#hold a conversation without apologizing for not knowing the other language?

[trabandovidas]

I love how Uruguayans are all like "ugh i can't understand shit in portuguese, i can't even form a proper sentence" and Brazilians are like "ugh i can't understand shit in spanish, i can't even form a proper sentence", and that is both said with frustration and the fucking deep desire to speak the other's language

But then you have this annual happening ?? where we go and take university level (!!!) classes in the other's language, and go to talks and academic conferences given entirely in the other's language and we go to the other's country and give them conferences in our language and we are all like, "ugh, ah, fuck, i can't speak shit in portuguese/ spanish, i'm so sorry i can't even form a proper sentence, I don't wish to inconvenience you, i just. can't :(" and the other one is all like "ye, ye, ye, don't worry, you just speak in your tongue, i can understand you, don't worry, i can't speak spanish/portuguese either, i don't even understand shit of it either. But i completely understand you giving me this university level class tho!, yeah no problem <3" like ???? sir???

[girlrotterr]

୨୧⠀⠀˙⠀leave without a trace⠀｡ ⠀꒱

artist!ellie x fashion designer!reader Summary: You attend an art exhibition where you unexpectedly lock eyes with your ex-girlfriend, Ellie Williams, whom you haven't seen in years. a/n: omg?! not me becoming consistent?! heavily inspired by "no one noticed" by the marias!!

The gallery is a cathedral of silence, punctuated only by the soft clicking of heels against the polished hardwood floor and the low murmur of voices echoing from every corner. The walls are a crisp, sterile white, meant to let the art breathe. But tonight, they seem oppressive, closing in on you as the weight of old memories seep through the cracks of time. You’re standing in the midst of it all, surrounded by strangers who admire Ellie’s work like they’re deciphering some abstract language.

But to you, it’s not abstract. It’s painfully familiar.

Your eyes drift over the crowd, catching fragments of conversation—chatter about technique, boldness, meaning—but they wash over you like background noise. Your mind is elsewhere, pinned in the past.

College felt like a lifetime ago.

It was chaotic, with you balancing late nights in the sewing lab, surrounded by mannequins and fabric swatches, while Ellie lived in the art studio, her hands constantly covered in charcoal, paint, or ink. There had been nights when you’d find her sprawled on the floor, sketching out her wildest ideas with frenzied energy, and you’d sit beside her, watching her create worlds you could only dream of.

Back then, you both were consumed by your passions and each other. She’d stay up late to help you finish a garment, sewing alongside you even though she hated it, just so she could be near. And you? You’d sit in on her critiques, quietly fuming when anyone dared to criticize her work, even though she could take it, even though she loved the fight. The memory of her smirk when she’d dismantle an argument from one of her professors—god, it still lingers.

But the fire that had burned so bright between you had also scorched everything in its path. 

You remember the late-night arguments, when both of you were too stubborn to apologize, too young to realize that passion wasn’t enough to hold everything together. The breakup wasn’t dramatic—no shouting, no tears. Just a slow unraveling, a quiet drifting apart until one day, it was done. She moved on. You moved on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The years that followed had been a blur of fashion internships and city lights. You threw yourself into your work, traveling between studios, pouring every ounce of yourself into fabric, stitching your broken pieces into new designs. You hadn’t heard from her since. Not directly, anyway. You’d seen her name float around in the art world, her work gaining traction, and each time, you’d feel a pang of something you couldn’t quite name. Pride? Regret? A mixture of both.

And now, here you are, in her world once again.

Your gaze is drawn to the painting in front of you—a massive, turbulent landscape of violent brushstrokes and bold colors. The reds are fierce, like anger seething just beneath the surface, and the blues are deep, almost suffocating. It’s raw. Emotional. It feels like her. It feels like you. The two of you, tangled in something you couldn’t quite control. You step closer, your breath catching in your throat as you notice the delicate lines etched into the paint—small, subtle marks hidden beneath the chaos. You know those marks. She used to make them with the tip of her palette knife, carving out tiny details that most people wouldn’t notice unless they really looked.

You’re staring so intently at the painting that you almost miss the moment she walks into view.

Ellie.

The air shifts the second she enters your line of sight, like the whole room inhales in unison. Your heart stumbles over itself, beating out of rhythm, as if trying to catch up with the sudden rush of emotions flooding through you. You haven’t seen her in years, but it’s as though no time has passed at all.

She’s changed, but not in ways that feel unfamiliar. Her hair is still short, though it’s more trimed now, less uneven than you remember. She’s wearing that same damn brown jacket, the one she always wore like a second skin, only now it’s more worn, the creases deeper, the edges frayed. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, revealing the tattoo that winds around her forearm— you remember tracing with your fingers in quiet moments. There’s a confidence to her now, a steadiness that wasn’t there before, like she’s found some kind of peace, even if it’s only partial.

But then there’s her eyes. Still that piercing green, sharp enough to cut through glass, or in this case, through the crowd. You watch as she shifts her weight, one foot tapping lightly on the floor, her posture betraying a flicker of unease as she nods absentmindedly to whoever she’s speaking to. Her hands are deep in her pockets, her thumb worrying the edge of the denim, a sign that she’s restless. She used to do that when she didn’t want to be somewhere—when she was lost in thought, in another world entirely. 

You know her. You know her so well that it aches.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible string, her gaze lifts, scans the room, and lands on you.

It’s electric. The second your eyes meet, it’s like the ground shifts beneath you. Time folds in on itself, collapsing the years between you into this one fragile moment. You can see the shock in her expression, the way her brows twitch upward, just barely, before her features settle into something more controlled. But there’s no hiding the way her shoulders stiffen, or the slight parting of her lips like she’s forgotten how to breathe for just a second. 

You’re both standing still, two statues carved in the midst of a gallery filled with movement, but you may as well be the only people in the room. Her green eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of something there—something that mirrors the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.

Recognition. Pain. Something unfinished.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the way your fingers tremble as you drop your gaze for just a second. When you look back up, she’s still watching you, her expression unreadable, a mask of calm that you know too well. But underneath it—god, you know there’s so much more. Years of silence. Years of things unsaid.

She doesn't move. And neither do you. 

You both just... stand there, holding onto the fragile tension between you like a thread waiting to snap. The air is heavy with what could be—what might’ve been—what still lingers between you like smoke from a fire that never quite burned out.

It’s your sophomore year, late spring. You remember because the air had that soft, electric warmth that made everything feel alive. You were both sitting on the edge of the campus fountain, surrounded by the sound of splashing water, the soft hum of people passing by, and the occasional flutter of birds overhead. Your fashion projects had been spread out between you—loose sketches and fabric samples fluttering in the light breeze—while Ellie’s hands were smeared with charcoal from a half-finished drawing she couldn’t quite get right.

“I don’t get how you do this,” she had muttered, frowning at one of your illustrations. She held it up to the light, squinting as if that would make the delicate lines make more sense. You had laughed, the sound coming out lighter than you’d intended, mostly because of how seriously she was studying your work. Like it was a puzzle she had to solve.

“It’s just fabric,” you’d teased, leaning closer to her to catch a glimpse of her concentrated expression. “You make art out of nothing but feelings—this should be easy for you.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Art out of feelings, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

You watched her for a second longer, your gaze tracing the familiar curve of her jawline, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way her hair stuck up no matter how much she tried to tame it. There was a smudge of charcoal on her nose that she hadn’t noticed yet. You found yourself leaning in, almost without thinking, using your thumb to wipe it away. The moment your skin touched hers, her body went still—like you’d pressed pause on her every movement.

Her green eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time since you’d met, there was a shift. Something unspoken passed between you, heavy and undeniable, hanging in the air between your breaths. You were close—closer than you usually were. And you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, mixing with the spring warmth, making the space around you feel almost too small.

Ellie cleared her throat, her gaze dropping to your hand still lingering on her face. “You, uh… you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

The words came out before you could stop them. And then the silence stretched out, pulling taut as the world around you blurred and fell away. The distant laughter of students, the splashing water of the fountain—it all melted into the background until the only thing you could focus on was the way Ellie was looking at you.

It wasn’t a stare. It was deeper. Like she was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you.

You didn’t move. Neither of you did. Time slowed, and in that moment, every boundary you’d carefully drawn between friendship and something more started to dissolve. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, your chest tight with anticipation, with something you hadn’t let yourself name before now.

Ellie’s breath hitched, so soft you barely noticed. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” she murmured, her voice lower than usual.

“Why not?” Your voice trembled, betraying you.

Her eyes flicked back up to meet yours, and there it was—the thing you’d both been avoiding for months. The truth that had been simmering beneath every shared glance, every brush of hands, every late-night conversation when the rest of the world was asleep and it was just you and her, tangled up in each other’s lives without even realizing how deep it went.

“Because…” she hesitated, biting her lip as if searching for the right words. Her gaze softened, like she was caught in a struggle between fear and wanting. “Because I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

The air left your lungs in a rush, and before you could second-guess yourself, before the doubts and the what-ifs could pull you back, you leaned in.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first. Her lips brushed against yours, the faintest touch, as if she wasn’t sure you were real. But then—god—then she kissed you harder, her hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you in as though you were the answer to every question she hadn’t known how to ask. Her mouth tasted like spearmint gum and the faintest hint of cigarettes, warm and familiar. You melted into her, your hands gripping the edge of the fountain to keep yourself steady as everything around you spun.

In that kiss, there was no hesitation, no distance. Just the two of you, colliding in a moment that felt like it had been building for a lifetime. Her hands slid up your back, anchoring you to her, and you could feel the slight tremble in her fingers. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because you were kissing Ellie, and the rest of the world could’ve disappeared, and you wouldn’t have cared.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, you kept your forehead pressed against hers. The world had snapped back into focus around you—the chatter of campus life, the rustle of the wind in the trees—but it felt distant, muted, like it wasn’t quite real. Not compared to this.

Ellie’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you like you were the only thing she could see. Her breath was still shaky, her lips swollen and flushed. She swallowed, hard, and whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…”

But you silenced her with a gentle smile, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

“You don’t have to explain.”

Because you both knew what it meant. You both knew that nothing would be the same after this, and you were okay with it. Maybe you were scared. Maybe she was too. But in that moment, wrapped up in the heat of the afternoon sun and the lingering taste of her on your lips, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was her.

The sound of your name pulls you back to the present. It’s bright and full of life, cutting through the thick haze of tension like a ray of sunlight. You turn just in time to see Dina pushing her way through the crowd, a grin spreading across her face as she practically bounces in your direction.

She’s the same as ever—sharp, effortlessly cool, with a wild energy that always made you feel like you were part of something big just by being near her. Her dark hair, tied up in a messy bun, hasn’t changed a bit, though there’s a new edge to her style—bold patterns clashing in a way only she could pull off.

Before you can even get a word out, she’s enveloping you in a tight hug, squeezing you so hard that you let out a laugh, the tension in your chest easing a little. She smells like lavender and cedarwood, familiar and grounding, and for a brief moment, the knot of emotions tangled in your stomach loosens.

“Oh my god, it’s been forever!” Dina practically yells, pulling back just enough to look at you, her eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “I didn’t even know you were coming tonight! How the hell are you? You look amazing!”

You’re caught off guard by her energy, her enthusiasm wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You smile, shaking your head as you try to gather your thoughts. “I—yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I wasn’t sure I’d even make it, but, you know”

Dina snorts, rolling her eyes playfully. “Yeah, tell me about it. But seriously, I’m so glad you’re here! You—” she gestures at you with both hands, eyes wide as if she’s sizing you up, “—still killing it with the whole fashion thing, right? I saw your last collection! so damn chic! The textures, the layering—ugh, I wanted to steal every piece.”

You laugh, feeling a flush of pride at her words. “Thanks, Dina. I’m still trying to figure out what’s next, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it? Girl, I loved it.” Dina leans in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, between you and Ellie, the two of you were always the most talented people on campus. It’s wild seeing both of you making it big.”

The mention of Ellie’s name sends a ripple of tension down your spine, and suddenly, the room feels a little too warm again. You glance over Dina’s shoulder, and sure enough, Ellie is still standing there, watching the two of you. 

Dina follows your gaze, and when she spots Ellie, her face lights up even more. “Oh, shit, you haven’t seen her yet, have you?” Dina’s voice drops to a mischievous whisper, her grin widening. “This is gonna be good.”

Before you can protest, before you can even think of what to say or how to brace yourself, Dina’s already calling out, “Ellie! Hey! Get over here!”

Your heart skips a beat, your pulse quickening as Ellie’s eyes flicker to Dina. For a second, she looks like she might hesitate, like the distance between the two of you is a bridge she’s not sure she wants to cross. But then, with a slow exhale, she starts moving, weaving through the crowd with that effortless stride of hers—confident, but never cocky. 

And just like that, she’s standing in front of you.

Up close, the years between you seem even sharper. You can see the slight changes in her face— the way her lips quirk at one corner like she’s fighting a smile but doesn’t want to give in. Her green eyes, though, are as piercing as ever, and when they lock onto yours, you feel that same jolt of electricity you did back in college, the same spark that never really went out.

For a moment, no one says anything. The air is silent with unspoken words, with the history that hangs between you like a thread waiting to snap.

Ellie’s lips part, and she starts with something simple. “Hey.”

Dina, completely oblivious to the tension, claps her hands together with a grin. “Okay, this is weird for me. Two of my favorite people, standing here after all these years—this is like, full circle, right?”

You manage a small smile, though your throat feels tight. “Yeah. Full circle.”

Ellie shifts her weight, glancing at Dina with a wry smile before her gaze slides back to you. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she says, her voice soft, like she’s trying to keep things light.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Didn’t expect to be here either.”

But the words feel thin, hollow. Because standing this close to her, with the buzz of the gallery around you and the memories swirling like ghosts in the air, it’s impossible to ignore the truth.

This isn’t just a chance encounter. This is something you’ve both been avoiding for too long.

Dina shifts her weight, a perceptive glint in her eye as she surveys the two of you, the tension thick enough to slice through. She opens her mouth as if to say something—maybe to break the silence, to diffuse the moment—but then she pauses, that playful grin still dancing on her lips.

“Okay, you know what?” she says, clapping her hands together once more. “I just remembered I promised Jesse I’d check on him. He’s probably stuck at the snack table, drowning in mini quiches. So, I’ll be right back!” 

Before you can even respond, she’s off, weaving through the crowd with that effortless grace of hers, leaving you and Ellie standing there, caught in a moment that feels suspended in time. The sounds of the gallery fade into the background—the murmur of conversations, the soft clinking of glasses—until it’s just the two of you.

The silence stretches. 

Ellie shifts her weight again, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. You can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, a whirlwind of emotions waiting to be unleashed, but the words seem to stick in her throat. 

“So, how’s the show been for you?” you finally ask, trying to fill the space, to ease the tightness that’s creeping in. Your voice sounds a bit steadier than you feel.

Ellie’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the corners of her mouth twitch up into a small, genuine smile. “It’s… good. Better than I expected, honestly.” She glances around, taking in the vibrant colors of her artwork, the way the lights catch the brushstrokes, illuminating the stories behind each piece. “It’s kind of surreal to see it all up here.”

You nod, watching her as she talks. There’s a light in her eyes that flickers with passion. 

“Your work is incredible, Ellie.”

She meets your gaze again, and there’s a flicker of something deeper in her expression—gratitude with a hint of vulnerability.

 “Thanks,” she says, her voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I’ve been trying to push myself more lately.”

Your heart swells with her words, and the warmth of the moment wraps around you like a comforting embrace. But then, as if sensing the shift in the air, the gallery begins to swell with new energy. The crowd thickens, laughter and chatter rising, and the once-intimate space starts to feel almost claustrophobic.

Ellie’s expression changes slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “I should probably go check in with some of the other guests,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, though a part of you aches at the thought of her leaving, of this moment slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

But before you can say anything else, she steps back, creating a small distance between you. “It was really good to see you,” she says, the words almost swallowed by the hum of the gallery.

You nod, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. “You too, Ellie..”

It was winter. Cold, biting, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. You and Ellie were huddled in her tiny apartment just off campus, the one she’d insisted had “charm” but was really just a glorified box with bad heating. The windows fogged with condensation, and outside, snowflakes drifted lazily down onto the already blanketed streets. Inside, the space was warm and dim, lit by a single lamp in the corner and the flickering glow of a candle Ellie had lit for atmosphere.

But there was no warmth between you that night.

Ellie was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, her hands running through her hair, tugging at it the way she always did when she was frustrated, on the verge of losing control. Her movements were restless, sharp, filled with an energy that seemed like it would combust if she didn’t do something, say something. She wasn’t looking at you—she hadn’t been able to for the past hour. And you, sitting on the edge of her bed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, could feel the distance between you growing with every step she took.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she muttered, almost to herself, her voice strained, barely holding together. She stopped pacing for a second, pressing her palms to her forehead, her elbows resting on the back of a chair. “I feel like I’m drowning. Every day, it’s like… like I’m waiting for something to go wrong, and I don’t even know what it is, but I can’t breathe.”

Her words hit you like cold water, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You’d been feeling it too, the unraveling, the way everything between you had started to fray at the edges. It wasn’t sudden. It had been slow, creeping in like a shadow you couldn’t outrun. Long nights turned into silent mornings. Conversations that used to be easy, light, now felt like stepping through a minefield. Every fight, every misunderstanding, left scars you hadn’t been able to heal.

But hearing her say it out loud… that made it real.

“Ellie…” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, like you were afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. “We can fix this. We just need to talk. We always work through things, right?”

She shook her head, her back still turned to you. You could see her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if she was trying to hold it all together. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, more broken. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we’ve been working through things too much, you know? Like, we keep trying to fix it, but it’s not working.”

You felt your chest tighten, your pulse quickening. The coldness of the room started to creep in, the warmth from the candle and the blankets no longer enough to fight it off. You stood up slowly, your legs shaky, and took a tentative step toward her. “Ellie, please—”

She spun around, and the look in her eyes stopped you in your tracks. They were red, bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept in days. And there was something else there—something raw, something you hadn’t seen before. Desperation, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “But that’s all I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Every time we fight, every time I say the wrong thing or don’t say enough… it’s like I’m breaking you apart, piece by piece, and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being the one who keeps doing this to you.”

Your throat tightened, your eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “You’re not—” you started, but she cut you off, shaking her head again.

“Yes, I am!” Her voice cracked, and suddenly, she wasn’t pacing anymore. She was standing still, facing you, her fists clenched at her sides like she was trying to hold herself together through sheer force of will. “You deserve better than this. Better than… than me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and final. For a moment, the only sound was the soft hiss of the candle flickering in the corner, the distant rumble of a car passing by outside. You could feel the weight of what she was saying sinking into your skin, settling deep in your bones. She was pulling away, tearing out a piece of herself, a piece of you, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice trembling. You reached for her hand, desperate to hold onto something, anything, but she flinched, stepping back just out of reach. “Please, Ellie. We can fix this. We can figure it out, we always do.”

But she was already shaking her head again, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall. “No. I can’t… I can’t keep dragging you down with me. You deserve to be happy, and I don’t think I can give that to you anymore.”

Your heart broke then. It shattered, piece by piece, with every word she spoke. You wanted to scream, to tell her she was wrong, that you could make it work, that love was enough. But deep down, you knew. You’d both been unraveling for months, slipping through each other’s fingers like sand. And no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, it wasn’t enough.

Ellie took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, barely audible. “I love you, but I don’t think I’m good for you anymore. And I can’t… I can’t keep pretending like I am.”

You stood there, frozen, as the words echoed in the small space between you. There was nothing left to say. Nothing that could change what was already happening. So, instead, you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak, your heart too heavy to protest.

She watched you for a moment longer, her eyes softening, filled with something that looked like regret, maybe even guilt. Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there, the candle flickering weakly in the corner.

The sound of the door closing behind her felt like the final nail in the coffin. The room was suddenly too quiet, too cold, too empty.

And you were alone.

The night air cools your skin, but the warmth of the gallery lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy cloak. You take a few steps down the street, trying to steady your breath, trying to shake off the flood of emotions Ellie’s presence stirred up. But as you reach the edge of the block, something pulls you back—an invisible tether, tightening around your heart. You stop, glancing back toward the gallery, the soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk, the hum of conversations still echoing in the air.

You’re not ready to leave. Not yet.

With a deep breath, you turn and step back inside, the warmth of the space enveloping you once more. The crowd has shifted, people moving around the artwork like currents in a river, but you’re not drawn to any of them. Instead, you find yourself wandering, letting your feet carry you through the gallery without any clear direction.

The pieces on the walls are beautiful—Ellie’s unmistakable style shines through in every brushstroke, every burst of color. But there’s something else here, something you can’t quite put your finger on. You continue walking, the noise around you dulling to a low murmur as you lose yourself in the art.

And then, you see it.

Tucked away in a corner of the gallery, slightly off the main flow of the exhibition, is a painting that stops you in your tracks. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the crowd, the noise, even the memory of Ellie standing just a few feet from you moments ago.

The painting is large, dominating the wall with its raw, unfiltered intimacy. The colors are rich, deep tones of reds and golds and shadows that dance across the canvas like firelight. And in the center, almost hidden in the interplay of light and dark, are two figures—tangled together, their bodies intertwined in a way that leaves no room for doubt. The lines are soft, delicate, but there’s a fierceness to the way the brushstrokes capture the curve of a back, the arch of a neck, the way two sets of hands grip each other as if holding on for dear life.

It’s you and Ellie.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step closer, your pulse quickening with every detail that comes into focus. The figures are not exact replicas, not perfect portraits, but there’s no mistaking it—the shape of your body, the curve of Ellie’s form. The familiarity in the way your hands touch, the way your legs are tangled together, skin on skin, lost in the moment of sex.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as the memories flood back. The night in question comes rushing to the surface—one of those endless nights in college, when the world outside had ceased to matter, and all that existed was the space between you and Ellie. The way her breath had felt against your skin, the soft murmur of her voice in your ear, the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense in a world of chaos.

It’s all there, captured in the brushstrokes. The vulnerability, the connection, the way you’d both been completely unguarded with each other in a way that had felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once. The memory is so visceral, it’s like being pulled back in time, your body remembering the touch of her hands, the feel of her lips against yours.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, your eyes tracing every detail of the painting. It’s beautiful, in a way that makes your chest ache, but it’s also unmistakably private. This moment was yours—yours and Ellie’s—and seeing it laid bare here, for everyone to see, feels almost too intimate, like a secret exposed.

Your breath hitches as your mind races. Did Ellie mean for this to be here? Was it a message? Or just a piece of her past she needed to exorcise, to let out into the world in the only way she knew how?

You take another step closer, your eyes fixated on the way the light plays off the figures—your figure—highlighting the delicate curve of your waist, the way Ellie’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. It’s so raw, so unapologetic, and the emotions it stirs up are almost too much to bear.

You stand there, your heart hammering in your chest, you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you. You know, without turning around, who it is. Ellie’s presence fills the space before she even speaks, the air between you charged with an intensity that has been building all night.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You can feel her eyes on the painting, then on you, her silence heavy with meaning. She’s watching your reaction, waiting—maybe even bracing—for what you’ll say, for how you’ll respond. You want to say something, anything, but the words seem lodged in your throat.

Finally, Ellie breaks the silence. Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s a vulnerability to it that makes your chest tighten. “It’s… from a long time ago,” she says, the words almost a whisper. “I didn’t think anyone would see it and know..”

You swallow hard, still unable to tear your eyes away from the painting. “It’s us,” you say, the words barely audible, but Ellie hears them. You can feel her nod behind you, even though she doesn’t say anything.

Another beat of silence stretches between you, the weight of the past pressing down on you both. And then Ellie speaks again, her voice lower now, more grounded. “I didn’t know how else to… capture it. It was the only way I could make sense of everything.”

You finally turn to look at her, and the sight of her standing there, just inches away, sends a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you. Her face is softer now, the hard edges you saw earlier had smoothed away. Just her, standing there, vulnerable and exposed in a way that mirrors the painting on the wall.

For the first time all night, the space between you feels real. Heavy with everything that’s gone unsaid for years.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are still out of reach. Instead, all you can do is look at her, your chest tight with the weight of everything this painting has stirred up. There’s a part of you that wants to step closer, to reach out and touch her like you used to, to see if the connection that once burned so brightly between you still lingers in the spaces where your skin meets hers.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, the memory of that night—of her —playing over and over in your mind like a song you thought you’d forgotten.

Somehow, you ended up here—Ellie’s apartment. You’re not sure how it happened. Maybe it was the tension in the gallery, the weight of the memories between you, or maybe it was Ellie’s quiet, almost tentative offer: “Do you want to come over for a bit?”

Now, the door closes softly behind you, and you find yourself standing in the small entryway of her apartment, the familiar scent of her space—wood, paint, and that faint earthy musk of hers—hitting you all at once. It’s like stepping back into a life you’d long since tried to leave behind, except everything feels slightly off now, like a song that’s being played just a little too slow.

The silence stretches between you, awkward and thick, as Ellie moves past you into the living room. Her apartment is small, but cozy. Messy in the way an artist’s space always is, with scattered paintbrushes, canvases propped up against the walls, and sketchbooks overflowing with half-finished ideas. It’s not much different from the space she had in college, except this time, the mess feels more intentional—like it’s been lived in, not just occupied.

You hover near the door, unsure of where to put your hands, unsure of where to put yourself. The air between you is charged, but not in the electric way it had been back in the gallery.

Ellie clears her throat, scratching the back of her neck as she moves around the space, avoiding your gaze. 

“Uh, you can sit if you want,” she says, motioning vaguely toward the worn, comfortable-looking couch that’s pushed against the far wall. “I’ll grab some drinks.”

You nod, grateful for something to do, even if it’s just sitting down. The cushions sag beneath you, and you can’t help but remember the nights you’d spent like this before, curled up together on whatever hand-me-down couch she had at the time, talking for hours, or sometimes not talking at all. Just being.

But this isn’t like before.

Ellie disappears into the kitchen, and you take the opportunity to look around. There’s an easel in the corner with a half-finished painting—a cityscape this time, vibrant with color and movement. The table next to it is cluttered with tubes of paint, brushes, and crumpled pieces of paper with rough sketches. It’s Ellie’s world, laid out in front of you, and yet you feel like a stranger in it now.

The awkwardness creeps up your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach as you wait, the quiet stretching on and on. You can hear Ellie moving in the kitchen—bottles clinking, the soft sound of the fridge opening and closing. It should feel normal, familiar. But it doesn’t.

After what feels like too long, Ellie finally returns, two bottles of beer in hand. She hands you one without a word, her fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through you, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Ellie sits on the opposite end of the couch, as far from you as the small space allows. She takes a swig of her beer, her gaze flicking to the window instead of meeting yours, her posture stiff and uncertain. You take a drink, too, trying to focus on the bitter taste of the beer instead of the way the room feels too small, too quiet.

The silence stretches again, awkward and heavy, like neither of you knows how to bridge the gap. The weight of the past hangs between you—unspoken, but impossible to ignore. You’re both dancing around it, unwilling to dive in, yet neither of you knows how to avoid it.

“How long have you been working on the pieces for the show?” you ask, desperate to fill the silence with something, anything.

Ellie shrugs, taking another sip of her beer. “A while. A couple of years, I guess.”

You nod, not really sure what to say. 

You can feel her eyes on you—intense and heavy. 

“I don’t think I ever forgot how it felt.” she blurts out, her voice low and husky.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening as the weight of her words hits you. You know exactly what she means. The memory of her hands on your body, the heat of her breath against your skin—it all comes rushing back, sharper now, more immediate.

Ellie leans back against the couch, her legs spreading just slightly as she sets her beer down on the floor with a soft thunk. She’s still watching you, the unspoken desire hanging thick in the air between you. It’s a look you recognize all too well—a look that used to drive you wild, that used to make you ache for her touch in a way that felt almost unbearable.

And now, sitting here in her apartment, that same ache is starting to stir inside you again.

“I know it’s been a long time,” she murmurs, her voice soft, “But I’ve been thinking about you. About us. ”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your body reacting, your skin prickling with heat as the space between you seems to shrink. You can see the way her chest rises and falls with each slow breath, the tension in her body barely restrained. It’s like she’s holding herself back—just barely—but there’s no mistaking the hunger in her eyes, the way her gaze keeps flicking to your lips, your body, like she’s already imagining what it would feel like to close the distance.

You know you should say something, should acknowledge the fire that’s rapidly spreading between you, but you can’t find the words. All you can do is watch as Ellie shifts closer, her movements slow, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t want you,” she says, her voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. There’s no hesitation anymore, no awkwardness, just pure, unfiltered desire. “Because I do. I always have.”

The confession hangs in the air, bold and dangerous, and it takes everything in you not to close the gap between you and her right then and there. Your body is already reacting, your pulse racing, your breath coming faster as the tension between you reaches a fever pitch.

Ellie leans in slightly, her face inches from yours, her lips so close you can feel the heat of her breath against your skin. Her hand moves to your thigh, the touch light but deliberate, her fingers pressing against you in a way that sends a jolt of heat straight through your core. It’s a touch that’s both familiar and new, reigniting the fire that had once burned so brightly between you.

“You remember how good it was, don’t you?” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel your body responding, your skin buzzing with the memory of her touch, the way she used to know exactly how to drive you wild. The pull between you is too strong now, the desire too overwhelming to ignore. You want her—desperately—and you can see the same hunger reflected in her eyes, the way her hand tightens slightly on your thigh, her grip firm. 

“Ellie…” you breathe, your voice a whisper, but she hears it. She always hears you.

She moves even closer, her lips brushing against your neck now, the warmth of her breath sending a rush of heat through your body. “Tell me you want this,” she murmurs, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want me.”

Your mind is spinning, your heart racing as you feel the full weight of her body leaning into you, her hand sliding further up your thigh, her touch firm. You can barely think straight, the heat between you unbearable now, every nerve in your body on fire as she presses her lips against your neck, soft but insistent.

“I want you..” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. And as soon as they leave your lips, Ellie’s restraint shatters.

In an instant, her lips are on yours, the kiss rough and desperate, all the tension and desire that’s been building between you exploding in a surge of heat. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer as if she can’t get enough of you. The kiss is hungry, wild, like she’s been starving for you for years, and now that she has you again, she’s not going to let go.

Your body reacts instinctively, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as you lose yourself.  It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, the intensity of her touch, the way she knows exactly how to make you melt beneath her.

Ellie pulls you onto her lap, her hands gripping your hips, and you can feel the hardness of her body beneath you, the strength in her arms as she holds you close, her lips never leaving yours. It’s rough, raw, and so intensely familiar, like falling back into a rhythm you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Ellie pulls back just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing ragged, her eyes dark and wild with need. “I need you,” she whimpers. 

In a rush, your hands find the hem of ellie’s shirt, pulling it up and over her head. You toss it aside without a second thought, your eyes immediately drawn to her bare torso—her tattoo twisting along her arm, her skin flushed with heat. For a moment, you pause, breathless, as you take her in. She’s gorgeous. Strong and lean, every muscle under her skin defined, her freckles scattered across her chest like stars in the night.

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her chest rising and falling heavily as she watches you, her lips slightly parted, her eyes burning with want. But she doesn’t say a word. Instead, her hands move to your shirt, tugging it up in one swift motion. You lift your arms, letting her pull it over your head before it, too, is discarded in the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Her gaze drops immediately, her eyes sweeping over your body. 

There’s something in the way she looks at you—something intense,that makes your skin burn under her. Ellie’s hands rest on your bare waist now, her fingers brushing over your skin as she takes you in.

“Ellie…” you breathe, the sound a mixture of a plea and a gasp, urging her to continue.

“Fuck…” she mutters, almost to herself as she leans back slightly to get a better view. Her hands slide up your sides, fingers trailing over the curve of your breasts, the sensation sending a shiver through your entire body. She looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, her eyes dark with want, her touch slow, as if she’s savoring every second, every inch of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Ellie whispers, she’s taking her time now, her hands exploring every inch of your skin, her fingers brushing over your collarbone, tracing the line of your ribs, before they move back up, cupping your breasts with a gentleness that contrasts the raw hunger in her eyes.

You reach for her, your hands roaming over her body, feeling the strength of her shoulders, the hard lines of muscle beneath her skin.  Your hands move lower, exploring the soft dip of her waist, the way her body feels beneath your touch—strong, every muscle tensing under your fingers as you stroke her skin. You let your fingers trace the outline of her abs, feeling the way her body responds to your touch, the way her breath hitches every time your hands move lower.

Ellie's hands grip your hips with an sudden urgency, your slick catches against her cunt, the soft, wet friction sending pulses along your clit. You feel her body respond—every muscle tightening, every breath hitching in anticipation.

Ellie's hands grip your hips with an urgency, your slick catches against her cunt, the soft, wet friction making you pulsate. You can feel her body respond—every muscle tightening, every breath hitching in anticipation.

“n-need to feel you,” she gasps, her voice wavering on the edge of breaking, raw and desperate. The intensity in her eyes makes your heart race, an unquenchable thirst that mirrors your own.

You begin to grind against her, your slick meeting her puffy clit, the sensation making you gasp as the friction builds. 

“Oh god, please..” you whimper, a moan escaping your lips.

It’s intoxicating, the way your bodies move together, the way every roll of your hips sends ripples of pleasure through both your pussies. 

“Fuck,” ellie breathes, her voice low and filled with a mix of need and awe, her eyes locked onto yours as you move together, a slow, delicious rhythm that feels like it’s been waiting for this moment for years. 

“Come here,” she begs, pulling you closer, her grip tightening as you continue to grind against her. The slick sound echos in the air, mingling with the soft moans that slip from your lips.  Each sound you makes pulls ellie deeper, melody that makes her crave more. 

Ellie shifts beneath you, her body arching in a way that allows you to scissor closer. You can see the way her chest rises and falls, each breath heavy. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lost in the sensations, and ellie takes the opportunity to lean down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “You feel so fucking good, baby.” 

The sound of her voice makes your pussy pulsate, your eyes snapping open as they lock onto hers.  “d-don’t stop,” you breathe, your voice trembling with urgency. “I need m-more.”

“God, you’re s-so fucking good,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire, her gaze locked on yours, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment. 

Ellie’s hands slide down your body, exploring every curve, every contour as she pulls you closer, her fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks that will linger long after this night.

“Ellie...” you breathe, the name falling from your mouth like a prayer. “Please, I need to feel you closer,” you whisper, voice all shaky. 

Ellie gives in to the rhythm, moving faster, harder, each thrust sending shudders of pleasure racing through both of you. Your moans come out loud and whiny, mingling with Ellie’s desperate gasps. 

“Fuck, yes!” You breathe, your body arching into hers, your hands gripping her arms as she pulls you closer. You can feel the tension building between you, the way your body responds together, every roll of your hips bringing you both closer to cumming. 

“Don’t stop!” Ellie lets out a soft cry, her body tensing beneath you as the pleasure washes over her. You feel the way her body responds to yours, and it sends you tumbling over the edge, your own pleasure crashing down, pulling you both into ecstasy. 

You collapse against her, breathless and trembling, the world around you fading away as you savor the warmth of her body against yours, the softness of her skin, and the way your bodies still pulse. 

You turn your head slightly, your eyes catching a glimpse of the half-finished paintings scattered around her apartment, the abstract strokes, the splashes of color that seem almost chaotic, like her thoughts spilled out onto the canvas. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be another one of those unfinished things—something she can’t quite complete, something left unresolved, a work in progress that she never intended to finish.

There’s a lump forming in your throat, but you push it down.

You won’t wake up to her. Not tomorrow, not ever. Ellie will go back to her life, and you’ll go back to yours, and this night will fade into the past, becoming another memory, another fragment of what you once had together.

With a quiet sigh, you press a gentle kiss to her shoulder. 

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: Could you please write Burce wayne x male reader who has trouble ordering food. Like in a restaurant when the waiter asks, he either stutters or goes completely quiet, and that's why he asks Bruce to order for him. And i would like to see Bruce's reactions when a waiter is like "you don't have to order for him. He can order for himself. I wasn't asking you, i was asking him" just the waiter assuming that Bruce is kinda controlling. The reader is silently crying in his seat, having to order on his own, like he knows the waiter was trying to do something good. (Totally not speaking from personal experience 🤭)

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, mature language, social anxiety, Bruce is a good boyfriend, mentions of fears, judgment, request, relatable events, everyone struggles.

TAGS: @one-green-frog

WC: 1.5K

NOTES: I used to struggle with ordering food due to anxiety and fear of people judging me 😩 but as I got older they fear kind of went away and I’m able to do it with no problem but everyone deals with anxiety differently and takes time to get come it so I ain’t judging. It’s like that with my older brother he’s 26 and still makes me order for him due to his own anxiety. But hopefully you enjoyed this shot and apologize for the long wait!

Everyone has social anxiety.

Y/n struggled with it at a young age, not being taught how to speak with others in public without getting the intense fear of judgment from others. He figured that he would improve as he got older, but it didn’t change and still struggled with the simple things. He could go out and run errands alone without any struggles since majority of place now had self checkout which was a god send for many.

He’s able to hold a conversation with strangers or with people he knew in the area, but his anxiety would get to him when it came towards the simplest tasks. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was an over thinker and would think that he did something wrong or if he perhaps pronounced something incorrect, thinking that people were judging him for the smallest things. It took time for him to improve but the anxiety still remained during important moments.

One of the easiest things that many were able to accomplish is ordering food. Their were times that he hesitated or froze up when ordering his own food, having to apologize each time he orders and forcing a nervous smile or laugh in hopes of getting through the few minutes that he is there. He struggled even more when he went out on dates.

Very few people knew about his anxiety and very few friends were kind enough to do the ordering for him without hesitation and providing the assistance that he needed. With strangers it was a whole other story, he didn’t want to force them into placing his own order due to his own fear and would struggle with speaking the words.

His dates never went well after that and hated the way he felt each time he stumbled upon the problem. If the waiter or waitress wasn’t staring at him intensely he’d probably order his food without a problem and his day would go fine. But the feeling of their eyes staring at him as he looked at his choices of food made him stutter and grow nervous when ordering.

Forcing that smile as always and getting through the day of embarrassment.

If he had this kind of anxiety how was he suppose to handle his future dates when he couldn’t do a simple task? He’s able to do a whole presentation in a room full of board of directors but he stutters and hesitates when it comes towards ordering a simple meal or even asking for help whenever he’s in public.

He figured he’d spend his days locked indoors while making his own meals while watching a good movie.

He didn’t think he’d end up bagging Bruce Wayne. Gothams Golden boy.

Y/n had thought that this was all a trick or a joke when Bruce first asked him out. He wanted to laugh at the mans face and tell him that he doesn’t need to make his life miserable by playing a mean joke, only to realize that Bruce was in fact not joking around.

Y/n worked at Wayne Enterprises but in a lower department not expecting himself to bump into Bruce Wayne and getting asked out by the man himself. Their first date was simple with a cup of coffee and muffins. He would have thought that bruce would take him someplace fancy on their first date, but when he didn’t he was a bit relieved.

Bruce was a great man and didn’t do anything that made him uncomfortable. Y/n figured that he’d only get lucky to have one date with bruce and then never see them man again, only to get asked out again and again and again. The first four months went well without any problems and enjoyed his time with Bruce as their time together grew their dates slowly got fancier.

Resulting into Y/n confessing to Bruce about his anxiety and fear of others judging him because he couldn’t do a simple task that only required a few words. He thought Bruce would laugh at him or use it against him and force him to confront his fear, instead Bruce smiled at him and asked.

“Do you want me to order for you?”

He said it with the most calmest voice ever showing no hints of judgment.

Y/n wanted to cry that night. It was a simple favor, but it meant a lot to him.

As their dates continued they created a routine each time they went out to eat. Y/n would either look up the menu online ahead of time and already have his order in mind and tell bruce before getting their orders placed. Bruce even memorized the dishes that Y/n liked whenever they went to a repeated restaurant and would for him on the spot without needing to be told what he liked, already knowing the mans interests.

A year into dating and it became a normal thing between the two.

During their one year anniversary, Bruce decided to take him to a new restaurant and getting seated in a nice secluded area and away from others. Y/n scanned the menu and hums. “This looks good.” He speaks up as he checks the different dishes until one caught his eye.

“You know the rule, order whatever you want.” Said Bruce, always reminding him that he can get whatever he wanted. Y/n was hesitant about the prices at first but with time he got adjusted to the idea of Bruce paying for everything and no matter how many times he tried to pay himself, Bruce had already paid ahead of time.

“This pasta looks good.” Y/n points out on the menu and shows Bruce who looked up form his own menu and smiles. “Is that all you want?”

“Can I also get this for dessert?” He points behind the menu where a picture of a nicely desert is presented, getting Bruce to chuckle as he nods his head. “You better share with me because I already know you won’t eat it all.” Y/n laughs at his words and sets his menu down, leaning back in his seat as he looks around the restaurant and takes in the interior, distracted by the place that he doesn’t notice the waitress coming over.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Bruce smiles at the women and starts with his order first, letting her know what he’d like. “And for you?” She turns her attention to Y/n who gets his attention pulled away from a painting he was staring at and looks at her with wide eyes. “I…”

“He’d have the pasta and the chocolate desert.” Bruce is quick to cut in when he noticed Y/n freeze up.

The waitress gives Bruce the stink eye by how he interrupts Y/n. “You don’t have to order for him. He can order for himself.” Bruce froze with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth in shock. “I wasn’t asking you I was asking him.” She points her pencil at Y/n and puts her attention on him.

Y/n can only gap at her, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to speak but I can’t. He was caught off guard and reached out for his menu. “I’ll like…the—the…” He’s stuttering and doesn’t know what to tell her. “Do you need another minute?” She asks which only make the situation worse, he’s turning to Bruce and staring at him with eyes full of fear and hesitation silently screaming for help.

“I assure you miss my partner would like the pasta and desert.” Bruce says again in hopes of getting her to note down the order and she does, not without rolling her eyes which only makes Y/n whine.

“Your food will be ready soon.” She said while taking their menus and walking away, leaving them in silence.

Y/n lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say, she probably thinks you’re an asshole now.” He groans out while covering his face with his hands. Bruce can only chuckle while shaking his head and reaching out to grab him by the wrists. “Don’t be, not everyone knows about your fear and besides she was only doing it because she probably thought I was controlling.”

“You’re not!”

“She doesn’t know that. If I wanted to be asshole I would have yelled at her like other people do, but I’m not doing that. It was a simple misunderstanding.” Bruce reassured Y/n as he held his hand and smiles. He didn’t think that something like this would happen since they’ve never had this issue in the past at the other places that they visited.

“All you have to worry about is eating all of your food and sharing your desert.” Bruce tries to lighten up the mood which works for Y/n as he chuckled and nods his head. “Fine and then after we go home and watch a movie and not come back here again.” After this misunderstanding its most likely he doesn’t want to come back and face the same issue again.

“We stick with Jimmy’s…” He mumbled out, referring to his favorite restaurant that serviced amazing chicken wings and fries. Bruce laughs while nodding. “Next time we go out will go to Jimmy’s.” At this point they were already considered regulars that the owner memorized their orders, which made it better for Y/n.

[satellite-evans]

Pebbles of love

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his fiancée spend a romantic day at the beach, finding pebbles that match each other's eye colors <3

Word count: 1k

Warnings: pure fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Benedict Bridgerton had always been a lover of art and beauty, and nothing in the world was more beautiful to him than his fiancée, Y/N. Today, they had planned a rare escape from the hustle and bustle of London society—a trip to the serene coastline, where they could revel in each other’s company without the watchful eyes of the ton.

The journey to the beach had been filled with lively conversation and shared laughter, their carriage rocking gently along the country roads. Benedict stole glances at Y/N as she looked out the window, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her features. Her hair, a cascade of silk, shimmered in the light, and her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation.

As they arrived at the beach, the salty sea breeze greeted them, tousling their hair and filling their lungs with the invigorating scent of the ocean. They discarded their shoes and socks, delighting in the sensation of the cool, damp sand beneath their feet. The beach stretched out before them, a pristine canvas of soft, golden sand and scattered pebbles, with the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

Benedict looked at Y/N, her face illuminated by the sunlight, her eyes reflecting the endless blue of the sky above. He marveled at how lucky he was to have found her. She was his muse, his inspiration, the very essence of beauty and grace. Each moment spent with her was a treasure he held close to his heart.

“This place is perfect,” Y/N said, her voice filled with awe. “I’ve always loved the sea.”

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with love. “I thought you might,” he said. “I wanted to share something special with you, away from everything else.”

Y/N reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You always know exactly what I need.”

They walked along the shoreline, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation. They spoke of their dreams, their future together, and the adventures they hoped to share. Benedict felt a sense of peace, a certainty that with Y/N by his side, he could face anything.

“Benedict, look at this one!” Y/N exclaimed, holding up a small, smooth pebble that glistened under the sunlight. It was a pale blue, almost the exact shade of Benedict’s eyes. She smiled, her heart swelling with the simple joy of the moment.

Benedict took the pebble from her hand, inspecting it. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and soft. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Y/N blushed, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink that Benedict found utterly enchanting. “Well, aren't you a charmer,” she said, though her smile betrayed her pleasure at his compliment.

“I try my best,” Benedict replied, slipping the pebble into his pocket. He felt a warmth in his chest, a sense of completeness he had never known before her. “But now I must find one that matches your eyes.”

They continued their leisurely stroll, eyes scanning the ground for the perfect stone. Benedict was determined, his artist’s eye sharp as he examined each pebble they passed. The task was more than just a game; it was a way to connect, to see each other in the world around them.

As they walked, Benedict found himself lost in thought. He remembered their first meeting at one of the many Bridgerton balls, where she had captivated him with her wit and charm. He had been smitten from the moment she smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Their courtship had been a whirlwind of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and whispered confessions of love. Every step of the journey had brought them closer, solidifying the bond they now shared.

Finally, he spotted one—a deep, rich brown, with flecks of gold that caught the light in a way that reminded him of Y/N’s eyes. It was perfect, just like her.

“Here,” he said, presenting his find to her with a flourish. “This one.”

Y/N took the pebble, holding it up to her eyes to compare. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice soft with emotion. She looked up at Benedict, her heart full. “You really think my eyes look this beautiful?”

Benedict smiled, drawing her close. “No, I don't,” he said. “I think your eyes are far more beautiful, my love."

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, collecting pebbles and shells, laughing and talking, sharing dreams and memories. Every moment felt like a brushstroke on the canvas of their love story, vibrant and full of life. Benedict felt a profound sense of happiness as they played like children, unburdened by societal expectations.

As the sun began to set, they sat together on a large rock, watching the waves. Benedict couldn’t help but reflect on how much his life had changed since meeting Y/N. She had brought color to his world, a sense of purpose and joy he had never thought possible.

“Do you know,” Benedict said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think this is my favorite place in the world now.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “Because of the beach?”

Benedict shook his head, kissing the top of hers. “Because of you,” he said simply. “Wherever you are, that is my favorite place.”

Y/N smiled, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. “And you are mine, Benedict Bridgerton.”

They continued to sit in silence, the sound of the waves mingling with the rhythm of their breaths. Benedict held her a little tighter, feeling the steady beat of her heart against his side. It was in these quiet moments that he felt the depth of his love for her, a love that was as constant and enduring as the ocean before them.

As the last light of the day faded into twilight, they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the pebbles they had collected lying beside them.

Benedict looked down at Y/N, her face serene in the fading light, and whispered, “You are my greatest masterpiece.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “And you, Benedict, are my heart’s truest desire.”

With that, they sealed their love with a kiss, as timeless and beautiful as the sea before them.

[matthewfuckinggraygubler]

You`re the one that I want || Spencer Reid + 18

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader · Category: Smut · Warning: Angst, Dom, Sex, Happy ending. · Words: 2340 · Summary : Spencer and you have been building tension for a long time, and it finally breaks in a primal way. · Inspiration: Grease's song "You're the One That I Want" and the BRUTAL car scene from Deadpool & Wolverine. 😏

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn't my first language, be kind!

· Masterlist

You had been building up tension for months, trapped in a push and pull of feelings that neither of you could face. That tension, once imperceptible, now manifested in every word, every gesture. What were once shared jokes had turned into venomous barbs, little attacks that slipped in between the daily grind. Any excuse was enough to throw a biting comment or start an argument.

Your UAC colleagues had noticed. They’d tried to mediate, though without getting too involved. But the friction between you only seemed to grow, and nothing—neither words nor warning looks from the others—could calm the storm brewing between the two of you.

The final straw was a trivial argument in the kitchen. You, holding a cup of coffee in your hand, and him, entering carelessly.

"Be careful! You'll spill the coffee," you shouted, trying not to spill the liquid on your clothes.

"Shouldn't you watch where you're going? Maybe that way you'd avoid accidents," he replied with a tone so sharp it made you snap. He walked in to get his coffee, completely ignoring you.

The biting response slipped out before you could stop it. "Oh, sure. Any other orders from the great doctor today?"

"For God's sake, drop that tone. You sound like a 15-year-old," he snapped.

You couldn't resist. "Speaking of kids, when are you going to do something with that haircut? I don't know, something that doesn't look like a rebellious teenager's."

His gaze darkened, fury evident in his eyes. "Shut up," he said, his voice low and sharp like a threat.

"What's the matter? Does the truth hurt?" you pushed, taking it beyond the limit.

"I said shut up!" The tone he'd used was something you'd never heard before, loaded with anger and frustration. For a moment, you fell silent, surprised by the violence in his voice. You felt your face darken as you walked away, unable to continue the conversation.

The next day, the doorbell rang while you were sprawled on the couch, enjoying a quiet Saturday. You weren’t expecting anyone. When you opened the door and saw Spencer, you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach. His face was tense, serious, as if something was eating away at him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not bothering to hide your reluctance.

“I want to talk… apologize for yesterday,” he said in a flat voice.

You let him in, but the awkwardness in the air was palpable. The apology was quick and direct, but it didn’t take long before you both fell into another argument.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he asked, his tone laced with insinuations.

“Excuse me?” you replied with a cynical laugh, as if the very suggestion that you should apologize was absurd.

After a scoff, the tension built until it exploded. Frustrated by your attitude, Spencer turned to leave. But before he could take a step, you grabbed him by the elbow, tugging on his jacket.

“Is this your solution to everything? Run away when things get tough?” you yelled, the heat of anger mixing with something deeper.

He turned abruptly, and before you could react, his hand closed tightly around your wrist, lifting it above your head. His body was so close you could feel his ragged breath against your skin.

“Let go of me…” you whispered, but it wasn’t a plea. It was a warning. Your words trembled, not out of fear, but from the intensity of the moment. Yet Spencer didn’t move, his eyes locked onto yours, challenging you, trying to assert his control.

The air thickened, filled with more than just anger. The struggle for dominance was no longer just verbal.

“Let go of me!” you shouted again, but this time your voice was charged with a fury you hadn’t felt before. With all your strength, you shoved him, making him stumble back a few steps. His gaze burned with a mix of surprise and rage, and in that moment, you knew the fight had only just begun. Before you could move, Spencer grabbed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your waist as he lifted you effortlessly and shoved you against the wall. The impact was brutal, knocking the air from your lungs, but the only thing that mattered was that explosive proximity.

He didn’t give you a second to recover. His lips crashed against yours, not seeking a kiss, but something much wilder. It was a clash of teeth, of ragged breaths and desperate hands trying to pin each other down. Trying to grab each other’s wrists, to stop the other’s movement. You both gasped, the clash between your bodies awakening something more primal than simple anger. You tried to push him away, but he was faster, his hands now gripping your hips, pulling you closer. The feel of his body against yours ignited a fire you couldn’t control. His fingers slid up your back with wild intensity, as if he was claiming you in the most physical way possible. You bit his lower lip, almost in anger, and his response was a low growl that rumbled in your chest, making you shudder.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled against your mouth, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and pure desire as his hands began exploring your body without any gentleness. It wasn’t an act of tenderness but a battle for control.

“Shut up,” you hissed, shoving his chest with both hands. Getting space between the two of you was nearly impossible, but still, you kept trying. The friction between your bodies was unbearable, almost painful, but you refused to be the first to give in.

Without warning, you threw a punch at his side, not with all your strength, but enough to make him gasp, giving you a brief moment to free yourself. But he responded with the same intensity, catching you before you could get away, gripping your wrists and lifting you with a single movement, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. The cold wall behind you contrasted with the unbearable heat of his body pressed against yours.

“You’re too damn proud,” he whispered through clenched teeth, his warm breath brushing against your neck before biting your skin at its most sensitive spot with a force that made you let out an involuntary moan.

You tried to push him away again, but it was impossible. His hands were already under your shirt, yanking it up until he tore it off you. The cold air hitting your bare skin made you shiver, but it wasn’t that that took your breath away—it was the way his fingers dug into your hips, holding you like he wasn’t going to let you move an inch without his permission.

With one swift motion, he lowered you to the floor, but he didn’t give you a chance to get away. He shoved you towards the couch, and before you could react, he had you pinned on your back. You writhed beneath him, your hands scratching at his back, trying to regain some control, but everything was falling apart in that wild battle between desire and rage. You pushed against him, trying to change positions, seeking control, but he wasn’t going to give in so easily. Both your hands were tangled in a constant struggle, alternating between shoves and desperate caresses. It was a fight you both were enjoying and needed more than you wanted to admit.

You yanked his hair, forcing him to look at you as you leaned forward, biting his jaw with an almost animalistic violence, desperate for the passion that was starting to replace the anger. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back, exposing your neck as his mouth traveled down your skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that made you gasp. Something had shifted. It was no longer just about a power struggle; passion had taken control. He stood up and lifted you to straddle him, carrying you to the bedroom.

On the way, you frantically tore off his shirt, and your mouths were at war, fighting for dominance over each other’s tongues while one of his hands grabbed your ass and the other clawed at your back. Your hands, on the other hand, tangled in his hair, pulling savagely, helping to steady yourself with each clumsy bump on the way to the next battlefield: the bed.

When you arrived, he threw you onto the mattress, dropping onto you, but you skillfully flipped him over on the bed, using your weight to get on top of him, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. "Don’t think you’re going to dominate me," you whispered with a defiant smile, but Spencer wasn’t the type to stay still. With a single move, he grabbed your hips and shoved you forward, forcing you to lean over him.

His hands were everywhere. His mouth, brutally insistent, traveled over every part of your skin it could reach, leaving red marks in its wake. The heat between your bodies was suffocating, the tension so palpable it seemed like something was about to explode at any moment. You scratched his chest, biting his shoulders, each slap of skin against skin pulling out grunts and ragged breaths.

"What’s the matter? Don’t like losing?" he murmured, with a dark smile, almost taunting. His face was inches from yours, his eyes burning with that mix of rage and desire that ignited you in a way you’d never admit.

Without thinking, you broke free of his hands just enough to push his face to the side, trying to push him away and, above all, deny him what he wanted—you. But he just chuckled darkly, provoking you even more. That infuriated you. With a growl, you pushed away and kicked him off the bed while trying awkwardly to regain control of the situation, forcing him back just enough to free yourself and sit up.

With a playful snort at your performance, he lunged at you, pinning you to the mattress without giving you a chance to react. His hands gripping your thighs, pulling you toward him with almost brutal force, your breathing was out of control, and your heartbeat raced. There were no more preliminaries, no gentle or considerate gestures, just an unrestrained need to satisfy the hunger that had been simmering for months. You both fought for control, biting each other’s lips, mixing moans and growls between each stolen breath. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling without mercy, while he responded by thrusting harder with his hips in an attempt to ease his desire, making you gasp helplessly.

"You're unbearable," you whispered, your voice loaded with defiance and need. You said, finishing undressing him desperately, wanting to feel every part of his body.

“Fuck, you turn me on so much,” he confessed, his tone dripping with that dark intensity that only fueled the fire between you two.

In a moment, both of you were completely naked. There was practically nothing left but pleasure, he spread your legs with his knee, and with a clouded mind, he made you his. Every thrust was a violent clash of bodies, a constant struggle to see who had control. Your nails dug into his back, leaving deep marks, while he gripped your hips, dragging you toward him with a force that ripped screams and muffled moans from you.

"You... won’t... win... this," you panted between ragged breaths, your words defiant even as your body trembled beneath his.

"I’ve already won..." he moaned, his voice hoarse, laden with pleasure and fury. There was no room for anything else, just the relentless rhythm, the creaking of the bed beneath you, and the sound of bruised and sweaty skin colliding in an all-out battle.

Your hands, still gripping the sheets, tried to find some kind of advantage, and in a burst of defiance, you grabbed his neck, pulling him toward you to bite his shoulder. He responded by thrusting harder, pulling a mixture of moans and growls from you that filled the room. You suddenly shifted, taking advantage of his confidence to reverse the position, leaving you on top of him, your body pressing against his as he pushed from below. You leaned forward, scratching his chest with a dark smile, your lips descending on his skin in kisses and bites that drew deep sighs from him.

But Spencer didn’t give up, and he had to reassert himself one last time. With a quick movement, he caught you again, flipping you over so that your back was against the bed, your body arching under his as he gripped your hips tightly. There were no more words, only the sound of your bodies colliding, the shared panting, and the rough whisper of your name on his lips.

"Fuck… I’m gonna..." he moaned, which drove you wild.

The climax was as violent as the battle you had waged. A point of no return where control was completely lost. You screamed his name between moans and gasps, your body trembling beneath his as he sank deeper, letting out one final growl before collapsing on top of you, exhausted.

Finally, you both collapsed, breathing heavily, your bodies still trembling from the wild energy that had defined every second of the night, leaving only the absolute exhaustion that made it clear this wouldn’t be the last time. Suddenly, there was no anger, no rage. All the tension of months had been settled. You looked at each other with soft smiles as you tried to catch your breath.

"I won," you said with a smile, calm after the ecstasy.

Spencer snorted in amusement. "Fine, yeah… okay, you won. Will you grant me a rematch...?" he smiled, exhausted.

· Requests via DM ·

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve had my share of [Crowley voice] you idiot thoughts at both of them over their terrible communication skills and severe chronic inability to say what they mean. But like. I get it.

For 6000 years, they had to talk in code. They had to express themselves in grand gestures and subtext and plausible deniability, out of fear of being found out. And they got really good at it! They developed a whole secret language of ways to say I love you because they couldn’t say it out loud.

But now that they can—and need to—talk about what they are to each other with actual words, they don’t know how.

Neither of them know how to say what they want, openly, and to ask what the other wants. And (I think this is a crucial component) they don’t know how to fight. They’ve had enough spats to have a 350+ year old apology dance, but they have repeatedly avoided talking about the really big differences in their worldviews and what they value, because those conversations would immediately bump up against the things they try hardest to avoid (doubt and guilt for Aziraphale; rejection for Crowley), and because that could lead to a real disagreement that they don’t know how to get around. And then where would either of them be? Alone.

So they bicker and they have drunken philosophical debates and they make up and do little dances all while not really talking about the big differences in how they see the world. And then when the pressure is on they have horrible miscommunication blowouts where they end up talking past each other and hurting each other deeply because they don’t even realize they’re not on the same page.

Upon rewatch I think this is part of why Crowley seems so unhappy in the early episodes. I think he did hope that once they weren’t working for Heaven and Hell, things would go in a more explicitly romantic direction. (But of course he won’t just come out and say that, until the absolute last ditch moment.) From his POV, he’s made his desires perfectly clear (he hasn’t) and I think he thought that working for Heaven was the last thing holding Aziraphale back. And then they cleared that hurdle and nothing changed. Or not enough. Because the problem goes deeper than that.

And bless(/damn) them, they’re still trying. The confession was clearly so hard for Crowley, and would have been even without the first half of the scene, because he’s working against his deepest insecurities. He can’t even finish his sentences, and yet he’s still trying. And I do think that Aziraphale was working up to his own version of it (he’s so openly physically affectionate with Crowley this season, much more than in the past) but he’s always moved a bit slower with these things, and then it was too late. (It’s always too late.)

But even if they’d both been able to openly say their I love yous, they still have this thing sitting between them, which is that Aziraphale doesn’t understand why Crowley would never go back to Heaven, and Crowley doesn’t understand why Aziraphale would want to. And having that conversation goes right to the heart of how they’ve both been damaged by the system of Heaven and Hell, which is why I suspect they’ve both instinctively avoided it before now. And at some point in s3, they are going to have to talk about that.

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 2)

americanfootballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word count: 2.3k

(-> Pt. 1) (-> masterlist)

The next week, you didn't hear anything from Sukuna. You thought that maybe, he lost interest in you, but you should learn just how wrong you were soon enough.

You were sitting in class - it was thursday - and the lecture has not started yet when your former jerk of a group partner took the seat beside you. Great, you thought, of course he had to be in the same course as you.

"Hey." he greeted and you responded back. Then it was silent. Eugh, how awkward.

The door was still open when a certain someone walked past it. Of course, you immediately caught his eyes. He stopped walking and smiled mischievously, when suddenly, he saw the guy next to you, his attention now on your conversation. Sukuna quickly realized that this was the boy you were fleeing from when you two first met.

"You know, it was very rude of you to leave me hanging in that restaurant..." Sukuna heard the guy saying.

"Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

He kept eavesdropping, his brows furrowing with every word.

"I can imagine, I would be embarrassed too." were your only words. Sukuna suppressed a chuckle. He really liked your attitude.

"That's it? You don't even want to apologize?"

"What for?" you asked and met his gaze, indifference in your eyes as the guy went furious.

But before he could speak any further, his aggressive body language was enough for Sukuna to intervene. He came up to you and positioned himself behind the chair of your classmate, roughly pushing it back.

"Hey, idiot. Fuck off, will you?" he expressed loudly, cocking his head up in an order to leave. You looked up in surprise, confusion on your face, because why was Sukuna here?

Your classmate was ready to fight whoever it was behind him, but when he saw that it was Sukuna, he quickly dropped that plan and retreated without hesitation. Bewilderement decorated your face as Sukuna sat down on the now empty seat, staring daggers at the guy before turning back to you.

"What are you doing here?" you then asked, still completely dumbfounded by the current situation.

"What? No thanks?" Sukuna smirked, his whole demeanor changing, whereupon you raised your eyebrows in annoyance. He continued.

"I've witnessed your little talk by chance and figured I should rescue you from that douchebag."

"I could have handled it myself. I don't need a savior." you shook your head.

Sukuna huffed in amusement.

"Oh, believe me, I know that. But why should you worry your pretty little head when this fucker doesn't respect your boundaries anyways?"

You stared back at him.

"It is my duty as a man to hold other men accountable when they step out of line. I can't just turn a blind eye to it, you know. It can get dangerous real quick."

You furrowed your brows at his words, unsure if he was being sincere or if that was just his trick to get women to like him.

"What? Don't believe me?" he questioned at your dubious look.

"I don't know yet." you declared, studying him closely.

"Whoa, I feel like I'm being examined. I should warn you, I'm into that." At that last statement, he smirked again.

"You're into being looked down on?" you laughed quietly, not wanting to cause too much noise as the room was still quite silent.

"As long as it's you who's looking down on me." he murmured and you just watched him, eyeing him up and down.

Then he came closer to you, only inches away from your face now. He opened his mouth and his eyes stopped at your lips, staying there for a while before looking back up and narrowing them.

"Careful inspector, if I didn't know it better, I'd think you want to seduce me."

The smirk on his face widened and you groaned in disgust, waving your hands in withdrawal.

"Okay okay, you can go now." And your voice changed to a faked tone of appreciation. " 'I'm safe again thanks to you.' "

He snickered at your sarcasm and got up when he saw your professor entering the classroom, bidding you goodbye.

"See you soon, sweetheart."

And your heart missed a beat.

After class ended, the universe found it necessary to send Sukuna your way again - or more like - send you his way. One time a day wasn't enough apparently, because as you walked down the floor, who stood there in front of the lockers was no other than the popular boy himself. He was surrounded by a lot of people, a few of them were probably his football teammates, as you distinctively heard them talking about defensive strategies.

When you walked past the group, Sukuna immediately recognized your silhouette and followed your figure with his eyes. It didn't take long and he excused himself, quickly running after you. Just as you exited the building, he stopped you in your tracks.

"Hey, are you off now? It's getting pretty late, need a ride home?" he offered, holding the door open for you.

"Hey," you greeted him, walking through the entryway in perplexion, "no thanks, I'm good." Although you were curious, did he have a car?

"Come on, do me the favor." he insisted and you exhaled.

"Do you think you're entitled to a favor now for playing hero earlier? If that's the case, then-" but he interrupted you.

"No, you owe me nothing. I just want to make sure you get home safe and aren't walking home alone in the dark."

"Wow, I have to admit, you're really good at this whole player thing." you mocked him.

"You think I'm playing with you?" he laughed and then opened his mouth to say something else.

"So, is it working then?" he joked, voice deepening in an instant before you hit his arm playfully.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" he held up his hands in retreat.

"I'm not playing, though. I mean it." he confessed after.

"Well, I don't really know you and I don't get into strangers' cars."

"Strangers'? Ouch." he pressed his hand against his chest in feigned offence.

"Good thing I don't have a car then, though." he smiled coyly which left you confused.

"Didn't you just ask if I needed a ride?" you repeated his words and he swiftly cleared up the small misunderstanding.

"I was talking about my bike." he then grinned, pointing to the spot behind him, where the motorcycle was standing.

"A bike?" you sounded surprised.

"Yeah? You ever been on one?" you shook your head at his question while he got his bike ready. But, admittedly, you always wanted to experience what it was like to ride one. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to accept his offer.

"What? You've never been on a bike? Well, then it's your lucky day today. Hop on." he said, but you were still indecisive.

"And let you know where I live? What if I don't want you to?" you smiled, irony obvious in your voice. But Sukuna played along.

"Your tone alone tells me you live in a dorm. Am I right?" Your smile simply grew and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"Knew it." he muttered.

"So you were speculating about me?" you instantly reciprocated.

"Always." he grinned and handed you over the helmet.

"Here, take mine. I only have one."

"What, and let you drive without one? No, I'll pass then."

"Calm down pretty girl, it's not the first time I do this." Pretty girl. Why did that name fluster you?

"You mean taking a girl with you?" you teased. He just flicked your forehead.

"No, silly. Driving without a helmet. So don't worry about it."

"Oh, so you're allowed to worry about my safety but I can't worry about yours?"

"Exactly." he gave you a teethy grin and your tummy fluttered in response. You weren't blind - he was incredibly handsome. There was a reason he was so popular after all, but up until now, you've never really noticed it, always somewhere else with your thoughts. Your two worlds were fairly separated before, so you didn't bother dealing with him.

"You're cute. Now come on, before we spend the whole evening here. I'll drive extra careful for you, promised." he assured you, half serious half joking.

A pout spread on your face and you were still hesitant, but Sukuna managed to convince you eventually.

When you sat down, he told you to hold on tight. Not knowing where to put your hands though, you decided to place them on his shoulders shyly.

"What are you doing?" he asked next and turned around, a puzzled look on his face.

"Uhm, you told me to hold on tight..." Did he want you to hold onto the bike instead?

You immediately drew your hands back in embarrassment, however, Sukuna was quick to grab them with his.

"You're supposed to cling to me. This way, you just bring me out of balance and risk falling. Here, put your arms around my waist."

That's what he said, but he did the job himself, dragging your arms around his strong built. You could practically feel the muscles behind the fabric, it was undeniable that he hid a sixpack underneath it. Your heart started racing and you hoped and prayed he didn't feel it pounding on his back.

The drive only lasted for about 10 minutes, your dorm was near the college after all, and here and there Sukuna popped a question, asking if you were okay or if you enjoyed the ride.

It was nice of him to keep the conversation going, even though it was difficult to hear him at times due to the heavy wind. When Sukuna tried addressing you once more and only a "huh?" escaped your lips, he laughed whole-heartedly, the contagious sound making you break out in laughter too. In that moment, you felt so free and careless, and you were so grateful Sukuna took you with him.

Sukuna stopped in front of the dorm complex and turned off the engine. He looked up at the building and started speaking.

"So, a dorm girl, huh? You sharing a room with someone?"

"Not a room, but the apartment. We have two bedrooms." you answered and he hummed.

When you walked up to the front door, Sukuna waited on his bike a few meters away, wanting to see you get inside. You searched for your keys, but as much as you were rummaging through your bag, you just couldn't find them.

"What's wrong?" Sukuna yelled.

"I can't find my keys." you admitted, panicking before remembering you left without them this morning.

"Can't you ring the bell?" He asked you and you explained to him that your roommate Utahime was still working.

Making his way up to you, he pulled out his phone, apparently sending some messages. He seemed distracted for a split second before he tucked the device back into the pocket of his pants.

"Where does she work? I will drive you there."

"No. No, you really did enough for me already, I'll just walk there. But thank you, for everything." you tried brushing him off to not be any more of a nuisance, but he wasn't having it.

"I wasn't asking, I'm definitely taking you there." he commanded and his casualness about it had an effect on you. It was so attractive, the way he was chauffeuring you around the city on the single mission to make you get the keys for your apartment.

Arriving at her workplace, Utahime went speechless seeing you coming in with Sukuna. While he was busy with the soda machine, you explained her the situation and she gave you her keys under the condition you let her in later. She obviously couldn't outwardly ask you about him in his presence, so you two communicated via facial expressions. Utahime tilted her head into Sukuna's direction, a flabbergasted look on her. You tried your best to let her know you'd clear everything up later as he already neared the two of you, the prominent silence seemingly suspicious. He seemed to notice the weird atmosphere.

"You guys good?" Sukuna broke the silence.

"Of course! Everything's perfect!" Utahime exaggerated and you pressed your eyes together in humiliation, facepalming inwardly. Sukuna mustered her strangely, taken aback by her overreaction as well. After that, he turned to you.

"Here for you. Saw this drink on your table earlier, you must be thirsty." he reached you the drink he bought and both Utahime's and your mouth fell wide open at this action.

"T-thank you." you stuttered a little and Utahime let out a small laugh she failed to suppress. You sipped on the bottle of strawberry-vanilla soda and then stored it in your bag. Sukuna was simply drinking water.

Leaving the lobby, Utahime was the receptionist in a 3-star hotel, Sukuna and you walked back to his vehicle. On your way, he mentioned the weird ambience inside.

"Your friend is a little odd, isn't she?" he pronounced and you chuckled, nodding your head slightly.

"A little, yeah." you agreed, "but she's the best."

Sukuna looked at you with a soft smile, but you didn't see it.

As you sat down on the bike and Sukuna got the helmet out of its case, you've come to a realization.

"Can I ask you something?" you uttered.

"Spit it out." he permitted.

"How did you know I don't have a car myself?"

He lips twitched upwards.

"I've never seen you in the parking lot. But I've seen you walking around plenty. I put two plus two together." He's so attentive.

"Someone's been looking out for me." you beamed.

"Guilty." he smirked and slipped the helmet over your head, locking the straps. You looked up at him with big eyes and he met your glance, his half-lidded eyes observing what's left of your face. The tension was palpable for the both of you and before it got too awkward, he was already shoving down the helmet visor to escape your eyes.

The ride back was silent, but he still watched you walking through that door before leaving.

Soo here's part 2 hehe! Had to make Sukuna a lil' feminist because he's supposed to have a functioning brain <3. Hope y'all enjoy!

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus , thanks for the support 🤍

[nightwngz]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝒕. drake ✮ eng. . . !

tim drake x female!reader

WARNINGS. . . porn with plot. friends with benefits. fingering, face riding, sex (p in v)

COPYRIGHT. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

LANGUAGE. . . english is not my first language and I am still studying to master it. It makes me insecure to write by myself in another language, so I used the translator. I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

You had never thought of Tim Drake as anything other than your best friend, the guy you trusted and could turn to whenever you were worried about something.

He was your emotional refuge, a place where you could feel completely vulnerable, where you could share all your concerns, knowing that he would be honored to listen.

At the time, you would have sworn that you would never think of Tim as anything other than a friend. But time began to form a deeper bond between you and him.

Conversations that used to be a fun time between friends began to turn into a strange and strangely palpable tension. The hugs grew longer, the rubbing of your bodies more intense, and every lingering look seemed to contain a caged lasciviousness that only you could understand.

As time passed, the emotions you had sworn you would never feel for Tim began to flutter inside you. You found yourself thinking about him differently, noticing how your skin prickled when he touched you, how your sexual fantasies about his person began to invade your mind.

Ever since you started sleeping together and made the deal to be, as Jason said, "friends with benefits," your best friend discovered there was a side of you he didn't know.

You didn't mind invading his room because you wanted to be devoured by someone. You were not afraid to kneel on either side of Tim's head, just because you wanted to ride his face.

Fortunately for you, your friend was incredibly good at the task of eating you. His tongue pushed obscenely between your wet folds to open them, his fingers were busy fluttering against the pleasure cap that ached from lack of attention. With these movements, you gave in to him; the surge of pleasure and the sensitivity you kept in your wet pussy made his touch make you see stars.

— Hold on a little longer. I'm not done yet.

Your hole was getting closer to the emptiness of the stimulation he was giving you. You imagined what his face would be like underneath you, and just the thought of him with his whole mouth smeared from your crying pussy brought you that much closer to the edge.

But to have him look into your eyes as he squeezed your clit with his lips and then scraped it with his tongue was too much for you to bear. The orgasm hit you so hard that Tim didn't even see it coming until his whole mouth was covered with your wonderful taste.

He gave you no respite from the hypersensitivity your previous orgasm had left you with, so he immediately began to fuck you without pity through the hole he had just abused.

With his thumb, he sweetly stroked your center again to make you feel completely at ease with the onslaught.

You felt full. You felt his body fit perfectly into yours, as if he had been made to fuck you. His hot skin burned against yours as his pelvis slammed into you, making a lurid sound that could be heard throughout the room. It was too much to bear.

— T-Tim, Tim! - You cried on his shoulder. - I want you to come inside me, I can't stand it anymore.

You moved to kiss him instead of letting him answer. Your tongue was focused enough on exploring his mouth when you felt the thick, hot fluid between your legs.

You might never be the same friends again, but you could live with it.

[pinkchaosnight]

so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)

[throwaway-things]

In the silence

The gentle hum of the BAU office buzzed around you, blending with the rhythmic typing of keyboards and the occasional murmur of conversation. You sat at your desk, your heart betraying a steady pace as you stole a glance at Spencer Reid. He was absorbed in a file, his brows furrowed in concentration, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. You admired how his mind seemed to race, faster than anyone else’s, solving problems in a way that felt almost magical. And yet, as brilliant as he was, you could never imagine him knowing your secret.

You had been harboring feelings for Spencer for longer than you cared to admit. The connection, at least on your side, had grown deeper over time. He was kind, intelligent, and so utterly unaware of the effect he had on you. You were careful—so careful—never to give any hint, knowing that revealing how you felt could change everything. Your heart was fragile enough without risking his rejection.

But Spencer Reid was not like everyone else. He saw things others missed, read people like they were open books. And though you had perfected the art of hiding, you knew, deep down, that no secret was safe from him forever.

One afternoon, while working together on a particularly difficult case, you noticed Spencer watching you out of the corner of your eye. It wasn’t the usual friendly glance, but something more intense. You tried to ignore it, focused on your work, but the sensation of being scrutinized sent your nerves into overdrive.

"Are you okay?" His voice startled you, gentle yet probing. You looked up to find his eyes—those deep, observant eyes—studying you. He wasn’t just asking if you were tired or stressed. It felt like he was asking about something deeper, something unspoken.

"Yeah," you replied quickly, too quickly. "Just focused on the case."

But Spencer didn't let it go. "You've been… different lately," he said softly, almost to himself. "Your body language, the way you avoid eye contact sometimes, the way your voice changes when you're talking to me— its noticeable"

Your heart stopped. He was analyzing you. You’d been so careful, so guarded, and yet, in that moment, you realized it was pointless. Spencer Reid had already figured it out.

"I… I don’t know what you mean," you lied, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of control. But the tremble in your voice gave you away. Spencer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"You don’t have to say anything," he said, his tone so calm, so gentle. "I know."

It was like the world shifted beneath your feet. The secret you had carried for so long, that you had convinced yourself could never be known, was out in the open. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly terrified. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. You refused to cry in front of him.

Spencer shifted awkwardly in his seat, his face flushed with discomfort. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft but laden with regret. "I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. If I’ve done anything to make you feel—" He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I care about you, but… not in the way you might want."

The words hit like a physical blow. You were mortified, frozen in place as the blood rushed to your cheeks. Your worst fear had just materialized—he had figured it out, and now he was apologizing. It was worse than any rejection you had ever imagined.

"I—" you stammered, the words dying in your throat as shame engulfed you. You had never meant for him to know. You had never intended to put him in this position, to make things awkward or uncomfortable. But now, there you were, standing in the aftermath of something you had desperately tried to avoid.

Your heart broke, a quiet shattering that left you feeling hollow. Spencer was kind, as you always knew he would be, but it didn’t soften the pain. If anything, it made it worse. His apology wasn’t cruel, but it was final. You wished you could disappear, that you could take back every lingering look, every subtle sign you thought you had hidden so well.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice barely audible. You couldn't bear to look at him, the embarrassment too overwhelming. "I… I never meant for you to find out. I never wanted you to know."

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and for a brief second, you thought you saw a flicker of empathy in his eyes. "You don’t have to apologize," he said gently. "I just don’t want you to feel hurt because of me."

But you did feel hurt. Hurt, ashamed, and humiliated. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry, not to let him see how devastated you were.

Before you could respond, the door to the conference room opened abruptly. Hotch stood there, clipboard in hand, looking between you and Spencer with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Briefing in five," he said, his tone all business as usual. "We’ve got a new case."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. This was your escape. The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time.

"Thanks, Hotch," you mumbled, quickly rising from your seat and gathering your things. You didn’t dare look back at Spencer, afraid that any more eye contact might make your carefully held composure shatter completely.

As you stepped past Hotch, you could feel Spencer’s eyes following you, but you kept walking, grateful that the professional nature of the job had given you a way out. You needed distance—space to breathe, to process what had just happened without falling apart in front of him.

The hallway seemed longer than usual, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. You blinked back the burning sensation in your eyes, your breath unsteady as you hurried toward the briefing room. There was no time to fall apart now. Work was calling, and you had to focus.

When you entered the room, you were greeted by the usual buzz of the team preparing for the case. Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were already seated, chatting about something you couldn’t quite focus on. You forced a smile and took a seat next to JJ, trying to look as though nothing was wrong, as though your heart wasn’t still aching from the conversation with Spencer.

“Hey, you okay?” JJ asked quietly, giving you a gentle nudge.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just... a long day."

She smiled sympathetically, but thankfully didn’t press further. You were grateful. The last thing you needed was more questions when you were barely holding it together.

Moments later, Spencer entered the room, taking a seat across from you. You could feel his presence immediately, your pulse quickening as you glanced down at your notes, doing everything you could to avoid looking at him. He, too, seemed more reserved than usual, his expression unreadable as he set his file down.

Hotch began the briefing, and for the next hour, you did your best to focus on the case. It was difficult—your thoughts kept wandering back to Spencer, to his apology, to the crushing embarrassment of knowing that he was aware of your feelings. Every time he spoke, the sound of his voice sent a pang of sadness through your chest, a reminder of what could never be.

The following days passed in a blur. You immersed yourself in the case, using work as an escape from the overwhelming swirl of emotions you were struggling to contain. You avoided Spencer as much as possible, though it became increasingly difficult with every passing moment. The BAU was a tight-knit team, and it was impossible not to interact with him. Each time you had to speak to him or work alongside him, the tension was palpable, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging between you like an invisible barrier.

Spencer, for his part, remained kind and professional. He didn’t treat you any differently, but the subtle shift in your dynamic was undeniable. He seemed more cautious, more distant, as if he, too, was trying to navigate the awkwardness without making things worse. You wondered if he regretted saying anything at all—if he wished he had kept his analysis to himself.

But it didn’t matter now. The damage was done, and you were left picking up the pieces of your broken heart in silence.

--

Late one evening, after another long day of avoiding eye contact and burying your emotions in paperwork, you found yourself alone in the office. The dim lighting and quiet hum of the computer were a welcome respite from the chaos of the case, but your mind kept drifting back to Spencer. You had tried to push your feelings aside, to forget about that conversation, but it was impossible. The pain lingered, raw and unrelenting.

Just as you were about to pack up and leave, the sound of footsteps approached from behind. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, tentative.

You inhaled sharply, your heart racing. "Hey," you replied, keeping your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, pretending to be busy.

There was a long pause. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. Part of you wanted him to leave, to let the silence stretch between you until things faded back into some semblance of normalcy. But another part of you—one you hated to admit—wanted him to stay.

“I, uh… I just wanted to check on you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. "I’ve noticed you’ve been… distant lately."

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Distant? Yeah, well… I guess I thought that might be for the best.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his expression filled with concern. "I don’t want things to be like this," he admitted. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes filled with that same empathy, and it only made things harder. "I understand if you need space," he said softly. "But I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me."

But you weren’t ready for this conversation. You weren’t ready to confront the tangled mess of emotions that had been suffocating you for days. You couldn’t handle Spencer’s kindness, not now. Not when the wound was still so fresh.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice a little too sharp, a little too defensive. You turned back to the papers on your desk, pretending to be engrossed in work. "There’s nothing to talk about."

Spencer hesitated, clearly not buying your attempt to brush things off. "I know this has been difficult—"

“Spencer, I said I’m fine.” The words came out harsher than you intended, and you winced at the coldness in your tone. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when the shame was still burning in your chest.

There was a long, tense silence. You could feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you kept your gaze glued to the papers in front of you, refusing to meet his. You wanted this conversation to be over, for him to stop trying to dissect your feelings like they were just another puzzle to solve.

"I don’t want to push," Spencer said quietly, taking a small step back. "But I can tell you’re struggling. If there’s anything I’ve done—"

“Spencer, please,” you cut him off, your voice almost pleading now. "Let’s just leave it."

You didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to give any hint of what was really going on. You were desperate to keep everything vague and impersonal, to avoid the emotional discussion that was weighing on you. You needed him to walk away, to let the moment pass without probing further.

Spencer stood there, clearly not fully convinced but respecting your wish to drop the subject. "Okay," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "If that’s what you need."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Yes, that’s what I need."

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your unspoken truth hanging in the air. You could feel his disappointment, the unspoken tension that lingered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face it. Admitting how you really felt would only make things worse. It would only prolong the pain, and you couldn’t afford that.

Spencer lingered for a moment longer, as if he was about to say something else, but then he nodded quietly. "I’ll let you get back to work," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You simply kept your eyes down, waiting for the sound of his footsteps retreating as he left the room. When the door finally closed behind him, you exhaled sharply, the tension in your body releasing all at once.

You felt sick. Sick with the weight of your own unspoken truth, sick with the realization that you had just pushed him away. The idea of him knowing—of him seeing how much it hurt—was unbearable.

And so, you sat there in the empty office, your heart heavy with the truth you couldn’t bring yourself to say, knowing that, in the end, you were only hurting yourself more.

--

The following days were still a struggle. You continued to immerse yourself in work, using it as a way to avoid confronting your feelings. Spencer was courteous but distant, respecting your need for space. Every time you saw him, the old familiarity was tainted by the unspoken tension.

One afternoon, as you were sorting through case files in the bullpen, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to find Spencer standing there, a hesitant look on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Do you have a minute?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding. “Sure, what’s up?”

Spencer took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The sincerity in his voice was both comforting and heartbreaking. You had spent so much time trying to distance yourself from him, but here he was, offering support in the most genuine way.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate that.”

He smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Anytime.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a mixture of relief and melancholy. You realized that while you couldn’t bring yourself to discuss your feelings openly, knowing that Spencer cared enough to offer support was a small comfort. It was a reminder that even though things had changed, there was still kindness and understanding between you.

As you went about your work, the ache in your heart was still there, but it was slightly eased by the knowledge that you didn’t have to go through it entirely alone. The journey of healing would take time, but Spencer’s gesture gave you a glimmer of hope that, perhaps, things might eventually find a way back to a semblance of normalcy.

[kooqitas]

— secret kink ★ with: knj + jjk!

#pairings: friend!jjk X boyfriend!knj X reader

#synopsis: you discover your boyfriend's kink

#tags: pwp, sex, rough sex, threesome, cuckold, cockslut, spanking, spit, vaginal sex, degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, orgasm play, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, oral sex, multiple orgasm

#notes: ok, i need to be honest, this is the most dirty thing i've ever written, but it doesn't deviate much from what's been written here so far… whatever, i hope you like it guys :)

#wc: 3,1k

🌸 . . english isn’t my first language, so be patient :)

“when you gonna told me that you fucked with jungkook?” namjoon, your boyfriend, entered the room while you were still wrapped in a towel after getting out of the shower.

“excuse me?”

“hoseok told me, when we break up a few weeks ago, you and jungkook fucked”

“hoseok is a gossip boy” you mumbled.

“maybe, but when you gonna tell me?”

“when you gonna told me that you fucked with taehyung?” you asked him. 

alright, you and namjoon had a fight last month, it's a bad fight, you broke up for some weeks, you stayed in the apartment but he lived at bts dorm.

but, in those weeks, maybe you two have some... diversion with your friends.

“taehyung and me was a mistake”

“you take jungkook's boyfriend and he took your girlfriend”

“so was it planned?”

“no” snorted. “just happened”

“was good? he ate you well?”

what the fuck was that question? wanting to know whether or not your girlfriend has sex while you were apart is understandable, but what the hell was he asking?

“not better than you”

“anyone fucks you better than me, doll”

you laugh, it's true. you two have a relationship a years ago, of course he knows exactly how and where touch you.

“did he treated you like the whore you are?”

“i don't understand what the point”

“i just wanna know if my girl was fucked good”

“yes, i am! and i know that taehyung too”

silence.

“how many times you cum?”

“really? namjoon, i don't want to fight, i fucked jungkook, you fucked taehyung, it's okay”

“who says that i want to fight?”

you can't understand what the point of this conversation.

“i just wanna know if my baby was treat like the whore he is, if jungkook doing a good job and cum of this pussy”

namjoon laughed, and his laughed sounded like sadism. whos wanna know how your girlfriend was fucked?

unless…

“three years with you, and you never told me that you have cuckold kink”

“im telling u now”

bingo!

the information was a little shocking, right, jungkook and you had always been very close and namjoon never showed a single bit of jealousy, however you always thought it was because of your friendship for years, and the fact that jungkook had a boyfriend.

“so, why don't you call him and ask how he eats me?”

namjoon sit on the sofa, but without any courage to call to your friend.

"what's happening?" you asked when notice the hesitate "are you afraid that your best friend know that you liked that had cum on your girlfriend? are u shammed? ok, i call"

you take the cell and call to jungkook.

“hi, hyung! are u okay?” 

“hey, baby!” you said. “namjoon wanna know how good was fucked me that day”

“oh my god! he’s know? hyung, i’m so sorry, we are so drunk and-”

you laughed.

“i wouldn't apologize if i were you, he's all excited imagining you fucking me. and don't forget that he fucked with your boyfriend, if i were you i'd give as many details as possible…”

on the other end of the line Jungkook was wide-eyed, he always thought that if his friend found out about their night there would be a big fight, but no, there he was in connection with namjoon, who was horny knowing that his girlfriend gave your pussy to another.

jungkook even tried, but he couldn't hold back the smirk that tugged at his lips.

he was still fighting with taehyung, and didn't even intend to make up. of course, jungkook was angry with namjoon because he knew he was also to blame for all this.

so if he wanted to be humiliated, well, he would.

“your girlfriend is a dumb whore, she masturbated in my bathroom, when i opened the door, she was moaning with two fingers inside her, i couldn't control it, i needed to eat her”

namjoon imagines the scene, and his cock wake up

"she moaned so loud in my fingers, god, i wasn't need said too much, she just give her cunt for me at the same time"

you laughed naughty, remembering the scene.

you and jungkook spent a good few minutes talking about how taehyung and namjoon's sex had been, and naturally, with a drink, you were so fucking horny, both of you rubbing your own thigh temptingly to relieve the emotion.

you asked to take a shower, but when you turned on the shower the first thing you did was put your fingers in your wet pussy, you couldn't tell if it was missing namjoon or wanting jungkook, you didn't even think about anything, you just wanted to cum.

it didn't take five minutes for jungkook to enter the bathroom, seeing you with your eyes closed moving your fingers quickly.

he took off his clothes, and sneaked in, hugging you from behind and leaving a kiss on his neck. jungkook was quick to pull your hand and insert his fingers, then brushing his member against your ass, and the pleasant moan you gave only confirmed the consent he knew he had. you didn't hold back in saying that that night he owned you, and that you were desperate for him to open you up with his fat cock.

returning to the present moment, namjoon stroked his own dick while listening to his friend's statement.

“she was so hot, hyung. saying that I owned her, cumming on my fingers, saying that i could do whatever i wanted with her. fuck! i think now i understand why you guys have been together for so long, i would also love to eat that pussy every day.”

jungkook masked silence, namjoon was quiet and this worried jungkook.

“that’s okay, jungkook! he didn’t say anything because was busy touching himself”

so he’s keeped going.

“i took her to bed, hyung. she was so wet even after having cum, i stuck my tongue in her and she moaned even louder, she kept screaming my name for anyone who wanted to hear. my face got all wet, and she got irritated when i didn't let her cum” he laughed. “but i made her cum on my dick, she's a cockslut, she asked me to hit her, to choke her, and every time i cursed her, her pussy squeezed my cock. damn, hyung, now i'm so fucking horny!”

jungkook knew that what he would say next could destroy a friendship of years, it turns out that at the moment his head was clouded by lust and he even thought about friendship.

“hyung, leave me fuck your girlfriend again. so you can watch us and draw your own conclusions”

namjoon took his hand out of his shorts, and you tried to read your boyfriend's face, but you didn't understand anything. was Namjoon nervous? did Jungkook cross the line? was he just excited to hear but not see?

in fact, that was a good question, how far would namjoon's kink go?

whatever, all insecurity fell away when Namjoon moved away from the phone.

“you know my address, and your entry is free at the entrance”

namjoon looked at you and tapped her thigh twice, you immediately understood the message and sent it there, receiving a kiss on the neck and a caress on her breasts.

“'ll lend you to him one more time, but you know that's it, don't you? you are my little toy that i use whenever i want”

you nod, and namjoon opens your mouth spitting into it, you swallow, like the good whore you are.

“he's going to cum in you, but this pussy is mine, okay? and after all, maybe you're tired, but you're mine, and you give your pussy to your owner”

------------------------------------

after some minutes, the doorbell rang, and namjoon opened the door, of course, jungkook was there. namjoon kissed him, like a 'welcome' put his tongue on jungkook's mouth and grabbed his ass.

"you can do anything, since her want, of course" this is the only thing that namjoon said.

so, this is you now.

sitting on the bed, with your legs opened, just underwear, pinching your own nipple.

they both drooled, the visible stain on the lace panties made them both desperate to open your pussy even more.

but now it was jungkook's turn, so namjoon sat on the couch.

jungkook took off his clothes so quickly, and going to the bed, kissing you when you put the legs on his waist, trying feel something.

"are you always so desperate? in my house, now here, why?” hes bite your lips. “i can fuck this hole open now, you are so wet, fuck, look your leaky cunt, my cock going to feel so good in you… but, i think that your boyfriend want to see i’m playing with you first”

jungkook playing with your tits leans down to start sucking on your nipples, include painful bites every now and then making scream his name when his mark you with purple hickies.

so, jungkook take off your panties, putting on your mouth.

“shut the fuck up, dumb! i even started and you moaned like a pathetic slut.”

he groping your clit, your hole dripping and making a mess, you are so embarrassed, and namjoon watches everything.

and he's like.

so much.

he took advantage of the open legs to stick his face there, running his tongue slowly over your folds, giving a light bite to the clitoris that made you scream in pain and then pull jungkook's hair.

“if you touch me one more time, i will ruin you”

you took off yours hands grabbing the sheet when his eat your in a brutal way, you can feel your tongue your lips, your nose, even you chin, every part of jungkook's face on your pussy.

namjoon appreciated that, took off your underwear, releasing your dick, your massive purple dick with precum.

when jungkook bite your clit, you pulled his hair.

and you receive a slap.

“disgusting whore, you can't do what i'm say? i don't need that your hole, i can fuck others, you are not special! so do what i'm say or i’m gonna away!”

without warning, jungkook puts two fingers inside you, take your underwear of ou mouth just for listen your scream due to agressiveness that you are fucked. you tried close your legs, not because you don't wanna it, but because was too much, soo good, but jungkook did not let.

“if you cum now, you it will end with fun, please, don’t be a useless slut”

and he's continuous. you moaning so loud every time his fingers is in and out of you. 

namjoon looking everything with a devocion.

“two fingers are enough to break your tiny cunt? god, can you imagine how will it be with my fat cock?”

so you cum… without permission.

and jungkook hit in your face, squeezing your neck.

“disgusting whore, i told you to not cum”

he pinch your clit.

and you scream.

and he do again, and again, and again.

jungkook grabbed your hair and got you out of bed, on your knees

“you can cum on my mouth?” you asked when he took de underwear.

“in your face, bitches like you deserves this”

you smiled, and jungkook's response was a spit in your face.

“you know, two slaps in my thigh and i stop” you agreed.

he waste no time fucking and shooting their hot precum down your throat.

due to the rudeness, tears started to flow from your eyes, but that would never be a bad thing, you were just making the most of jungkook.

namjoon moaned so loud when u gasp on jungkook dick, and that's when you realized that namjoon was masturbating.

“this is the best you can do? poor namjoon, pathetic mouth”

jungkook pushes your head so that your nose touches his pelvis, and holds you there, until you cough.

“cum on her face, jungkook, dirty this slut!”

jungkook moaned before your cock spit sperm on your face, the cum spills out around the cock in your face, some leaking down onto your tits.

it was divine.

“doggy style, whore, i want to fuck you like my pathetic puppy”

jungkook slapped you, and then another, and another, and another.

your ass burned and so did jungkook's hand, but he would continue hitting until he got tired, after all, at that moment you were his, and he had permission to use you as desired.

your pussy dripped onto the bed. jungkook laughed, and then positioned himself behind you, rubbing his cock against your swollen clit, whereupon he pushed you further onto the bed, so that his chest was touching the mattress and your ass was in the air.

once fully sheathed, the jungkooks cock widens your pussy open, pulls all the way out and slams all the way back in.

jungkook thrust so hard that the shock of his hips hurt, but you like it, namjoon and jungkook too.

namjoon increased the speed of his masturbation, still being careful not to cum, he didn't want to cum like that.

you really want the cock of your boyfriend in you too now, in your mouth, asshole, whatever, you just need both of them fuck you, and you made a mental note for this.

“that shitty pussy of yours can handle anything, right? i bet i can fit my balls inside you too”

jungkook starts brutally rubbing your engorged clit, you throw your head back, drool slipping past in the sheet.

“fleet wide pussy, you can take the cock of your boyfriend here too, maybe we can gonna try this some day”

it was pathetic the way you moaned “yes, please”

he laughed, gripped your hips so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises, your titties flop brushing on the sheet with each thrust. soo good, so messy.

“who owns you?” jungkook asked.

“n-namjoon!”

namjoon watched everything mesmerized, he had already read reports about cuckolding, he knew it was fun to watch, he just didn't expect it to be so much. he didn't even want to go in there, he just wanted to watch his girlfriend being destroyed by his best friend.

that was enough.

“you're a whore who has an owner but loves cumming on someone else's dick. disgusting bitch.” he continued thrusting without any shame. “tell me what you are”

“a w-whore”

“exactly, a whore that acepts everything since you hole is full. is your owner enjoying watching this? this disgusting show you're putting on?”

“h-hes lik-kes”

“we’ll see”

jungkook pulled himself out of you and by your hair for what must have been the hundredth time that night, you didn't quite understand what he wanted but you just followed him.

you were dragged to the armchair where his boyfriend was, and in a single movement jungkook made his body fall onto namjoon's.

and there you were: holding on to your boyfriend's shoulder while prancing towards another.

he entered again, mercilessly punching his dick into the slut who was his at that moment.

you held Namjoon's shoulder, he felt like his dick could explode because of how horny he was.

jungkook pulled your hair hard again, forcing you to face namjoon.

“say to your boyfriend how much you like this”

jungkook still brutally rubbing your engorged clit, making you lose the conscience with the pleasure.

“namjonnie… s-so go-good”

you cried, lost in your own excitement, you didn't even care how deplorable you looked at the moment.

“good, sweetheart?” namjoon said, taking his hand off his dick and just enjoying his girfriend's body folded over his while jungkook fucked her. “what are you, my dear?”

“a wh-whore, desperate for coc- jungkook i’m gon-gonna cu-”

“cum, whore, but i won’t stop fuck this hole still i’m cum in you’’

“i'll like it more when i see your cum dripping from her pussy. and i'm sure she does too, right, baby? says what you want” your boyfriend said.

“jungkooks cum”

“where do you want? be more specific, princess” namjoon spoke docilely, but the lust in his speech was clear.

“in m-my pus-sy, for you will ea-eat l-ater!

“cum, doll, i want to see you cum for us”

"doll" jungkook laughed. “cum, whore, and enjoy me filling you with cum”

you scream, cumming on jungkook’s cock.

your legs are shaking and if it weren't for jungkook's strength you wouldn't even be able to stand.

but luckily, jungkook was strong, and not only did he hold you back, but he continued fucking you roughly.

“i'm going to fill this pussy so much that it's going to overflow on your boyfriend's cock”

“j-jungkook” you moaned, feeling your cunt fluttering on his dick.

“i'm going to gaping this pussy, when your boyfriend goes to fuck her, it will be completely wide by me”

you couldn't stand anymore, and that's when namjoon got up to help hold you down, while jungkook continued fucking you like crazy.

“behave” your boyfriend told you.

“now watch me fill this hole open” jungkook said before cum.

still with his leg wobbly, jungkook left you, sitting on the couch.

namjoon didn't say anything, he just lifted you on his lap and fitted your pussy onto his dick. tears ran down your face and your mouth didn't even close, moans and more moans were made as you clung to your boyfriend's neck as you were pushed against his thick cock.

“are you what?”

you knew the weight of this question, if you answered something profane, namjoon would continue fucking you without any mercy, but if you said you was just his princess he would go slowly. after all, that was your dynamic, pleasure is good, but safety comes first.

“your whore!”

namjoon didn't respond, he just threw you on the bed, bending your legs leaving you in an almost fetal position.

eh started thrusting again and at that point jungkook's cum squirted onto his member, and damn, that was so exciting.

the large body collided against you and moaned more and more and was driving them both crazy.

you came on your boyfriend’s cock, shaking in a way namjoon had never seen before.

you had reached the peak, it was clear.

so namjoon removed himself from inside you as quickly as possible, respecting your limit, and called his friend.

"come on, jungkook, cum in her one more time"

namjoon arranged his legs, leaving them wide open.

and started masturbating, soon Jungkook joined him.

they masturbated their members quickly, until jets of cum came out and fell towards your pussy, which was already full of cum.

even though you were tired, you took two fingers there, smearing them and then putting them in your mouth.

you were exhausted.

and you have plans for the next time…

[rayaverra]

Jealousy Unleashed // Luke Castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

genre: angst

request: Hi, could you do Luke castellan x fem reader where the reader makes Luke jealous? Thank you!

summary: you and Luke had an argument, and now you try to break his silent treatment by making him jealous.

warnings: probably language

wc: 1k

notes: I had many ideas of how to approach this, but I decided to make it a bit angst. hope you like it :)

english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.

・❥・༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶・❥・

You and Luke were a beautiful couple, but just like all couples, there was problem in paradise. You didn't argue a lot, but when you did, oh boy! You were both too stubborn and, above all, too proud to admit your wrongs. This time was no different. After a stupid argument (that neither of you remember the cause of because it probably was something stupid), Luke was giving you the silent treatment. He had done this before, but he never lasted longer than a few hours because neither of you could go very long without talking to the other. But this one had been going on for almost two days, and you wouldn't let it pass.

You were at the bonfire sing-along with the Apollo cabin, blatantly talking and laughing with anyone who wasn't Luke. When he attempted to get your attention from across the bonfire, you glanced at him, then turned back around to continue your conversation with Charles.

Luke crossed his arms, gritting his teeth. "Stay calm," he thought to himself. "She's just talking to Beckendorf. He's like four years younger than her."

Just when he started to cool off, you stood up from your seat. He watched as you walked your way to Nick, a boy from the Athena cabin, closer to your age. His blood started to heat up.

In all honesty, you were just talking to him to piss Luke off. It was an awful thing to do—you recognized that—but maybe he needed to suffer a little before you forgave him. Plus, maybe this would make him break his silence and actually talk to you instead of glaring like a little kid from across the room. If Luke wanted to hold a grudge, you would too, and you knew he wouldn't apologize unless you took action.

And of course, you refused to be the one to apologize first.

The Stolls walked over to Luke, picking up immediately on their brother's increasing anger. Connor poked Luke's arm and almost jumped back when Luke gave him a look of murderous rage. "What do you want?" Luke snapped, looking over Travis' shoulder as you leaned toward Nick a bit more. "I'm a little busy, as you can see."

"Totally!" said Travis, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe you should just apologize to her instead of glaring at the back of her head while she talks to Nick." Connor said, glancing over his shoulder at you.

"Who isn't exactly ugly, by the way." Added Travis, reminding Luke how most of the girls at camp consider him attractive.

"You don't know her like I do, so you wouldn't understand. Now go do... whatever you were doing, I told you I'm busy." Luke waved them away with his hands and returned to his previous activity of glaring at his girlfriend, arms crossed, and a childish pout on his lips.

"Yeah, busy pretending you don't care about your girlfriend while pretty boy over there is making openly flirtatious comments towards her." Connor nudged him.

"If I were you, I would apologize now, before she and Nick get even cozier over there," Travis pointed towards you and Nick, who were sitting incredibly close. He had one hand twirling a stand of your hair, the other resting close to your knee.

Luke was furious; in a cartoon world, he would've turned red, and steam would've come out of his ears. He quickly made his way over there before you could even blink, forcing himself in between you both and sitting down right there. He leaned into you, wrapping an arm around your waist, before turning his head toward Nick and raising his eyebrows.

"That looked like a nice conversation, mind if I join you?"

"I don't think it would make much of a difference if I said no," Nick said. The smile he had on his face while he was talking to you had vanished.

Luke smirked, shaking his head. "Nope," he replied, taking your hand in his. You didn't protest; you knew this was his way of saying he was sorry and that the real apology would actually come out soon enough, that is, when Nick stood up and left. Except, Nick stayed in his seat, narrowing his eyes.

"You're not a very good boyfriend, are you, Castellan?" Nick fired, and, oh gods, you could almost see a vein flickering in Luke's forehead. "Since when do you control who your girlfriend talks to?"

Luke pulled away from you, clenching his jaw. His fists tightened, and his eyes narrowed with fury. "Watch your words, Anderson. You're treading on thin ice." He warned, his voice low and dangerous.

You leaned forward, placing one hand on his shoulder and using your other one to relax his tight fist. "Hey, cool it down," you said softly. "This isn't the time for a clash."

Luke visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping as he gave you a small smile, grabbing your hand tightly.

Nick stood up, a smirk on his face. "Well, that's adorable. A girlfriend having to calm her boyfriend down from murderous fits of rage. How cute."

You held Luke's hand tighter, and his previous anger was replaced with a smirk of his own. "Think whatever you want, Nick, but at the end of the day, there's one thing I get to do, and you don't," he said in a triumphant voice.

"And what's that?" Nick asked with the minimum interest.

"Kiss my incredibly beautiful girlfriend." Luke said, tangling his hands in your hair and pulling you towards him, pressing his soft lips to yours. His inner self did a victory dance when you deepened the kiss, your own hands moving to his cheeks.

"You're such an asshole sometimes," you told him when you pulled away. It wasn't a lie; even Luke himself knew it. But he didn't really care, and neither did you.

He had gotten Nick to walk away and had gotten you to forgive him, all in one shot. Plus, he made out with you, which was always a bonus.

[misshoneyimhome]

500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“So you think my legs are going to magically spread for you?” I Matthew Tkachuk

Summary; Despite your mutual disinterest, as the younger sister of a Florida Panthers player, it was inevitable that you would cross paths with Matthew Tkachuk at the celebration party.

Tropes & warnings; Matthew Tkachuk x reader, enemies to lovers, player's younger sister, Stanley Cup celebration, alcohol consumption, language

Other notes; So, lovely babes, this is my first time writing for Matthew Tkachuk, so I'm beyond excited to hear what you think of it 🙏🏼 Also, this idea has been on my mind for a while, so hopefully it turned out well ✨ I really hope you enjoy it 🌺

Word count; 4.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny@justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

The Florida sun slowly sank behind the streets of Miami, casting a golden light over the lively chaos following the Florida Panthers' Stanley Cup victory. The city was buzzing with joy, fans filling the streets, waving banners, and chanting team chants. 

And as a guest at the team's exclusive post-championship party, you navigated through a sea of ecstatic family members and hockey players; the venue was a swanky club, decorated in gold and red, resembling the team’s colours.

Being the younger sister of a Panthers defensemen had its perks, but tonight, it mostly meant being pulled into conversations with unfamiliar faces. You spent the evening listening to hockey tales and politely acknowledging jokes you didn’t quite get. The loud music and constant chatter were starting to give you a headache, and you yearned for some peace.

So, leaning against the bar, you nursed a drink and tried to fade into the background. And sensing your need for a break, the bartender handed you a fresh cocktail with a sympathetic smile. You took a sip, the cool liquid a relief from the heat and noise.

However, just as you began to relax, a familiar voice broke your reverie. "Well, if it isn't y/n y/l/n," Matthew Tkachuk drawled, his smirk as irritatingly charming as ever, leaning beside you at the bar, his gaze meeting yours.

You rolled your eyes. "Tkachuk," you replied, your tone dripping with the disdain that had characterised your interactions from the start. He was a forward for the team, undeniably talented, though you’d never admit it aloud.

And even worse, he looked effortlessly handsome in a well-tailored suit that managed to be both relaxed and expensive; his tousled hair and that trademark smirk were frustratingly perfect.

"So, enjoying the party?" he asked casually, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "It's okay. More my brother’s thing than mine."

Matthew chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, I can see that. But you have to admit, it’s a pretty epic celebration."

You glanced around at the crowd, the dazzling lights, and the palpable excitement. "I suppose," you conceded. "But I’d prefer somewhere quieter."

But his smirk just simply widened. "Really? I would’ve thought you were someone who enjoys being right in the middle of everything."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that?"

Unexpectedly,  Matthew leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a confidential tone. "Because no matter where I go, you always seem to be there."

Your eyes narrowed. "Maybe that’s because you always manage to show up where you’re not wanted."

Matthew laughed, a genuine sound that briefly eased your annoyance. "Fair point. But you know, sometimes the best things happen in unexpected places."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes once more. "Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath for that."

_

Matthew had always managed to get under your skin. Whether it was his smug grin on that annoyingly handsome face or his undeniable skills on the ice, he exuded confidence without apology. He was the type of guy who knew his worth and flaunted it freely.

To put it bluntly, you had never particularly liked Matthew Tkachuk - well, at least, that’s what you thought. While he hadn’t directly wronged you, he was simply too much—too loud, too cocky, too... everything. His presence could dominate a room, sucking out all the air and attention effortlessly.

If you were to compare him to a fictional character, Matthew could easily pass for Prince Charming from the Shrek movies: overly self-assured, possessing a strong ego, and strikingly handsome in every way. His eyes were magnetic, his smile infectious, and his physique impeccable. He walked with a swagger that bordered on 

arrogance, and it drove you mad.

Oh, that body...

There was this one time you inadvertently caught sight of it after a training session while meeting your brother, and the image had unfortunately burned itself into your memory. He had emerged from the locker room, shirtless and still gleaming with sweat, his muscles flexing with every move.

It even intruded into your private moments, alone in your bed, right when you were on the brink of climax. The memory of his sculpted abs and the way his shorts hung low on his hips invaded your thoughts at the most inconvenient times.

You were of course incredibly embarrassed about it, not wanting to admit to anyone that you had briefly fantasised about Matthew Tkachuk. And even worse, you had to acknowledge to yourself that you had enjoyed it. The fantasy of him, his strong hands on your body, his lips against your skin, had led you to that intense pleasure that left you breathless and somewhat ashamed.

Him. Of all people.

Naturally, you tried to convince yourself it was solely the work of your vibrator. Yet, you couldn’t shake the fact that he had crossed your mind. Every time you saw him, that memory lingered in the depths of your thoughts, causing you to blush and feel a mixture of irritation and something else you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

_

As you stood there, amidst the lively atmosphere of the Stanley Cup celebration, you had to clench your thighs together and banish all lingering thoughts of him. The vibrant energy of the party coursed through your veins, yet the memory of Matthew's teasing smirk and his lingering touch persisted.

But it seemed as though he could sense your unspoken resistance. And Matthew was the type who thrived on challenges; and you were a challenge he wasn't about to shy away from. So suddenly, he was closely beside you, his breath warm against your ear, cutting through the room's clamour. "Well, I must say I didn't expect to find you here, princess. I thought you didn’t like partying with your brother's teammates?"

Your eyes narrowed. "I don’t. I'm only here for the free drinks." You tried to sound nonchalant, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the thrill his proximity brought.

Matthew chuckled, and despite your efforts, a small smile tugged at your lips. There was an undeniable magnetism in his confidence, his playful demeanour contrasting sharply with the intensity he showed on the ice. But shaking your head, you reminded yourself of all the reasons why you shouldn’t like him. He was arrogant, overly self-assured, and absolutely the last person you should find intriguing.

Yet, his husky voice once again brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Or maybe you’re just here to have a good time?”

Raising an eyebrow, you met his gaze with a defiant stare. “So you think my legs are going to magically spread for you just because we're at the same party?" you retorted, trying to regain your composure and create some distance between you.

You felt assured by your words. Maybe it was the outfit you'd chosen that gave you that extra boost of confidence — something you'd been very mindful of when putting it together; the sleek black dress you'd opted for hugged your curves perfectly. Its smooth silhouette highlighted your figure with undeniable allure, while the low neckline offered a subtle hint of cleavage, adding a touch of charm suitable for the occasion. Under the soft lights, the dress shimmered elegantly, catching the eye as you moved and subtly drawing attention.

Despite its form-fitting design, the dress fell just above the knee, striking a balance between sophistication and allure. It was a choice that exuded confidence, commanding attention without overshadowing the celebratory atmosphere of the evening. Plus, the drinks you'd been sipping for the past few hours had added to your courage.

Matthew simply raised an eyebrow, his blue-grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "Who said anything about magic?" he teased, his voice low. "But I wouldn't mind if it happened."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "You're unbelievable." The heat of the moment and his proximity made it difficult to think clearly, but you were determined not to let him get to you.

Matthew then leaned back, his expression turning more serious. "Look, y/n, I know we've had our differences—"

"You mean you've been a prick," you interjected, unable to hold back. It was instinctive, a defence mechanism kicking in to shield yourself from the unexpected vulnerability his seriousness revealed.

But Matthew just sighed, running a hand through his curly hair, styled into a soft, modern mullet. His eyes softened momentarily, revealing a glimpse of the person beyond the bravado. Yet, before he could say anything more, you were both pulled away to rejoin some of the others, their laughter and high spirits drawing you back into the celebration.

As the night wore on, both you and Matthew kept your distance, focusing on simply enjoying the party. You laughed, danced, and chatted with others, trying to push the encounter from your mind. Yet, every so often, you caught him glancing your way, his gaze thoughtful and intense, making your heart race all over again.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but be aware of him, his presence a constant hum at the back of your mind. Though the celebration continued around you, a whirlwind of joy and excitement, there was an undercurrent of something else, something that left you wondering just what Matthew Tkachuk's intentions were, and whether you were ready to find out.

It was a huge win for the Panthers. The air crackled with excitement, a chorus of cheers and celebratory shouts echoing through the room. Drinks flowed freely, and the players, including Matthew, were eager to shed the weight of the season's training rules and simply revel in their victory.

Despite their attempts to keep the celebration controlled, the intensity of the moment quickly swept everyone up. Laughter filled the air as families began to depart, leaving behind only the players and their younger siblings at the lively gathering. And in the midst of it all, Matthew felt a surge of confidence building within him.

And that’s when his eyes landed on you once again.

From across the room, he observed you with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Your laughter resonated, adding to the jubilant atmosphere as you engaged in conversation with some of the other players' siblings. Matthew couldn’t deny that there was something distinctly captivating about you tonight, a subtle allure that drew his attention and held it.

“You should hit that,” Brady, Matthew's younger brother, interjected abruptly, breaking through his thoughts.

“What?” Matthew replied, caught off guard by Brady's blunt statement.

“Go for it,” the Ottawa player teased, a mischievous glint in his eye and a slight slur to his words. “You’ve been staring at her all night. Just go for it! You know you want to.”

Matthew chuckled dismissively, shaking his head. “I haven’t been staring at her all night. I’ve barely spoken to her.”

But Brady's lips just curled into a smirk, his confidence buoyed by the alcohol swirling through his veins, amplifying his bravado as he leaned in towards Matthew. His words dripped with sarcasm, each syllable a challenge meant to goad his older brother into action.

"Sure," he scoffed, the hint of a dare in his voice. "Come on, I dare you to go ask her for a dance."

Matthew's brows furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing in playful disbelief at Brady's persistence. A chuckle escaped his lips, a mix of amusement and mild protest.

"No way, man," Matthew replied, shaking his head with a wry grin. His brother's teasing was nothing new, but tonight, under the influence of celebration and camaraderie, it almost struck a chord.

Brady, undeterred by Matthew's initial refusal, pressed on with the banter, his voice carrying a playful challenge underscored by the sibling rivalry that defined their relationship.

"Alright, I guess if you don't want to, it’s cool," he taunted, his words tinged with mock disappointment. “I mean bro, you can be a chicken if you want to, but don't tell me you're afraid. After winning the Cup, this should be a piece of cake. Unless you're scared she'll turn you down?”

And the barb hit its mark, stirring something within Matthew's competitive spirit. His jaw set with determination; he couldn't let Brady's jibes go unanswered. As athletes, the Tkachuk brothers were no strangers to challenges and dares—each one a gauntlet thrown down, impossible to ignore.

In that moment, Matthew's resolve solidified. He couldn't allow his younger brother to mock him for shying away from a simple act like asking someone to dance. After all, he was Matthew Tkachuk, a Stanley Cup champion—this should be effortless.

So, as mature as ever, Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Fine, you want a show? Watch this.”

Brady's eyes tracked his movements with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as his older brother weaved through the jubilant crowd. The room buzzed with excitement, cheers reverberating off the walls, and the beat of celebratory music filled the air. Despite the festive atmosphere, Matthew's attention honed in on your distinct presence across the room, a singular figure amidst the sea of revelry.

However, with each deliberate step toward you, Matthew felt a peculiar weight settle on his shoulders. His heart suddenly thudded loudly in his chest, a blend of nerves and adrenaline pulsing through his veins like a current.

Wait, what? Why? he silently questioned himself, puzzled by the sudden intensity of his emotions. It was just you, after all—a person he didn't need to impress or prove himself to.

Yet, there was an undeniable pull, an intrigue that had always lurked beneath the surface, even if Matthew had never outwardly acknowledged it. Unlike other women in his life, you exuded a unique aura that captivated him. Whether at the rink before or after training sessions, patiently waiting for your brother, you seemed to radiate an effortless calm and genuine happiness. Your vibrant smile lit up the room, your spirit almost ethereal in its positivity. But it was your sharp wit, akin to a sailor's banter, and your quick-fire comebacks that left an indelible impression on Matthew.

And perhaps it was precisely this multifaceted charm that intrigued the Arizona forward more than he cared to admit.

So, as Matthew closed the gap, he mentally bolstered his confidence, preparing to gently interrupt the small talk surrounding you. 

"Hey," he said, tapping you lightly on the shoulder.

You turned, surprise flickering in your eyes before masking it with a smirk. "Back for more, Tkachuk?"

But he just grinned, leaning casually against the wall beside you. "Couldn't stay away."

"Of course not," you replied simply, rolling your eyes playfully as you tried to hide the slight flutter in your stomach that his presence stirred.

There was a brief moment of silence, a hint of awkwardness settling between you, as you both seemed unsure why Matthew had suddenly returned to talk to you. But then he broke the silence with a proposition that caught you off guard.

“How about a dance?”

“What?” you replied, genuinely baffled by his unexpected request.

“How about a dance?” Matthew repeated, his voice more confident this time, his gaze steady on yours.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words. This was not the Matthew Tkachuk you were used to—the cocky, overconfident player who always seemed to know how to push your buttons. This Matthew seemed... different.

Still, you weren’t about to let him off that easily. "You’re joking, right?" you replied, your tone laced with a mix of incredulity and sarcasm.

His smirk widened slightly, yet there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—determination, perhaps a hint of vulnerability. "No, I'm serious. One dance. Unless you're too scared to be seen with me."

And that did it. You never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Matthew Tkachuk. "Scared? Of you? Please."

"So, prove it," he challenged, extending his hand towards you.

With a light huff, you placed your hand in his, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he led you confidently to the centre of the makeshift dance floor. The crowd around you seemed to part, creating a space where only the pulsing beat of the music and the heat between you two existed. The deep bass reverberated through your chest, setting a rhythm that seemed to sync effortlessly with your movements alongside Matthew.

As you danced, the initial tension between you began to melt away. There was an undeniable chemistry, an unspoken understanding that drew you closer despite your history of mutual animosity. Matthew's hand on your waist guided you with a firm yet gentle touch, each step bringing you closer together physically and emotionally. The energy between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of indifference, you suddenly found yourself swept up in the moment. The barriers you had carefully erected seemed to crumble in the face of this unexpected connection, leaving you both vulnerable yet exhilarated.

Then, as the song drew to an end, Matthew's breath warmed your ear again as he leaned in closer, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief and genuine warmth. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of defiance and something deeper—a flicker of unspoken emotions stirring within you. "I suppose not," you admitted begrudgingly, unable to ignore the rush of exhilaration that his proximity brought.

"Maybe we should do this more often," Matthew suggested, his tone playful yet his eyes revealing a sincerity that surprised you.

But you just raised an eyebrow, your guard instinctively rising. "Don't push your luck, Tkachuk."

He chuckled softly, "fair enough, y/n. Fair enough."

As you then turned to leave the dance floor, determined to regain your composure amidst the fluttering in your stomach—just like when you felt your very first crush—fate decided to intervene in the form of a clumsy collision. Another large body bumped into you, causing their drink to spill onto your dress, and you stumbled backwards, only to find yourself caught by Matthew's quick reflexes.

"Whoa there," Matthew's voice was calm, his arms wrapped securely around you. "Are you alright?"

Once again you met his blue-grey eyes, and you felt your heart racing as you momentarily lost yourself in their depths. "Yeah, I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice revealing a breathlessness you couldn't conceal. "Thanks."

Matthew steadied you, his hands lingering on your waist a fraction longer than necessary, stirring a warmth that spread through you. "No worries," he replied softly, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. "But you can always just say it if you can't resist me."

Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, you teased back, "Don't flatter yourself, Tkachuk. It was just an accident."

His grin widened, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Sure, sure," he responded, his playful manner unwavering. "But accidents can lead to interesting places."

Unable to stifle a laugh at his persistence, you shook your head with amusement. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here we are," Matthew countered, his tone light but his eyes holding a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

But before you could reply, your brother appeared, slightly tipsy and curious. "Hey y/n, everything alright here?" he asked, eyeing you and Matthew with interest.

"Yeah, all good," you replied quickly, stepping back from Matthew's embrace. "Just a minor collision."

Your brother raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further. "Alright, just checking. You know how wild these parties can get."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed, grateful for the interruption. "Thanks."

As your brother then wandered off, Matthew turned to you with a more serious expression. "How about we leave?"

"What?" you asked, surprised by his sudden suggestion.

"Let's get out of here," he repeated, his voice soft but resolute.

Confusion mixed with a touch of curiosity as Matthew took your hand, leading you away from the bustling crowd. Despite your uncertainty, you were drawn to his calm assurance, ready to follow wherever this unexpected night might lead.

Matthew guided you out of the noisy room, his hand warm and firm in yours, fingers intertwined as if they naturally belonged that way. The sounds of the party gradually faded as you stepped into the cool night air, a refreshing change from the warmth and noise inside. You followed him down a path that veered away from the venue, guided by the gentle moonlight casting soft shadows around you.

"Where are we heading?"

He glanced back at you, a mischievous yet reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Just trust me. It’s… quieter."

You walked together in comfortable silence, the lively sounds of the city night slowly giving way to the distant crash of waves. After a few minutes, you arrived at a secluded spot overlooking the beach, the peaceful scene illuminated by the moon's soft glow. The rhythmic sound of waves brushing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop, while stars sparkled brightly above, mirroring the newfound excitement in your heart.

"This is... nice," you confessed softly, taking in the tranquil beauty surrounding you.

Matthew shrugged casually, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. "Sometimes it's good to escape all the noise. Clears the mind."

You nodded in agreement, savouring the calmness that enveloped both of you. "Yeah, it does."

Standing side by side, immersed in the serene atmosphere, you sensed a shift in the air. It was a moment suspended in time, where words felt unnecessary yet emotions spoke volumes. Despite the unexpectedness of being alone with Matthew Tkachuk, someone you often clashed with, there was an unspoken understanding between you now.

Then, almost as if to break the tension or perhaps to fully embrace it, you spoke up, your voice teasing yet tinged with uncertainty. "Listen, Tkachuk, if you're planning to kidnap me —"

"Then what?" Matthew interrupted, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he turned and closed the distance between you, his tall figure towering over you. "What would you do if I did kidnap you, huh?" he challenged, his tone teasing yet carrying a hint of something deeper.

You were momentarily stunned into silence, caught off guard by his unexpected boldness.

"Lost for words?" Matthew teased further, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed your reaction, his presence exerting a magnetic pull that left you slightly breathless.

"N-no," you managed to stammer out, your mind racing to process the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm just... not sure why you suddenly wanted to be alone with me like this."

Matthew paused, pressing his lips together and his expression softening as he considered his response, his gaze unwaveringly locked with yours.

"Lost for words?" you teased back gently. "I mean, you could have just—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Matthew leaned in and kissed you, a sudden gesture that completely took you by surprise yet somehow felt inevitable. The abruptness made your knees weaken momentarily, leaving you stunned. But then, driven by a newfound desire, you found yourself responding to the kiss, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt.

Matthew cupped your face tenderly with his hands, sending a rush of warmth through you. The kiss was filled with urgency, conveying emotions that words had failed to capture. It was everything unexpected yet strangely fitting.

And when he then pulled back, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling together. His forehead rested gently against yours, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw a mix of vulnerability and determination that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"I wanted to be alone with you because... I can't get you out of my head," Matthew confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you. "You drive me crazy in ways I can't explain. I just... needed you to know that."

Your heart raced at his honesty, a swirl of emotions overwhelming you. This was Matthew Tkachuk—the guy who always managed to push your buttons—now standing before you with a vulnerability that felt disarmingly real.

"I..." you began, struggling to find words that matched the intensity of the moment. "I've been thinking about you too. More than I'd like to admit."

His eyes brightened with hope and relief upon hearing your confession, a gentle smile forming at the corners of his lips. "So, what do we do now?" he asked softly, his thumb delicately caressing your cheek, anchoring you in the present moment.

You returned his smile, genuine joy spreading across your face. "I suppose we see where this takes us. No more arguing, no more games. Just... us."

Matthew's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with happiness and anticipation. "I like the sound of that."

He then kissed you again, slower this time, his lips conveying a promise of newfound connection and unspoken possibilities. When you finally pulled away, the world around you felt different—brighter, filled with potential.

And as you walked hand in hand back towards the distant sounds of music and laughter, there was a renewed energy crackling between you. You knew your brother would notice the change immediately. Always protective, he might initially confront Matthew, but you trusted him to ultimately understand.

[screamingcrows]

Afternoon tea - Dr. Ratio x gn!reader

This was requested by @yinyuedijun as part of the initiative by @/ficsforgaza Thank you for donating and requesting from me; If anyone else wants to support the effort, here are links to their page with directions and a masterlist of writers participating.

Tags: soft, fluff, implied friends to maybe lovers, mildly suggestive, acts of service as a love language Note: istg feed this to an ai, asmr thing, lore.fm or the like and I will have Ixodes scapularis at your heels Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked

"Come again?" Ratio had an abundance of patience when it came to you, but even so, it was difficult to keep disbelief from making his words a little more clipped than usual.

Without hesitation, the book in his hand was closed and found a home atop the worn coffee table, his body twisting to glance at you in the kitchen. Surely, he had misheard you. There was no way you would-

"A codpiece, Veritas. Have you ever considered getting or even making one?"

The way heat flooded to his face made the wish to hide under a familiar alabaster head resurface, an urge not often felt in your company. It was frustrating really, somehow you always made him loose his footing, and what on earth could have compelled you to ask such a ridiculous question?

Wearing the piece around you would be too great a shame to not see clearly how the light warmed whenever it touched your smile, how gracefully you moved around the table with a tray of freshly baked scones, the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed. Always your eyes, attentive and light, ensnaring him whenever he sought answers from you, and he would let them without hesitation. That was a truth.

If perfection existed, it had to be contained within you.

"Well, have you? They have been very fashionable is what I've heard. I'm sure you could cause an uproar if you made one out of that mineral you like so much," amusement was clear from your tone, and as always your words were most likely carefully picked.

"Alabaster was simply fitting, I would hardly call it my favorite. You should know better than thinking me rash enough to act on your whims, I have no intention of causing any uproar at the University unrelated to my teaching material," a scoff left his lips before he continued, "and don't think I missed your little 'have been'."

He enjoyed these peaceful afternoons, as peaceful as any room could be with you present at least, but it was not unwelcome. What had started as a simple apology on your end, having ruined one of his books by accident, had quickly turned into a weekly occurrence when it became clear how much you both enjoyed what you'd taken to calling 'tea parties'.

Your company was refreshing, carefree but wise, and utterly without restraint when it curiosity took hold, the routine of your little gatherings were pleasant while still allowing ample room for variety in topic of conversation. Lately you'd begun requesting taking turns reading aloud to the other, which he had no problem indulging. A small chuckle slipped past his lips, carefully concealed as clearing his throat.

Upon lifting the delicate porcelain to his lips, it was impossible not to notice how your were grinning at him from across the table, already curled up and comfortable as usual. There was no reason not to inquire, the beaming look in your eyes having already summoned butterflies inside his body. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore how pleasant your company was, especially on days such as today where he'd showed up unprompted after work, yearning more for your voice than he did a long bath.

Or perhaps, inviting you home to bathe with him would've been the optimal course of action?

Oh that wasn't good. He shifted uncomfortably, one leg crossing over the other when blood gathered in an inconvenient place. That ridiculous garment you'd suggested would have been a blessing in his current predicament.

"You're clearly enjoying yourself, did I not notice you brewing us a new tea?" He set his cup down, eyeing it with skepticism as he awaited whatever had you looking so giddy, the sight of your lips stretching in a smile enough to have his heart struggling to break free.

How he wished he could've cursed out loud then and there, how he had been foolish enough to go months without being able to identify exactly what the budding feeling in his chest was, was far beyond him at present moment.

"I fixed your book. It's not perfect, but I did my best, and bookbinding was a lot harder than expected, so it took a while… Sorry," there was such pride in your eyes that he could practically feel his heart about to burst.

With a slightly shaky hand, the lightheadedness from his arousal only intensified by the sheer disbelief as he accepted the leatherbound book. By no means had it been valuable before, holding neither monetary nor sentimental value, but as Ratio set it inconspicuously in his lap, he couldn't help but trace his fingers along the now slightly uneven spine, knowing there was only one thing he could ever treasure more than this.

[heavenlyvision]

When hell freezes over

Word count: 5.1k

Pairing: Bi-Han x afab!Reader

A/N: I make no apologies for what I’ve written, I do however, apologise for this coming out before part four of the Crushing series. I saw God (Bi-Han in mk 1) and got possessed by the Holy Spirit (horniness). I’ve noticed tumblr is lacking in fics for my mk cravings, which resulted in this. This fic was initially going to be 1k of only smut, but I got carried away and added a minor plot line :3

Summary: Bi-Han keeps staring at you and you don’t know why but it really starts to get on your nerves, especially when he won’t even admit that he is doing it.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, creampie, voyeurism (they fuck outside but they don’t get caught), strong language, pure filth, minor plot, mean Bi-Han, Bi-Han is ooc prolly but he’s also a bitch still, so not completely ooc

Staying at the fire temple means you’ve seen Bi-Han around, always with a scowl on his face and that’s if he’s taken his mask off, but you can always tell he’s scowling under the mask too, with the way his eyebrows pinch. You’ve never actually held a conversation with him, he’s a bit unapproachable and when you do speak, he usually grunts in response. His way of acknowledging you without actually acknowledging you.

Lord Liu Kang has been bringing all of Earth Realms potential heroes together and training them at the Fire Temple, you just so happened to be one of the first heroes he came looking for. You have power, you’re not disillusioned though, you can see in the way Lord Liu Kang moves and speaks, that he already knows who his hero is and it’s not you, which you’re fine with. The idea of fighting against Outworld’s warriors is, to be blunt, scary. You mean to say, that the idea of fighting Sub-zero frightens you, you cannot imagine what kind of formidable opponents live in the other realms.

The other’s Liu Kang has managed to gather are all very kind but also intimidating, you’re surrounded by powerful men all day and that sets you on edge a bit, as a result you tend to be spending more time by yourself in the quieter areas of the temple. They’re not hard to find if you look for them, and the temple has a sense of tranquillity. Ever since you’ve been here, you find yourself meditating now, more than you ever have in your whole life.

On this particular day, you’re sitting on a large rock away from the temple facing all the greenery surrounding the area. Footsteps approaching you bring your awareness back to your environment, but you don’t move or open your eyes, you aren’t really in the mood to be disturbed at this current moment, for all they know, you could be really close to reaching enlightenment.

The person moves to stand in front of you but doesn’t say anything, you try to hold steady and focus but their breathing is disturbing you. In the end your resolve gives in and your shoulders slump as you look up at the perpetrator of disturbance.

You feel a bit silly as you realise that the disturbance is Lord Liu Kang himself, “I could’ve been close to enlightenment only to be disturbed by you at the last moment.”

He looks amused but only slightly, “If you had been that close to enlightenment, I doubt my presence would’ve disturbed you.”

“You can’t know that,” you pout a touch.

He gives you a polite smile in return, “Dinner is going to be served soon, will you grace us with your presence?”

He’s giving you a light ribbing; you’ve been here a while and like to think you’ve gained rapport with him. The way he will indulge you slightly makes you think you’ve succeeded in landing on his good side, though you’re not certain he has a bad side, and if he does, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.

“I hadn’t realised it had gotten this late,” looking up at the sky you can see the sun setting, you’ve been out here far longer than you had expected.

Suddenly, you feel eyes on the back of your head and a shiver runs down your spine in response, without turning around you acknowledge the secondary presence you didn’t initially register.

“Good evening to you too, Sub-zero.”

“Mmmf,” he grunts in your direction as a response.

You address Lord Liu Kang, “he seems gruntier than usual.”

“Perhaps, he is the one who disturbed your enlightenment,” he dips his head towards you as he says this, in an attempt to keep the joke between the two of you.

You chuckle in response before leaping down from the rock, “Alright, let’s eat!”

❆˖°

Dinner with everyone is always a touch rowdy, it never used to be, it used to be quieter but with the additions of Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi and especially Johnny Cage, it has gotten livelier around the temple. You find that Kuai Liang, Tomas and Bi-Han frequent dinners here now too, you suspect that them never actually leaving anymore is due to the fact that Lord Liu Kang has gathered all his potential warriors.

Everyone has bets on who they think it is and most of them are betting on themselves but you’re certain Lord Liu Kang has his pick and you’re betting it’s Raiden, the way he looks and considers him makes you think he’s his top pick.

You feel his eyes on you again from across the table, the shiver he sends through you running down your spine again. You aren’t sure why your body reacts to him like that, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it either. Preferably, he would stop staring at you so your body would stop reacting, but he is such a starer, and an angry starer too.

Looking up you lock eyes with Bi-Han, but he doesn’t look away, typical, you think, you look away instead and attempt to stay engaged in the conversations happening around you. But you know he is still staring at you and to be honest, it’s starting to get on your nerves. Taking a deep breath, you look back over at him again and he is still staring at you, you’re getting pissed now, what is his problem. He can be scary but scary is only scary until you’re annoyed.

“What is your problem?” You direct at him quietly; you don’t want everyone at the table seeing you starting a fight with the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.

He looks a little taken aback by your bluntness but only for a second, “nothing.” He shrugs.

His voice is stupid and deep, and you’re annoyed at him because why is he still fucking staring at you. People normally have enough humility to look away when confronted but he looks nonplussed by your angry confrontation.

“Well, then stop staring at me,” you shoot back, trying to remain unnoticed by the rest of the table.

“I am not staring,” he replies coolly.

What the fuck? “You definitely are though; I can feel your eyes stabbing me.”

He purses his lips in response, “My eyes are not capable of stabbing you.”

You’re frowning now, deeply, “Well… they are!” Your voice raises a bit with your increasing annoyance. Why won’t he just admit that his eyes are stabbing you.

Unfortunately, everyone has caught onto your little argument now, which prompts Lord Liu Kang to interject.

“Is everything okay?” He directs the question at you.

“Tell your guard dog to stop stabbing me with his stupid eyes,” you reply, completely exasperated with how dumb all of this is.

From the other end of the table, you hear Johnny start laughing, thud, and that was Kenshi kicking him under the table in response, attempting to get him to stop.

Johnny exclaims, “Ouch, what the fu–”

“– I am not his guard dog!” Bi-Han is angry now, he was mildly amused before, you suspect you’ve managed to hit a nerve. “I am the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei!”

You roll your eyes at him, “You’re the Grandmaster of stabbing me with your eyes!” You’re not quite sure why you’ve picked this hill to die on, but you’re committed now.

He looks pissed and you feel like you should be intimidated but you’re so irked by his behaviour that you wouldn’t care if he was God itself.

Lord Liu Kang clears his throat from the head of the table, “Maybe you should both apologise to each other and move past this.”

“No.” Both Bi-Han and you reply at the same time.

“Just admit you were staring, and I will apologise to you,” you direct this at Bi-Han.

“I wasn’t staring,” he leans back with his big stupid, defined, arms crossed over his chest.

You feel like you’re going to have an aneurysm, why is he committed to lying about this. “I know you were staring.”

“How would you know that?” He asks.

Is he being intentionally dense, “how could I not know?” You’re glaring back at him.

Lord Liu Kang clasps his hands together, a loud clap sound ringing out across the silence that had fallen over the group. Well, it was almost silent, Johnny is still muffling his laughing down the other end of the table.

“Thank you for dinner, Lord Liu Kang, I’ll be returning to my quarters early tonight.” You stand up and walk out of the room.

You miss the completely confused and exhausted look Kuai Liang gives his older brother.

❆˖°

Tonight, you find yourself tossing and turning, the evenings usually leave you a bit restless and you will fairly regularly leave your quarters to wander the grounds. Though, this evening you are restless for a separate reason, the result is the same, you’re leaving your quarters and wandering the Fire Temple aimlessly, inspecting things you’ve seen daily for months now.

You have got to be kidding, you think to yourself as you feel the all too familiar shiver run down your spine and set of eyes on the back of your head.

Your head drops in defeat and a deep sigh is pulled from your chest, “if I tell you to stop staring, would you? Or would you say you weren’t staring?”

You can feel him come up beside you, “Guess…”

“…I wasn’t staring,” you both say it in tandem, but you attempt to drop your voice as low as it can go to mock him.

He grunts in disapproval at you.

You aren’t sure why he’s come up to you, you’ve sequestered yourself off to a private area of the temple specifically so you could remain undisturbed, but not only did he find you, he fucking stabbed you with his stupid pretty, stupid angry eyes again. You feel like you’re not going to win whatever this battle is against him.

“Genuinely, why do you keep staring at me, and you can’t say you don’t because I know you do, I can feel when your eyes are on me,” you’re getting tired of this now, you just want an answer from him.

He doesn’t speak for a long moment; he’s probably considering how to word what he’s going to say next. All you know is if he says he doesn’t stare at you, you’re literally going to hit him in the face.

“Consider your words carefully, I am tempted to punch you right now,” you relay your feelings to him as a warning.

“I don’t stare–”

That does it, you swing around at him and go to throw a forceful punch aimed square at his nose, you’re aiming to break it. Unfortunately, for all his ego, he is indisputably more skilled than you and easily dodges your punch by moving his head to the side before he catches your forearm with one of his hands. His other hand reaches out to grab at your other arm and pulls you closer to his body, both your arms being held between your bodies. His strength keeping you in place, with his stupid well-defined arms.  

You’re a little annoyed at yourself for bothering to warn him at all, you probably could’ve at least grazed him if you hadn’t.

Scowling at him you say, “I shouldn’t have given you a warning.”

“Your hit wouldn’t have landed either way, it was sloppy.”

“It was not!” Your punch was fine, he’s just being rude.

“I was trying to say I don’t stare at you,” you try to wiggle free of his grip, you swear he’s looking for a fight. His hands grab you tighter and pulls your forearms to rest on his chest, you’re forced to look up at him, “Stop, struggling, you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You gawk at him, “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who won’t admit the simple fact that you’ve been staring at me!”

He looks exhausted with you as he rolls his eyes, when did this switch? He is the unreasonable one, you were willing to apologise hours ago!

“I gaze at you.” He says it like he doesn’t have to explain further.

“I’m almost certain that is the exact same thing as staring at me.” You’re confused.

He grunts and turns his head to the side sharply, “You make everything difficult.”

“ME?” You. Are. Confused.

His head snaps back to stare you in the eyes, “YES! I look at you, I gaze at you, I find you interesting and that makes me mad. This is your fault, take responsibility.”

Oh. My. God. Does he have a crush on you? He likes you and is mad at you about it. Talk about emotionally stunted.

“I am not responsible for how you feel about me.”

“You should be.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, he’s still holding you close.

“You undo me.” He says it quiet, like he’s ashamed of the confession but it’s the highest form of flattery you have ever received.

Your eyes are round in shock as you look at him, you won’t lie, you find yourself drawn to him. Not in spite of his intimidating, stoic nature but because of it, he’s a force of nature to be reckoned with and you think without even realising you walked headfirst into the eye of his storm. You want him and you hate that you do, but you suspect he feels the same way.

“Let me go, please.” You ask him.

He obeys your will, immediately dropping your arms but neither of you make a move to step away from the other. Your heart is racing in your chest as you continue to look up at him, you want to kiss him, but you don’t know how he’ll react to your hands reaching for him after you just tried to deck him.

You don’t have to wonder for long, his hands reach for your face, both of them landing on either side of it. He has such large hands.

“I want to kiss you and you’re going to have to tell me not to, if you don’t want me to.”

You say nothing because you really want him to kiss you and he does; he leans down towards you and when your lips meet you feel like your knees might give out.

His kiss is gentler than you would’ve expected him capable of, he holds you like you’ll break, like he’s all too aware of his strength and is making a conscious effort to not hurt you. One of his hands moves from your face, down your body and grabs at your hip, the other moving behind your neck. Your own hands move to grab at the material on his chest, holding on.

He pulls away from you, only enough to talk, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks “Fuck, open your mouth more.”

His words shoot straight through your body, you feel like you’re shaking. You do as your told and he moves your head with the hand on the back your neck slightly. When he moves to kiss you again it’s at an angle; his mouth slotting against yours, the kiss deepening. You’re feeling lightheaded as he starts to kiss you with urgency, less gentle. His tongue licking into your mouth has a whimper leaving you against your will. He smirks against your mouth at the sound and pulls away from you.

No one has ever kissed you like that in your life, he’s so much more skilled with his mouth than you would’ve thought. You blink tears away from your eyes as you both stand close together his lips brushing against yours, teasing you.

“Kiss me again, please.”

“mmm, you’re so much more agreeable like this.” He’s smug, you don’t like that his words make your pussy throb.

Opening your mouth, you go to put up a fight, but he puts his mouth back on yours causing you to whine in response. His hands grab you tighter at the sound, and he begins walking you backwards until your back rests against the building you were standing behind.

His other hand moves from behind your neck and down your body, stopping at your tit and pawing at it. You let out a gasp at the feeling, your hands move from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. His hand leaves your breast and travels the length of your body, landing on your thigh, he pulls your leg up to rest on his hip.

He won’t move any closer, and you think he’s trying to be polite and not push you further than you want, but you want him so badly. Whining against him you use your leg to pull his hips into yours and he grunts against you.

Parting your lips again he looks at you, he seems pleased with the look on your face, “You look so pretty, eyes all glazed over from a kiss.”

The words are mocking but your reactions to him seem to inflate his ego, not that he needs the boost.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” you find yourself admitting to him.

A faux pity look falls across his features, “Poor, sweet, girl, never been kissed properly.” He noses at the side of your face before his lips rest against your ear. He blows cool air against it and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine.

“mmf, not fair, you’re teasing me.” He’s mean but its turning you on to no end.

“Yeah, but I think you like it,” he pulls back to look you in the eyes again, “isn’t that right?”

A blush breaks out across your skin in response to him, you can tell it’s not a rhetorical question, but you don’t answer him.

Your lack of a response displeases him, his voice comes a little firmer, “I want an answer when I ask a question.”

“Yes, I like it.” Being forced to admit that you like how mean he is to you is embarrassing.

“I know you do.” He’s smug again, not that he ever stopped.

His lips are so close to yours, you lean forward slightly to kiss him, but he pulls away at the last second. Your head drops back against the wall, and he chuckles at you. Leaning forward again, he kisses your neck, before lightly sucking marks into it.

He mouths at the length of your neck, savouring the way you twitch and try to contain the noises you make in response. The hand holding your hip moves under your robe to cup your pussy through your panties, a whine louder than you would’ve liked is pulled from you, your blush deepening at the sound.

He talks into your neck as his fingers trace the seam of your cunt through your underwear, “You’re so sensitive, react to the smallest of my touches.”

His fingers continue to touch you through your panties, two of his fingers moving to part your lips through them. An embarrassingly wet squelching sound results from his actions. A strangled noise comes from deep in his chest and he moves his head back and looks up for a second, “Fuckin – you are so fucken, wet and I’ve not even touched you properly.” He’s looking you back in your eyes, his gaze dark, he looks like he’s being eaten alive, or wants to eat you alive.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, he talks so much, in fact, you think this is the most he’s spoken to you without you having to reply.

“Bi-Han, please –”

“Mmm say my name again.” He’s lightly grazing the seam of your pussy, never touching your clit.

“Bi-Han,” you repeat his name for him.

His voice sounds strained, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

The nickname he’s graced you with makes your heart skip, “please, touch me… properly.”

“Since you asked so sweetly.” His hand leaves you temporarily to slip down the front of your underwear, his fingers slide through your cunt, and he can feel just how wet you are now. “Jesus – ” He curses at the feel of you.

His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss again as his middle finger slowly enters you, you clench around it and you both moan into the kiss. His thumb slowly rubs circles on your clit, you jump at the contact, sensitive from neglect and desire. You’re trying to hold back whines and moans, still aware that you’re out in the open. Bi-Han doesn’t seem to care and if he does, he isn’t letting on.

He pulls back from your mouth, “God, you’re fucken – how am I gonna – fuck, look at you.”

You’re trying to grind down on his hand, desperate for more, anything he’ll give you; you’ll take; you just need more.

Gasping you say, “more Bi-Han, please.”

“Always asking so sweetly,” He slips his ring finger inside you, filling you up more. One of your hands moves from behind his neck to cover your mouth, attempting to muffle the moans trying to come out.

Both of his hands are occupied, one on your thigh holding your leg to his hip and the other stuffing your dripping wet cunt full, the sounds coming from you are making him feral and he wants your hand off your mouth. Now.

“Remove your hand, now.” He shoots you a fierce glare and you comply straight away, hand removing from your mouth and grabbing onto the arm of the hand inside you. His fingers move quicker inside you, reaching deep, hitting something that’s never been touched, your head falls back, and a whine comes from deep in your chest.

“Fuuuck, thas it, thas what I was looking for,” Bi-Han seems overjoyed at your reaction, your eyes wet and glassy from pleasure.

You aren’t sure if your hand is trying to push him away or pull him closer, your breaths are coming faster and another moan is pulled from you as he speeds up his thumb on your clit.

“fff – Bi-Han, I can’t, is too much.” It feels too good, it’s never felt like this before.

“Shuddup, you’re fine,” He leans forward so his mouth is by your ear again, “You’ve been doing so well, baby, come for me and then I’ll stuff you full of my dick, mmm?”

“ah ah, it’s different, too much – ngh –”

“Poor baby, never been finger fucked this good, mmm?” He doesn’t slow down; it feels like he speeds up.

Your moans hit a higher pitch and you feel like you’re falling apart into the palm of his hand, “thas it, doing so good,” he keeps whispering praise into your ear and then he blows cool air against your ear again. The shiver that runs through your body has your eyes crossing as you cum all over his fingers and palm with a shout of his name. He moans at the feel of your cunt spasming around his fingers.

“Thas fucken it, good girl, shit –” His fingers continue pumping into you until you start flinching away from him.

He removes his fingers from your pulsing pussy, and sucks both of them clean before shoving them in your mouth. You suck his spit and your cum from his fingers, his eyes glazing over as he watches you suck on his fingers.

He retracts his fingers from your mouth slowly and traces them down your chin, neck and chest, leaving behind a wet trail as he goes.

“Can we have sex now, please?” You ask him, you feel insatiable, he makes you insatiable.

He looks like he might melt into a puddle on the floor at your words, “yes, fuckin hell, you have beautiful manners, sweet thing.”

He pulls his pants down enough for his dick to be released from its confines, and, he was right before, how is he going to fit. “Bi-Han, you might be too big.”

“Jesu – you really know how to inflate a mans ego,” you aren’t meaning to, you are genuinely concerned he might not completely fit, “we’re gonna fucken make it fit, you okay with that?” he asks you.

You nod your head instantly, you can take it, you want to take it.

“Fucken, eager,” He states, if anyone else had said it you’d feel offended, but you know he means it as a compliment.

He spits on his hand and grabs his dick, lubing it up to make the glide easier. The display is filthy and has you wanting to get on your knees for him.

“You ready?” he asks you, and every time he checks on you it has you going dizzy.

“I’m ready,” you smile up at him, as he moves your panties to the side.

“Fuck, alright, try and relax.” He guides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing the head of it against your clit.

Slowly, he begins to push the head of his dick into your pussy hole, it’s already a tight fit. You reach out and place your palm on his shoulder, indicating to him to hold still for a minute. He stops moving forward with just his tip in you, a pinched look on his face, like he’s in pain.

“Goddamn, you’ve got such a – ngh, tight little cunt,” he sputters out, he’s doing deep breathing exercises as he waits for your okay to keep going, “mmph, trying not to cum like a fucken teenager, you’ve got a – ngh – beautiful pussy.”

You involuntarily clench around him at his words, and he grunts in response, “please, keep going, Bi-Han.”

He nods his head and continues to slowly inch into you, pausing every now and again to give you time to adjust to him. When he’s finally fully seated inside you, he lets out a deep guttural groan, you can feel his chest rumble with it. He’s so fucking big and you feel so full of him.

“Got the tightest pussy I’ve ever been in, Jesus – ngh – such a perfect – ” your cunt flutters around him at his words, “mph, you fucken like that don’t you?”

You don’t fully register that he’s asked you a question because he’s started fucking you now, and it nearly has you going cross eyed.

“Hey! I fucken – mph – asked you a question,” you make eye contact with him, eyes glazed as you look at him, “ffffucken beautiful, you look perfect, just, like, this, split open on my – ngh – cock.” He’s barely keeping it together as he starts fucking up into you.

“I said, you fucken like it when I talk to you, mmh?” He asks you again and you understand him this time.

Nodding your head you reply, “Yes I – ah – I love it when you talk to me.” You’re practically a whimpering mess at this point, “Can you go faster, plea- ah –”

Your question is cut off by his immediate acceleration in thrusts, he wanted to fuck you faster as much as you wanted him too, maybe more. Looking at the pinched look on his face you can guess he’s still holding himself back, still too aware of his own strength.

“Hah – harder, please, Bi-Han.” You can feel his dick twitch at the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Fffff, like it rough, do you, sweet girl?” He huffs.

You agree, you think you’d agree to anything he asked of you right now.

“You are so sweet, compliant when you’re filled with my dick” he chuckles at you, but his words have your pussy clenching around him, breaking his laugh into a broken moan.

You’re gonna come, “Bi-Han, mm gonna come, please.”

“go on then, fucken – nghf – good girl, sweeeet fucken cunt. Cover my dick in your cum, go on.” Your eyes prickle with tears, you don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused in your whole life.

He’s staring down at where you’re connected, obsessed with way your cunt is creaming on his cock, forming a ring around the base of his dick, has him almost feral.

“Fuck, fuck, Bi-Han, I’m – mmph – ” He cuts off your words with a deep kiss, tongue in your mouth, taking your breath away. Bi-Han’s thumb reaches for your clit and starts rubbing harsh and fast circles into it, his precise movements and unrelenting thrusts has you coming on his dick, hard. You throw your head back, removing your lips from his, your vision cuts off dark and you can barely hear anything with the force of which you cum.

Your mouth opening in a silent scream and then a series of whimpers spill from your lips. When you can speak, you’re praising Bi-Han, wet slapping sounds continuing, he’s not stopped thrusting chasing his own peak.

“you look fucken perfect when you cum, look – ngh – so fucked out, such a good girl – taking my cock, mph,” He’s close you can tell, his dick is twitching inside you, “the sounds you make are – sshit – mmph – angelic.”

He’s such a flatterer, your cunt jumps in after shock, you decide you wanna try something. You pull his head towards you, moving your lips to his ear to tell him, “made me feel so good, Grandmaster, never cum that hard in my – ngh – life.”

You were right, he liked that, loved being called Grandmaster, his grunts and groans get louder, tailing off into whimpers. His head drops to your shoulder, resting there for a bit.

“Where – hah – where do you want it?” He asks.

“Inside please, Grandmaster, I want it, in – mmph – me.”

He whimpers at your words, “Ahh – fuck you’re gonna fucking kill me, sweet girl – nngh.”

And then he’s coming, he fills you, both of you moaning at the feeling of him releasing all of his cum inside of you, he turns his head into your neck and bites you, the shock of it has your cunt clenching on his dick.

He’s making the most amazing noises, grunting and groaning at the feel of you wrapped around him. His own cum dripping down the sides of his cock, he’s staring at it now, watching the way he moves in and out of you, the way his cum leaks out of you, down your thighs, and down his cock.

You both stay connected for a bit afterwards, basking in your highs before parting. When Bi-Han does pull out, his fingers move to shove the cum leaking out of you back inside before shifting your panties back in place. He gently places your leg back down, before tucking himself back in his pants.

You stay resting your weight up against the wall, you’re not certain you can walk, your legs feel like they might cave in if you try to move.

“I like you,” Bi-Han says simply.

“I’d hope so,” you reply, smiling brightly at him. He looks soft for you. “I suppose, I like you too, even if you do stare at me.”

“I don’t stare.”

❆˖°

Part two

A/N: The end, I’m interested in making a second part for this if people want it, I’m also willing to write for almost every mk1 character. I disappeared because I inhaled the new game, long time mk whore over here. Requests are open if anyone wants to ask for someone specific. And if any of my Crushing series peoples read this, I am writing the fourth part, and it will definitely come out this month!

[krypticcafe]

Y/N, staring at König: I bet I could take him

Soap: ... in a fight, right?

Y/N: :)

Soap: In a fight, right?

Alternatively, little ooc but

König: I could take you on

Y/N: ... like in a fight?

König: Ye- yes?

Y/N: Oh. Pity.

König: What.

Take On Me

rating: teen

pairing(s): König x GN!Reader

warning(s): suggestive themes, language, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as a sergeant, fluff at the end, possible grammar errors

a/n: decided to make this a one-shot! I enjoy writing and reading sexual tension, but ironically, I'm always on the fence about writing full smut. oh and please ignore the poor quality of the fight scene, I can't write them for shit :')

synopsis: fight or not, you're pretty sure you could take him on.

The room was filled with the smell of sweat and leather as soldiers took on their training time in the base's surprisingly sizable gym. Several were utilizing the exercise machines, some simply resting on the benches, and others making light conversation.

Currently, you were in the midst of putting your sparring partner in a deadlock, motivated by the small crowd that cheered and winced at the sight. With a face flushed red, your opponent tapped out and a chorus of boisterous laughter, groans, and exclamations rang around you. You threw yourself off of them, helping your partner up and thanking them while also throwing in a compliment on their performance as a show of good sportsmanship. As you stepped off the platform, you were given several pats on the back and comments. While it was definitely an ego boost, you were by no means the best in the base, but people knew that you were on the 141 for a reason, and your combat skills were nothing to laugh about.

Feeling a harsh slap on the back, you turned and gripped their arm, twisting it at an uncomfortable angle since your body was still working on instinct.

"Ow ow ow-! It's me!" Soap yelped, but you further clenched your hand, "I was just going to congratulate you! Christ almighty, you've got a grip-"

"You scotsmen have a real funny way of congratulating people then," you quipped, letting go of his arm, "Honestly Soap, you should know better than smacking a soldier right after they get out of the ring."

He muttered under his breath, holding his sore wrist to his chest in mock offense and sighing, "How about I treat you to a water then? Consider it an apology of sorts."

"Oh you mean the jug on the bench that's just about 4 meters away? Why, I'd be so honored to have you as my escort, Sergent McTavish."

"Awa' n bile yer heid!" He scoffed with amusement, "Can't even let me do something nice without takin' a stab at me, can ya?"

You shook your head, laughing with him while you two went to grab a drink. He at least had the courtesy to pass you a towel to wipe your sweat off. Hanging it around your shoulders, you grabbed a bottle and started chugging. Tilting your head back, you noticed in the corner of your eye another match that was going on. It wasn't surprising, considering how multiple sparring matches would go on simultaneously all the time. But it wasn't the match itself that got your attention, but rather the person that was in it.

You recognized him instantly with how he gained notoriety for his size (no, not in that way, but you'd be lying if you said the thought hasn't crossed your mind for the briefest of moments) amongst the soldiers, even though he was part of KorTac. His presence led you to the conclusion that SpecGru and KorTac were most likely holding another joint operation together again, unsurprising since they're practically sister companies. Not to mention, the two of you had small talk in the past in passing from previous missions together and whenever you bumped into each other on base.

Staring for a while more, you watched as he viciously pummeled his opponent into the ground, barely breaking a sweat. Catching sight of his eyes behind his dark hood, you caught the way they lit up at his victory, as if delighted by the violence in an almost animalistic manner. It made your arms prick with goosebumps, you didn't want to know why. It was a surprise to find him in such a state since every time you've seen him, his eyes were usually darting around like a skittish lamb, contradicting his appearance in every sense. But who were you to question it? After all, your own lieutenant was feared like the grim reaper in the battlefield, but at base with the others, he was just another British geezer at heart.

Soap whistled and stood by you, eyeing the way you were fixed on the match in front of you. "Looks like someone's caught yer eye, aye?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah I guess." You hummed, not taking your eyes off the Austrian as he pinned his opponent down.

Soap raised a brow and smirked. It wasn't hard for him to catch on, but he was surprised to see you so entranced by a person for once. "I see... well, I don't blame you. The guy sticks out like a sore thumb and he's an absolute unit."

You nodded absent-mindedly, a little too focused on the way König flexed while keeping his enemy down. Much to your demise, his shirt was painfully tight-fitting, especially when damp with perspiration and christ, you felt like you had to tear your eyes from staring at his thighs for too long. How can someone be built so... so...

Delicious?

Before you knew it, the fight ended and König was beginning to head your way, most likely to grab water. Without thinking, you turned to the side and muttered under your breath, "I could probably take him."

"Oooo, cocky now, aren't ya?" Soap laughed, missing the message. You, on the other hand, tried to keep your composure, rubbing the towel on your neck.

"Uh, sure... You could put it that way."

The scotsman had a look of confusion and was about to ask you to elaborate until he saw König pull up beside you. "Oi, König! You did a real good job out there-"

Looking at Soap, you saw a mirth in his eyes that you immediately recognized, your eyes widening as you began to mouth silent protests to him and gesturing for him to 'not do whatever the fuck you're thinking of doing'.

"-you think you can handle another round? You two already know each other, right? I was thinkin' you could use a change of pace, and what's better than going against a prized member of the 141?"

You watched as König eyed you up and down cautiously, and you had to resist letting a shiver run down your spine. Why did he have to look at you like that? You knew the bare minimum of the guy, and yet you were acting like a fool in your own head.

After he was done sizing you up, he nodded, his eyes lighting up, "I could take you on."

"Like in a fight?" Once more, your mouth had outrun your brain, probably fried from the way he was practically checking you out.

"Y-Yes?" König stuttered, caught off-guard by your bizarre question. What other connotation could his words have had?

"Oh. Pity." You mumbled with a sigh, tossing your water bottle to the side along with your towel, beginning to walk towards the sparring box.

"Wait what-"

You cut off König's confusion as you hopped over into the box, folding your arms and leaning on the ropes. "So we gonna fight or what, soldier?"

"I- uh," He paused, trying to get his mind into the present. He shook his head and nodded, "Yes, sergent."

There was something about the way he strided over to the ring and only needed to swing his legs over the ropes to get in that made your heart beat twice, or maybe it was the way he looked back at you, the two of you staring each other down like hungry animals preparing for a cage match.

Though your hunger was that of a different kind if you were being honest.

Soap stood outside on the side of the box, playing referee for the match. At his signal, you set yourself at a stance and got a feel for the area, preparing yourself.

As you expected, König struck first. After all, you weren't just staring at him during his match, you were watching as well, which gave you a bit of an unfair advantage, but you figured it'd balance out his size advantage. Moving to the side, you followed up your dodge with a quick jab to his side. You were about to make another, but he had more control over his reflexes than you thought. He blocked it and countered by hitting you square between your shoulder and chest. The two of you were even.

He was a formidable opponent, certainly not at the level of Ghost or Price, but good enough that you'd think he'd ought to be a candidate for the 141. Sure, his technique was sloppy, but if he cleaned it up, then combined with his strength, he could be one hell of a soldier. Soap seemed to take note of his potential, too, giving König tips here and there. You'd almost forgotten this was supposed to be practice for him.

You were starting to grow exhausted as the fight went on, it hadn't been that long, but you two were lasting for quite a while in the ring, and neither side had held back. At several points throughout the fight, one of you would get in a hit or move in a way that had Soap cringing and gritting his teeth, watching at the edge of his seat. Hmph. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

While the fight was a nice way for you to get an eyeful of your opponent, it wasn't that enjoyable when you were panting and sweating your ass off, counting all the non-sexy bruises you'd wake up with later. Wanting to put things to an end, you looked for the right chance, dropping and sliding past his legs before getting up and propelling yourself forward. With a leap, you launched yourself onto König's back, latching onto it and pulling him down with all your weight. Just before he'd come crashing down, you swung yourself around his torso, shifting to his front so you wouldn't get crushed in the fall and further push him down.

He went down like a tree, shaking the platform as he made contact. Soap hollered in awe, whistling at your takedown. "That's our sergeant! Steamin' Jesus, wasn't that a show?"

You were panting hard from the stunt, but you managed to give König a sly grin, leaning down that you were just inches away from his veil, "So whaddya say König? You done, or you want go another round?"

"I- I'm done-" His voice strained, writhing under you since the pressure on his chest was making it hard to breathe properly. In addition, he was trying his best to not stare too much since even he was aware of how this looked, with you settled on his chest, knees on either side of his head and effectively trapping him with your thighs, not to mention your hands held his wrists above his head, locking him in a very compromising position. Your view was just as nice, giving you a good look at his face, or at least what you could see of it. A part of you wanted to say it was only because they were the only thing of him you could see, but you felt your heart flutter when the two of you locked eyes. It never had occurred to you, but his eyes were a sage green with a muddled ring of crystal blue that glimmered under the lights above, and the way he looked at you alone almost made you breathless again.

When were his eyes so damn pretty?

"Good choice." Although you played it off as a friendly threat, in reality, you were relieved he didn't want to go again, far too weary for another round and undoubtedly, you'd lose that one.

Rolling off his back, you stood up and outstretched a hand to him. Even though you couldn't see his full face, you could tell he appreciated the gesture by the friendly crinkle of his eyes and the way he took your hand, yelping when you yanked him up.

"Whoops, too hard? My bad."

König shook his head, "Oh no, not at all, I was just surprised. Ah, and thank you for helping me practice, Sergeant. It helped me realize a few things I need to improve."

"It's no problem at all, König, I'm glad I could help. All that matters is that you got something useful out of that loss and turn it into a gain."

"Price really must be getting to you."

"Shut it MacTavish."

The two of you stepped out of the ring and started to pack your things, further discussing improvements for König and some for yourself. Soap left a little early to "attend business with Ghost" (probably to ramble about the fight), to which you cursed him out with a glare for ditching you so abruptly. Now, it was just you and the Austrian in the gym.

"Well, I'll be going back to my place now, I guess I'll see you sometime soon?"

"Yes, of course. Maybe we could spar again sometime soon?" König asked, much to your surprise.

"Sure, I'd love to," you smiled to yourself a moment, debating your urges and ultimately deciding to shoot your shot because when else were you going to have the confidence to? Insecurity be damned, the post-victory adrenaline was getting to you. "Maybe we can even have some more... private matches?"

"Mhm, I wouldn't mind that. But I think we'd need someone to watch, no? Or unless you want to record and we can study it."

Not what you're implying, but his response definitely could be taken that way, causing your face to warm up again. Maybe if you pushed him in the right direction, he'd realize. "Er- I was kinda thinking we'd do it in my place, maybe? Unless you're more comfortable at yours."

All your attempts were going over his head as he grew more and more confused. "Sergeant, I don't believe the rooms are big enough for a fight-"

You burst out laughing, giggling to yourself at how ridiculous it all was, you dancing around your point and how it was leading him on a wild goose chase without even knowing it. Wiping a tear from your eye, you wheezed, "I- ohmygod- I'm so sorry- it's just, wow-"

You felt bad for laughing, but it was the only way you could make things less awkward for yourself and ease the tension. "I'm so sorry, König it's just- you're not really good at picking up hints, huh? But honestly, I should've been more straightforward with you, so,"

"What I'm trying to say is," Taking in a deep breath, you stood straight and looked him in the eye determinedly, "Would you like to hang out sometime? Just the two of us? Together?"

"König?"

Silence.

At that moment, König had put all the puzzle pieces together, or at least what little of them he had, and realized that you'd been (horribly) flirting with him the entire time. He also realized how hopelessly clueless he sounded. Like a computer needing to reboot, he began to overheat underneath his mask and sputtered, an incoherent jumble of words both German and English spilling from his lips. You giggled and pat him on the shoulder, "I take that as a yes, then?"

He let out a slew of words in German, catching himself immediately afterward, "Yes! I would love that- I mean, like that!"

"Really? Oh thank god, I've actually been meaning to ask that for a while now," you nervously chuckled, grabbing a pen and notepad from your bag and taking his hand in yours, putting a note in his palm, "Hope you don't mind if I just write something down... I think the weekend I'll be available so until then?"

"Mhm," He mumbled, trying not to fixate too much on how your hand was holding his as if you two weren't throwing hands earlier.

"Great! See you then!" You pressed a quick peck on his cheek and scurried away before he could react. You sneaky lil thing.

Stunned, König stood still for a solid minute until finally looking at his palm to see what you wrote.

"Here's my phone and room number! Next time we meet, be prepared because I can and will take you on! On a date, of course."