

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.  

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”  

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.  

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.  

It was perfect.  

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.  

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”  

He smirked. “No catch.”  

You narrowed your eyes.  

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”  

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”  

Your jaw dropped.  

“Excuse me?”  

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”  

The words were simple.  

Too simple.  

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.  

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.  

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.  

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”  

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON  

You took your time browsing.  

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.  

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.  

It made your skin warm.  

It was still so bizarre—this thing between you two.  

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.  

Because this was Pedro Pascal.  

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—  

Oh god, were you on a date?  

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.  

No. Not a date.  

Just… Pedro being Pedro.  

Right?  

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.  

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.  

“That one, huh?”  

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.  

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”  

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”  

You blinked. “Do what?”  

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”  

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”  

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”  

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”  

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”  

Your stomach flipped.  

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.  

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”  

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”  

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.  

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.  

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.  

You nearly choked.  

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”  

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”  

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.  

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”  

You exhaled, nodding.  

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.  

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”  

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”  

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”  

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”  

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.  

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”  

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”  

You looked up.  

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”  

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.  

He made it sound so simple.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”  

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.  

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.  

Just Pedro. Just this.  

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.  

And maybe it did.  

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."  

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."  

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"  

You blinked at him. "Little me?"  

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"  

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."  

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."  

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."  

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."  

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."  

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"  

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"  

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."  

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."  

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."  

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."  

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.  

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"  

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.  

You snorted. "Of course you were."  

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."  

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."  

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."  

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.  

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.  

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"  

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."  

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.  

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."  

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.  

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."  

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"  

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.  

You glanced up.  

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."  

Your stomach flipped.  

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."  

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."  

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"  

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."  

You groaned. "Oh my god."  

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.  

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.  

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.  

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”  

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”  

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”  

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.  

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”  

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”  

The camera counted down—three, two, one.  

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.  

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.  

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.  

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.  

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.  

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.  

The flash went off.  

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.  

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.  

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.  

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.  

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”  

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”  

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”  

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”  

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.  

For a beat, neither of you moved.  

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”  

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”  

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”  

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”  

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”  

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.  

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.  

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.  

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.  

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.  

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.  

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.  

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”  

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”  

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”  

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”  

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”  

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”  

You couldn’t argue with that.  

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.  

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.  

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”  

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”  

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.  

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”  

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.  

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.  

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.  

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.  

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.  

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.  

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”  

Your breath hitched for a split second.  

Right. The room.  

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.  

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”  

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.  

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”  

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”  

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”  

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.  

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”  

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.  

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.  

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”  

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”  

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”  

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”  

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.  

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”  

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”  

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.  

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”  

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”  

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.  

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.  

But tonight?  

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.  

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”  

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.  

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.  

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”  

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”  

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”  

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”  

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”  

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”  

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.  

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.  

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”  

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”  

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.  

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.  

But tonight?  

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further. 

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

[moonstruckme]

summary: your roommate James plots to befriend a shy you

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The apartment is loud and messy when you come home, and James immediately feels bad about it. You freeze in the door like a doe in the woods, a few of his friends pausing their conversations to greet you from where they’re scattered haphazardly about the living room. 

You give a terse smile and beeline for the stairs. You’re wearing your work clothes, dirty and rumpled from a long shift, and it doesn’t escape James’ notice that you’ve bypassed the kitchen in your hurry to get to your room. You seem to have an aversion to being witnessed. He makes a mental note to check that you’ve eaten later. 

“Oh, do you work at Rizzo’s?” Lily asks you, evidently recognizing the uniform. You stall halfway up the stairs, and James suppresses a smile at your obvious reluctance. 

“Yeah,” you reply, voice even quieter than usual. 

“My friend works there.” Lily’s friendly demeanor is unphased by your timidity. The two of you have met before, like you’ve met most of his friends, in passing. “Do you know Mona?” 

You nod, easing up a bit. James wonders at the fact that you’ve lingered as long as you have, but then he notices Sirius noticing you, and he prays his friend doesn’t say anything to make you regret it. 

“Yeah, we’ve worked some of the same shifts,” you say. “She’s nice.” 

Lily grins at the confirmation. James braces himself as Sirius angles his head. 

“What do you do there, lovely?” 

The endearment instantly flusters you. Your shoulders tighten and your hand flexes on the banister as though to keep yourself from bolting. “I’m a host,” you say. 

“That’s nice.” Sirius’ grin is intentionally disarming, lopsided and flirtatious. You look as though you’re not sure what to make of it. “I’m sure it makes for good business to have the pretty girls welcoming customers.” 

It’s your last straw. You mumble something about it being nice to see them and all but dash up to your room. James hears your door shut with a soft click. 

Sirius frowns. “Skittish thing, isn’t she?” 

“Tosser.” Remus pulls him roughly against his side, rolling his eyes when Sirius wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s torso sulkily. 

“I was paying her a compliment.”  

“She’s just shy.” James doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain you, exactly. Your diffidence is fairly obvious now, but he still feels a bit guilty for thinking you just hated him when he first moved in. After knowing Remus for so long, he thought he’d be able to tell the difference between shyness and standoffishness. Now apparently he feels responsible for liaising between you and his friends. “You knew you were going to embarrass her, prick.” 

The conversation turns to Sirius’ tendency to verbally prod at those with quieter demeanors, which he denies vehemently and Remus corroborates with pointed looks but not much commentary. 

Once they’ve gone, James goes up to your room with a sandwich. The door is cracked but he knocks anyway, waiting for your quiet “come in” before he pushes it the rest of the way open. 

“Figured you might’ve missed dinner,” he says by way of greeting, going to set the plate down on your bed. 

It takes effort not to let his eyes roam the room. He can see in his periphery that your desk is cluttered but neat and your walls covered with pictures and art. An effect of your reticence is that, aside from what sort of shampoo you use and how often you need to restock the milk in the fridge, James knows very little about you. He knows you’re a good roommate. You’re clean, you don’t bicker about the thermostat, and you haven’t even seemed cross with him for eating the rest of your oreos (which he’s going to replace, seriously, as soon as he remembers to go to the store). You’re quiet, obviously, but along with that you seem kind. 

Honestly, it makes him a bit uncomfortable that you don’t seem to want to be friends. James is only human; he likes being liked, even more so by nice girls with pretty smiles, and it seems crucial that he be liked by nice girls with pretty smiles who he shares a living space with. If you’re going to brush your teeth using the same sink as somebody, you should be on good terms. James believes this. 

And though he hasn’t had to work so hard for friendship in some years, he is diligent. He thinks he’ll bring you around yet. 

Evidence of progress: the happy-surprised look in your eyes when you spot the sandwich. 

“Thank you,” you say, a tender sort of bemusement lining your words. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“Well, if you’ve actually missed dinner, you probably ought to eat something more substantial,” James hedges. He pushes his luck, sitting across from you on your bed. “I don’t want to be an accomplice to your snacks-for-meals agenda.” That wins him a small smile. “But I do feel bad, keeping you from your own kitchen because I have friends over.” 

Your eyes flit away at the last bit. You take a hearty bite of your sandwich, chewing to avoid a reply.

“You should know, you are actually paying rent for the whole apartment,” he says, “not just your room.” 

You look chastened as you swallow, but you wave him off. “I would’ve gone down to get something later,” you say airily. “I didn’t want to infringe on your time with your friends.” 

“You?” James actually laughs. “Never. Trust me, we see plenty of each other. They could probably use a fresh face.”

You roll your eyes. It’s a ploy to keep from looking at him, he’s certain of it. “Well, regardless, you shouldn’t worry about it. I wasn’t starving.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Your mattress creaks as James stands. Some of the stiffness to your posture eases, and he wonders if you’re relieved to see him go, but you look up with another small smile. Pretty. 

“Thanks for the sandwich,” you say. 

“You should really have another one,” he replies, grinning back because of forces beyond his control. He starts backing out of the room. “Do you want me to make it? Actually, don’t answer that. I’m making it.” 

Your quiet laughter follows him down the stairs. 

[lovebugism]

miss bug I have something to ask 🙋‍♀️

i don’t know if you do sickfics but! mayhaps steve and shy!reader where she doesn’t show up for school, steve goes to her house, and she’s utterly mortified because she feels like she’s nowhere near presentable

thank u for requesting!! — king steve pays his lab partner a visit when he hears you're sick, but definitely not because he has a crush on you (shy!reader, friends to lovers | 1.6k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Steve waits for you that morning with half a bagel and his heart in his throat.

The desks in Ms. Click’s class grow slowly full with bustling bodies — some sluggish like zombies, others too chipper for an early morning. Steve cranes his head in search of your face in the crowd. Yours never shows, which is strange for Hawkins High’s future Valedictorian.

“Where is your partner, Mr. Harrington?” Ms. Click wonders beneath the grating morning bell. She ducks her head to peer across the classroom over her sparkly, cat-eye glasses.

Steve pauses, mid-bite of his sausage-egg-and-cheese. He shrugs wordlessly, with a wad of food jutting his cheek and crumbs sticking to his mouth.

The older woman sighs, too used to King Steve’s antics. She looks past him and asks, “What about you, Miss Buckley? Where’s Carol?”

“Probably under the bleachers with Tommy Hagan,” Robin mutters under her breath, though loud enough for everyone around her to hear, causing them to bite back their subsequent laughter. Steve, himself, nearly chokes on his bagel.

“Well, you’ll just have to pair up with Steven for the day,” Ms. Click tells her.

“Oh, god…” Robin groans in a whisper.

“Get to work.”

Steve spins his chair around to face the girl behind him, who he only really knew because of how highly you spoke of her. Despite your frequent praises, Robin doesn’t even look at him, nor does she bother to make mindless small talk. She just keeps her head down and scribbles notes on a worksheet. 

Steve, in spite of their differing statuses, struggles to find the courage to talk to her.

He slouches and tilts back his chair. “Hey, do you, um—”

“We don’t have to make conversation, alright?” Robin interjects before he can even start. She keeps her head bowed but glares daggers from beneath her lashes. “Let’s just get this hour over with so we never speak to each other again.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Well, I was— I was just gonna ask where your friend was. ‘Cause I don’t think she’s missed a day since, like, kindergarten.”

Robin’s freckled face flushes. She’d feel worse about being so short with him if he wasn’t such a douchebag. “Oh. Uh, she’s— She’s sick, I think.”

“Sick?”

His chest pinches with an immediate worry. Robin bites back a smirk at King Steve’s palpable concern for arguably the biggest nerd on this side of Hawkins. “Yeah,” she shrugs. “I figured she was just allergic to your hairspray.”

Steve laughs under his breath and turns away. Robin smiles only until he looks back at her, now with a brown paper bag in hand. It was meant to be for you — an even piece of his bagel, ‘cause he knows you don’t get breakfast yourself. He figures you’d rather not want it to go to waste.

“Want my other half?” he offers to the girl across from him, like some kinda olive branch.

Robin’s eyes dart from Steve to the paper sack and back again. It goes against every code in her personal handbook to take anything from Hawkins Royalty, but she shrugs in response anyway. “What the hell. Sure.”

—————

Finding your trailer isn’t hard. He visited there, once, for a project at the beginning of the school year. It’s the house directly across from the Freak’s. Eddie made it a point to play his guitar as loud as he possibly could, knowing The Hair was around to hear it. (Munson would never miss an opportunity to annoy King Steve, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him).

Steve decides to make his entrance through your bedroom window. Dead, unmanicured grass crunches under his sneakers as he rounds your trailer. He rises to the tips of his toes and knocks four times on the high-up window. The old glass feels strangely delicate under his fist.

He waits for an answer for several long moments. When he doesn’t get one, he lifts his hand to knock again. The window squeaks open before he can — and there he finds you, standing above him, holding a half-empty box of tissues in your hand like you plan to hit him with it.

“Whoa—” Steve flinches.

You look equally shocked to see him, fear swimming in your glassy eyes. “Oh, my god—”

“Sorry,” he grimaces with his palms splayed in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“I thought you were a burglar or something…”

“And what? You were gonna take me out with a box of tissues?” His laughter feels like warm honey compared to your splitting, icy migraine.

You take in a heaving breath and swallow hard through a stinging throat. “Sorry,” you sniffle. “Come— Come in.”

As Steve climbs through your window, trying hard not to get caught in the curtains, you become very hyperaware of your living space. It is your childhood bedroom, after all — every phase of your life is stored within these tiny four walls. Posters, trinkets, slightly dated decor. And on top of all that, you’ve been living like a total slob since you got sick over the weekend.

Your bed’s a mess, you’ve got bottled water and tissues piling in the bin, and you haven’t changed out of your pajamas in two days. It’s certainly no way to greet the king of Hawkins High, though he doesn’t quite seem to mind.

“You coulda just knocked on the door, you know?” you mumble, slightly nasally, as you swipe a balled-up tissue under your nose. “I would’ve let you in.”

Steve pants and stands to full height again, finally in your room with little to no struggle (though he’s pretty sure he’s stamped his footprint on your wall). 

“Well, what can I say? I like to make an entrance,” he jokes with a lopsided smile. The rosy expression fades when your glassy eyes glaze over with a faraway look. “…You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” you shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. “I’m just a little lightheaded. That’s all.”

Steve rushes to your swaying form without thinking. He grasps your arms in two wide, gentle hands. His honey eyes are wide and wild as they dart over your features, sufficiently bleary with whatever bug you’ve caught. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you insist despite the obvious. “Just can’t break this stupid fever.”

“Here. Lay back down.”

He guides you the short distance to your bed, foreignly patient with your sluggish movements. He keeps a hold of you with one hand and reaches for the mussed blankets with the other, pulling them back to ease you beneath them.

“Sorry for bailing on you today,” you apologize in nearly inaudible slurs as the boy props you against the pillows. 

Steve shakes his head with a quiet smile. “You’re sick. It’s okay. Stop apologizing,” he insists and tucks the covers on top of you again. You can smell his aftershave when he leans over you, a striking minty scent that melts nicely with his deeper cologne.

“Sorry,” you repeat before you can help it.

Steve rises again and fights the urge to brush the hair sticking to your clammy cheek. “Have you had any medicine?”

“I had some… cough syrup earlier…” you slur, face half-buried in the pillows.

“What about food?” he asks with his hand on his cocked hip. “Had any of that?”

“‘M too sick for food.”

Steve laughs and fills the gloomy room with sunshine. “You have to eat, babe. So you can get your energy back. That’s, like, science or whatever—”

His eyes widen, only then realizing his use of the nickname. His heart drops to his ass. He hopes he said it so quickly that you missed it. You seem to have, as sick as you are, basically half-asleep before him.

You’d heard it, though. The word alone has your delicate heart beating with a newfound fervor. You can’t tell if it’s killing you or bringing you back to life.

Steve starts rambling before he realizes it. “I can whip you something up, if you want. I make a mean macaroni and cheese— In the microwave, obviously, ‘cause I’m less likely to burn it that way. Did you know that you can actually burn pasta in the microwave? Yeah, I had to learn that one the hard way—”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you just sit with me?” you sniffle, eyes still shut. “Please?”

He nods rapidly until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Yeah, of— Of course, yeah.”

The boy climbs into your bed with a lot less confidence than he’s used to. This is by no means the first time he’s been in another girl’s bed, but something about this one feels different. This time, he has to keep reminding himself to breathe. This time, his hands are all clammy and tingling with an anxiety he isn’t used to. This time, he feels so utterly unsure in his body that he doesn’t know how he became King Steve in the first place — let alone how he got here, next to you.

What’d an asshole like me do to deserve all this? his mind reels.

Your breath catches when the mattress dips under his weight. He sits over the covers, but still a lot closer than you thought he might, all things considered. You turn slowly onto your back to look at him without going dizzy again.

“You’re not scared you’ll get sick?” you croak, blinking up at him with sleep-swollen eyes.

Steve shrugs with his back propped against the headboard. “Not really. I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario— I get sick and have to be quarantined here with you? That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

His lips curl into a lopsided smile that makes your chest feel sparkly. You turn away and hide your own grin in the pillow. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” you quip, half-muffled in the cushion.

“Yeah, I know,” he hums, never once taking his eyes off you. 

He can’t wait to kiss you when you’re better.

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother���s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[violetarks]

HIII can i req for an alnst guys x mua!reader (afab) ? i want to touch their faces ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯

“you like the pretty boys, with the pretty voice!”

show: alien stage

characters: till, ivan and luka

summary: he doesn’t just need to sing his best, he has to look his best too! producers have decided on pairing you up with him, meaning you would be spending lots of time tending to his physical appearance.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, till has never felt the touch of a woman before

↣ till

the door of his room opens, making till stand up cautiously from his bed. he was already forced into his outfit for today’s photoshoot, and now he awaited the dreadful makeup process.

you show up in the doorway, a girl around the same age as till, with a bag of items and a few electronics. “morning, till.” you say, walking in and placing your things on the desk. he visibly relaxes. “don’t you look good today.”

“shut up…” he mumbles back, walking over to you. he sits down in the chair you pull out, seating him in front of the mirror.

“okay, so i got told that you need a more bold look for the photoshoot today.” you claim, placing your hands on his shoulders, “you gonna’ let me do my work or are we gonna’ have another argument?”

“you can do whatever, i don’t even care anymore.” he groans, sick and tired of all these brand deals. his owner was running him dry with everything he was made to be doing recently. “do your magic.”

“good.” you say, opening your bag. you pick up one of the devices you brought with you, tossing it up into the air. it blossoms, opening up to show a ball of light coming from the centre. you point it towards till, getting a proper view of his face. “seems like the skincare routine i gave you is working.”

“isn’t it bad to keep putting all these things on my face?” he grumbles, feeling you grasp his chin. he averts his eyes while you inspect his face, gentle hands on his cheeks.

“not these ones.” you claim, feelings his cheeks heat up under your touch. you smile at him. “but it’s not like you really needed it anyway. the producer just said to get you on them. i thought you were already quite handsome.”

he closes his eyes, pulling back and running fingers through his hair. “anyway, what are we doing now?” he clears his throat, trying to calm down his heart.

“oh, right.” you say, taking the other device and turning it on, making a swivel stool for you to sit on. you move closer towards him, knee bumping with his. “okay, close your eyes for me, pretty boy.”

“stop it…” he mutters to you, doing as you say and leaning forward into your hands.

he’s patient with you, in a way that he isn’t with anyone else. which is why you were matched with him, he didn’t swear at you or thrash around. you made him out to be a tamed puppy, sitting as he waits for your touch. you found it cute.

you brushed your fingers against his jaw, making him itch closer to you. his hands grip the bottom of his chair, breath hitching as you dragged the brush along his face. you were delicate with him, holding his face and turning it when you needed. and he was willing to let you do whatever you needed.

“okay, that looks good.” you hum, retracting your hands. he always follows, but opens his eyes to stare at you. “let me do your lashes now. just some mascara, that’s all.”

you see the sour look on his face, making you roll your eyes. as you do your work, till sits quietly, careful not to move. you hold his jaw in your hand, focusing on your hands. but his head is running with how close you are to him. if he were to lean any closer, you would be kissing the guy…

instead, you lean back, bringing the light closer to his face. “ah, sorry, i got some on your cheek.” you huff, taking out a makeup pad.

you brush it against where you had smudged mascara on him, holding his face closer to yours. he’s entranced by your beauty. how your eyes are so focused on him and nothing else, how you smile at him after finished a part of his makeup. you were the most beautiful person to him.

he feels your knee knock against his inner thigh, making him look at you sheepishly. you were digging through your bag for the eyeliner and eyeshadow, claiming that he needed dark colours.

“i think we should go with black.” you say, holding out some palettes, “pick one, any will look good on you.”

he doesn’t even look at them for long, just picking out the one in the middle. you smile at him and nod your head, beginning the next stage. it takes a bit longer, till unable to keep still with how your legs are touching his, and your hands are tenderly holding his cheek. his brows knit unconsciously and you stop.

“till, relax. i can’t do your makeup like that.” you sigh, tilting your head, “i’m nearly done, promise.”

he tries to do so, resulting in upturned brows. your hold was too much! “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m just… i don’t know.”

“hm. it’s okay, i’ll be coming with you to the photoshoot.” you inform him, making till perk up a little. you do a few more touches before setting down the brush, inspecting your work and nodding your head. “there you go.”

he open his eyes and looks in the mirror. he looked pretty good, you were so skilled. “thank you, y/n.”

he turns back to you, seeing how you were already staring back at him. you were still so close, not wavering at all.

“you’re welcome, handsome.” you chime, grinning at him. you caress his cheek for a few seconds before beginning to pull away.

but till lurches forward, pressing his lips to yours. his eyes are squeezed shut, so overwhelmed with emotions. the electricity built up with every single touch you gave him, lingering or not. you had to have known what you were doing to him, you were so purposeful!

your hand returns to his jaw, gently holding him as you kissed back. till’s hands sit just beneath your waist, on top of your legs as he drags you closer. he needed more of your touch.

till goes from eager and rough to smooth and calm in a few seconds, slowing down and pulling away almost hesitantly. he is still in a daze, staring at your lips as you both gather your thoughts. and when he does, he widens his eyes and pulls away hastily.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he yelps, covering his face. he couldn’t believe himself, when did he have that much courage around you? his voice is muffled behind his hands, and his eyes are squeezed shut. “that was a mistake, please forgive me—”

you smooch his knuckles covering his mouth, a short but sweet one. he stops, freezing up at your warmth.

“it’s fine, till.” you say, grinning at him, “i liked it a lot. but i… i kind if ruined your make up a bit. let me fix it, okay?”

he drops his hand and lets you hold his face again, picking up your brush to do your touch ups. but he squeezes his eyes shut again and has to look away as soon as you’re finished. you looked even more beautiful! how could this be happening?

“till,” you say, putting your things away in your bag, “don’t be embarrassed.”

“i’m not!” he mumbles back at you, standing up, “let’s go now!”

you have to chase him down after packing away your things, seeing how red his face was. till swears he will never look you in the eye ever again.

↣ ivan

“oh, there you are.” you say, leaning against your makeup desk. the door shuts behind him, making the sound of people on the other side quiet down. “took you long enough, ivan.”

“the costumes were mixed up.” he explains, tugging at his collar to loosen it up.

you pull out the chair for him, letting ivan sit down before you set him in front of the mirror. “you know you’re not supposed to keep a girl waiting.” you joke, sitting on top of the desk and unlocking the box of makeup.

“you say that as if she isn’t obligated to wait for me.” he huffs at you, leg over his knee. he glances at your irritated face. “so what are you doing to me today?”

“clean look.” you reply, popping open the foundation.

he nods his head, watching as you take a sponge and begin to apply it on his face. you were gentle with him, slowly moving his chin to face where you needed him to face. you eyes barely strayed from him, and to say he didn’t enjoy the attention would be a lie.

one of the reason he was happy to be paired up with you was because you paid such close attention to him. when trialing to be his makeup artist, you brought him some tea to help with his throat. he asked you how you knew he liked that flavour, and you told him you saw him drink it last week. from then on, he had been stuck to you like glue.

the guy lets you do what you need to, staying as still as possible. but he opens an eye when you let out a groan. “what’s wrong?”

your fingers leave him face, almost taking all his warmth with you, as you crane your neck. “no, nothing. just hurts my neck.” you explain, hopping off the desk.

ivan blinks as you come closer to him, holding his chin in your hands to make him look up at you. you stood in between his legs, makeup brush in your other hand. ivan leans back in his chair, putting out his other leg as you come so close that his chest is nearly touching you.

“close your eyes again, okay?” you mumble out, going back to your work. you hold the back of his neck to soothe the position of his head, picking out a good colour for him. as you finish, you feel ivan’s warm hands place themselves on your waist, holding you in position. “is something wrong?”

“hm? oh, nothing.” he replies, brushing his thumb against the hem of your shirt. you shiver at the touch, hastily placing a hand on his to stop him. he opens his eyes again, seeing your flustered expression. a smile tugs at his lips. “are you alright?”

“y—yeah…” you mumble out, carefully taking your hand off his. you sigh out, trying to finish off what you needed to do. ivan is quiet, smile still on his face as you work. “okay. i’m done.”

your fingers leave his face. but you don’t get very far before he takes your hand in his. his lips press against your knuckles, gently and cautiously. you freeze up, holding your breath and staring at him. his other hand holds you in place, keeping you close to him.

he peers at you from his seat, a certain glint in his eyes. “thank you, y/n.” he mumbles against your hand.

you hold your hand close to your chest as he releases you. “what’s going on today, ivan? you’re more touchy than usual.”

“is that bad?” he asks, tilting his head.

“no, it’s not bad.” you explain, taking your brushes and putting them in the box. you could feel your face flushing, you couldn’t turn back to him. you knew he would be wearing that clueless smile. and you would be stammering for your words. “so, um… is this the only thing you’re filming today?”

“yes.” he replies, watching as you carefully put everything away. even in the mirror, you don’t look at him. “are you busy for the rest of the day?”

“no, actually. i’m heading back after this.” you say, grabbing your jacket and tugging it on. after taking a breath in, you turn to him. “i’ll tell them you’re ready.”

ivan stands up, running fingers through his hair before stepping closer to you, his hands finding your jaw. you freeze up, shivering under his touch. your lower back hits the desk, making you lay hands on the wood. he makes you feel like you’re going crazy.

“you’re gorgeous, you know.” he mumbles out, staring at you with piercing eyes.

“uh, thank you, ivan, i—hmph!”

he captures your lips in a single moment, holding onto your shoulder gently. your hands find his face again, caressing him as you slowly melt into him. your eyes flutter shut as his do, feeling overwhelmed with such warmth that you find yourself chasing after him when he pulls away.

ivan chuckles, leaning forward once more to peck you on the lips again. you open your eyes, stunned. “why did you—”

“i should go now, it’ll be starting in five minutes.” he says, checking the clock. ivan leans away, gathering himself and fixing his hair in the mirror behind you before moving to the door. he stops with his hand on the doorframe as it slides open. “i’ll see you after, okay?”

you nod your head slowly, gulping down your nerves.

“good.” he smiles, walking out of the room, “see you, y/n.”

↣ luka

“good job, luka.” you compliment him, waiting in the wings for him to come off stage. he pants, wiping sweat off his brow. you smile, holding pit a towel. “ready for makeup? full dress rehearsal today.”

“right.” he huffs out, patting his face dry. he follows you to his dressing room, feeling a little tired. “what have you been up to?”

“waiting for you.” you respond, opening the door and closing it behind him. he sighs, tiredly sitting in the makeup chair by the mirror. you blink at his state, walking over and placing a hand on his cheek. he stirs. “oh, luka… how much sleep did you get last night?”

“not much.” he groans, rubbing his eyes. you furrow your brows, retracting your hand. “it’s fine. let’s start.”

you blink at him before nodding, beginning your work. luka was probably the best one of your clients when it came to makeup, he cared a lot about his appearance, and he appreciated your work. the only difference with now is that he isn’t giving you some snarky remark or flirting with you through his eyes. he was genuinely sleepy.

“lift your head up higher, luka.” you say, taking the brush away from his face. he only hums out to you, eyes still closed. “luka.”

sighing, you step closer to him, taking his face in your hand and holding his chin up higher. he doesn’t make a sound, only leaning into your palm. “you seriously need to take a nap.”

“mhm.” he says, placing his hands on the back of your knees gently. you squirm in your spot, making him peer open an eye. “i have practice though.”

“it’s a shame.” you sigh, brushing your thumb against his cheek, “you look so pretty when you’re sleeping.”

“creep.” he mutter out.

you roll your eyes, moving the brush tip around his eyelids. he stills for a moment. “i think i overheard one of the producers saying you were losing your voice and that you’re on vocal rest.” you claim, “so shouldn’t you be keeping quiet?”

he nods his head at that after you pull away, his thumbs drawing on the sides of your legs. his blue fingers dance along your pants, listening to you move around. you were delicate with him, no matter how much trouble he caused you. the first time you did his makeup, he complained that he didn’t like it and refused to perform.

but now, he was astounded by how you carefully pat your thumb against his temple, as if soothing him.

“you’re much more bearable when you’re quiet.” you sigh, “it’s such a shame that you’ve got such a pretty voice, and you use it to be annoying.”

he furrows his brows, lifting his head away from you. his eyes open to see your smile. luka rolls his eyes at you, running fingers through his hair. you turn away to grab something from your bag, popping open the bottle and getting ready to use it.

“since you can’t talk, i’ll let you know that i was at mizi’s practice yesterday.” you explain, being careful not to smudge your work as it dries. luka lets out a small sigh. “she was telling me about how she misses homemade food. i told her that she and sua should come over to mine and i’ll make something for them.”

he peeps open an eye again, giving you a look. you raise a brow and sigh, “you said my cooking was good.”

you lift your finger from his cheek, applying the most palest pink you have on him by a loose brush. his skin was so smooth, making your job a lot easier since it wouldn’t take much to make him look presentable.

“it is.” he mumbles out, suddenly moving his arms to lay atop your hips. you sigh through your nose, annoyed at how he ignores his orders to keep quiet. “why’re you cooking for them? they don’t know how to?”

“i didn’t say that, luka.” you huff, pushing his hair off his forehead, “i actually heard from till that mizi is a great cook.”

“that boy only ever sings praises about her.” luka rolls his eyes. you chuckle, knowing he was right. the blonde hugged you closer to himself, cheek squished against your stomach. “what has she ever done to deserve it?”

“don’t be mean. so jealous, luka.” you say to him, smiling softly. he peers up at you before tilting his head.

“me? jealous of her?” he scoffs at you, shaking his head and pulling himself off of you. you were done anyway, now beginning to pack up you belongings. “that’s outrageous of you to say, y/n.”

“seems like it though.” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. when you turn back around to him, luka looks upset. he crosses his arms, pout playing on his lips as he stared at the ground. you sigh, patting his shoulder, “it’s fine, you’re still the world’s favourite human singer.”

“yeah.” he huffs out, barely audible.

you furrow your brows, leaning over and placing a plan on his shoulder. “look, you’re a great singer and you’re handsome. what more could you ask for?”

he mumbles, looking back at you, “do you like me?”

“of course i do.” you reply, scanning his face. he only gives you an unconvinced look. you roll your eyes.

leaning forward to him, you press a chaste kiss to his lips. he stills for a quick second, but soon enough you feel him melt against you. his palm rests against your cheek, pulling you closer. he feels warm when you hold yourself away just enough to kiss him.

his hair has always felt silky smooth. it brushes against your forehead, kissing your skin. his whole body felt like it was pouring itself into you. he wanted to belong.

you pull away before you ruin anymore of his makeup, blinking your eyes a few times at his dazed expression. “i like you, luka.” you say sternly, looking him dead in the eye, “i’m not lying. promise.”

luka thinks to himself for a moment before sighing and standing up. he looks back at you with the tiniest smile. “thanks, y/n.”

“good. now, let’s go. i’ll watch your rehearsals.” you say, patting his back as you walk him to the door. you fix his sleeves, smoothing out the creases.

“good luck, luka.” you chime, standing on the sidelines.

he stares at you for a moment before replying, “thank you.”

[adumbratrapedme]

“Caught, Almost!”

Pairing: kenma x reader

Synopsis: you and kenma. needy. school grounds. almost caught. ok? ok.

Warnings: “public” sex, smut, +18, p in v, etc. idk im too lazy to properly tag this uhhh, is my first time writing smut cuz i usually get too nervous while writting it ngl (i take constructive criticism, sooo point out what i could do better. thank you!). nyan!

╭⋅Tbh not even you know how you guys enfed like this huh ╭⋅You where supossed to JUST GO AND FIND YOUR BOYFRIEND that was skipping practice (again) ╭⋅He was tired you know?? You guys just finished exam season and! He got a new game! Common!! Let my man rest!! ╭⋅Anyways, you didn’t care, sorry ken ken, disadvantages of having a manager gf unu ╭⋅So, tbh i would never take kenken as someone that has public sex? But i mean lets try to understand him ok? A full exam week, no gf, no kisses and the only opportunities you had to get together he got cockblocked! Wether it was his or you family ╭⋅When you finally find him sitting in his desk playing with the psp you try to pull him away but he does not comply! ╭⋅Until well… you get irritated and start saying that you’d do anything he wants!! ╭⋅So here we go :3

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Kenma~!” you called out, your voice echoing through the empty halls as you searched for your elusive boyfriend. Frustration bubbled inside you, and just as you were about to give up, a familiar mop of pudding-colored hair caught your eye through the window of an empty classroom. “UGH! THERE YOU ARE!!” you huffed, storming into the room, Kenma flinched at your sudden outburst, his eyes still glued to his handheld console. "You're still looking for me? So... practice isn't over yet? Great..." he muttered under his breath, clearly bothered by the situation.

"Honeyyyy~" you groaned dramatically as you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. He didn't budge, his fingers tapping away at the buttons, “keEeeEn~” you whined, playfully trying to push him out of the chair.

"Come on! Kuroo is going to kill me if I don't bring you back!"

Still no reaction.

You leaned in closer, pressing your cheek against his. "Do you really want your beaaauuutiful girlfriend to fail at her manager duties, huh?"

Kenma finally sighed, his gaze never leaving the screen. "

...If it means

you'll leave me alone, then... sure."

"UGH! Kenmaaaa!" you pouted, slumping dramatically in front of him.

Dropping to your knees and hugging his legs you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

His fingers faltered for a second.

"You're so annoying.." he muttered, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

After what felt like hours (okay, maybe just ten minutes) of begging and pressing Kenma to go to practice, you finally hit your limit. Refusing to stand from your spot on the floor, you crossed your arms and gave him your best fake teary eyes, complete with a trembling pout.

“Fine then… let them fire me from my manager position,” you huffed dramatically. Kenma finally glanced down at you, his expression flat. “Y/N… this isn’t a job. They won’t fire you.”

But then — ngh! — his gaze lingered. The sight of you sitting on the floor, all pouty and vulnerable? That triggered something in his brain.

Neurons? Activated.

Kenma? Horny

Y/n? Annoyed

Crops? Watered.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he averted his gaze, but his voice softened. “But… maybe there’s something we can do… if you really want me to go back to practice.” Your eyes lit up. “YAS! I knew it!” You leapt from the floor, wrapping your arms around him in excitement. “Come on, tell me! I’ll do anything you want!”

Kenma blinked, momentarily stunned by your enthusiasm, before a tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well… you know how we haven’t been able to spend much time together lately?” You nodded eagerly, not missing the way his voice dipped into a quieter tone.

“And how every time we try to be alone… someone interrupts us?” he added, glancing at you briefly before looking away again, the blush deepening.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, heart thumping in anticipation. Kenma cleared his throat. “Well… maybe we can do it now.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait… here?” “The school’s practically empty,” he murmured, setting his PSP down on the desk. “Only a few clubs and… maybe a janitor. But if we’re careful…”

He finally looked back at you, and the heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

“You serious?” you whispered.

Kenma leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Only if you want to.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

So... in the end, you gave in—how could you possibly resist that pudding-colored mop of hair? And now, here you are, in this exact moment.

You're leaning over his desk, your hands pressing against the surface.

Honestly, you feel a little exposed. Your boyfriend's behind you, and you can feel his gaze, while all you can see is what's right in front of you. You feel his cold hand lift your skirt, the breeze of his breath hitting your core, making you shiver just a little..

"just look at this, huh kitten? i barely even told you what i wanted and you are this wet already?” he said as he pulled down at your underwear, “ so eager to please me huh?” He said leaning into you and giving your ear a few kitten licks.

"P-Please, Kenma," you whispered, a hint of shame in your voice. Doing this in school? It felt so forbidden, so sinful. But deep down, you couldn't deny it — you'd been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

To be honest, Kenma had wanted to tease you a little longer, but even he couldn't hold back. After the past week of restraint, he was too pent up to keep it inside any longer.

"So whiny..." he murmured while placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck, while one of his hands ran down your shirt until he reached your breasts, the way he squeezed them was very rough, but it was the right one for that moment, his hand was massaging them and the other was busy unbuckling his belt.

"I'm sorry darling..." he whispered into your ear while holding his member with one hand and rubbing it against your entrance earning a soft moan from you "you know that normally I would go slowly but... I don't think there's enough time for that right now"

You nodded in agreement, eager to feel him inside you, you hadn't realized how much you needed this, how much you missed his hands, his kisses and his caresses...

Just when you were lost in your thoughts a sudden pressure at your entrance made you yelp, Kenma's hands gripped your waist firmly, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you closer. His breathing was uneven, his gaze heavy with desire as he leaned in.

"Ahh... Y/N..." His voice came out low and hoarse, roughened by the tension building between you. He pushed in deeper, his movements purposeful, each one making you gasp as your body adjusted to him. "You're so tight... nghh..." The way he muttered it, half a groan and half a breathless confession, made your stomach flutter.

A whimper escaped you, soft and broken, your lower lip trembling as you tried to speak through the haze. "K-Kenma... it's so big, I-"

Before you could finish, he picked up his pace, each movement making you lose more control over your voice. You couldn't stop the sounds slipping from your lips, and just as quickly, he silenced you with a kiss - rough, needy, possessive. "I like you better when you just moan for me," he mumbled against your lips, his voice low and commanding.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, making you melt into his touch.

You could feel the tension in your body rising fast, and by the way Kenma gripped you, he could feel it too. The way you clenched around him made him groan softly, his head dropping to your shoulder as he trailed kisses along your neck, leaving faint marks behind.

Normally, he would slow down - tease you, drag things out until you were begging for more. But this time, he couldn't hold back. His own release was close, and it showed in the way his thrusts grew more erratic, rocking the desk beneath you as he pushed deeper.

"Fuck... baby..." His voice was husky, strained, filled with urgency as he buried himself in you. "I'm really close..."

You couldn't hold back your own moans any longer. The intensity of his movements, the weight of his body against your back, the sound of his voice — it was all too much. You didn't care if anyone could hear, if anyone walked by. All that mattered was him.

Kenma's fingers tightened their grip on your hips, his forehead pressed to yours as he pushed you both toward the edge. His heart was racing, his breath ragged in your ear, and you could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter.

"Kenma... please." you whimpered, your voice trembling as you clung to him, your body shaking from the overwhelming sensation.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name falling from your lips, his movements never faltering. He could feel how close you were — he always knew your body better than you did.

And though his usual control would have him drawing things out, this time he couldn't stop. His release was so close, right there, and he didn't want to hold back.

Twenty minutes in, and he already had you falling apart twice. But still, he kept going, chasing that final high — for both of you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Kenma's forehead rested against your back, his breath hot and uneven as you both tried to steady yourselves.

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns under your skirt, a stark contrast to the urgency from moments before. There was a softness in his gaze now, something tender beneath the layers of intensity that still lingered in the air between you.

"Are you okay?" he murmured quietly, his voice softer, more familiar. The concern in his tone made your heart ache in the best way, and you nodded, lips curling into a faint smile.

"I'm okay," you whispered, though your voice still trembled slightly from the aftershocks, your body now fully resting in the desk in a weak attempt of catching your breath.

Kenma's lips twitched into a small smile at your answer. He wasn't always great with words, but his actions said enough. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you before before turning you around, facing each other, his forehead brushing yours in a quiet moment of calm.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint creak of the desk beneath you. His thumbs rubbed lazy circles over your skin, grounding both of you as you melted into each other. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. It wasn't like him to ask, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now — more vulnerable, more open.

You shook your head, cupping his face gently. "No... it was perfect," you said softly, and you meant it.

Kenma sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into your touch.

His lips pressed a lingering kiss to your palm before he pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around you like he couldn't bear to let go just yet. "You make me feel things I never thought l'd want," he admitted quietly, his voice almost shy. "I've never... wanted someone like this before."

The honesty in his words made your chest tighten, and you couldn't help but smile as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered against his skin. "You don't have to be afraid of wanting me."

Kenma's arms tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His heart was pounding against yours, steady and strong.

What you both thought would be a peaceful moment didn’t last nearly as long as you had hoped. For a brief second, you let yourselves forget that you were still on school grounds, thinking you could steal a quiet moment together. But reality quickly came crashing back in the form of a loud, obnoxious voice that both of you knew all too well.

"KENMAAAAAA... Y/N!" Kuroo’s voice echoed through the hallways, sharp and unmistakable as he called out for you two. It was impossible to ignore. You exchanged a glance, both of you groaning internally.

"Come on, Y/N, I trusted you!" Kuroo’s voice whined from further down the hall, his footsteps growing louder as he approached.

"Shit," Kenma muttered, clearly irritated. He quickly pulled away from you, his eyes darting around in panic. "We should hurry," he added, his tone serious now.

Both of you scrambled to adjust yourselves. Kenma straightened his uniform with a quick tug at his collar, while you did the same at your skirt. You couldn’t help but glance at Kenma, biting your lip in a mix of amusement and slight concern.

"Do I have sex hair?" you asked, half joking but also genuinely curious, Kenma paused for a split second, giving you a once-over before shrugging. "Hmm... maybe just a little," he said nonchalantly, brushing his fingers through your hair to tame it.

"Great," you muttered, pushing your hair back into place as the sound of Kuroo’s voice drew closer. You had to think fast before he found you both in the hallway, and judging by the way Kenma was glancing nervously in the direction of the noise, he was already calculating your next move.

You both braced yourselves for what would surely be an uncomfortable encounter, wondering if this "moment of peace" was truly ever meant to be.

[chuulyssa]

husband!gojo doesn’t like it when you work

mdni 18+ nsfw under the cut

because, one, it steals you away from him, two, you don’t pay enough attention to him, and three, you don’t let him give you enough attention either. so he desperately tries to get you off your chair, and, quite literally, swoop you off your feet with his charms.

husband!gojo who thus tries to distract you from your boring work. why? because you don’t need to work. he’s rich enough to pay all your bills, and frankly, what else do people work for? i mean sure, you could go for the whole ‘independent person and ideals’ vibe, but that’s boring, and satoru does not like it. don’t get him wrong though; he’s super super proud of you for doing what you like, but sometimes he just isn’t able to hide the fact that he doesn’t like you away from him for as long as your work hours go.

husband!gojo who “accidentally” flops onto your desk, dangerously close to your important papers and the ink pot right next to it, and whines (with a suspiciously huge grin) about how “neglected” he feels without you “playing with his hair”. you spare him a glance, but he’s not satisfied; how can he be? so he tries to lean in to steal a kiss from your oh-so-pretty-looking lips that just need to be touched with his. but as luck would have it, clang! goes your coffee mug all over your table. he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. flop 1.

husband!gojo who goes for another method — quite literally sweeping you off your feet. he strolls into your room all confident, turns your chair around and scoops you up in his arms. when you protest, he pouts, “i’m taking you out of here, no more work, only love!” but right when he’s about to walk out of the room, he trips over the wires of your laptop charger, and both of you go tumbling to the floor. “whoops,” he says, embarrassed. flop 2.

husband!gojo who then tries to pull out the “romantic partner” card. “baby, i know you’re busy, but surely i can pull you away for a bit of… you know, charm,” he winks, trying to be all suave, thinking of picking you up for a moment before the memory of what happened the last time he did so flashes back to him like a nightmare and he merely resorts to kissing your hair. and it would’ve worked too! …if it hadn’t been for megumi’s divine dogs to have rushed into the room for no particular reason. “i didn’t think the ball would land here,” megumi says gruffly, pulling them both away, and you grimace to satoru. he sighs. flop 3.

husband!gojo who tries to throw in a spontaneous ‘date’ in the middle of work. he randomly shows up with snacks and drinks and a huge grin on his face, as if he was going to conquer the world by pulling you away from work for a break. you smile at his nice gesture, and he’s about to lean in for a loooonggg romantic and cheesy kiss before his phone rings. he cuts the call, but it rings again. and again. and again. “you have work? me too, how nice,” you kiss his nose to calm the frustrated expression he had on his face. flop 4.

husband!gojo thinks he might be sick at this point. he wants to see you, and get you to be with him already! he wants you to kiss his face, and his neck, and his knuckles, and his chest, and him! but you seem to never have the time to. he felt stupid, was he really being jealous of your work? his lip quivers and he pouts, looking at you longingly as if the look alone would get you off work.

and it does. not in the way he had thought it would though.

“there baby, now we can both get what we want, hm?” gojo whispers into your ear, and you clutch your pen tighter, goosebumps rising on your arms. “you’ll be good for me, right? stay still f’me, okay?” he gives you a ‘good luck hump’ to calm you, but it does the opposite.

your lips twist and a loud whine escapes it. it feels blissful. nothing like you have felt in ages. what have you been doing all this time anyway instead of getting yourself fucked dumb on his cock? you try moving a bit more to get that feeling again, but his arms snap immediately to tug your hips closer to still down.

“no cheating,” he hums, chin on your shoulder so you feel all the vibrations of his sounds. “let me get this,” his fingers clutch your clit, and your eyes bulge, and he slips his fingers inside your open mouth. “there there, fuuuuuckkk, can’t wait for you to be done with these papers baby. gonna do them real quick for me, right? thats my baby.”

you nod vigorously, sucking on his fingers, the pen in your hands long forgotten. yes, you will try to finish quick. but how can you, with his cock nestling so deep inside you, so still and yet still hitting the good spots?

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[jeongin-lvr]

ׅ⠀⠀ ֺ⠀⠀ ࣭⠀⠀⠀⟡ sloppy, c. yeonjun

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱ 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍，𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖻 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌！𝗃𝗃𝗎𝗇，𝖽𝗈𝗆！𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇，𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗌，𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂－𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖾𝗑，𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾！𝗃𝗃𝗎𝗇，𝗌𝗂𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄，𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒．UNEDITED.

[ 𝟣．𝟦𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ] ★ [ 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 ] ★ [ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ]

THE WAY YOUR BOSS treats you is so inappropriate. Your coworkers always tell you, anyway. But you don’t see the harm in what he does at all! Whenever he leaves lingering touches on your arm it’s innocent, and those stare-downs he throws your way are just that! There’s definitely not a hint of anything more behind those moments the both of you share. Mr. Choi is a very nice man who treats you very nicely, especially for a boss. Who are you to complain?

In hallways when you pass by each other he sends you warm smiles and maybe if he’s feeling extra kind, a wink. But when you’re called to his office to offer some help with paperwork or to have a quick chat, your coworkers start to think it’s not as simple as that. Especially after the umpteenth time today! It’s ridiculous at this point how many times you’d been phoned into his office, behind secluded walls, tinted glass door. Leaving everything to the imagination of your colleagues. Can you blame them for being curious? You didn’t care much for their speculations; that being said, you didn’t pay much attention to them anyway.

You didn’t intend on explaining yourself to them nor did you intend on telling them the truth behind those subtle glances and fleeting touches. In the public eye, it just seemed a bit weird, however, being closed doors it was soooo much more complex.

But… they are right about one thing! There’s definitely more to all of it. Getting called to the big, bad bosses office at random hours throughout the day, leaving work at the same time in the same damn car as Mr. Choi, the oddly close relationship. There really wasn’t much effort put into hiding it; stupidly, you denied all the very true rumors and speculation. What else were you to do?

They didn’t need to know any details of all the times you’d spent laid out on your filthy bosses desk, clad in nothing but your glasses and torn panties. Or those times you’d sit prettily under his desk on your calves, stuffing your mouth with his thick length, just trying to help him de stress because he’s such a good boss! He works to hard, you always tell him that. Mr. Choi is sweet with you too, calling you princess, darling, doll… all the sweet pet names under the sun because he can. He dotes on you, and treats you so well. That’s not to say he isn’t filthy with you when it comes to sex— he’ll take you like a drug; cussing and degrading you all while calling you the most beautiful woman in the same sentence. It’s a perfect balance of both, always making your toes curl. Whatever he says goes and your reward is all the benefits of being his star employee. Rides to and from work, extra pay, good dick— what’s not to love?

You’re not even sure how long this has been going on; who’s keeping track anymore? But you’d have to guess not too long after you landed the job… it happened a little too naturally.

One call into his office, a sly glance as he looked you over. Like he had been studying you. Slithering and curling over your body with a daunting gaze of power and intensity. It was hard not to buckle and fold. Mr. Choi just had this natural energy of dominance, so it’s no surprise the way he acts in bed (mostly on top of his work desk). He’s yucky in the best way.

“Sir, s—“ You’re cut off by a sudden thrust upward, your head jolting backward and hitting his firm shoulder with a soft thud. You moan, working yourself out of the fog that slowly diluted your mind.

Mr. Choi leaned back behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he let out a raspy chuckle, amused by the soft sounds of glee that fell past your lips. “What, doll?” His hands slipped up your waist, ignoring the stinging hand prints on your thighs and hips, groping your freed tits with his big, cold hands. The shocking steel of his rings hitting your perked nipples and forcing a gasp out of your throat. The cold jewelry felt stunning, momentarily leaving you frozen.

You recalled all of your coworkers asking you where you disappear to… all their quizzical stares and perplexed questions. You knew they knew. It bugged you that they knew. It didn’t before but for some reason their stares changed. More shameless with their knowledge. Like they were judging you for being so, well, obvious.

New red hickeys decorating your neck every time you left Mr. Choi’s office. Your excuses piled up like tickets. You’re sure there’s not a single excuse you haven’t used yet.

“Speak, darling, tell me what’s on your mind,” Mr, Choi grasped your tit hard, tugging at your nipple as he thrusted upward yet again, resulting in your entire body jolting in shock at the pleasure. Your glasses crooked and fogging now, your cliche red lipstick smeared and decorated over his lips and jaw. It was like a cliche porno. You could almost laugh if it weren’t for the thick inches filling and emptying you over and over. One of your bosses wandering hands slipped off of your tit and gripped your chin, squishing your lips into a stupid pout as he uncomfortably tilted your head backward, giving you a lovely glimpse at his sweaty, stoic face. His eyebrows scrunched and his full lips pulled into a parted O. He looked at you expectantly, still awaiting your response.

“Sir, m’ worried,” You paused, chasing your breath desperately, “S-someone will hear—“

He scoffed in your face, making you feel small and pathetic. Your eyes fluttering as he continued to pump himself up into you. The sounds of your leaky, full pussy sucking his deliciously thick dick was nasty and made your mind spin endlessly. Your eyes almost crossing as you fought for your consciousness.

“Who fuckin’ cares, doll?” Mr. Choi gripped your face harder, “Let them hear.”

“B-but—“

Your boss groaned, sloppily leaning in for your lips, kissing you as if he just wanted you to shut up (he did). You reciprocated instantly, melting into him in every single way. Your knees ached from how you sat propped over him, your eyes burned with a wave of intensely pleasured tears, every inch of your body was sore.

“M’ your boss, baby, you don’t gotta worry about nothing…” He spoke into your mouth, his movements jerky now, everything so sloppy and dirty. You felt arousal pool down your legs, probably staining his seat a deeper shade. The way he spoke was so reassuring, or maybe you’re just too fucked out to argue. Your body spoke for you, pussy clenching hard around him, moving back down on his pretty dick.

Mr. Choi chuckled as he pulled out of your kiss. Despite how messy the moment was, he somehow looked relatively put together in his neatly pressed suit, his somehow still sexy even though you’d run your fingers through the hair and ruined the product more times than you could count. Your eyes were unfocused but you could very clearly still make out the decoration of bright red lipstick all over your flushed skin. His white button down just a tad disheveled and his tie loosened.

You whisper now, “You’re the boss…”

“Yeah, and you’re m’ fucking you,” Yeonjun laughed almost in disbelief, “So that means you d-don’t have to worry your pretty lil head.”

You nodded dumbly, engulfed in the pleasure now, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, that’s right, beautiful,” He wrapped his hands around your waist, upping his pace while panting into your ear, “Let em all hear how good I fuck my pretty girl…” He growled now, his hands tight as he pulled you up and down his dick, ignoring your whimpers of how overstimulating it was. Mr. Choi watched your ass bounce on his thick length, the slight divot and arch in your back capturing his attention. You naked and laid out for him so nicely while he sat dressed apart from his cock had to be the best part. It was you at his mercy. Completely and totally for his pleasure.

Your moans became higher, quicker, deep from within your tummy as he filled you. You felt that hot and heavy ball of your orgasm fill your lower stomach, swelling and swelling as his leaky tip hit your g-spot over and over again. One hit after the other leaving your eyes fluttering as you allowed yourself to get overwhelmed. Your red hot nails digging into his wrist, panting his name and endless pleas.

“Yeah? Do I fuck ya real good, darling? Mm, tell me how good it feels. Be as loud as you want, ah, let everyone hear ya.”

Your bosses potty mouth only send vibrations to your core, every movement he made was overwhelming your senses in a way you couldn’t explain. You couldn’t even begin to speak without being interrupted by your own moans. Mr. Choi grabbed your waist, swiftly standing in one fluid, hurried motion. He quickly laid you backward onto his desk, not minding anything in the way, letting pens and paper fall to the floor in a mess.

The new angle was providing you with sensations you’d never felt before. Your eyes were crossing, vision blurry. His movements only increased, quicker, needier. Everything he gave you was perfection, hitting and grinding and rubbing against every part of you so nicely. You whisper his name, begging for something, anything. Silent ‘sirs’ falling past your lips, only making his lips curl.

“Yes, sir, fuck me s-so good!” Any thoughts you had about anyone hearing was forgotten now. Pleasure controlled you; mouth running in babbling moans as your nails began to dig into the fabric of his shirt.

Mr. Choi curled his fingers around your jaw, tilting your head upward to get access to your sensitive neck, covering your skin in spit and sloppy kisses.

Your glasses, foggy and lopsided, began to fall backward until they lay crooked on your forehead, only making your boss smile. He was amused by your disheveled state, clearly. Enraptured by how simple it was to get you off.

He kissed your neck, then your collarbone, anywhere your skin gave him access. He mumbled against your skin, “My pretty little slut, can’t get enough of th-this pussy… mm, so good to your boss.” He nibbled on the flesh of your breast, sucking a deep, dark circle into your skin just to listen to how you whimpered.

“S-sir, I’m g’na— fuck!” Your eyes rolled and your mouth widened before you could even manage to get the words out.

“Go ahead,” He coerced with a smirk, his full lips pressing into your skin as he thrusted into you deeper. He watched you unravel with hungry eyes, surely not ready to give up the sight of you falling apart. He didn’t even blink, his eyes burned, but he didn’t care. He needed to see you cum on his cock. He wanted it so badly. “Squeezing me so tight— fuck, baby, good girl…” He managed to rip himself away from your skin, grinning so widely as he peered down at where your bodies met. A gorgeous ring of white around his dick as he pumped into you, your back arching and face scrunched.

Your hand pressed into his chest, tugging at his tie desperately to try and get him to slow down. Only it seemed to do the opposite. He sped up his pace with a grin, maniacally thrusting into you.

“Oh, but m’ not done, sweetheart,” He gripped your wrist as you whined, “My turn now, okay? Let me handle it…”

[earlysunshines]

in a moment you and i

kim minji x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: minji has two side hustles, one of them is swinging around the city and saving people and the other is admiring you from afar. little does she know, you’re also admiring her -- not that you're aware of it.

warnings: minji is spiderwoman!! and really just a nerd under that suit ; a very pretty, oblivious, adorable nerd ; blood and violence ; pining, slowburn kinda ; ending is a lil rushed and pacing is wack imo (sooory) ; wtv else i didn’t mention

a/n: i think its funny how she's mj (minji) but spiderwoman in this anyways I kekeke lmao lol ijbol thinking ab her in those fuckass (adorable beautiful amazing lovely cute) black frames,,,

kim minji might just be one of the smartest students in her class — she’s also the sleepiest one these days.

she is two seconds away from falling asleep in class because some people can’t seem to go a second without breaking the law, and the only web-slinging person who can stop them is her.

why would anyone break into ador labs at two in the morning on a weekday? because of this, minji had to spring out of bed in the dead of night, battling a gang of thieves for nearly two exhausting hours. by the time she had webbed them to the wall, called the police, and swung back home, she only had three hours before she had to be up again.

she even got pestered by hanni for taking so long while she waited outside the house. the younger girl had to wait a few extra minutes because minji had woken up late, it’s not like she wanted to lose a few hours of sleep. when she explained to hanni why she had applied concealer on the walk to school (hanni had been the first to know about everything going on with her and why her hands were sticking to everything the day after her little spider incident), the younger girl nodded and relented.

minji’s eyelids grow heavier with each blink, and soon enough they don’t open again as she falls asleep on her palm. minji’s already caught up with this unit, it won’t hurt to sleep a bit anyway – just a few minutes.

a few minutes fades into twenty and her head falls to her forearm in the middle of her nap.

“right, that wraps up class for today everyone. chapter thirteen is your homework, we’ll have a small quiz next class on it.” mr. lee says right as the bell rings. he looks over to minji, sighing as everyone starts to pack their bags. “and someone please wake up minji.”

no one seems to hear him, no one but you.

you catch minji near the window in the second row from the front. her hair falls over her face and only her nose pokes out, but you can see a little bit of her eye from where you’re standing. the empty seat hints that danielle isn’t here today, usually she’d be the one to wake minji up.

“hey, i’ll catch up with you later, okay?” you say to jungwon, who smiles and nods before rushing out the class. 

mr. lee doesn’t seem to notice minji, too absorbed in something on his laptop and the papers scattered across his desk. you walk over and tap her once—no response. you try again, with the same result. finally, you lightly grip her shoulder and give her a gentle shake to wake her up.

"huh, what? danielle?" minji mumbles, sitting up and blinking slowly. she turns over, eyes still closed, and fixes her hair. when she finally opens her eyes again, she’s surprised to see you. her eyes widen slightly, and she feels a surge of nervousness. "oh, y/n."

“morning!” you grin, then point to the papers and folder on her desk. “you need help with those? the bell just rang.”

“did it?”

“yeah, a minute ago.”

minji sighs, fixing the black glasses she has on her face. you look at her, still, with a smile on your face and raised brows. 

“i don’t need help, you should get to class.”

“you sure? please, i insist.”

“i–” minji wonders if she’s still dreaming, the l/n y/n is offering her help and smiling at her – kim minji. 

ever since you two were first paired for a small project in eighth-grade science, she’s always felt giddy near you. in minji’s mind, you’re some angel from heaven. she has you on an imaginary pedestal that towers above the tallest buildings in the city. you’re on the tennis team, you volunteer, you’re smart, you’re in student government, and you’re so gorgeous that minji can’t think straight around you. 

unfortunately for her, half the school feels the same way, making you an unattainable fantasy. still, minji admires you from afar, blushing at the mere mention of your name and gushing about you to her friends, who never miss an opportunity to tease her about her obvious crush.

“um, yeah, thanks.” minji mutters, gulping as you begin to put her papers in a stack and place them in her folder neatly.

“danielle isn’t here today, is that right?”

“u-um, no.”

“aw, that’s a shame.”

minji tries her best to stay sane in your presence, putting all her attention on the psychology textbook that she’s shoving in her bag. “mhm.” 

you hand minji her blue folder adorned with various stickers she’s collected and she takes it nervously. you smile one more time, placing a hand on her shoulder and she think she might blow up. 

“you should get more sleep.”

“yeah, definitely.” 

“i’ll see you around, bye minji.” you wave your hand and turn to leave, minji’s lips part as she stays stuck in place, trying to regain her composure.

–

“dude, you have like– three classes with her. are you ever going to make a move or…?” 

hanni’s voice is small and faint as she looks at you from across the lobby. the bell has just rung, and everyone is free to leave, but hanni and minji always wait for their two underclassmen they’ve basically adopted to hang out after school.

“hm?”

the younger girl groans, “c’mon, we’re seniors! just stop thinking and go do something! you’ve liked her for years.”

“she’s probably not even gay! she’s always with jungwon…”

“they look like friends to me.” hanni crosses her arms and looks over at you. you’re in a little group with jimin, ningning, and wonyoung, conversing with them and giggling here and there. “she’s not even with jungwon right now.”

“that’s– oh my god, be real.” minji sighs, then turns away to look at hanni dead in the eye. “i unironically take pictures for the yearbook and am in the book club. i don’t know, i’m not eye catching or known or fucking drool worthy.”

“girl, change that then!”

hyein and haerin walk over to the upperclassmen to see them bickering again. hyein butts in, stepping into minji’s personal space. “what’s the argument this time?”

“minji’s lovergirl.”

“ahhh, i’ll pay you ten dollars if you ask her out.”

“i’m not taking your money hyein.” minji pinches the bridge of her nose, then starts to trudge away. “let’s go, it doesn’t matter. i’m hungry and i have less than an hour before i need to start editing the layout for the yearbook.”

the group starts to walk out the entrance, but not before minji gets teased and grilled again. little does minji know, you’re glancing at her the whole time. your eyes follow her as she rolls her eyes and playfully punches hanni in the shoulder. for some reason, the corners of your lips turn up in a smile.

–

a few days later, minji finds herself battling an idiot who decided to scale the side of the ador building. civilians are screaming, and some are injured, but minji swiftly moves them to safety. 

the culprits wield various weapons, forcing minji to dodge bricks left and right. pieces of debris fly at her, nearly hitting her limbs, and she ends up with a small cut on her cheekbone. 

she manages to fend off two of the three culprits, webbing them against a broken wall while dealing with the last one. this guy has good aim and manages to throw a huge piece of the building at her leg, making her wince in pain.

shit, that’s going to bruise. 

minji grunts as she catches the piece of the building that had hit her – mid air with her web – and flings it back at the man, hitting him right in the torso and knocking him out. 

she slings her web toward the building and leaps, sticking herself to the wall. she takes a few moments to recover, pressing a finger to her face and feeling the blood trickle from the small cut. minji sighs, wiping her face before webbing the criminals together in a way that will make the police's job easier.

(even if they’re not very fond with spiderwoman.)

minji has a sharp sense of awareness; her reflexes and attention to the smallest details give her a kind of sixth sense. still, she doesn’t notice you observing the whole scene from afar.

you had been in the building next door for tennis practice but immediately stopped when you heard the commotion. seeing the vigilante in blue made your jaw drop and your eyes shine with admiration. the way spiderwoman handled the situation left you more than just amazed. you found it incredibly intriguing how she could swing around and fight so fluidly.

“woah.” you say in awe, eyes following spiderwoman as she swings away.

“you’re obsessed with her,” jungwon sighs, “but holy shit that was crazy.”

“she’s so cool.”

“doesn’t your dad… hate her?” he questions, making you bite your lip.

your dad was one of the higher-ranking officers in the police force, so everything spiderwoman did reached you through him—just in a more negative light. he’d complain about the “messes” and “damage” she left behind, and you had to hold yourself back from defending her. you found spiderwoman endearing, considering she put her life on the line and was probably a normal person with responsibilities and things to do, yet she took the time to protect others.

of course, your father had the same goals: protecting the city, safeguarding the people, and creating a safer community. he did his best to achieve this, often catching criminals with his impressive skills, but his idea of fighting crime never really aligned with spiderwoman’s methods. you seemed to favor spiderwoman’s actions a little more, considering you’d put much more threatening people down and your dad was always holding some grudge. he’s just too stubborn to understand, really.

“it’s whatever, i mean, can he do that?”

“okay but he’s a cop y/n. spiderwoman is literally some unknown person with powers that could harm others if she decides to go rogue.”

“why do you always think about the bad?” you groan, then return to the court. you grab a tennis ball, bouncing it up and down before catching it. “she’s doing a lot, all she’s done is help the cops ever since she’s been public to the eye. it’s not her fault journalists are trying to shame her. you sound like my dad… gross.”

jungwon scoffs amusingly, “if your dad knew how you really felt… i’d love to watch that unfold.”

“shut up, why are you invested in my dad’s beef with spiderwoman and not getting a boyfriend.”

“and when are you going to stop fangirling over a masked woman that can shoot webs out her wrist.”

you throw the tennis ball in your hand up, then swing aggressively, catching jungwon off guard and making him jump to the side. he looks at you with a confused expression, you simply shake your head.

“let a girl do what she wants.”

-

minji shows up to school sore and there’s a bandage on her cheek from the night before. she groans as she sits next to hanni in their english class, leaning against her for support.

“dude, what the hell is up with you.”

“a piece of building and fighting for half an hour that’s what.”

“oh.” hanni hums, “sorry to hear.” 

“it’s your fault.”

“hey!” hanni frowns.

hanni is one to experiment, and a month ago her victim had been a spider. she had tested various methods of enhancing the spiders abilities and modifying its dna to create an adhesive for the science fair, and unfortunately for minji, the spider had escaped and bit her. minji simply wanted to find a few beakers for her own experiment, the last thing she expected was a spider biting her hand and the next day she didn’t need glasses, her body was toned, she could lift her bed up with a hand — and the worst surprise was her fingers were sticking to everything she picked up.

“well, if you had been more careful…”

“don’t turn this around.” minji sighs, closing her eyes and trying to rest a bit.

her eyes are still closed when she hears a familiar voice that makes her heart flutter, opening them when you start to converse with wonyoung.

“my mom works at ador, i can’t believe spiderwoman had saved her…” wonyoung says.

“really? she did?” you look at her, itching for more details.

“yeah, she almost fell to the ground and spiderwoman saved her.” she repeats.

“wow… im glad she’s okay! oh my gosh, your mom is so lucky, im glad spiderwoman was there.”

minji turns to look at you, fighting back a smile. she is?

“i’d love to be saved by spiderwoman, she seems so cool… like, imagine willingly saving people and whatnot. she must be such great person, right?”

you watch wonyoung shrug, then sit down at her desk. you sit down next to her and she starts to take her folder out her bag before adding, “i mean, probably. she saved my mom, she’s a hero in my eyes.”

“she’s so cool…” you sigh dreamily, minji can’t believe it. “the way she fights is like, oh my god, so sick. i can’t believe she’s real, she’s out of this world.”

you, y/n, are talking highly of spiderwoman. that basically means you’re gushing about her, right? minji blinks three times, fully waking up after the third, and smiles to herself. 

wonyoung snickers, “sounds like you have a crush on spiderwoman.”

“stop that! she’s just… ugh.” you roll your eyes and nudge wonyoung. “she’s so admirable, i wish more people would see her as a hero, you know? she’s only done good so far, all the damage and stuff like that only happened because of the people she fought.”

minji might die – her heart feels like it's about to burst. you're on the same wavelength as her, defending spiderwoman, and you admire her too. the way you smile while talking about her alter ego makes minji feel giddy inside. hanni notices, rolls her eyes, and sets her head down on the desk, trying to catch a few extra minutes of sleep while minji revels in the feeling of being in love. hanni might barf.

wonyoung smiles at you, raising her brows. “you’re a fan.”

“maybe.” you admit, looking at the board in front of you. “she’s so cool, that’s all.”

–

minji’s sat outside in the courtyard looking through the pictures she had taken for the archery team. there’s a variety of shots that capture their activities, highlighting their form and bullseyes, and there are a few group pictures in the mix as well.

her eyes are squinting as she looks through them, so focused on the photos that she doesn’t notice someone calling her name.

"hey, minji," you call out, but she’s still hunched over, intently focused on her camera. you walk over, and she doesn’t notice you, too absorbed in adjusting the settings. gently, you grab the front of her cap and turn it around, making it sit backward on her head. startled, she looks up from the camera in her hand to see you. "hi," you greet again, a smile spreading across your lips.

minji’s cheeks flush. “hi, hey. did you need something?”

“yeah, i just wanted to ask a favor.” 

“oh, of course, what was it?”

you sit down next to her and she feels herself stiffen up. you smile at her and lean against the table behind you. “well, i was wondering if you could help take pictures for the tennis team? we have a practice and game coming up so i figured they’d be good on the yearbook. also, jungwon wanted to ask you to help him promote a fundraiser he wants to set up.”

“he did?”

you nod, “jungwon’s been planning this for a while, we’re trying to set it up and do a bake sale of some sort.”

“i’m down, but i’m booked for this week. a lot of people have been asking around, and my friends have priority, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips and you point to her camera. “well, who wouldn’t ask you? you’re the best photographer here, last years yearbook was amazing because they switched heeseung out for you.”

“you think?”

“i know.”

minji stops for a second, it feels like she’s being squeezed and the way you look at her makes her heart beat a little faster. 

“t-thanks.” minji hates the small stutter in her response and the way she avoids your gaze. “i can um, arrange something next wednesday for the tennis team. for jungwon’s fundraiser maybe the same week, what was it for anyway?”

"we’re trying to raise money to support others in places that don’t have equal care for the lgbtq+ community!" you explain excitedly. minji freezes up again. we? no, maybe you're just an ally; minji can’t just assume. you're really sweet, kind, and a great person, but that doesn’t mean you're gay just because you want to help others.

“that’s wonderful.” 

“mhm, and especially with so many people getting hurt these days, it worries me how people in my own community deal with unequal healthcare, you know?”

minji tilts her head, then says, “wait, your community?”

you look at her with confusion all over you. “yeah! mine. minji, you know im… a lesbian, right?”

fireworks explode, people are cheering, and minji smiles before quickly suppressing it. "oh," she says, then pauses, realizing how flat her response sounds. she nearly drops her camera as she raises a hand in defense, shaking it and stuttering, "i-i mean, it's not a bad thing! obviously, i mean, i'm gay, er—i'm a lesbian too. i think it's great that you care so much about this. it's great. yeah, i'll prioritize the shoot for you."

she looks adorable, cheeks flushed and her glasses sliding down her nose. you push them up with your finger and minji clenches her jaw. 

“great.” you say softly, then narrow your eyes at her. “well, i have to get going for practice. thanks again, you’re the best minji.”

she nods and grips the camera in her hand a little tighter, watching you walk away, then turn around for a brief moment to add,

“you look really good with your hat like that, by the way.” the way it slips off your tongue, the way you smile once more and walk away, leaves minji feeling like she’s near cardiac arrest.

–

minji’s at a mall on a weekend, not to shop or hangout with her friends, but because people think it’s a good idea to try and commit crimes in broad daylight.

they’re not just normal, stupid shoplifters either; they’re far from it – near villains. the men she’s fighting have weapons, and they’re raiding various tech stores, causing chaos as people run around screaming. the scene is a mess, with extensive property damage, and minji wonders how it will ever get fixed.

she fights four men in the apple store, they chuck phones at her in hopes of slowing her down, but really, it’s just putting good phones to waste. she jumps up on the ceiling, catching them by surprise, and takes them down one by one from where she is. they’re not difficult to fight, minji had alrieady figured from the whole phone throwing part, so thankfully there’s isn’t a single scratch on her.

a few more stores are terrorized and minji manages to capture at least ten more culprits, webbing them together or sticking them to a wall for the police to find red-handed. she’s left with a few bruises by then, but nothing too brutal.

minji catches sight of two men in the corner of her eye running toward the metro stop that connects to the mall. she quickly follows, weaving past civilians and using her webs to launch herself ahead, closing the distance faster. she watches as the two men jump the entrance gate to the station. not only did they destroy a decent part of the mall, but they didn’t even bother to pay for the metro. they could’ve at least bought a day pass, she thinks wryly.

by the time she gets passed the entrance (she didn’t pay either, but in her case it’s to stop crime) and finds herself at a rough stop.

there are three metro lines: red, blue, and yellow – after getting down the stairs there are three directions that they could’ve gone, and minji doesn’t have time to check every place considering the metro comes and goes.

she’s stuck, the only thing she can do is pick one and pray that she’ll find them.

that’s what she thinks at least, until she hears a woman screaming for help in the direction of the red line. minji swings towards it almost immediately, using her enhanced agility and power to get there as fast as she can. 

when she reaches the platform, her eyes widen.

the two men hold you, your arms are restricted and you’re desperately trying to squirm out their grasp. minji immediately feels anger bubbling up inside of her, watching the way the men smile at her.

“let her go.” minji warns, stepping closer.

"how about you relax, spiderwoman? put your hands up, and the girl will be perfectly fine," one of the men sneers, pulling out a dagger and holding it against your neck. your head tilts up, desperately trying to avoid the blade, and your breath shakes as you freeze in place. "wouldn't want to hurt such a pretty little thing, hm? she is one of the captain's daughters, isn't that right?" the man adds, smiling at you disgustingly.

“fuck you.” you curse through gritted teeth. “ugly bitch.”

the man presses the flat side of the dagger against you, the frigid feeling of the material makes you gasp. 

you seemed to have been browsing around the mall, considering the casual outfit you have on, but now, you’re in danger. minji looks at you worried, unable to process much from just seeing you being held back like that. you look at her with upturned brows, scared out of your mind but also worrying just as much for spiderwoman.

minji sighs quickly, there’s others around as well, she can’t risk causing a scene in such a tight space with so much risk of making things worse. she puts her hands up slowly, you widen your eyes.

“fine, i won’t budge. just take that blade away from her, now.” minji says.

the man laughs, and so does his little partner in crime. “what, this blade?” he uses the dagger to tilt your head to the side to face him, then grins. “i wouldn’t do a thing to such a beauty.”

you fight back a retort, opting to shut yourself up for the time being. the man puts his hand down, taking away the blade from your throat.

“let her go.” minji orders, looking at you being held back. “she didn’t do anything.”

his partner snickers, then looks at you amusedly before looking back at minji. “you just stay there and we’ll see what happens to–”

before he can answer, you manage to kick him in the back of his knee, throwing him off balance and making him stumble. this gives you a quick opportunity to break free from one man's grip and swing your free hand at the other. you successfully land a blow on the man with the dagger, striking his jaw, but the impact hurts your knuckles, making you inhale sharply.

the men recover as you step away from them, eyeing you angrily.

“you little–”

before they can grab you again, you feel something sticking to your back. you’re being pulled backwards and feel an arm wraps around you. turning over, you see spiderwoman up close and in person. the eyes on her mask narrow as she looks at you, then asks, 

“are you okay?”

you gulp, then breathe hard. “yeah, yes.”

“good, stay put.” she says. 

you watch as she runs toward the man you had kicked, delivering a punch to his jaw and another to his stomach, making him fall back with a groan. he lays on the ground, clutching his belly, unable to get up after just two hits. the other man, now frightened, clutches his dagger. you watch as spider-woman slings a web at his chest, pulling him toward her, and then punches him right where you did.

you’re amazed, to say the least—until the man somehow manages to swing his dagger at spiderwoman’s upper forearm, leaving a deep cut. your eyes widen in horror as blood seeps out onto the floor.

she gasps in pain as the man attempts to swing at her shoulder, but she quickly throws him to the ground before he can and shoots a web at his hand, making the dagger fall in the process.

ignoring the pain for a moment, minji traps the men on the dirty platform floor by webbing their limbs to the ground. she kicks the man who had the dagger in the crotch for good measure. people cheer in amazement, applauding her efforts.

however, minji’s too distracted by the sharp pain from the cut, and that you’re watching.

she turns to see you appalled, walking over to look at her wound closer.

“you’re– spiderwoman, you’re hurt.”

“it’s not much,” she lies, shaking her head. “just a scratch.”

“no, no it’s not don’t lie to my face.” you grab her wrist without warning, and even though she’s spiderwoman at the moment – not kim minji, the girl who can barely make eye contact with you for more than five seconds – she’s momentarily distracted by the pain and blushing. “i– are you able to swing places?”

“um, i guess?” the confidence she’s built for this alter ego has completely washed away in your presence. “what are you–”

before she can finish, you fish for a handkerchief in your bag and tie it around the bleeding cut. minji doesn’t respond or say anything because a second later you’ve grabbed her hand and started running away from the red line platform. civillians watch, but none follow.

you turn to her for a split second as you speed through the corridors to ask, “do you know where hybe highschool is?”

“yes,” minji says breathily, “excuse me, y/–” she catches herself before exposing the fact that she knows you. “miss, what are you–”

“take me there, you can swing me, can’t you?”

the handkerchief does wonders, or maybe it’s just you. spiderwoman nods. “yeah, yes.”

in a rush of boldness, minji grabs your waist and holds onto you tight, shooting a web up at the ceiling to get the two of you up the big escalator in two seconds, then finds the nearest exit and has you two outside in no time.

“hold on tight, okay? it can be a little scary.”

“i like the thrill, it’s okay.” 

minji pauses, catching her breath. “you’re interesting,” she says, then shoots a web at the nearest building. she jumps up, swinging the two of you through the urban jungle, the city blurring around you as minji finds the quickest route to her school with you clinging onto her.

–

when the two of you reach the school, it’s closed and abandoned since it’s a saturday. why would anyone be on the campus during their off day? in this case, it’s because a pretty girl has led spiderwoman back for a reason she hasn’t even said yet.

minji needs to get a grip.

“follow me,” you say quickly, then grab her hand and run towards the south entrance where the main office and clinic are. ““if you’re ever hurt, just remember this.”

the doors aren’t open, but you pull out a keycard from under the mat that unlocks it. 

you lead her past the office and towards the clinic, which is empty. minji lets you sit her down – you’re too in your head to consider the fact that spiderwoman is sat down with no word uttered because she had simply let you do so – and watches you shuffle around the storage to find a first aid kit, cloth, a bucket, and a bottle of distilled water.

“what are you doing?”

“you have a really deep cut in your forearm, it’s not safe to just let it go.”

“i could’ve seen a doctor.”

you scoff, then sit down next to her. “they’d ring the police immediately, you know my dad is a captain? everyone there hates you.”

“oh.”

"yeah, oh." you grab her forearm, unwrapping the handkerchief and cringing at how much blood has soaked through. "jesus christ." you hold her forearm above a bucket, pouring water over the wound to rinse it off. then you grab a soft cloth with disinfectant to clean around the area. the sting makes minji groan. "sorry," you apologize.

"it’s fine," she says quietly, watching you clean around the wound with an alcohol wipe. minji bites back more sounds of pain—for your sake, of course.

the rest of the time you treat her, it's silent. thankfully, the cut isn’t severe enough to need stitches. you apply a thin layer of ointment to the wound, then cover it with gauze, wrapping it securely around her forearm to keep it in place. you rub your thumb over the gauze, then look up at spiderwoman.

“does it hurt less?”

“yeah,” she says, looking down at her treated cut. “thank you.”

“it’s nothing.”

“why did you do it?”

“why not?” you shrug, packing up the equipment you used. “you’re spiderwoman.”

“you just said the police hate me.”

“they do.”

“your dad is a cop.”

“you’re smart,” you grin at her teasingly as she points out the obvious. “he is.”

minji sighs, unable to read you at all. “you don’t hate me?”

“i don’t have any reason to. most of the time you do their job better, you help out with the more… serious crimes. if anything, i think you’re a hero.”

that manages to shut spiderwoman up, so you continue, putting the first aid kit away in the cabinet. then you grab the blood and water mixture and pour it down the sink. you rinse the bucket and place it on the ground before tossing the empty water bottle into the trash.

minji cannot believe any of this happened. you, the prettiest, sweetest girl in the school that she’s been head over heels for since grade eight, have managed to drag a vigilante five minutes away to your school and treat her.

“how are you so good with stuff like this?” minji questions, watching you wash your hands. 

“my aunt is a nurse.” you dry off your hands with a paper towel, then turn to look at her. “she taught me a fair amount.”

of course you know how to treat a wound, you’re good at everything, minji thinks.

“thank you…?”

“y/n,” minji already knows that, and you saying it is like choir bells ringing. “my name is y/n.”

“right, thank you y/n.”

“mhm.” she watches you fix your black t-shirt and jeans, then grab a small bandaid from the drawer nearby. you look in the mirror and lift your head up, turning to the side to place the bandaid on a small cut that minji didn’t notice before.

“he hurt you?”

“‘just a scratch,’” you mock her words from earlier. “he just grazed me, it’s bleeding a little now though.”

“you’re okay, right?”

“kind of traumatized but i’ll be fine.” you say, brushing it off like it’s nothing. minji is seriously attracted to everything about you. “i’m glad you’re okay.”

“i should be the one saying that.”

“i’m okay, spiderwoman. all because of you.”

minji tries to respond, but her throat dries up. she watches you smile at her, feeling her heart do a little flip in her chest. she wonders what she can do in return, then perks her head up as an idea forms in her mind.

“i can drop you back off at home, it’s getting late,” you offer, though it’s only five o’clock in the afternoon. despite the early hour, minji finds herself wanting to spend more time with you. behind the mask, she feels a bit more confident talking to you, knowing you think highly of her from what you’ve overheard. “you like the thrill, right?”

“you’re a good listener.”

“i guess so.”

“i’d love to get home via spiderwoman, uber’s are pricey these days.”

minji laughs softly and the pain in her arm fades away momentarily.

–

you’re bombarded the next day by your friends and some other people you’ve only talked to a few times in your (almost) four years of being in the school. they all question the same thing, everything is related to what happened between you and spiderwoman because of some pictures going around on the internet.

the people you don’t know all too well all question your experience, but your friends are asking if you’re okay or severely injured.

jungwon acts as a bodyguard, shooing away everyone who isn’t in your circle and tilting your head up to examine the bandaid on your neck.

“is your throat okay?”

“it’s nothing, just a little worse than a papercut,” you assure, but wonyoung makes a face.

“papercuts are terrible y/n,” she groans, “are you sure you’re fine?”

“it’s nothing. spiderwoman saved me before i could do anything, i’ll tell you more, let’s just get to class?”

“you’re sure you’re–” 

“wonyoung, it’s a scratch. it’s nothing.”

–

after school, you’re typically at tennis practice or helping out with student government activities. you usually get home around four or five, either sweaty from practice or burnt out from your responsibilities. normally, you arrive before your dad and aunt. your dad’s demanding schedule rarely allows him to rest, and your aunt’s schedule is worse considering she’s a nurse, so you’re usually home alone for a bit.

that’s not the case this time.

you close the door behind you, then turn to see your dad leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. your aunt looks at you, clearly tense.

“oh, you’re both home.” you set your jacket on the little hook in the door. “what’s up…?” the way your dad looks at you makes you stiff, his jaw tightens and he looks angry. he’s rarely ever angry at you, and your aunt seems worried. “did something happen?” you ask.

“how about you explain to me why i’m finding out today,” he steps away from the counter, walking towards you and continuing, “that my daughter crossed paths with that vigilante.”

“spiderwoman?”

“y/n, i thought you knew better.”

your shoulders sink and you sigh, “she’s not as bad as you paint her out to be.”

“she could be, she’s dangerous.”

“dad!” you scoff, shaking your head. “are you dense? if she hadn’t been there, my throat would’ve been sliced.”

“or maybe you wouldn’t have been in that situation at all. you realize those men used you to get spiderwoman to surrender? because of her i almost lost my only daughter.”

your aunt simply hums, then nods. “i’m sorry but… your dad has a point.”

“you’re agreeing with him too?” you groan, “dad, regardless of what could’ve happened, what did happen was that spiderwoman saved me. can’t you see that?”

“y/n, think about what could happen in the long run, listen to your dad. look, i know you’re frustrated, but your dad is also my older brother, he’s always known what’s best.”

“all that spiderwoman can bring is danger to you, don’t follow her antics.”

you stare at both of them, baffled and almost offended. you could’ve died, and they’re still ungrateful for spider-woman’s efforts. you bite the inside of your lip, struggling to hold back the urge to lash out. your dad sends you a small warning look, silently reminding you to keep your composure. scoffing, since it's the only outlet for your frustration, you storm down the hall to your room, deciding to avoid them for a while.

once you close the door, you flop down on your bed and close your eyes.

various emotions come rushing to you, only fuelign the fire of resent towards your dad in the moment.

he’s been so uptight since your mom passed when you were young, becoming increasingly protective and closed off. he pushes you to be better but restricts you from so many things. it’s as if he wants to hide you from the world, only exposing you to what he deems right. his selfishness and narrow-mindedness infuriate you. his biased views feel like chains holding you back and making you angrier.

your aunt has been with you for a while now, and she understands you the most. she gets your moods, motivations, and knows you like the back of her hand. despite everything, she sides with your dad – you feel some sort of betrayal.

your father isn’t a bad guy, but being mad at him makes you forget that for a bit.

“he doesn’t know shit,” you mutter, “spiderwoman isn’t danger.”

sitting up again, you stare at the floor as you recollect yourself.

you groan again, feeling cramped up in the room. your thoughts feel like a stormy cloud over your head and the thought of being in the same living space with your dad only frustrates you more. 

quickly, you grab your phone and keys, rushing out your room and down the hall. your aunt and dad stop conversing momentarily as they watch you unlock the door.

“what do you think you’re doing y/n?” your dad questions, watching you closely. you don’t respond, instead sending him a small look before opening the door, and he seems to lose it. “where the hell are you–”

his wrist is restrained and tugged at as you exit the apartment. your dad looks back to see your aunt – his sister – holding him back. she shakes her head and stops him, softly saying, “don’t, just let her.”

“i can’t just–”

“you’re so uptight, just let her be. she’s overstimulated and needs some time.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at the door. his body relaxes, almost going limp as he sits down next to your aunt. “i’m just worried for her.”

“she’ll be fine, just take it easy. i’m worried about her too.”

–

you’ve made it a few blocks away with no idea in mind. you don’t have your wallet or anything, just a heavy heart and clouded mind – and after hearing your stomach rumble, almost an empty stomach too.

it’s still busy during the late evening. people are making their way home after staying late at work, families of three or four linger together, and friends eat ice cream on the benches. you’re trying to find a place that brings you peace. the nearby bookstore, the same one you grew up visiting, pops into your head. it never fails to bring you relaxation, a sort of sanctuary to you.

one more block and you’ve turned to meet the entrance of the bookstore, it closes in less than an hour – that’s more than enough time to cruise around. stepping inside you’re met with the strangely nice smell of books, a small smile forms on your lips.

you make your way over to the graphic novels, sliding your fingers along the spines as you walk through. you’ve already read most of them, and tonight's mood doesn’t really call for this type of reading. the next section you visit is where your favorite poems and literature are found. you scan the shelves closely before picking out a small book filled with a collection of poems you haven’t seen before. flipping through it, you read every other page, admiring the works.

you grab another book before heading to your favorite spot, the little corner away from the shelves near the window. 

what you don’t expect to see is someone in your usual spot, slumped against the wall, sleeping with a book in their hand. you squint your eyes as you catch sight of the person, then look closer, realizing it isn’t just anyone: it’s minji.

minji’s always been alluring in your eyes, not just physically but her as a person drew you in a bit. she’d always stumble on her words and had this weird, adorable charm to her with every interaction. plus, she was smart and sweet, but you never had the chance to talk to her as much as you’d like to – even if you were to, you were always a little nervous yourself. seeing her now, she looks especially cute, reminding you of how she makes your heart beat slightly faster everytime you see her.

she’s in a black hoodie and jeans, breathing slowly with her head angled down and her lips slightly parted. her glasses are almost at the tip of her nose and her hair is tied up in a casual bun. you’ve always caught her sleeping in class at least twice a week from afar, you never realized how pretty she looked up close.

you hesitate, unsure whether to wake her or not. glancing down at your phone to check the time, you decide you’ll wake her before the store closes.

to pass the time, you continue to read, marvelled at certain pieces and snapping pictures here and there. this lasts twenty minutes, you almost forget about the time, but minji crosses your mind as you read a certain poem and it prompts you to check your phone and look back at the girl.

you shake her lightly, hearing her groan despite not budging. you squeeze her shoulder and she still doesn’t wake up, so you opt to pinch her cheeks, which stirs her awake.

“hm?” she mutters, blinking a couple times. 

“morning minji.”

“y/n, hi, what– how did you get here? what time is it…”

she hears you giggle before responding, “the place closes in ten minutes. i usually read in this space but when i came over i saw you sleeping, so i just stayed close until it got late.”

“you did?” you stayed by minji while she slept, how crazy is that? minji pushes her glasses up. “thank you for waking me up.”

“it’s nothing, but we should probably head out before they kick us out.”

“yeah, that sounds good.”

minji follows you towards the section where you got the book you were reading. she watches as you carefully put the book back in its place, and then you lead her out of the bookstore, saying goodnight to the staff sweetly and waving. minji can only smile and admire until you’re both outside.

you look both ways, then your stomach rumbles. your cheeks warm up and you embarrassingly mumble, “sorry, i haven’t eaten yet.”

“you haven’t?” minji questions.

“no. i’ll eat later, i don’t have my wallet on me.”

“but your stomach just rumbled, you should really eat.”

“it’s whatever.”

“no,” minji shakes her head, then looks at you seriously. “it’s not whatever, let me buy you something.” she says, a little shocked that she even had the confidence to say that. “you need to eat.”

“it’s fine, i–”

“come on, let’s go. the convenience store is at the end of the block.”

“i don’t have my wallet minji.”

“i’ll pay.”

“you’re not paying for me.”

“yes i am. do you want those pictures or…?” minji smirks slightly and you surrender because it makes you feel oddly nervous and warm inside.

“fine.” you respond, shoulders sinking as minji starts to walk in the direction of the convenience store. 

the two of you make your way inside, wandering around and browsing the cheaper options. minji grabs a packet of ramen and some green tea, while you find a chicken sandwich and peach tea. after being rung up by the cashier, you head towards the area to prepare minji’s ramen. as you glance at the food in your hands, you feel a pang of guilt, knowing she bought it for you.

minji’s pouring hot water into the bowl while you speak, “i’ll pay you back.”

“it’s nothing, don’t.”

“stop, i will.”

“don’t.” minji shrugs, then uses a chopstick to stir the noodles around. she puts a sauce packet in and mixes again, then looks at you with a small smile. “it’s nothing, seriously. i haven’t eaten dinner yet either, your company is enough.”

“is it?”

she finds herself blushing a little. “um, yeah, yes.”

“oh.” your lips start to turn up. “yours is great too.”

minji turns back to the bowl of ramen because she’s a little embarrassed, but also because her dinner is finished. 

the two of you sit at the counters inside the store and start to eat. it’s silent for a while, but there’s nothing wrong with that. you feel happy just being next to her, and the sandwich tastes better than usual.

“why didn’t you eat before?” minji asks you while you’re still chewing. 

you take a moment to swallow before answering, “i kind of… ran away for a bit.”

“you snuck out?”

“no, my dad saw me leave. i think my aunt held him back.”

“oh.” minji looks away from you and out the window. “did something happen?” she starts, but stops herself soon after. “i mean you don’t have to tell me of course, i was just curious.”

“it’s fine, my dad and i got into a little disagreement, that’s all.” you see, a little bothered by it in minji’s eyes, but she doesn’t push further. you take a sip of your tea and turn to look at minji. “how long were you at the bookstore?”

“oh, um.” she laughs nervously. “i was reading for half an hour, then fell asleep. you woke me up a few hours after.”

“you were asleep for hours there?”

“only two!” she quickly defends, making you giggle. “i’m just… tired these days.”

you scoff playfully. “doing what?” 

minji pauses, trying to formulate an answer. “sleep problems?” it comes out unsure and more like she’s questioning herself. she coughs and says again, firmly, “sleep problems.”

“aw, maybe buy melatonin?”

“my mom isn’t fond of that, she thinks it’ll mess with my health.”

“yeah, my dad thinks that too.” 

minji chuckles before slurping up a few more noodles, and you take another bite out of your sandwich.

a few minutes later, you two finish your food and start walking with no destination in mind. the evening chill sets in, and the breeze makes you tense up and shiver. minji notices you clutch your phone tighter as the wind blows against you. you're wearing a baby t-shirt and linen pants, clearly not enough to keep warm in this weather.

“are you cold?”

you shake your head and lie, “no, just a breeze.”

“you look cold. here, i have a long-sleeved shirt under this anyway,” minji says quietly, slipping off her hoodie. she pauses and you do too, then hands it to you. you tilt your head, staring at the piece of clothing, then look back at her. she moves it towards you again, urging you to take it. “i’m warm, you’re not.”

“i am.”

“i didn’t know you could be such a liar, y/n.”

“what?”

“i’m kidding,” she says, then pulls you closer by your wrist. you let her put the hoodie on you, it fits a little large since it’s also oversized on her. “better?”

she looks at you with care in her eyes, you almost stop breathing. the sunset’s glow highlights the curve of her nose and lights up her gaze. all you can think is wow, because wow.

“woah,” you’re a little starstruck. “you’re… gorgeous.”

“i– what? no, where did that come from?”

“sorry, um, i didn’t mean to… it was just in the moment, you know? yeah…” you swallow lightly, and laugh to push away the awkwardness. “thank you. this is much better, i’m warm.”

“that’s good.”

“yeah.”

the two of you continue to walk, with you filling the silence and talking about your classes. minji’s easy to talk to, she’s a great listener and hums at everything before adding her own input. everything she responds with is interesting too, but maybe that’s because she’s minji.

both of you had turned halfway through to start walking in the other direction since you live the same way. minji points at certain stores and spots, sharing short stories and little remarks about memories from each place. her voice is soft and nostalgic, painting vivid pictures of her past experiences as you stroll along together. 

you could listen to her all day, or at least a long while. that’s what you realize the more she speaks.

you two reach a point where you need to part ways. minji lives on the right side and you live left, so you two stand at the croner before the crosswalk, looking at each other.

minji pauses you as you start to take off her hoodie, “you can give it back to me tomorrow.”

“what? no way, it’s cold.”

“my home is only five minutes down, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i’m sure.” she adds.

silence follows again for a few seconds, you take the time to scan minji’s face again.

“what happened to your cheek?” you point at the bandage on her cheekbone.

“oh,” minji’s not going to tell you that some idiot decided to throw a piece of building at her and scratch her skin. “um, knife?” she clears her throat. “knife.”

“how did the knife get up there?”

minji tries hard to conjure a response, looking down before her eyes light up after a lie forms.

“i had it in my hand while trying to scratch an itch.”

“mhm, okay.” you say squinting your eyes at her and giggling. 

minji looks at the bandage on your neck, remembering how, where, and why you had hurt yourself there. it’s odd that you look at her with the same admiration even when she’s out of teh suit – when she’s just minji and not some ‘hero’ in your eyes.

“what happened to your neck?”

“some guy.” you play it off like you didn’t almost get your throat sliced. “you probably heard the story.”

“i didn’t.” she didn’t need to, minji had been part of the story.

“oh,” your fingers raise and brush against the bandage as you recall, “spiderwoman saved me, but this guy managed to graze me.”

minji hums and nods, then steps closer, reaching her hand out to gently put her finger on it. you stiffen. 

“were you scared?” minji asks, finger sliding down the bandage in a way that makes you tingle. “it must’ve been scary.”

you shake your head. “spiderwoman was there, i knew she’d come through.”

“right.” minji says lowly, then takes her finger off of you. she stares at you for a good five seconds before smiling softly. “i’ll um, i’ll see you.”

“yeah, thanks.”

“get home safe, text me when you get– oh, wait.” she furrows her brows before pulling out her phone. “i don’t have your um…” her voice quiets down to something close to a whisper, “--your number.”

“you can have it, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” 

“yeah, um, i just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” minji says, because if anything were to happen to you she’d do more than just web some dumbass down. they’d probably be left with a little bruise or two, maybe even left upside down against a wall or tree. minji continues, “if that’s alright with you.”

“that’s perfect.” you type in your number and smile at her once more before finally adding, “thank you for the hoodie, good night minji.”

“goodnight y/n.”

with that, you two depart, and you look back once to see her walking in the other direction. when you turn back, putting your hands in the pocket of minji’s hoodie, you realize: minji’s wonderful. 

the image of her smiling and puffing her lips out when you tease her makes you grin to yourself. you can’t tell if it’s because of her hoodie or her; you’re warm inside and out.

–

minji waits for you at the entrance of the school instead of meeting her friends at their usual spot (if the little corridor by the gym counts as a meetup spot anyway). she looks around, you had texted her that you were almost at school.

she feels a little stupid standing there by herself, especially since your friends are nearby and stealing glances at her, making her shrink in her place a little.

all her worries wash away when you walk through the entrance and scan the room, meeting her eyes and lighting up. you make your way towards her with her hoodie in your arms, then hand it to her.

“thanks again.”

“it’s no problem.”

“i owe you, and for the shoot later today.”

“you don’t owe me anything.” minji smiles at you assuringly. “i’ll um, get going. your friends are all here…” she rubs her neck awkwardly and looks down at the hoodie in her hand.

“oh! i was actually wondering…” she watches you look down at the ground. “do you want to walk around together? we have first block together so… if you don’t mind. i enjoyed being around you last night.”

“you did?” minji looks surprised, she sounds surprised. “i mean, yes. yeah, i’m down, let me text my friends.”

“great.”

“yeah.”

minji can’t fight back the smile that forms on her face and neither can you – you like the sight of it. her gums show a little and you think it’s the most endearing thing in the world.

“by the way, are you and your dad okay? after the argument.. you know?”

“oh, yeah.” you mumble. you and your dad agreed to disagree. “it doesn’t really matter, i��m just grateful you were there to help me feel better.”

“i did?”

“how could you not?”

-

minji’s adjusting the settings of her camera, eyes squinty as she looks close at the small screen. from afar, you take a few glances throughout your conversation with jungwon and wonyoung.

you watch as minji’s lips pout a little, she has a poker face that would make her seem intimidating and serious if you didn’t know her. 

“hello?” jungwon waves a hand in front of your face. you glance away from minji and your attention is back on him, catching the look he shares with wonyoung. 

“why are you guys looking at each other like that.” 

wonyoung raises her eyebrows, the smirks. “the real question is why are you looking at minji so much?”

“i’m just… you know… she’s– she’s taking long to set up her stuff.”

“it’s been less than three minutes y/n,” jungwon clicks his tongue. “you even ditched us to walk with her, what’s up with that?”

crossing your arms, you respond, “what’s wrong with that? are you jealous?”

“oh not at all, i don’t care y/n. just curious, that’s all.”

“you looked a little too happy in my eyes.” wonyoung teases, smiling knowingly. 

“shut up, she’s just really nice, you know…” 

“uh huh.” jungwon hums, smiling wider.

before you can scold him, you catch minji looking up and making eye contact with you. today, she’s wearing a flannel over a white tank top, paired with dark jeans to complete the outfit. she looks a little dorky, but you’re into that – she pulls it off effortlessly. 

as she starts to walk towards you, jungwon, and wonyoung, you smile wider, waving at her and beckoning her over with your hand. minji greets the others warmly, then glances down at the ground before looking back up at you nervously.

“hi, are you all ready?”

“yeah, i’ll gather the rest.”

“great, you all can just go on with practice and i’ll try to get the best shots i can.”

“that sounds great! thank you again minji, i owe you so much.”

she chuckles, putting a hand on your shoulder and rubbing it lightly. “it’s nothing.” she says, but what’s something is the familiar tingly sensation making you lose balance. jungwon notices the blush on your cheeks, as well at your thrown off composure, fighting back a laugh.

first, you and jungwon have a warm-up match together. minji snaps a few pictures before wonyoung and heeseung join in for a doubles match. after capturing your group, she moves on to the rest of the team, snapping pictures of them in action. her shots capture the players mid-swing, rackets in hand, their faces set with determination. the light filters through the trees, casting a perfect glow over the court, making each photo dynamic and full of energy.

you sit on the side, watching your teammates and minji (mostly minji) at work. 

“i’ve never seen you with hearts in your eyes until now.” wonyoung teases, shoving her shoulder against yours.

“shut up,” you groan, putting your hand on her face and pushing her away. “minji’s so sweet, and cute…”

“i knew it!” wonyoung gasps, “you never look at anyone like that. half the school looks at you like that, but you’ve never returned the gesture.”

“there’s no one in the school to look at like that wony.”

“well, now there is.”

you sigh, leaning into your best friend and pouting. minji looks really, really good on the court, the sun hitting her, and all focused on doing what she does best.

“i never realized how gorgeous she was.” you admit, staring harder. “and she’s so nice, like, danielle – the one in student government – she’s mentioned her a few times and only good things have come out her mouth. she’s not lying.”

“what, did you hangout with her or something? like a date?”

“no! no.” you shake your head, then frown slightly. “i mean, i got into a fight again with my dad and ran out the house and then to the bookstore and–”

“slow down.”

“sorry. i don’t know, i ran into her and just being with her made me feel better. it’s crazy because we’ve barely talked before this.”

“hmm…” wonyoung starts to ponder, narrowing her eyes at minji as she shoots a thumbs up in the air. she turns to face you and your best friend, smiling and walking over. “well, seems like you’re fond of her. i guess we’ll have to let time do the work.” she says before minji’s in a range where she can hear the two of you.

minji stands in front of you and wonyoung, grinning as she explains, “i’ve gotten the last shots i think, now a group picture?” 

“yes, that would be great.”

“great, if you could get everyone in the middle of the court that would be great.”

you nod, then grab wonyoung eagerly by the wrist and motion for everyone to gather around, just like minji said.

she instructs you all to have the tallest in the back, with you and jungwon in the front together since you two are the captains. minji sets the camera on the tripod, squinting her eyes as she fixes certain things. then, she gives a small thumbs up and says, “smile!”

the whole team says “cheese!” in unison, making minji smile herself. she snaps a few pictures, then urges you all to do something a little sillier. you make a face and stand on your tip toes to wrap and arm around jungwon, making him groan and laugh simultaneously. it’s candid in a way, with everyone being themselves and enjoying the moment.

minji giggles, then raises her hand up to give one last final thumbs up.

the smile on your face fades into something near shock, because minji’s sleeve falls down to just above her elbow, revealing a covered-up patch of skin – goosebumps trail up your spine because that’s the exact same gauze and placement. everything is identical to what you patched up two days ago, your brows furrow upon seeing it.

minji doesn’t seem to notice, instead taking the camera off the tripod and clicking through the photos. the tennis team starts to converse again, but you’re caught up with the injury on minji’s forearm.

you don’t want to jump to conclusions – but you’re kind of doing that.

what doesn’t help minjis case is the fact that she reacts so quickly when a tennis ball flies toward her head. it’s almost unhuman how she manages to dodge it, then catch it right after. 

she walks back towards you, then says, “the pictures look great from the little screen, i’ll take a look at them on the laptop and email them to you, yeah?”

you don’t respond for a moment, your eyes on her exposed forearm. you squint harder, thinking of when you patched up spiderwoman, and nothing shakes you from teh fact that that’s the same fucking bandage.

“y/n?”

“oh, yeah, that sounds good.”

“yeah…” minji realizes what you’re staring at, then panics and quickly rolls down her sleeve again. “i um, i just uh, hurt myself.”

“how?” you look up at her, making eye contact. “what happened?”

“brick.” she says quietly, “i tripped and my arm hit the um, the edge of a brick.”

“right, okay.” you still look at her now covered forearm, squinting again. “i hope it feels better.”

“thanks.”

“yeah.”

–

there isn’t a single person you can confide in about your suspicion that minji might be spiderwoman. jungwon would laugh and brush you off, thinking it’s just a wild fantasy. wonyoung would probably call you delusional, yeah, probably. 

left with no one to share your thoughts, you resort to lying in bed, eyes wide open, pondering the possibility. the moonlight filters through your window, casting shadows on the ceiling as you replay every clue and coincidence in your mind, trying to make sense of it all.

you grab your phone, searching up “superwoman” to see a very recent article in the first result that comes up titled: spiderwoman caught in a recent face-off with seoul’s most dangerous gang.

you click on a video beneath the headline, watching the scene unfold. spiderwoman performs a series of flips and maneuvers that seem almost unreal. the person filming is either too nervous or simply bad at their job; the footage is shaky, making it hard to follow. you squint at the screen, trying to make out the details, feeling a mix of awe and frustration as spiderwoman's incredible agility and skill are partially obscured by the unsteady camera work.

what you do catch is a dagger being thrown at spiderwoman’s rib, slicing her suit and watching blood seep out as she clutches the wound. you wince from just watching.

spiderwoman fights off the gang members with ease, knocking out three at once by letting them charge her, then jumping up to make them crash to the ground without her laying a finger on them. the last man stares at her in fear, stumbling backward as she steps closer and webs his mouth shut.

the video ends with spiderwoman webbing all the culprits against the city square as the police arrive. there’s sirens and commotion before she turns to see cops with guns pointed at her before swinging off, leaving them frustrated. your dad appears in the frame, cursing under his breath. the civilians around watch in shock and awe, clapping as she swings away.

she swings west, you take note of that.

after clicking out the video realizing that the article had been posted only five minutes ago, you hurriedly grab a hoodie and rush out your room. your aunt isn’t home yet, so no one would notice that you’re out and about.

you rush out the door and and lock your apartment clumsily, missing the keyhole at least twice before getting it. you run towards the elevator, then out of it once you reach the lobby and speed towards your school.

the school you patched spiderwoman up in, the school you and minji attend, is west of the city square. there’s a chance that spiderwoman won’t be there, but after she’s been shown how to get in after hours, there’s also a chance that the wound on her side needs to be patched up there specifically. besides, you’ve given her the secret to getting in.

you get there after running at your fastest pace for five minutes straight, and now you’re breathing heavily outside the entrance of the school. you’re inside in no time (perks of having a keycard from student government) and tiredly rushing towards the nurses office, then heading inside.

minji, however, is at least three steps ahead of you. after being bit by a genetically modified spider, her senses have been enhanced, so she had heard you as soon as you made it past the entrance – without knowing it was you.

when you step inside, there’s no one. 

the only thing you can see are bandages messily spread out on the counter and blood on the floor. you let out a breath at the sight of it.

“it’s me, y/n.”

there’s silence for a few seconds before you hear someone landing on the ground behind you, making you yelp from surprise.

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

“i saw your fight in an article.” you start, turning around to face the masked hero. you’re still not one hundred percent sure if it’s minji, but something tells you it’s her. you can’t really explain it. “you’re hurt.”

“a little.”

“that’s a big scratch you have there.” you point out, making minji laugh despite the sharp pain she feels.

“‘you’re smart’.” now it’s her turn to mock your words. you roll your eyes, stepping closer to press your fingers against it, her blood staining your fingers a bit. 

“sit down.”

“i don’t need your help.”

“you’re going to end up with a soaked bandaid, spiderwoman. i know what i’m doing, and i’m already here.”

minji inhales sharply when you press against the cut. “fine.” she croaks out.

she sits down on the counter, legs hanging off as you clean around the wound, blood soaking the small towel. you add some disinfectant, hearing her wince lowly and grip the counter not-so-subtly, so you grab her hand, squeezing comfortingly.

“it’s okay, i’m here.” you mumble, looking up at her. 

minji feels her heart tighten.

“thank you.”

you hum.

you bandage the wound carefully, relieved it’s not deep enough to require stitches. spiderwoman glances at her rib area, gently sliding her fingers over your handiwork. she looks back at you, a soft smile playing under her mask.

she watches you look back, frowning.

“what’s wrong?” minji asks.

“you’re bleeding.”

“you patched me up.”

shaking your head, you do something that makes minji short-circuit. your hand falls to her jawline, your thumb grazing the edge near her chin before pressing down. minji feels a sharp pain she hadn't noticed before. when you pull your thumb away, you stare at the smear of blood on it, holding it up to show her.

“it wasn’t just your abdomen.” you explain, then the worry fills your eyes again. “you’re bleeding through your mask.”

“oh,”

“can i? i won’t do it all the way, just past your lip to treat the wound.”

minji hesitates, then nods. “yeah, that’s okay. no more than that.”

“of course.”

you tremble a little as you roll up her mask tantalizingly. your fingers meet her skin just barely, but she still hears her breath hitching and her throat drying up.

you’re looking at her exposed lips before you even pay attention to the cut on her jawline. they’re plump and parted before you, catching your eye effortlessly. after gazing for a few seconds longer, you cradle her face in one hand to keep her in place as you dab an alcohol wipe over the cut – she winces.

“sorry.”

“it’s fine.”

a few seconds later and there’s a bandaid on her jawline now, courtesy of you.

she softly rubs the bandaid, then brings her mask back down. she clears her throat,

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.”

“you didn’t have to.”

“i want to.” your expression is hard to read, a mix of worry and pity, but also admiration. “you’re a hero, you should be treated like one.”

“i just have responsibilities.”

“well, you should be someone’s responsibility too.”

“why yours?”

“because i care – a lot.”

minji stays silent for a while, staring at you through the mask. she feels beyond lucky, a little emotional too. her chest tightens slightly, urging her to look away from you and scoot away. 

you frown again.

–

the next day minji shows up next to you nervously with hanni by her side. you’re with jungwon at your locker, conversing with him until you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, you’re more than happy to see minji.

she has a small cut on her jawline in the same area and with the same bandage. there’s no denying that spiderwoman stands before you, but you’ll let her know a different way.

jungwon watches her hand you a flashdrive, her other hand clutching the strap of her bag. 

“um, these are the pictures.” her lips move the same way as spiderwomans, and they’re just as alluring. “ ihave the edited and original versions of each, just tell me which one you like the most.”

without warning, you reach over and hug her. she widens her eyes, and so do hanni and jungwon as they watch everything unfold. you purposely slide your hand over the wound on her rib area, pressing on it slightly and hearing her sharply exhale in your ear.

it’s her, it’s definitely her – you couldn’t be any happier that it’s her. minji’s sweet, caring, and very attentive, her personality fits her alter ego perfectly.

you pull away from her and smile, your hands gently resting on her forearm, holding her in place. minji feels a rush of warmth hit her cheeks like a summer heatwave, her heart pounding in her chest. 

“you’re literally the best, thank you minji.” 

“y-yeah, it’s no problem.” 

hanni looks dumbfounded watching the exchange. she turns to minji after you walk away with jungwon, and her best friend is smiling like an idiot. hanni almost gags.

–

a week passes by, you and minji have spent more mornings before class together, even conversing after school time to time. 

minji seems to have healed, the bandage on her cheekbone is gone and there’s a faint line that indicates a former cut on her face, but it’s not noticeable under her concealer. you’re happy to see that she’s getting better physically – much faster than the normal person, you might add.

(because she’s spiderwoman, you know she’s spiderwoman.)

you’ve spent more time admiring minji, your crush on her growing deeper and it almost makes you forget that she has a whole other persona. you can’t remember a single thing about the arachnid while staring at her brown eyes and pretty pink lips.

–

there’s not much crime for a little while, not until two weeks after the night you had patched up spiderwoman (kim minji, the prettiest girl in the school). 

a video on instagram reaches four thousand views in three minutes, the video showing spiderwoman leaping off a building and knocking down some lunatic with legs made of metal. some scientists really need to stay thinking inside the box, because giving yourself additional limbs to steal from organizations is just insane.

you watch as spiderwoman gets tackled to the ground at ador labs, grappling with manmade tentacle arms using her enhanced strength. sitting on the edge of your bed, you bite the inside of your lip when you see her shoulder get cut by the edge of a mechanical hand.

thankfully, the police arrive just in time to assist. they shoot at the villain, whose face bears an uncanny resemblance to the ceo of jyp manufacturing, distracting him long enough for spiderwoman to kick him off and shoot webs at his goggles.

the person recording has a steadier hand than the last, capturing the way spiderwoman uses her webs to launch herself at the man and kick him in the chest. she quickly rips off two of the tentacles, causing the remaining ones to shut down.

she collapses to the ground, clearly exhausted, but scrambles back up and onto her feet as the police start to close in on her. she’s swift and smart, easily fleeing the scene in no time.

you had left your apartment the moment the video ended, and now you find yourself back at school, catching your breath and processing everything you just witnessed as yourush towards the nurses office.

opening the door, you catch spiderwoman sitting on the floor and leaned against the counter tiredly, clutching her shoulder. 

“my god,”

“you came.” she says, practically a breath. 

“of course i did, i saw the video.”

“i’m so tired.”

“and you’re hurt.”

“it’s not that bad actually, this one’s actually a scratch.”

“bullshit.” you mumble, quickly rushing over to tend to her wound. 

the routine unfolds without much change: you gently clean away the blood, carefully applying disinfectant. minji fights to suppress her cries of pain, but the discomfort is clear in the way her body tenses and reacts. you offer her comfort, your hand resting reassuringly over hers. through the mask, minji gazes at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude, feeling like she’s witnessed rain after a drought.

“thank you.”

“it’s nothing.” you’ve said it countless times, minji’s said it back to you when she was just minji and not someone under a suit that could swing webs, save the day, and get hurt for you to take care of her. “i mean it.”

you sit beside her, your arms pressing comfortably against each other, and lean your head against the cabinet door beneath the counter. 

minji—spiderwoman—is the first to turn her head and look at you. she visibly relaxes as her gaze settles on your side profile. you turn to meet her eyes, offering a soft sigh, feeling a shared calm in the quiet space between you.

“can i,” your voice quiets down to something near a hum. “can i kiss you?”

“w-what?” minji feels her throat go dry and blood rushing to her cheeks, it’s so sudden, you must be more exhausted than her. “i, um, i don’t know if you’d like that. you barely know me.”

“sure i would, spiderwoman.”

minji doesn’t stop you when you reach over to the bottom of her mask, rolling it up. she could stop you, but she’s stuck in place, unable to move despite how risky it is for you to find out who she really is.

there’s no chance you’d stick with her if you knew who she really was, she’s been too comfortable hiding behind this “spiderwoman” persona, hiding who she really is.

you roll the mask up less than halfway, the bottom half of her face exposed to you. the wind hits her skin and she shivers.

minji feels transparent. “i, um–”

“pretty,” you stare hard at her lops, then lean closer. “you’re so pretty.”

“you haven’t seen my whole face.”

“and yet you’re still kissable.”

“y/n, i—“ she cuts herself off, words stopping at her throat as you tilt your head and place a hand where her jaw meets her neck. she begins again, unknowingly leaning closer. “i don’t think you’d be happy with the person under the suit.” she mutters quietly.

“sure i would,” you murmur, then press your lips against hers softly. you feel her kiss back and smile into her. you part just barely, your lips ghosting hers, “kim minji.”

minji hums surprisingly when you kiss her again, still reciprocating but quickly pulling away with a gasp.

“w-what? how did—“ she clears her throat, “who’s kim minji?”

you don’t respond to her question, instead, reaching for the edge of her partially rolled-up mask and laughing softly.

“can i?”

“um,” minji folds when you look at her like that, eyes pleading and face pretty as the moon shines through the window and highlights your features. “yeah…”

you smile at her, removing the mask off her head fully to see your classmate and crush under it. she’s battered up and her hair is messy because of the mask, plus, she looks fatigued. despite this, she just looks cuter in your eyes.

without warning, you lean in again, pressing your lips against hers. minjis eyes widen momentarily before she sinks into your touch, placing a hand on your cheek and melting into you. 

when you two pull away again, you grin at the way the moon shines on her, exposing the deep blush on her cheeks and the nervousness in her features.

“why wouldn’t i want to kiss you?”

“how did you— how’d you find out?”

you shrug. “i’ve liked you for a while now, i didn’t even know it until the night you gave me your hoodie. i mean, i always thought you were cute. i paid more attention to you and all the bruises and scars added up, and i could recognize those lips from a mile away.”

she blushes intensely, the manages to breathe out a small “oh.”

“mhm.” you hum once more before hastily pecking her lips. “you’re so cute.”

“wait, you actually… do you really like me?”

“of course i do minji.”

“it’s not becuase im spiderwoman, right?” 

“no,” you grin at her dumb expression. “i like spiderwoman because she’s you, minji.”

“seriously?”

you groan, looking at her with a stupid ‘are you serious’ expression painted on your face. “do i need to kiss you again?”

“um,” minji starts, but stops herself from being so dense. “yeah, please.”

“okay.” you respond happily, cupping her cheek and closing the distance again. 

you smell like vanilla and feel like snowflakes in the spring. as you cradle her jaw and kiss her softly, minji tries to figure out if she’s dreaming. your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. minji's lips gently hold your top lip, while you play with the ends of her hair, twirling it between your fingers.

“hey, minji?” you pull away to softly mumble against her lips, then minji hums in response. “let’s go out sometime, is that okay?”

“of course, yeah, please.” she sighs lovingly.

yeah, it’s not a dream.

it can’t be because you pull away and look at her like she’s the prettiest flower in a field of nothing. you smile at her, holding her face in your hands like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

[jayhyunglover]

Fill the void

Pairing : Caleb x non MC reader Content :rough sex , aphrodisiac sex , oral sex (fem receiving) , slight bondage, inappropriate use of evol , slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex, MC's cameo , reader evol is mentioned, porn with plot , creampie (use protection guys ) Wk: 6.9 k (MF *side eye* ) Synopsis : when you fled on that island to save your comrade you didn't expect it to turn into forced vacation with the very reason of your jealousy. Part 2 to Heartless A/N: this part 2 wasnt planned but Caleb got me feeling some type of way . I need this man to rail me on top of a desk with his uniform still on and Call out my name playing in repeat in the BG. (Zayne be filling papers divorce after he heard me say that) Now playing: Fill the void by The weeknd and Lily Rose Depp.

Masterlist

Fill the void.

Maybe that’s what you were desperately trying to do with Caleb’s presence in your life. Fill the enormous void in your heart and soul.

You didn’t know who avoided who at this point. Was it you or him? Who cared, anyway? He had his pipsqueak back. You just minded your own life and business now.

“It seems there isn’t anything wrong with that area,” you heard Commander Ash’s voice crackle through your headset.

“They must be hiding. Keep looking,” you replied, voice cool and controlled as your eyes scanned the real-time images from his UAV camera feed.

Usually, missions involving Protocurve anomalies fell under the Hunter Association’s jurisdiction, but the unusual readings near the Farspace Fleet-controlled zone warranted your team’s intervention. The fluctuations were too erratic, too dangerous to ignore.

A sudden crash broke through the static, followed by a sharp burst of white noise. Then, silence.

“Commander Ash! Can you hear me?” Your voice pitched higher as your fingers scrambled over the console. “Ash, respond!”

No answer.

Shit.

Ripping the headset off, you spun out of the command room, ignoring the shouts of other soldiers as they tried to stop you.

“Lieutenant General! Protocol requires—”

“I need Hershley 4543 prepped and ready for immediate departure!” you barked, cutting them off as you stormed into the hangar.

“Ma’am, that’s against—” the mechanic stammered, stepping forward.

“No buts! One of our own is out there, and I am not leaving him behind,” you snapped, your voice razor-sharp, thought your hands were trembling betraying the panic bubbling just beneath your façade.

“Make it two.”

The mechanic hesitated for a moment, then nodded, shrinking under your unwavering gaze. “Understood. We’ll have it ready in five.”

             …*...*...*...*...*...*...

You climbed into the cockpit of the Hershley 4543 -a sleek reconnaissance aircraft equipped with stealth capabilities and advanced tracking systems. The roar of the engines was deafening, but it grounded you. You went through the pre-flight checks with practiced efficiency, hands flying over the controls as the team cleared you for takeoff.

Rushing into danger like this was beyond reckless. You knew that. But Commander Ash was an ally -a friend even, though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Flight control to LTG,” a voice crackled in your ear. “Tracking a spike in Protocurve readings at your target location. You sure about this?”

You flicked the comm switch. “I’ll handle it. Just keep the airspace clear.”

               …*...*...*...*...*...

The flight to the designated zone was uneventful—eerily so. The clouds parted to reveal an expanse of barren terrain. From the air, everything seemed peaceful. Too peaceful.

You adjusted the thermal imaging on your monitor, scanning for any sign of Ash or the Wanderer he’d been tracking. The anomaly readings were spiking, but there was no visual confirmation.

“Come on, Ash. Where are you?” you muttered under your breath, gripping the controls tighter.

A loud thud made your ears perk up , your senses in high alert as you heard a faint curse.

What the actual fuck ? you quickly took off your headset ,shifting the commands on automatic pilot mode before standing up to explore what on earth was happening in the back of your plane. 

Your steps were as silent as the plane 2 minutes ago and you were starting to think the curse you heard earlier was just a trick of your imagination .As you approached the source of the noise , your right hand reached for your sidearm. 

You opened the curtain separating the rest of the plane from the cockpit  ,gun raised and ready only for your eyes to fall on that hunter girl .

What was Caleb's pipsqueak doing aboard an Airforce plane ? 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You heard your voice said , your eyebrows furrowing in a confused frown that had the girl in front of you gasping. 

You didn't lower your gun even as she scrambled onto her feet,  her hands raised in surrender. 

“Don't shoot , I am not an enemy” her voice was a pitched squeal that had your irritated nerves fraying further. 

“This is an Air Force operation , why are you here?” You asked after finally lowering your gun , the sigh of relief that left her lips didn't escape you. 

“I heard there is a wanderer involved  and I happen to be a hunter so I thought I could help” 

You scoffed at her words before placing your gun back in the holster. 

“And you think boarding without permission  on an airplane during an important mission is helping” you hummed sarcastically as you made your way back to the cockpit 

Her hands curled into fists at your blatant dismissal , a small frown etched on her features as she followed closely behind you . 

“I am here to help” she repeated, her voice edged with an hint of frustration “not to be a burden” 

“Just you standing there and breathing is already a burden for me” you bit back before placing your headset back on, though your tone was cool and controlled the venom dripping from your words  stung harder than she cared to admit .

Just her existence was already a burden you thought,  eyes flickng back to the faint signal that appeared on your screen. 

If she was the least offended by your words,  she didn't show it . After all, you were known among the Farspace fleet for your temper and sharp tongue.  And despite being there only for  a short amount of time , she seemed to have already picked up that information. 

She leaned against your seat to peer up over your shoulder at the monitoring screen where you could see the faint signal of Ash's locator 

What does she think she's doing ? The poisonous look you gave her would have probably sent her 6ft deep underground if only looks could kill but it didn't even make her flinch.

“If you're planning to tag along stay out of my sight unless you want to find out what happens when you jump off a plane without  parachute” your icy tone and the not so subtle menace in your words made her gulp audibly  but she didn't leave as you hoped, instead to your growing irritation she plopped herself in the co-pilot seat beside you , her eyes scanning over the command board like a curious child.

Just what the heck is wrong with her ? 

Whatever ! you shook your head before focusing back on the beeping signal of Ash's locator on your screen 

As long as she kept her mouth shut , Everything would be fine . You'd just have to pretend she wasn't there. 

But of course she wouldn't keep her mouth shut .

“I can sense  something” she whispered mostly to herself as she stared at the beeping hunter watch on her wrist but it didn't escape your ears .

Your eyes flickered towards her for a fraction of second before refocusing back on the monitoring screen where you could see how much closer you were getting to Ash's location .

“Hold tight, hunter. We are about to land” you warned her before preparing for the descent. 

She scrambled onto her seat,  her hands gripping the armrest for dear life . The sight almost pulled a small smirk from you but you quickly schooled your features back in their usual stoic mask . 

             …*...*...*...*...*...

Even as you landed on the small island where Ash’s coordinates led you , everything was still peaceful,  way too peaceful.  Though that hunter girl insisted on the fact she could sense something,  your surroundings were nothing short but the  picture perfect of a small tropical paradise. 

“It must be here” you heard her whisper to herself,  her feet pacing back and forth on the shimmering white colored sand  as she stared at that damn watch. 

“Stop pacing around like that , it's making me dizzy” you finally snapped, making her freeze in her tracks to look at you . 

“The signal said that Ash is there” you pointed at the dense forest at the edge of the beach 

“But the fluctuations are coming from this wa-” 

“We don't give a fuck about the fluctuations” you cut her off ,your voice icy cold as you stepped closer to her “we are here to save my friend and  not to play hunter x hunter so either you stay here and get killed by whatever is lurking on this island or you come with me” 

She contemplated your words for a moment,  her teeth nibbling at the plush of her bottom  lip for a moment before she finally spoke 

“Go , I'll manage alone” not the answer you expected but if she seemed determined to find this wanderer .

“Very well” you let out a faint chuckle before turning on your heels to head towards the forest where you'll probably find Ash without sparing her a second glance 

What ? She thought you'd bring her by a leash after you . She was a grown ass woman that could perfectly manage herself. Well you hope

If anything happens to her , Caleb will be devastated though. That torturing voice muttered in your ear . 

Fuck no . 

You weren't her damn babysitter and you didn't give a fuck about what Caleb thought or how would  he feel if something happened to her . Hell you didn't even give a damn about Caleb anymore. 

But even as you told yourself that , your legs were already jogging back to where you left her 

“Damn hunter” you muttered as your searched frantically on the beach but she was nowhere to be found , only the clear blue seawater and dusty sand was looking back at you .

Sorry Ash but hunter first then I'll save your ass. 

            …*...*...*...*...*...

You didn't know for how long you've been roaming endlessly on that island , searching for Ash and that hardheaded hunter. You could easily leave her to perish there . After all it would be quite the sweet revenge to finally satisfy your petty jealousy but you weren't letting anyone die on your watch, not today .

You can always look away. that same persistent voice whispered but you quickly shook it off. 

The dead branches creaked beneath your feet as you walked further into the forest , the eerily silence almost suffocating.  It was too quiet to be normal.  Not even a bird chirping sound ,That was beyond odd. 

A faint rustling made your ears perk up , your hand already pointing the gun in whatever direction it came from but to your surprise and relief you found the hunter girl and Ash attached and suspended like sausages by the vines.

No they weren't vines .

“Lieutenant don't get any closer” Ash shouted,  his voice laced with concern while the hunter was trying hard kick off those viscous tentacles around her legs .

You raised your gun to shoot but she interrupted you . 

“This doesn't work on them, see” she gestured to her gun laying on the grassy ground “wasted my whole magazine while trying to hit it” she sighed , her hands hanging loosely beside her head. 

You cursed lowly under your breath before grabbing the blade hidden in your boot to attempt to cut off those damn tentacles like vines or whatever they were.

“Why are you here , Lieutenant?” Ash asked,  earning a dirty glare from you .

“Saving your ass, of course” you let through gritted teeth before slashing through the vines to free him. 

He fell on the ground with a loud thud , his gloved hand reaching out to massage his head that got hit at the fall. 

You stepped over his body to cut off the restraints still curled around the hunter girl. She fell flat on her ass with a small gasp before sitting up. 

“Let's not hang around for too long” you suggested already helping Ash standing to his feet 

But you knew by the way she was observing the weird vines-like tentacles you would definitely hang around for a while. 

“I've never seen a wanderer like that” she whispered fascinately , her hands already reaching out to touch it but you stopped her halfway.

“So what?” You scowled,  grabbing her wrist to stop her from touching the weird object   “new kind of wanderers appears everyday it's not the moment to play mad scientist,  hunter” you tugged her along wanting to get out of this island as soon as possible.

“But shouldn't we kill it?” She asked while you dragged her the further away possible  from this wanderer .

“That wasn't our mission,  Commander Ash was sent in reconnaissance and I went out of my way to save him” you explained not sparing her a glance while you navigated through the dense foliage with Ash trailing behind you. 

She seemed to understand your point thought the unimpressed look she gave you made you want to abandon her in this wanderers infested island.

Yeah maybe you should do that . 

But as you were  concocting a plan to secretly ditch her and fly away with Ash in your head , A shrieking sound made you grab your gun quickly,  eyes roaming around the tall trees as you and Ash almost sandwiched the hunter girl between your bodies , senses in high alert.

“Stay right behind me and don't move” you warned her , your voice low and controlled as your eyes scanned the surroundings area searching for any signs danger.

And then it came , from above a dragon-like wanderer surged from nowhere, his clawed limbs aiming straight toward the hunter girl behind you. 

You quickly spun her around to fire at the beast but it dodged your attack with maddening ease.

Fuck. 

“Another one!?” you heard her whisper in a ragged voice.

“An enormous one apparently” you spat before recharging your gun. 

The dragon wanderer roared again before surging forward,  his attack still aimed at the hunter girl.

Just what the fuck did it wanted from her ?

You and Ash continued to shoot at it but it seemed useless , the bullet ricocheted against his scales covered skin with ease.

Shit ,at this rate you'd have to use your evol. 

You pulled on the trigger only to realize you no longer had bullets.

Crap  

“Commander” you looked over Ash who was hiding behind a tree. 

He shook his head , his own magazine empty. 

Fuck what do we do ? You looked down at the grass covered ground your mind racing a mile per minutes.

“Maybe I can try to resonate with it” the hunter girl suggested making your gaze snap back at her.

“You have the resonance evol” you and Ash exclaimed at the same time making her look at you with a puzzled gaze .

“Yeah” she murmured, her head tilting slightly to the side in confusion .

You exchanged a knowing look with Ash , your mind conveying the same thoughts .

You'll have to use your evol . Unlike you two Ash wasnt an evolver and your evol , well you hated it or to be more franc you hated to use it because things always ended up spiralling out of control when you did. 

But this time you didn't have any other choice and even if you absolutely despised this hunter you couldn't let her die . 

Don't get you wrong , if she die it might look bad for your career.  

“I am not going to ask you to trust me because I know you don’t and to be honest I do not either so are you ready to risk your life to get out of here Miss hunter?” You asked with an outstretched hand .

An invitation,  a deal for the survival of you 3. 

She looked longly at  your hand before grasping it. 

“well ,it's not like I have any other choice” she breathed out before squeezing your hand. 

You let an half hearted  chuckle before yanking her to her feet to step out from behind  the tree you were hiding behind . 

You heard the shrieking sound again before catching a glimpse of the dragon surging towards where you were standing . 

You can do this.  Don't think about the experiment , the thunder , the electroshocks. 

Your eyes closed as you felt the burst of energy ran through your body , images of a young girl that wasn't you flashing through your eyes . 

Caleb ? Why was he in those memories that weren't yours? 

You heard the clap of thunder before the shrieking sound grew louder . Another clap , louder than the previous one and the shrieking sound turned into a faint howl. 

You heard a distant call of your name but you couldn't respond,  the image in front of you making your gut twist . 

Caleb was gently cradling her cheeks as he wiped her tears . So this was what love feel like  ?

You could feel everything: how his warm hands glided over her face , the faint words of reassurances he whispered to her , the light kisses he left against her temple . You could feel it all  and it hurts, it hurts so bad it had you sinking  on your knees.

So this is what it feels like to be loved ? 

The sting of a slap wrenched you out of this loop of torture. The heart wrenching images of Caleb consoling his pipsqueak shattering in your mind . 

You blinked your vision back only to see the hunter and Ash's concerned faces looking down at you . 

“What happened?” You heard yourself ask, your voice sounded hoarse as your eyes roamed around to take on your surroundings . What was once a lush land of tree and foliage was now burned down to ashes.

“Where's the wanderer?” You questioned them

“Dead,” the hunter girl replied in a small and distant voice ,her eyes looking down in a way you didn't like at all . 

“2 thunderclap was all it took” Ash added  while avoiding your gaze 

Why were they acting so strangely? 

You hummed in response before standing up . Half of the forest was burned down leaving the giant wanderer laying on the center of it.

You approached it slowly , your steps deliberate as Ash and the hunter observed you from behind , their mind still struggling to comprehend what just happened. 

When you were at the dead wanderer's level you crouched down to observe it more closely.  A disgusting smell of burnt flesh was coming out of it , the nauseating scent so strong it had you pinching your nose .

But as you observed it ,a glowing light caught your attention making You lean in to take a closer look.

Only when you reached to touch it ,it exploded in a cloud of pink smoke that surrounded you. 

You coughed out as you waved it off with your hands but only one whiff made your head spiral uncontrollably.  It smelled so addictively good , the piney scent reminding you of Caleb ? 

Huh? you quickly shook off your head ,hoping the smell would disappear but it persisted making your mind grow hazier by the seconds. 

“Lieutenant” Ash shouted making your eyes snap back to his form who was already jogging towards where you were standing 

“We need to leave” he breathed out making you nod in agreement

 

“Are you alright?” He asked , eyes squinting to observe you more closely,  taking in the unusual flush of your cheeks. 

“You are right let's go”

 

“Why  wouldn't I be?” You retorted ,voice tenser than you intended. You internally winced at how his face fell at your harsh tone, his eyes darting away awkwardly.  

“Let's just get the hell out of this island ” you added with one last glance at the wanderer’s corpse  before starting walking ahead

. 

Ash followed closely behind you , often shooting concerned glances your way as you headed back to the airplane. 

Once inside your case worsened further . You felt your body growing more heated by the seconds,  your tie feeling too tight around your neck. 

You loosened it before running an hand through your hair . Miss hunter (that was the new nickname you gave her) keep shooting you curious glances along with Ash , finding your  fidgeting unusual even for the short amount of time she has spent with you.

“Are we arriving soon?” You asked for the nth time, heavy pants leaving your parted lips as you leaned back in your seat.

Why did it feel so hot in here? 

“We'll be landing in approximately 32 minutes” Ash responded to your question 

32 minutes . that was far too long .You needed to breathe,  to drink water , to see Caleb 

Caleb ? no , not Caleb 

“Fuck” you breathed out before taking off your jacket . The heat feeling too unbearable .

“Are you sure you're alright?” You heard the hunter ask again ,a hint of  concern lacing  her tone as she watched you struggle with unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of your shirt. 

“I am fine” you replied but the way your head was spinning uncontrollably was clearly  proving you wrong. 

You brushed it off as a side effect of whatever that pink smoke was but when you landed it only  worsened to the point you were stumbling toward your office room, leaving the debriefing to Commander Ash . 

You still felt like you were  burning up , every fiber of your being screaming for a man who didn't even want you need you the way you did. 

You closed the door shut before walking over your chair to plop yourself on it. 

“What have you done to me Caleb?” You sighed as you leaned your head against your chair , your eyes looking up at the white ceiling as if it had the answers to your questions but it didn't.  No one did . 

You let out another heavy sigh before discarding your tie on your desk to see if you'd finally breathe properly .

Just as you thought you might be getting some rest from this unbearable heat that have been creeping up on your body your door fled open revealing an angry Caleb .

The sight of him , especially mad made your whole body throb with an intensity that should be concerning but your mind was way too clouded to care. 

He stepped closer to your desk , the clicking sounds of his boots along with your thumping heartbeat the only sounds registering in your mind. 

“What makes you think taking her on such a dangerous mission was a good idea ?” You heard him say , his voice barely able to contain his anger. 

His words cut sharply through your daze , your eyes blinking back to focus on anything but the way his face looked so distractingly attractive

“I didn't take her anywhere” you replied,  your voice sounding way too calm and steady for someone who was literally burning in the inside “your pipsqueak boarded on that plane without permission like a grown up” you added earning a scoff from him .

“You expect me to believe she managed to pass all those security guards to board on a plane with you out of all people” he leaned in to rest his hands on your desk , his eyes shining with a possessive gleam that wasnt directed at you but got your heart rate spiking nonetheless .

“What ?” You tilted your head mockingly before raising from your seat to lean closer towards him “you expected me to put a gun on her temple to force her fly away with me on an wanderer infested island only to come back unscathed” you added in a heated whisper against his ear that had his jaw clenching .

“Think wisely Caleb” You scoffed before stepping away from him , attempting to put some distance between you , to quell down the hunger that stocked further  inside you the more you inhaled the addictive scent of his cologne .

But Caleb wouldn't let you off the hook this easily . As you walked beside him to head to your office door , he pulled you towards him by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

An embarrassing squeal left your parted lips as you felt your back hit the wooden material of your desk .

“Have I ever told you that jealousy looks awful on you , Lieutenant?” You felt the ghost of his lips against your heated skin as he whispered the words against your neck .

“T-this has nothing to do with jealousy” you heaved out , already panting while he hasn't even touched you yet .

“It doesn't hm?” He purred against the soft flesh of your neck before biting on it hard enough to have you clawing at the edge of the desk “then why have you been avoiding me?” 

The question made your eyes widen the suddenness of it too abrupt for your scrambled mind to process . 

“Tell me , lieutenant” he pressed,  his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the bruised skin he bit earlier . 

“You have your pipsqueak back our deal is supposed to be over” you managed to get out between feverish pants. 

The flash of disappointment you saw through his eyes had your resolve faltering but the fragment of memories you saw when you resonated with the hunter earlier strengthened it further . 

Don't get caught up in illusions.  This man wasn't yours.  

The realization made a burst of anger spread throughout you , one that had you yanking his hair harshly until your lips crashed against his,  all teeth and tongue , drinking him in like a thirsty man in desert that finally found water. Because he was your water , your light , a light that was bound to leave you . 

A small hushed plea left your mouth as he parted his lips from  yours to trail kisses down on your neck. His hands were everywhere , caressing any inch of smooth skin he could reach 

Caleb kissed you back with the same fervor,  his gloved hand wrapping lightly around your throat as his mouth devoured yours with a feral intensity. It was messy depraved and desperate.  

Your own hands reached out to unbuckle his belt but he stopped you halfway , his hand moving swiftly to bound your wrists with your own discarded tie. 

“No touching this time Lieutenant” he taunted,  cupping your chin to make you look up at him , the feral gleam in his purple  eyes making your cunt throb harder. 

“Today you're all mine” he whispered before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. 

How you wished you could be his forever but this would never happen. You were just a sinner and he was your worst sin. The one who will drag you through the pits of hell. 

The small kiss he left on your nose was the last thing you felt before he slid down to his knees in front of you , his large hands spreading your legs apart as you tried to steady yourself on top of the desk despite your bound wrists. 

His fingers unzipped your pants before sliding them off you , leaving your legs  bare for his hungry gaze to admire.

How he has missed this view . 

“Look at her” he looked up at you as he ran a gloved  thumb along your covered slit “so wet f'me already” 

“Still as beautiful as ever , Lieutenant” you heard him whisper in awe,  the compliment making you feel even dizzier while your cunt fluttered uncontrollably at his praises .

You could feel his infuriating smirk against your plush fold through the flimsy material of your panties . The way he was so close but so far away at the same time drove you wild in the best way possible.

 

“Caleb” you whimpered out , your pleading  eyes looking down at him in an half hearted glare that made his cock twitch.

“What?” He smirked before peeking the drenched material of your panties in a way that had you throwing your head back .

“What do you need , darling?” The sound of him calling you darling made your hips buck against his face , the sinful moan escaping your lips sounding like music to his ear. 

“I need you” the words felt more like a confession than anything and if it wasn't for that weird wanderer based substance in your system you'd probably feel pathetic for baring your soul to him  like this but right now as his face was resting between your legs seconds away from feasting ,you didn't give a damn.  

The regrets and sermons would come later when you were  no longer aching and panting from him . 

The heat of Caleb's mouth pulled you out of your musings,  the overwhelming sensation making you cry out loud . He hasn't even bothered to take off your ruined panties , his mouth latching onto the flimsy material like he was starving. 

He was merciless,  the relentless pace making you squeal.  

“Oh fuck just like that” you moaned,  not even ashamed of the sounds you were making.  His tongue rolled  over your swollen bud over and over until you were practically in tears .

When you felt like you'd finally reach heaven ,a knock to your door made him stop, his eyes looking up to take in your form. 

And shit. The sight of you spread out on your desk with your shirt half buttoned,  your skin flushed with heat , panting with tears clinging to your waterline almost had him cumming in his pants .

Such a sight to behold and all for him to see. 

Another knock on the door made him let out a small growl against you , clearly not pleased by being interrupted .

“Lieutenant” you heard a worried voice said from the other side “can I come in?” 

Commander Ash? Your ears perked up . 

Shit shit shit why is here ? 

You looked down at Caleb who  was already back to work , his fingers finally pulling your ruined panties to the side to suck , lick and nip at your sensitive flesh while you tried your best to stay quiet and gather your thoughts 

“Lieutenant” Ash knocked once again “are you alright in there?” his voice was growing somewhat more restless. 

“Respond darling” you felt Caleb's nip gently  at your clit before looking up at you from where he was kneeling “it's so rude to leave someone hanging hm?” He spat right on your entrance before slurping down the mess. 

“ngh_” the sight of him looking so devilishly at you nearly had you cumming right there on his face but he purposely slowed down his pace to maddening kitten licks so you would  focus on responding Ash. 

But that only made you more restless and frustrated . 

“I am fine” you snapped , voice laced with frustration while the man below faintly chuckled before rewarding you with a flick of his tongue that made you groan .

You fought against your restraints so at least you would cover your mouth to muffle your sounds but no matter how hard you tried the knot wouldn't loosen . 

Handsome bastard. 

“Are you sure?” you heard Ash said ,  the confusion note in his tone not escaping Caleb's ears. 

“You don't really sound well” the sound of the creaking handle made your heart rate pick up ,your stomach curling into knots with a mixture of fear and arousal that has fresh waves of your beading juices gushing around Caleb's tongue.

You didn't lock the door and he could barge in at any moment.

“Dirty girl” he muttered faintly against your plush folds , sticking strands connecting his lips to your pussy . 

You bit down on your lips to not let out a loud moan , the squelching sounds of your cunt along with your barely concealed moans leaving no doubt of what was happening inside there . Thought one thing was clear , Ash was clearly wrestling with the handle that wouldn't budge Thanks to Caleb's evol. 

“I am fine truly” you attempted to speak again but the way Caleb was making out with your lips below while his gloved hand rubbed tight circles around your clit made your words came out like breathy whimpers. “Just a bit busy” 

You really hoped Ash would get the memo and get the fuck out here before you combusted . 

“Ok then” he said, his tone sounding a tad disappointed “I'll see around Lieutenant” 

Yeah you'll see her around now go . 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the sound of  Ash's eloigning footsteps finally disappeared leaving only you and the smirking man still buried nose deep between your thighs. 

“You're such a dirty little thing , Lieutenant” he rasped out , flicking your clit one last time before raising to his full height . 

“And you're such a tease” you scowled before feeling him unbound your wrists.

 As soon as they were free you tugged him by his tie to capture his lips in a messy kiss , your mouth sucking lewdly on his tongue , tasting yourself on him.

“We both know you love that tease, darling” he mumbled out between kisses 

“No I hate you” you denied ,your grip tightening hard enough on his tie to make him lightheaded and the fucked whimper that left his mouth as you did so made your cunt howl his name in morse code. 

If only he knew how right he was 

You could feel every hard planes of his body against yours ,even through the material of your half off uniform shirt , the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your head spin. 

"Well , we can't say the same about your slutty pussy ,Lieutenant” he panted out with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips so hard they'd probably leave marks.

His words had your cheeks flaming a deeper shade of red but the way you felt your little bundle throb only proved his point

"Unlike you_" he slid his hand down to toy with your already sensitive clit "she's not a smartass" a silent scream left your lips as he curled one thick finger inside your gummy walls .

Your reached for his belt once again and this time he let you had your way, too busy eating out your face and fingering your cunt to stop your wandering hands. 

Just this once . You heard this voice whisper again . 

Caleb's head fell against your shoulder when he felt your soft hand wrap around his shaft to pump it slowly.  Your pace matching his own .

It was hot and heavy in your hand, the leaking precum coating your palm in a sticky mess.  

He bit down on the plush skin on your shoulder to muffle his sounds , his hips thrusting in time with your movements while his fingers massaged this spot in your walls over and over

Wanting to get your revenge on the stunt he pulled on you earlier , you slowed down your pace until you could hear his muffled whimpers against your shoulder.

“What's wrong?” You cooed , leaning your head back to stare at him , his cheeks were flushed the prettiest shade of pink , his hair tousled from your ministrations , his kiss bitten lips  parted open to let out the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard .

You must been smiling too widely for his taste because the feral glare he shot you made you anything but scared , it only had you more turned on than ever. 

But as always Caleb wouldn't let you savor your victory for too long , using his evol as the awful bastard he was to manipulate your hands until they were bound behind your back once again, his fingers slipping out of you with a lewd squelch.

“Nothing's wrong Lieutenant” he rasped out before pulling your legs to wrap tighter around his waist , his pinkish tip teasing your entrance. 

“Just thinking about how hard_” he punctuated his words with a rough thrust that had you clawing at  his shoulders , the sensation of him stretching your insides too overwhelming. “_I am going to take you” he added in a heated whisper before setting a brutal pace that had your desk shaking maddeningly , important papers scattering on the floor in  a mess you'd have to worry about later. 

Caleb's hips were merciless,  fucking up into you like he hated your gut (as if he wasn't deep in them) . You clung to his uniform jacket sleeve for dear life , afraid you might slip but with how sandwiched you were between the wooden desk and his body you shouldn't be worrying about that. 

“Oh fuck” you threw your head back when you felt him hit that exact spot that has you seeing stars , body arching into his to bring him closer. Your hand grabbed at his tie to pull him closer to you as his hips kept pistonning into yours . 

“Yeah let me hear you, darling” he placed one hand on the desk beside you while the other pulled your leg over his hip to reach even deeper into you. 

Every forceful thrust planted on the bulleyes of your G-spot has your grip tightening on his tie hard enough  he could now see white spots blurring his vision . 

You were gonna be the death of him , (literally) . 

The smell of sex and skin slapping sounds filled the room along with your scream of pleasure and his breathy groans as he literally wrecked you , molding your insides to his shaft until all you can think about was him and only him . 

“You squeeze me s’tight” he groaned against your neck , his hips not easing his pace for a second , not when your greedy pussy was sucking him back in so perfectly at every thrust . 

His hand that was planted beside you  , slid up to wrap around your neck , putting enough pressure on your throat to have your eyes roll in the back of your skull. 

“Come for me” he whispered before ducking his head down to bite  on the plush skin of your collarbone.  The action had you screaming loudly,  the waves of pleasure crashing you over you like a sea storm. It was violent,  leaving you shaking for several seconds as he continued to drive himself deeper into you , not even stopping when he reached his own high . Sensitive shaft twitching uncontrollably as he painted your insides white . 

“Take it all , darling” he whimpered in the crook of your neck , puncturing every words by a sharp bite of his canines. 

You sobbed in overstimulation. Your head resting against his chest as you murmured soft pleads for him to stop. 

“Shh” he shushed you while kissing away your tears with a gentleness that contrasted his hips below “just take it” 

He licked your tears away before kissing you with an unusual tenderness while he continued to fuck you roughly.  

You cried out as your second orgasm washed over you ,your whole body convulsing against his as your hand practically tore his uniform jacket with how good it hurts. 

Caleb's body jerked against yours, his head dropping in the crook of your neck as he reached his peak for a second time , pace finally slowing down to let you breathe. 

You stayed  like this for several minutes, wrapped in each other's embrace as you desperately tried to catch your breath. 

As the fluffy cloud of pleasure dissipated the ugly truth came back to slap you right back on your face . 

You succumbed to the sweet temptation Caleb was  once again.  Even as you promised yourself you wouldn't get involved with him again , here you were half naked with him still buried deep inside of you. 

You attempted to  push him off you , the action making him raise his head from the crook of your neck to shoot you a confused look. 

The audacity to appear confused.  You scoffed internally. 

“You should go” you heard yourself say , your voice sounding hoarse from screaming his name too loudly . 

His brow knitted together,   clearly struggling to understand your point . 

“It'll  be troublesome if someone find you here” you explained calmly , acting as if he wasnt ramming into you 5 minutes ago. 

“I am aware” he replied with that same confused note in his tone, still not making any moves to get the fuck off you. 

“Then get off” you glared at him causing him to sigh 

“You're trying to run away again” he caressed your legs softly with a pensive look in his eyes.

“I am not trying to run away, you dirtied me with your seed and I just want yo go the bathroom so get the fuck off me” you scowled stil trying to push him away .

Your words earned a barely muffled laugh from him. His eyes gleaming with barely concealed amusement. 

“I am sorry” he left a small kiss on your nose that made your heart melt “I thought you'd enjoy the mess” 

“Well I don't,  so get off” you let out in a small grumble 

“You're always so bossy , Lieutenant” he chided softly before picking you up making you wrap your arm tightly around his neck .

“You should ease up a little” he added , carrying you towards your personal bathroom to clean you up. 

“And you should know by now that I don't take advices from you” you bit back . 

The only thing you should ease is probably a gun down his throat. 

“Sure you don't” he said with a small smirk  before pushing the bathroom door open with his feet to get you inside. 

After cleaning you up in a remotely peaceful silence , Caleb left you alone in your office to muse on your thoughts. 

Just when will this madness end? 

Just when will you stop being so attached to him? The response was clear : never because no matter how much he hurt you? And how hard you tried to stay away from him.  You'll always find your way back . Like a drug addict , you were addicted to him. Addicted to his poison . A poison that will probably end up killing you 

The end (or no) 

BAM . 

Taglist : @cheezeandkrackers @dollyvheart @gazelover666 @miyuki-hanna @cordidy @full-sunnies @aise-30 @vvintqz @tavviet @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream

[marimology]

One piece men catching you walking around in their boxers

Law, sanji, bartolomeo

warnings : a little nsfw on sanji’s part, GN! reader , can be read as either afab or amab

note : I’m back with a quick drabble….uni has truly been kicking my ass

Law

- was wondering what happened to his limited edition spiderman undies

- your cooked, corazover even

- His boxers would smell like flowers and it wouldn’t bother him until he realizes “wait I don’t use a flower scent”

- At first he thought it was penguin and sachi playing a harmless prank and shoved it off

- But he was doing work at his desk like making sure his nakamas records were up to date with current health, but then you came in in nothing but a baggy shirt and boxers that he just KNEW wasn’t yours

- “Y/n-ya lift your shirt up”

- “Nah I don’t feel like it”

- “ROO-“

- “fine fine ,better?” you said with a fake pout lifting it up to reveal the missing boxers.

SANJI

- this fucking pervert

- you want those specific boxers ? You can have them he’ll just walk bare ass until the next island it’s fine

- You just wore them because you couldn’t find yours? Well now he isn’t going to wash them because they smell like you or he will but he’ll just spray your signature smell on them

- maybe he’ll let you wear them again but there will be cum stains on it

- Gets hard almost immediately and almost fucked you while you were in them , but the others were nearby and he has decorum he isn’t like zoro

- “y/n are those my boxers”

- “Do you want them ? I can give them back”

- “NO MY SWEET KEEP THEM♡♡”

Bartolomeo

- feels a sense of pride

- Like “hehe yes my partner is wearing my boxers”

- Is very smug possessive it , to the point where if you wear them you can’t wear anything over them

- Are you ashamed of his elmo boxers or something??

- no bitch if you are going to wear his shit wear it with PRIDE

- That’s to say that he owns a pair of boxers anyways

- When you wear them be prepared for him to not listen to a single word you say because he’s distracted

- one of his crewmates was with him as you walked by and noticed he was looking and went “Bart what color shirt are they wearing”

Bartolomeo : “ain’t nobody looking at that shit”

- who’s to say he even owns boxers let’s be fr