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Neglected omega reader who got taken care of by someone else. Nikolai or Konig. The drama ✨✨
I hope i did KorTac justice, I’ve never written them before except König lol @nightunite pspspsps i have nikto crumbs 🙏🏻
Neglected omega reader p1 + p2
KorTac had always liked you.
From the very first moment they’d met you, they’d been drawn in- pulled by the quiet gravity of your presence and the sharp edge of your competence. You were quick on your feet, sharp with a knife, steady under pressure. Smart and resourceful in a way that demanded respect.
But more than that?
You had heart.
You’d been assigned to their unit during a joint operation months ago. Just a temporary deployment, only meant to last a few weeks, but it had been long enough for them to notice things- little things they hadn’t been able to forget.
The way you’d patched König up without hesitation after a mission went sideways, hands steady even as blood slicked your fingers. The way you’d shared your rations with Horangi after a supply drop came in light, brushing off his protests with a stubborn glare. The way you’d sat quietly beside Nikto on watch, not asking questions when he didn’t feel like talking but always ready to listen when he did.
They noticed you, and they liked what they saw.
Liked the way you worked. Liked the way you took care of your team without ever expecting anything in return. Liked the way you carried yourself- confident but kind. Fierce but soft.
But you weren’t theirs. Couldn’t be.
You belonged to 141, and KorTac had backed off, unwilling to overstep boundaries when you already had a pack waiting for you at home. They’d told themselves it was fine- they were fine- watching from a distance.
But then you came back.
Alone.
Hollow-eyed and sharp-edged, moving like a ghost through the halls of the base, and suddenly?
All bets were off.
The first time König sees you in such a state, it’s in the corridor outside the mess hall.
You don’t look up when he walks by, don’t even seem to notice the sheer weight of his presence as he slows, lingering just long enough to let his shadow stretch over you. You’re leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together, arms wrapped tight around your middle, shoulders curled inward. Small. Smaller than he’s ever seen you look before. Smaller than he’d ever thought he’d ever see you.
His instincts itch- Omega, alone, hurting- but you’re not his. And still…
His eyes track the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your clothes hang loose, like you’ve been skipping meals. He scents the air. Picks up the faded traces of peach and rose, but there’s something sour underneath- bitter and wrong, like spoiled fruit. König’s stomach twists.
It’s the scent of neglect.
You should never have looked like this. You should have never smelled like this.
Not you. Not the Omega who had once dragged him out of the line of fire without hesitation, barking orders and holding the line until reinforcements arrived. Not the Omega who had once laughed with him under a tin roof during a monsoon, eyes bright.
The smell lingers after he walks away, clinging to the back of his throat like smoke. But it’s the emptiness of it- the hollowness- that keeps him awake that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering which one of those 141 bastards let their Omega rot like this.
The next time König sees you, it’s in the armory.
You’re cataloging weapons, checking and re-checking the tags with mechanical precision, but your hands shake when you reach for the next one. Just a little. Just enough for him to notice.
König moves closer. Quiet, but not too quiet- he doesn’t want to startle you. You don’t look up until his shadow stretches over your workbench, and when you do, the look in your eyes hits him like a gut-punch.
Flat. Guarded. Resigned.
Like you’re expecting him to scold you.
König’s heart cracks wide open. He grips the edge of the table just to keep from reaching out.
“Doing good work.” He says softly, and you just blink.
It’s such a small thing- barely even a compliment- but your throat bobs like you’re swallowing something down. Then you duck your head and go back to your task, not looking at him again.
But you don’t flinch.
Not this time.
Nikto is next, and he doesn’t hesitate.
He remembers you. Remembers the way you’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the rain, eyes scanning the horizon with sharp focus as you both waited for the enemy to make their move.
You hadn’t been scared. Not even a little.
And now?
He catches you outside the rec room, sitting on the stairs with your knees drawn up to your chest. You don’t even react when he approaches, just keep staring at the floor like it might swallow you whole.
Now, you look like you’re drowning.
So Nikto doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t say anything. Just crouches down beside you and sets a cup of coffee at your feet before walking away.
You stare at it for almost five minutes before finally picking it up.
The next morning, he does it again. Same cup. Same coffee. Same wordless offering.
It becomes a routine- something quiet and steady, something you can rely on when everything else feels too heavy.
And then there’s Horangi, who pushes the hardest.
He pushes, because he knows you can take it.
You had before- back when you’d yelled at him for ignoring orders and running off alone, eyes blazing as you shoved him back toward the evac point. He’d liked your fire back then, liked the way you didn’t back down even when he towered over you.
But now?
Now your fire’s gone out, and there’s only one group to blame.
So Horangi pushes. Tests the waters, pokes at the edges, trying to find the spark he knows is still there. He is the loudest of the three, sharp and quick with his words, but he also knows when to keep them soft. He finds you cleaning your gear one night and sits down beside you without asking.
“You missed dinner.” He says casually, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it onto your lap. Pushing past the bubble you’ve wrapped around yourself, yet not being overbearing or too much.
You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.
“I’m not your Alpha,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me.”
You close your mouth. Look down at the protein bar. Then, without a word, you tear it open and take a bite.
Horangi grins. And just like that, he’s in.
And when you finally- finally- smile at one of his jokes?
He knows he’s got you.
141 starts noticing the shift almost immediately. Soap catches König lingering near you in the gym, eyes following the curve of your spine as you stretch, and something inside him snaps.
Ghost sees Nikto brush his fingers against yours when he hands you something, and his jaw clenches so tight he can hear his teeth grind.
Price overhears Horangi making you laugh- a real, honest-to-God laugh, a sound he can’t hear any longer even in his dreams- and has to excuse himself before he says something he can’t take back.
It gets worse when your scent starts to change; the bitterness fades first, then the sourness.
The first time Price catches a hint of warmth blooming underneath, it stops him dead in his tracks.
Because it isn’t for him. It isn’t for them.
It’s even worse to know that they drove you to it, and have no one to blame but themselves.
They let you fall through the cracks. Let the weight of their own issues and distractions leave you stranded in the dark, too far away for them to pull you back when they finally noticed you were gone.
And now? Now KorTac is picking up the pieces, with no hesitation.
König steadies you. Makes sure you eat, makes sure you rest, makes sure you feel safe even when the world outside is crumbling. Doesn’t push you away when you, big hand lingering on the curve of your spine until his scent is left there.
Nikto grounds you. Offers quiet comfort without demands, without expectations. Makes sure you know he’s there, always there, steady and unshakable. A lighthouse in the stormy seas, the hand that pulls you out of the swirling ocean.
Horangi pushes and pushes. Draws out smiles and laughter, reminds you what it feels like to be wanted. Finds excuses to bump shoulders or brush against you when you pass, just to see if you’ll let him.
And you do. You let all of them, slowly greeting them with the quietest little purr (cat activation noise).
Because it’s easier to be wanted by them than it is to be unwanted by your own pack.
And slowly- so slowly it hurts- you start to come back to life; your scent changes. Softens. Warms. The bitterness fades and the sourness disappears.
And all they can do is only watch as König takes the space they abandoned. As Nikto feeds the hunger they ignored. As Horangi brings back the fire they let burn out.
And they can’t do a damn thing about it.
Because the truth is- KorTac wanted you from the start, and now that they’ve got you?
They’re never letting go.
#noona.asks#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#kortac x you#kortac x reader#könig x you#könig x reader#konig x you#konig x reader#horangi x you#horangi x reader#nikto x reader#nikto x you#cod omegaverse
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Bet II
p.1 here & p.3 here
summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k
a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.
You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.
Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.
You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor.
It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.
Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.
Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho
A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.
Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.
You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.
Ding!
Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge.
Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.
"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.
As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor.
"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."
There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.
Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.
As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang.
Kitchen and dining room done!
You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.
"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"
The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day.
At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered.
You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo.
Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me.
When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.
Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.
Ding!
Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.
Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm.
I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.
You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.
"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?"
Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.
When was the last time you watered the cactus?
Ding!
You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.
I don't remember.
Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant.
Ding!
Another text? You took your phone out and read it.
Why would your uncle be upset?
The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.
He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.
Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?
You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age. You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom.
Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you.
Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!
tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair
i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo
#hwang inho x reader#hwang inho x y/n#hwang inho x you#hwang inho#hwang in ho#hwang in ho x reader#hwang in ho x you#hwang in ho x y/n#squid game#squid game 2#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game x y/n#the frontman#the frontman x reader#the frontman x you#the frontman x y/n#the front man#the front man x reader#the front man x you#the front man x y/n#afab reader
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Jealous Angsty Hotch is my favorite
Envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]
Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 3.1k|| AN: I am so sorry this one took me so long!
Tags/Warnings: jealous Hotch, bombshell reader, flirtatious Derek, canon-typical themes, canon-typical injuries, angst, argument, established relationship, secret relationship, BAU reader, undercover operation
Summary: Aaron Hotchner never considered himself a possessive man. He was on board to keep his relationship with you a secret, that was...until Derek Morgan increasingly got under his skin with his flirtatious comments toward you.
Aaron Hotchner was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve. His stoic demeanor and calculated expressions were hallmarks that defined him both as the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and as a man who guarded his private life fiercely.
Yet, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions under wraps, recent developments were challenging his usual composure.
You had been part of the BAU team for a couple of years now, blending seamlessly into the fabric of the group with your sharp analytical mind and equally sharp wit. You were undeniably beautiful—a fact that had not escaped the notice of the team, especially Derek Morgan. Morgan, with his charming smile and flirtatious banter, had always found a way to make his admiration for you known. The team often teased you about being 'Morgan's type,' laughter and light jests filling the air around such comments. Initially, Hotch had found it amusing, a harmless part of team dynamics. But things had changed.
Lately, his feelings for you had deepened into something more profound, something private and intensely personal. The two of you had started seeing each other outside of work, cautiously at first, but with growing seriousness. It was a secret affair, hidden behind closed doors and knowing glances that only the two of you could interpret.
However, Morgan's casual flirtations were starting to stir a feeling Hotch was unaccustomed to—jealousy. Today, during a brief downtime in the bullpen, Morgan had sauntered over to your desk, leaning close enough that his voice was exclusively yours to hear.
"Hey, pretty lady, how about we grab dinner tonight? My treat," Morgan suggested, his smile broad and inviting. The team perked up, the usual teasing poised on the tips of their tongues.
You looked up at him, your expression a mix of amusement and mild irritation, a look Hotch knew all too well. "Derek, you know I appreciate the offer, but I've got plans already," you replied, your voice steady but gentle, trying not to bruise his ego.
Morgan raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering just a bit. "Oh, come on, you always have plans. When are you gonna give me a chance?" he half-joked, half-serious—a tone that didn't go unnoticed by Hotch, who was watching the exchange from his office with a frown creasing his brow.
Garcia chimed in, passing through, her voice carrying across the room. "Morgan, you better watch out; maybe our girl here has a secret love we don't know about!"
The team laughed, and you blushed, glancing unintentionally up towards Hotch's office. Hotch's heart skipped, his own feelings mirrored in your fleeting look. It was these moments that he cherished—these brief, shared seconds where the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. Yet, it was also these moments that fueled his growing unease at Morgan's attentions.
Later that day, when the team was wrapping up, Hotch found you alone in the break room. He approached quietly, his demeanor serious. "Do you ever think," he began, pausing to choose his words carefully, "that it might be time to let the team in on... us?"
You looked surprised, a spoonful of coffee halfway to your lips. For a moment, Hotch looked at your lips, and that’s all he could think about--an effect only you had on him.
"I... Aaron, are you sure? It's been nice, just the two of us knowing. It feels like something just ours."
"I know," Hotch admitted, his voice low. "But seeing Morgan today, how he—"
You reached out, placing a hand over his. "Aaron, Derek is just being Derek. It doesn’t change how I feel about us. But if it’s important to you, maybe it’s time."
Hotch nodded, appreciating your reassurance. "Let's think about it a bit more," he decided, his hand turning under yours to squeeze it gently.
But life got in the way, and the time to “talk about it” wasn’t there.
The next case had been grueling—a string of violent robberies across Virginia that had escalated into a hostage situation by the time the BAU was called in. Tensions were high as the team worked tirelessly to profile the unsub and predict his next move. You and Derek had been on site, working to establish a perimeter, when the unsub unexpectedly made a desperate, violent break, catching everyone off guard.
During the chaos, you had been hurt—an injury that seemed minor at first but was soon revealed to be more serious when you collapsed from a hidden stab wound you had sustained while trying to subdue the suspect. Derek, who had been by your side during the takedown, was riddled with guilt and insisted on accompanying you to the hospital, his protective nature in full display.
Hotch, meanwhile, was left to coordinate the wrap-up of the case, his leadership duties anchoring him to the scene. As much as he wanted to be by your side, his responsibilities as Unit Chief made it impossible for him to leave immediately. The knowledge that Derek was there with you, while he could not be, stirred a tumult of emotions within him—jealousy, frustration, and a fierce protectiveness that was unusual in its intensity.
By the time Hotch arrived at the hospital, you were already being patched up, Derek hovering nearby, his worry palpable. Hotch's arrival was quiet, his eyes immediately seeking you out in the busy emergency room. You looked pale, the pain evident in your eyes, but you managed a weak smile when you saw him.
"Aaron," you murmured, relief coloring your tone. Derek stepped aside, giving Hotch space to come closer, but his presence lingered, heavy and unmissable.
Hotch nodded to Derek briefly before turning his full attention to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low, a controlled calm masking the storm of emotions inside him.
"It hurts, but they said I'll be fine," you replied, trying to ease the worry in his eyes.
Derek chimed in, "She was incredible, Hotch. Took the unsub down like a pro, just got caught with a bad angle." He turned to you, “Glad I was here to hold her hand though when they patched her up.”
Hotch's jaw tightened at Derek's words, his gaze flicking briefly to him before returning to you. "I'm just glad you're okay," he said, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently, a silent message of support and something more, something only you could understand.
Derek, a profiler after all, picking up on the subtle interplay of looks between you and Hotch, excused himself to give you some privacy, though his glance back as he left spoke volumes of his continued concern. Alone now, Hotch's expression softened.
"This thing with Derek..." Hotch began, hesitating as he searched for the right words. "Does it bother you? His attention?"
You shook your head slightly, wincing from the movement. "It's just Derek being Derek. I don't encourage it, Aaron. You know where my heart lies."
Hotch's features relaxed at your words, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. "I know," he admitted. "It's just hard, not being able to show... not being able to tell everyone that you're mine."
The possessiveness in his tone surprised you both, a stark contrast to his usual reserved nature. You squeezed his hand, understanding the depth of his feelings, the struggle it was for him to even voice them.
"Aaron, maybe it's time," you suggested softly. "Maybe it's time we don't have to hide anymore."
Hotch nodded, the idea settling into his thoughts like a weight lifted. "Let's talk about it when you're out of here. For now, just focus on getting better. That's what matters to me the most."
You both should have known--with your busy schedules, you might as well block out a scheduled meeting time and place it on the bureau-wide calendar to set up a time to talk.
While on the next case, the briefing room buzzed with discussion as the team reviewed the details of the new case. It was a standard undercover operation, one that required a couple to infiltrate a high-end social circle.
The unsub targeted women at exclusive parties, and the BAU needed a pair to blend in. Derek and you fit the profile perfectly—both attractive, confident, and capable of playing the roles effortlessly. The physical descriptions between the two of you were an ideal match as well.
But Aaron Hotchner hated the idea. Like absolutely hated this idea.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Hotch said firmly, arms crossed as he addressed the team. “We don’t know enough about the unsub’s habits to ensure their safety. There are too many variables.”
Rossi tilted his head, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Hotch, the profile’s clear. Physically, they’re perfect. A couple in their late twenties to mid-thirties. Derek and her fit the bill. You’re overthinking this.”
JJ added, her tone light but pointed, “And honestly, it’s not like we have many other options. No offense, Rossi, but you’d stick out like a sore thumb.”
Rossi smirked. “I could charm my way through it if I had to.”
Hotch wasn’t amused. “It’s a security risk,” he said, ignoring the banter. His eyes shifted to you across the room, catching the subtle glance you threw his way. It was a look only he could decipher—a quiet reassurance, a silent message that you understood his concerns. But it did little to ease the growing tension in his chest.
“Hotch,” Emily chimed in, her voice cutting through his thoughts. “We’ve done riskier operations. She and Derek can handle this. Don’t you trust them?”
It wasn’t a question of trust. It was the idea of watching Derek, whose flirtations were already a sore spot, act like he was yours. It churned in Hotch’s gut, a raw, irrational frustration he struggled to suppress.
“Fine,” he said sharply, his tone curt as he relented. “But we keep constant surveillance, and the moment it looks like the situation is escalating, we pull them out.”
The room relaxed as the team moved on to logistics, but Hotch remained stiff, his jaw clenched as he tried to focus on the operation instead of the storm brewing inside him.
The operation started smoothly. Derek and you slipped into your roles with ease, playing the part of a glamorous couple navigating the lavish party scene. Derek’s hand rested on the small of your back as you laughed softly at something he said, your body language exuding the confidence and charm required for the role. A confidence you brought forward even in your real life.
Hotch watched from the surveillance van, his tension palpable. He hadn’t looked away from the monitors since the operation began, his eyes tracking your every move. Derek leaned in close, whispering something in your ear, and you tilted your head toward him with a smile. It was fake—Hotch knew that. But it still set his teeth on edge.
“Hotch, you okay?” Emily asked, her voice gentle but curious. She’d noticed his rigidity, the way his hand hovered over the comms button as if he were ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. He was hyper-focused on every detail, practically looking for a reason to shut this down.
“I’m fine,” he replied tersely, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Uh-huh,” Emily murmured, unconvinced but wisely choosing not to push.
When the operation concluded, and the unsub was apprehended, the team regrouped back at the precinct. Hotch’s mood had not improved. If anything, it had worsened.
Watching Derek touch you, hold your hand, and lean into your personal space—even for the sake of the mission—had been unbearable. It was irrational, he knew, but his emotions felt like a live wire sparking inside him.
“Well, that was fun,” Derek said, clapping you on the shoulder as the team settled into the conference room. “You were a natural out there.”
You laughed lightly, though your eyes flicked to Hotch, who stood stiffly at the edge of the room, arms crossed and jaw tight.
“Thanks, Derek,” you said, your tone kind but dismissive. You could tell something was wrong—Hotch hadn’t looked at you since the operation ended, and the air around him practically crackled with tension.
You walked over to him, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “Hotch, are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”
Hotch’s eyes finally met yours, dark and stormy. “I’m fine,” he said curtly, his tone sharper than you’d expected.
You flinched slightly at his words, confusion flickering across your face. “Aaron—”
“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice louder now, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. The room went silent, everyone exchanging bewildered glances. Even Derek looked taken aback.
Hotch exhaled sharply, realizing he’d let his emotions slip. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving you standing there, stunned and embarrassed.
You caught up to him in the hallway, your heels clicking against the linoleum as you quickened your pace. “Hotch!” you called, your voice firm. “Aaron, stop!”
He did, reluctantly, turning to face you. His expression was a mix of anger and something deeper—something raw and vulnerable.
“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared up at him. “You snapped at me in front of everyone. Do you have any idea how unprofessional that was?”
“I know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now but no less tense. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Then why did you?” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on with you?”
Hotch looked away, his jaw tightening again. “I didn’t like seeing you with Derek,” he admitted after a long pause. “I didn’t like him touching you, acting like—”
“Like what?” you interrupted, your tone softening as understanding dawned. “Like we were a couple? We were undercover!”
He nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours. “It’s irrational, I know. But I hated it. I hated every second of it.”
A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tension between you. “Aaron, it was just a role. You know that.”
“I do,” he said, stepping closer. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I never thought of myself as a possessive man, but with you... I wouldn’t mind if the world knew you were mine.”
You stared at him for a moment, your expression softening as you placed a hand on his chest. “Then maybe it’s time they do. We keep saying it.”
Hotch’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the weight of his emotions finally easing. “Maybe it is,” he agreed, his hand covering yours. “But first, I owe you an apology.”
“You do,” you said teasingly, though your tone was gentle. “And you might want to apologize to Derek, too. He looked like a kicked puppy.”
Hotch sighed, a faint smile breaking through his grumpy demeanor. “One step at a time.”
And that one step at a time was forgoing every other responsibility until this conversation happened. What came from that was the decision and action to tell the rest of the team.
After updating your supportive coworkers, Hotch watched you move around his bedroom with a contented ease that warmed his heart.
You had just slipped into one of his shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on your frame—a sight that never failed to stir something deep within him. As you began brushing your hair in front of the dresser mirror, he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, still processing the team's reactions from earlier that day.
"They took it better than I expected," Hotch commented, breaking the comfortable silence. His tone was reflective, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he recalled the varying expressions of surprise and support from the team.
You turned to face him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I think Garcia already had a betting pool going for when we'd finally admit it," you teased, setting the brush down. "Though I'm pretty sure Derek was the most relieved to have it out in the open."
Hotch's expression darkened momentarily at the mention of Derek, recalling the tension of the past weeks. "Relieved isn't the word I'd use."
"Oh?" You walked over to him, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Are you sure it wasn't just because you stopped glaring daggers at him every time he came near me?"
"I was not glaring," Hotch countered, though a faint smile betrayed his defensive tone. "It was strategic observation."
"Strategic observation?" You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Is that what we're calling jealousy these days?"
Hotch sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he placed his hands on your waist. "I was concerned, not jealous. As your unit chief, I had to make sure he was remaining professional."
"Concerned," you echoed, nodding exaggeratedly. "Concerned enough to nearly have a coronary every time Derek played his part a bit too convincingly."
"I did not—"
You cut him off with a quick peck on the lips, silencing his protest. "You know, I thought it was kind of hot," you whispered, your voice low and teasing.
"Hot?" Hotch raised an eyebrow, his hands tightening slightly on your waist.
"Mmm," you hummed in affirmation. "Seeing you get all possessive. I half expected you to mark your territory somehow. Maybe a tattoo on my forehead that says 'Property of Hotch.'"
Hotch laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "I think a tattoo might be a bit excessive, but maybe they could add a spot on your badge," he conceded, making you laugh. His eyes softened with affection. "But I can't deny that the idea of everyone knowing you're with me doesn't have its appeal."
"I could see it in your eyes," you continued, playful and light. "One more flirty comment from Derek, and you might have started a BAU brawl."
"I would have handled it professionally," Hotch assured you, his voice laced with mock seriousness.
"Of course," you agreed, a twinkle in your eye. "Professionally pinning Derek to the ground in a fit of 'strategic observation.'"
Hotch shook his head, his smile lingering as he leaned in to kiss you gently. "I'm just glad we don't have to hide anymore," he murmured against your lips.
"Me too," you replied, your voice soft. "No more secrets. Just us."
"Just us," Hotch repeated, pulling you closer. The weight of the secrets they'd carried felt lifted, and as he held you in his arms, the quiet of the night wrapping around them, Aaron Hotchner felt a profound sense of peace settle over him. Here, in this moment, with you, everything was exactly as it should be.
Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x reader#kiwriteswords#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminalminds#aaronhotchner#Aaron Hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner reader insert#criminal minds fluff#hotch x you#jack hotchner#aaron hotchner angst fanfiction#aaron hotchner hurt/comfort#angst#criminal minds angst#aaron hotchner fanfic#criminal minds fanfic#jealous hotch
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Unsolved
Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader
summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker
a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!
a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others
scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!
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user1: god do they look good
↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww
↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl
user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point
↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???
↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help
↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook
↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t
↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t
user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh
↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now
↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them
↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill
user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?
↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!
↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af
user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate
↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???
↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others
unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more
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user11: chilling…
user12: ok but why do they match so well…did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?
user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi
↳user13: wait what???
maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻
↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???
↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??
↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT
↳unsolved: shame 😞
↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.
↳pierregasly: 😂😂
↳user16: what in the world…
oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…
↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…
↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???
↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…
↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!
Private Emails
scuderiaferrari
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others
tagged: unsolved
scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!
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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???
↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…
charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!
↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??
↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!
this comment was deleted
↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars
this comment was deleted
↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea
this comment was deleted
↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂
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user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen
↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!
↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!
↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)
↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!
↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!
↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!
unsolved has posted 3 stories
[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]
user23 replied I’m so excited!
scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!
↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!
↳unsolved I’m very excited!
user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!
user25 replied go get your man
↳unsolved whaat??
↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??
↳unsolved ???
↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af
scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??
↳unsolved of course!
charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??
↳unsolved yup!
Bluesky
Bluesky
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others
tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths
unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!
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user26: spooky…
↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…
oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night
↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever
↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…
↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️
↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?
↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess
↳pierregasly: shame
↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊
↳user19: hmmmmm user53??
↳user53: i see it. I see it
arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???
↳unsolved: all of them!
↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹
↳unsolved: sorry just one!
↳carlossainz55: compañero?
↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!
↳unsolved: sorry 🤗
↳user19: hmmmmm
↳user53: adding it to the folder now
user28: that was such a fun episode!
↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!
↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.
sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019
↳landonorris: share!
↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident
↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??
↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest
this comment was deleted
↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!
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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me
↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?
user29: man he moves fast
↳charles_leclerc: very fast!
↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!
↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now
↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭
carlossainz55: congrats mate!
↳charles_leclerc: you too!
↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!
↳carlossainz55: shush!
↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???
↳user19: …I’m on it
↳user53: I’ll start the coffee
↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????
↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA
↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed
pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out
↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.
↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?
↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?
↳pierregasly: yes
↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄
↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!
↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke
↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁
↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar
↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁
user33: the way he sprinted over to her…
↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now
↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe
↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces
↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?
↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰
↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️
↳user34: right in front of my salad???
user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…
↳user36: sleepover!
#f1 smau#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 instagram au#formula 1 smau#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one
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Revenge and Reconciliation
Pairing: Ex gfs Bound!Agatha x Witch!Reader
Summary: When the hex shatters, the bond between you and Agatha reignites with a force too raw to ignore. Confronting her after decades of anger, betrayal, and yearning, you’re determined to make her pay. Power, passion, and a collision of unresolved emotions blur the line between vengeance and surrender.
Tags: Bitter Ex Gfs, Smut, Revenge Sex, Emotional Angst, Power Dynamics, Magic-Infused Sex, Magic Strap, Magic Cum, Magic Wrists Restraints, Slight Degradation, Cum Powered Reconciliation, Revenge Gets Sticky, Sub!Agatha (I know, wtf), Writing Sub Agatha Feels Illegal, Is It Subbing If She Still Wins Tho?
Word count: 6.6k
A/N: I wrote this fic as an attempt to wrestle my way out of the creative block that’s been clinging to me like an overly affectionate stray cat. I don’t think it’s the best thing I could have written, and I’m not entirely convinced by it, but the idea had been gathering dust on my list for a while, so here we are.
The concept of sub!Agatha has always intrigued me—mostly because, in my mind, it’s about as rare as a solar eclipse. I usually stick to writing Dom!Agatha, but hey, I think sub!Agatha is canon-compliant too… just in that “blink and you’ll miss it, alignment of the magical cosmos” kind of way.
For this fic, I decided to throw caution (and some very own personal hcs) to the wind and see if I could somehow make that dynamic work in an x Reader setting. Did I nail it? Definitely not. Do I feel like I truly captured the elusive sub!Agatha vibe that lives rent-free in my head? Eh, we’ll call it a work in progress. Maybe I’ll take another swing at it someday. For now, here’s my first attempt—enjoy! 💜
MASTERLIST
Read on AO3
It’s subtle at first—a faint ripple in the air, like a string pulled taut and suddenly slackened. But you feel it, deep in your body and soul, as if the ground beneath you shifted.
The hex is broken.
Agatha.
Her name lingers in your mind like a curse, dragging with it a torrent of emotions you’ve spent decades trying to bury.
Fury, white-hot and all-consuming, surges to the surface, clawing at the walls you’ve built around it. You can feel it all, the bitterness, the pain, the endless ache of betrayal.
Yet everything feels shushed by the unmistakable pull of her magic, faint but familiar, like the distant hum of a melody you can’t forget.
You’ve tried to sever this bond more times than you can count, poured every ounce of power into cutting the thread of magic that still ties you to her.
But it never worked. Years of spells, rituals, and desperate attempts to scrape her magic from your soul couldn’t erase that connection, that cruel reminder of the love you once shared.
You don’t want to feel her. You don’t want to feel anything.
But with the hex shattered, she’s there—everywhere. The memories rise like a tide, drowning you in the ghost of what once was.
The warmth of her fingers, trailing just long enough to leave a fire in their wake. Her voice, low and teasing, laced with promises that made your heart race. You remember the way she laughed, genuine and unguarded when she let herself forget the world, or the way her lips curled into a smirk when she caught you staring, daring you to look away. Those stolen nights, when her touch was tender and her kisses slow, felt endless, like she was giving you pieces of her no one else had ever seen.
And then… nothing.
She left. Without a word. Without a reason. Without even a shred of decency to say goodbye. She disappeared like smoke, leaving only the cold, bitter truth: it meant nothing. You meant nothing.
The memories crash to a halt, mocking you, shaming you, for ever believing she could be anything more than one of her masterly crafted lies.
Your magic surges in response, wild and vengeful, begging for release. You clench your fists, trying to ground yourself, but it’s futile. Her presence—or the absence of it—calls to you.
It’s been decades, but the wound is as raw as the day she abandoned you, as sharp as the moment you realized she wasn’t coming back.
But you won’t give her the chance to run this time.
Without hesitation, you focus your energy, feeling the familiar pull of teleportation. The world shifts, and when you open your eyes, you’re standing outside her house in Westview. It’s dark and unassuming, the air around it heavy with the remnants of the hex’s magic.
The door slams open with a burst of energy, the wood groaning under the force of your magic. The faint remnants of Wanda’s hex still cling to the air, a metallic tang that pricks at your senses, but they’re nothing compared to the oppressive weight of her presence.
Agatha is sprawled on the couch as if she hasn’t a care in the world, her posture loose and unbothered despite the clear signs of exhaustion clinging to her.
Her dark hair, longer than you remember, tumbles around her shoulders in wild, mussed waves, catching the light like ink kissed by moonlight. Her clothes are rumpled, the lines of her blouse wrinkled and her jeans have clearly seen better days, but somehow the disarray only adds to her maddening allure.
And then there’s her face—those sharp cheekbones, that pale, smooth skin, and the glint in her icy blue eyes that even now refuses to dim.
She looks up at you, her smirk curling with the same audacity that’s haunted you for decades, and for a moment, you hate how effortlessly breathtaking she is, how your heart still skips a beat whenever her eyes meet yours. Even now, even when she’s powerless.
“Well, well.” she drawls, tilting her head, her voice laced with a defiance she has no right to feel. “Come to gloat?”
You take a step inside and the air shifts, charged with the force of your presence. For the first time in decades, you’re the one with the power, and Agatha—bound, powerless, and alone—is at your mercy.
“You look terrible.” you say, your voice sharp, cutting. “What happened to the all-powerful Agatha Harkness? Shouldn’t you be out scheming, manipulating, destroying lives? Oh, wait—”. You step closer, savoring the way her smirk falters, “You can’t.”
Agatha’s smirk snaps back into place, but there’s a flicker—tiny, fleeting—of something behind her eyes. Fear? No, she wouldn’t let you see that. Regret? That would be even more shocking. Whatever it is, it’s gone in an instant.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.” she says, leaning back against the couch. “I guess that hasn’t changed.”
Your jaw tightens, so hard you’re lucky you don’t chip a tooth. The sheer audacity of her, lounging there like she hasn’t single-handedly fueled centuries of your bitterness, makes your magic flare.
The air around you hums with tension, a wave of heat radiating from your skin, but she doesn’t even flinch. Of course she doesn’t. Why would she? Agatha has always been maddeningly immune to the consequences of her actions.
“Don’t you dare pretend nothing happened.” you snap, stepping closer until you’re towering over her. “You left, Agatha. You abandoned me without a word. No explanation, no goodbye—just gone. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
“I had my reasons.” she murmurs, voice quieter now, almost too quiet.
Your laugh is cold, bitter. “Reasons? That’s the best you can come up with? You destroyed me, Agatha. For decades, I tried to understand why, to make sense of how I meant so little to you.”
Her lips part as if to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, just a moment, you see something raw in her gaze—a vulnerability she’s trying desperately to hide.
“Don’t.” you say sharply, your magic flaring brighter. “Don’t you dare try to justify what you did. You don’t get to play the victim.”
Her smirk falls back into place, but it’s weaker now, almost brittle.
“You’re really milking this righteous fury thing, aren’t you?” she quips, though her voice lacks its usual bite. “What do you want, then? Revenge? Closure? Or did you just miss me?”
The last question catches you off guard, her tone teasing but her eyes searching. Your magic is screaming at you to be unleashed, the rage bubbling so close to the surface as you lean in closer, your face inches from hers.
“What I want,” you say, your voice low and dangerous, “is for you to feel even a fraction of the pain you caused me.”
The heat of your fury presses down on her, forcing her back into the couch. Her sharp tongue falters, her bravado slipping just enough for you to see it: the crack in her armor, the shadow of fear in her eyes.
“Give me one good reason,” you hiss, venom drenching your tone, “why I shouldn’t end this now. Why I shouldn’t take everything from you the way you took everything from me.”
“Because you still love me.”
Five words, and everything you’ve built comes crashing down.
It festers like an old wound torn open, flesh ripped apart to reveal something gory beneath, bleeding and pulsing. It’s a visceral pain that feels like it might consume you whole, a dark, twisting ache that blooms in your chest and radiates outward.
Your grip on your magic falters, and for a fleeting second, you see her as she was all those years ago—the woman who once held your heart in her hands, who kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.
The memory bleeds into the present, stark and jarring, clashing with the image of the woman before you now. She’s still breathtaking, but there’s a hollowness in her now, a shadow where the fire used to burn brightest.
The contrast churns something bitter and broken inside you—resentment, grief, yearning, perhaps all three at once. It’s unbearable, the way the past and present collide, leaving you adrift in the space between what was and what is.
You force yourself to recoil, your magic snapping back to you as if burned.
“Love?” you spit, the word a venomous hiss that cuts through the charged air between you. “You think I could still love you after everything you did? I fucking hate you, Agatha.”
Her laughter startles you—a sharp, bitter sound that carries no joy, only a rawness that sinks deep under your skin. It’s the laugh of someone who’s long since made peace with their own destruction.
“Hate’s just love that’s been shattered to pieces.” she says, her voice cracking, the edges sharp enough to draw blood. “And we both know you’ve been holding onto those shards for decades.”
You want to deny it, to unleash every ounce of fury you’ve carried for all these years, to rip her apart for daring to speak such a painful truth aloud.
But you can’t.
And it’s in this moment of hesitation, of vulnerability, that the rage in your chest shifts—twisting into something far more dangerous.
The bond between you roars, electric and alive, as if responding to your emotions. It’s always been there, tethering you to her no matter how much you tried to sever it. And now, it’s pulling you closer, wrapping around you like dense smoke.
It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating. And you fucking missed it.
Even bound and powerless, Agatha looks at you as if she’s still in control, as if the years of pain and betrayal you’ve carried mean nothing.
Her eyes narrow, a glint of recognition flashing in that unnervingly sharp gaze. She sees it, she feels it, the way her words have struck a nerve. And, of course, she pounces on it.
“What’s the matter, hon?” she purrs, her voice a sickeningly sweet mockery of concern. “Can’t decide whether to kill me or fuck me?”
The words land like a match to gasoline, igniting a fire it’s far too late to extinguish. The line you’ve been toeing shatters, and before you can stop yourself, you close the final distance between you in one swift movement, your hand wrapping around her throat as you press her back against the couch.
Her smirk doesn’t leave her lips—if anything, it deepens, her breath catching just slightly as her eyes gleam with something dark and infuriatingly pleased.
You can feel her pulse under your fingertips, quick and unsteady, and it only feeds the chaos roiling inside you.
“You don’t get to say that.” you hiss, leaning closer until your face is inches from hers. “You don’t get to act like this is a game.”
“And what if it is?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost daring. “What if that’s all we’ve ever been?”
The anger in your chest twists, warping into something raw and untamed. You hate her. You want her. The two emotions bleed together, inseparable, consuming.
Your grip on her throat tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who has the power now. She doesn’t fight you, but she doesn’t look away either.
“You have no idea what you’ve done to me.” you say, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’ve held back. “No idea what it’s been like to carry this—this anger, this pain, this fucking bond I can’t escape.”
Of course, you don’t expect her to apologize, she never would, but the flicker of regret in her eyes is louder than words.
The bond between you hums again, relentless and unyielding, pulling you closer even as you try to resist. You do hate her, but you also can’t deny the way her presence calls to you, the way her magic—even diminished—feels like a part of you.
“Why, Agatha?” you demand, your voice breaking as you lean in closer. “Why did you leave? Why did you—”
She cuts you off by brushing her lips against yours in the barest hint of contact. It’s not a kiss, not yet, but it steals the breath from your lungs all the same.
As her breath mingles with yours, the world collapses to the infinitesimal space between your lips, a charged, aching void that demands to be closed.
And then, as if honoring that demand, she closes the distance.
Her lips crash onto yours in a kiss that isn’t tender—it’s a storm, a battle, a clash of wills. Her mouth moves against yours with a desperation that feels like surrender, but there’s no mistaking the way she bites at your lower lip, as if daring you to take more.
You growl low in your throat, the sound vibrating against her lips as your hands find her hips, pinning her harder against the couch. She arches into you, her body a perfect, infuriating fit against yours, and the bond between you flares alive, pulling you deeper into the chaos of her.
Her tongue meets yours, and it’s molten—hot and demanding, tangled in a rhythm that feels like a fight for dominance neither of you is willing to lose. The couch creaks beneath you as you press her down, your weight covering hers completely, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp into your mouth.
This isn’t forgiveness. It isn’t reconciliation. It’s unfiltered emotion, punishment and possession, everything you’ve bottled up for decades exploding in a collision of anger and desire that leaves no room for restraint.
With a flick of your wrist, her clothes dissolve into shimmering wisps of magic, vanishing like smoke into the air. What’s left behind steals the breath from your lungs despite every part of you screaming not to react, not to let her affect you like this.
The sight of Agatha’s bare body, a masterpiece of soft curves and sharp angles, reignites memories you thought you’d buried—the way her skin once felt beneath your hands, how her body moved in perfect synch with yours, every sound she made etched into your soul.
It’s been decades since you last saw her like this, but time has done nothing to dull her power over you.
Your pulse thunders in your ears, heat spreading like wildfire through your veins as your gaze trails over her, lingering on the lines of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the way her thighs tremble ever so slightly.
She’s bound and powerless in every possibile sense of the words, yet somehow she still holds the upper hand.
Her lips curl into the faintest smirk as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. “Still as easy to impress as ever, I see.”
The words snap you out of your trance, a surge of irritation mingling with the desire coursing through you.
With another flick of your wrist, ropes of magic coil around her wrists, pulling them together and suspending them above her head. The glowing bonds crackle with energy, casting faint light over her bare skin.
Her smirk falters, just slightly, as she tugs against the restraints, her muscles flexing in defiance and testing their hold.
And it’s that—that small attempt at resistance, her futile struggle against the bonds you’ve created—that makes something snap inside you.
It’s not just power—it’s the realization that she, the woman who’s haunted your every waking thought and dream, is finally yours to control. The intensity of it almost scares you, the way it spreads through your chest like spilled ink, staining every corner of your mind in pitch black.
It’s a visceral, consuming need to claim her, to fill her, to mark her in a way that will sear into her soul, leaving no room for doubt or escape. The hunger burns through you, fierce and unrelenting, every ounce of your power thrumming with it, shaping itself into something tangible, something undeniable.
Your lower clothing dissolves into shimmering magic, leaving you partially bare—but not fully. The vulnerability of complete nakedness is a luxury you can’t afford. Not right now. Not with Agatha. You want the contrast to be stark—her, stripped of everything, exposed and powerless beneath you, while you remain in control. It’s a statement, a reminder, that here, now, you’re the one with the upper hand.
And then, as though summoned by your need, the strap materializes. And it’s not just magic—it’s a part of you, an extension of your body.
The weight of it settles against your hips, grounding you, the connection immediate and intimate, as if it’s always been there.
Your gaze drops for a moment, drawn to the way your cock stands proud and commanding, and a smirk tugs at your lips. You take in its size, the thick, substantial girth that demands attention. You make no effort to hide your satisfaction as your hand wraps firmly around its base, stroking it in slow, deliberate movements that make your intent unmistakable.
Agatha’s eyes widen, her own gaze falling to your cock before flicking back to your face. Her lips part slightly, and her tongue darts out to wet them in a motion so instinctive, so sinful, that it sends a fresh jolt of heat through you.
For once, she seems utterly at a loss for words, the sharp wit you’ve come to expect from her silenced by the weight of the moment, and by you.
“Speechless?” you ask, your tone dripping with mockery. “Not like you.”
“Well,” she manages, clicking her tongue, her voice laced with an edge of forced confidence, “you’ve certainly… outdone yourself.”
You press the tip against her thigh, watching as her body tenses and her breath hitches. Slowly, teasingly, you trail it upward, letting it graze her glistening folds but never quite giving her what she wants.
You see all of her defiance falter the second you tap the tip against her clit. You do it multiple times, teasing her until she’s a panting mess, her chest heaving as her body completely betrays her.
And yet, her eyes stay locked on yours, burning with a mix of frustration and longing.
“Look at you,” you murmur, your hand sliding back to her throat, wrapping around it just enough to keep her grounded. Her pulse races beneath your fingers, and you feel her body relax into your touch, her submission becoming more evident with every passing second. “You’re supposed to be the powerful one, remember? The one who’s always in control. How does it feel to be at my mercy?”
She doesn’t answer—not with words. Instead, a broken moan escapes her lips as you finally push the tip of your cock into her. The sensation shoots through you like lightning, raw and electric, and you can’t stop the low hum that escapes your lips.
“So wet for someone who acts like she’s above it all.” you say, your voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Tell me, Agatha—do you always get this needy when you’re powerless? Or is it just for me?”
Her cheeks flush, and she glares at you, but the humiliation in her eyes only makes your smirk deepen. She tilts her hips toward you in an attempt to take more, the motion drawing a smug chuckle from your throat.
“Pathetic.” you mock, “You used to have me on my knees, begging for you. And here you are now, so desperate for my cock you can’t even hide it.”
Her lips part in a sharp, trembling intake of breath, her chest rising and falling as her wrists strain futilely against the glowing restraints above her head.
“You think you’re in control now?” she spits, though her voice trembles. “That this makes you powerful?”
You laugh, cold and merciless, leaning in until your breath fans across the shell of her ear.
“Oh, I don’t think.” you whisper, your words nothing but a cruel taunt. “I know.”
To drive the point home, you push deeper, and the wet, obscene sound of her body yielding to you fills the room.
She’s molten, deliciously tight, and her slick heat draws you in like a drug. Every inch you sink into her feels like a conquest, you can feel how her body stretches to take you, how her walls tremble and clench around the pleasurable intrusion, pulling you deeper as if begging for more.
The sensation is so vivid, so overwhelming, that a loud, unrestrained moan tears from your lips.
“Seems like I’m not the only needy one.” she murmurs, her voice trembling but cutting nevertheless. “Such pretty sounds for me.”
Her words strike a nerve, and the moment they register, your hips snap forward in one sharp, punishing thrust, driving the strap so deep your hips collide with hers.
The impact sends a jolt through both of you, her sharp cry echoing through the air before it’s cut off as your fingers tighten around her throat.
“Is that what you wanted? Mmh?” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to stay in control. “To be fucked like this? To feel what it’s like to be under me for once?”
She doesn’t respond, her voice swallowed by a series of breathless moans as you pull back and thrust in again, setting a slow, languid rhythm that feels more like a claim than a motion.
You want to break her—but not physically. Even now, even with the all this anger coursing through you, the thought of truly hurting her is unthinkable. You know you’re big, and despite everything, you couldn’t forgive yourself if you let the fury bleeding into your movements cause her pain.
Instead, you pour that intensity into control, into precision, into the way you angle your hips just right to drag your length against every sensitive spot inside her. The sound of her wetness grows louder with each thrust, mingling with the faint creak of the couch beneath you.
“Gods.” you murmur, your free hand gripping her hip to steady yourself. “You feel that, don’t you? How wet you are for me? How much you want this?”
Her head nods slightly, the motion almost instinctive, as if her body answers before her mind has time to process, before the final syllable of your last question even hangs in the air.
“Yes—fuck.” she whispers, the word trembling on her lips. “Yes, I—”
“Louder!” you command, your tone sharp as you feel it—a fresh gush of wetness enveloping you, slick and hot, pulling you in.
“Yes!” she screams, her voice cracking under the weight of her need. “I want it—I want you.”
Her admission is a spark to the inferno raging inside you, and you give in to it, your magic surging wildly.
Your pace quickens, your hips snapping forward with growing intensity, each thrust deeper and harder than the last, the slap of your hips against hers a relentless cadence of possession that blends with her cries.
Her wrists pull at the restraints while her back arches and her moans rise higher, each one a testament to your power over her, a surrender you claim with every punishing thrust.
Your gaze drops involuntarily, drawn to the mesmerizing rhythm of her breasts bouncing in time with your movements, and the sight instantly makes your mouth water. The memory of their softness, the way they felt against your tongue and lips, rushes back unbidden, igniting a primal urge to lean down and take one into your mouth.
But you catch yourself, clenching your jaw against the temptation. This isn’t about her pleasure. You’re not here to make her enjoy herself. You’re here to ruin her, to make her crumble under your control.
“Fuck, don’t stop.” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
Your eyes snap back to hers, a wicked grin spreading across your lips as your grip on her throat loosens, your hand sliding down to join the other on her hips. With both hands anchoring her in place, your pace grows ruthless, each thrust drawing louder and more desperate sounds from her.
Her walls tighten around you, squeezing your cock as the connection between you deepens, your magic tangling with hers in a way that feels both chaotic and inevitable.
And then, just as you feel teetering on the edge of release, you pull back, slowing to a maddening pace.
Your thrusts become shallow, deliberate teases that barely fill her, leaving her gasping and writhing beneath you. Her frustration is palpable, her hips bucking in search of relief, but you hold her steady, a cruel smirk curling your lips.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” you purr, each word dripping with satisfaction. “Just say the word, Agatha. Beg me, and I’ll let you come.”
Her body tenses beneath you, every muscle taut as she fights the command with everything she has, struggling to cling to the last fleeting semblance of control. Even as her thighs quiver and her hips twitch uncontrollably, her pride holds her back, refusing to surrender to you so easily.
But as each thrust reminds her of what she’s being denied, drawing out her torment, her nails curl into her palms, her jaw tightens, and her resolve cracks little by little under the relentless pressure.
Finally, her head tilts back, her voice breaking as the words tear from her throat. “Please—fuck… please, let me come.”
Her words ignite something feral and all-consuming. Power surges through your veins, setting your every nerve ablaze as you answer her desperate plea and resume fucking her with renewed vigor.
You slam into her with brutal force, each thrust hitting that soft, devastatingly perfect spot inside her that makes her entire body jerk beneath you. Her eyes roll back, her cries turning into incoherent, panting moans that fuel the raw, insatiable need driving your every motion.
“That’s it.” you growl, your hand sliding down to her clit. You circle it with fast, precise movements, your fingers slick with her arousal as you push her closer to the edge. “Come for me, Agatha. Come on my cock.”
Her moans climb higher, until they peak in a scream that tears through the air as the tension within her shatters all at once.
Agatha’s orgasm bursts forth like a supernova, bright and devastating, her walls clenching and spasming around you in rhythmic pulses that leave you breathless. She cries out your name, her voice splintering into a sob as her body quakes with the force of her release.
The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, her chest heaving as she trembles in the throes of ecstasy—is almost enough to undo you. But you don’t stop. You keep pounding into her, forcing her to take every inch over and over as you drive her higher, helping her ride out each wave of her climax.
And then, as you revel in the way she’s gripping you as though she never wants to let you go, and your own release threatens to overtake you, you falter.
Because her eyes—half-lidded, blown wide, and dark with need—lock onto yours, piercing through the haze of control you’ve clung to. Her lips part, trembling, and her voice cuts through the storm.
“Fuck—please, baby.” she gasps, each word breaking into a whimper that makes your stomach tighten and your magic throb. “Come inside me. I need it—need to feel it, need you to fill me up.
That’s it. Her words, how she begged for it, the pet name falling so effortlessly from her lips, the raw desperation in her voice, the sheer thought of filling her up with your cum, of watching her take every drop like she’s made for it. It’s all more than enough to tip you over the edge.
How utterly ruined she looks beneath you only adds to it, and whatever fragile grip you had on your restraint shatters instantly, obliterated by the force of her need.
Your hips snap forward in one last devastating thrust, burying your cock into her as deep as it can go, your climax slamming into you like an explosion.
And then it happens.
The magic within you surges implacably, a relentless flood that erupts deep inside her in thick, scorching waves. Each pulse of your cock forces more of your release into her, a molten rush that fills her completely. The bond between you roaring with life as your magic claims her from the inside out, leaving no part of her untouched.
Beneath you, Agatha’s body goes taut, her back arching violently as the blue in her eyes gets rapidly swallowed by a swirling, familiar, luminous purple.
You can feel her magic pouring back into her, she gasps as it all overtakes her, her body trembling violently as another orgasm tears through her. But this one is unexpected, different, and even more powerful than the first.
Her cry pierces the air, a sound of pure ecstasy and unrestrained power, unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It’s primal, otherworldly, and devastatingly beautiful. For a moment, you’re left breathless, unwillingly captivated by the sight of her. A vision that makes something inside you ache.
When the final waves of pleasure subside, you collapse onto her, your breath ragged, your body trembling with exhaustion and the lingering hum of magic.
The restraints on her wrists dissolve, fading into shimmering sparks, and her hands hover for a moment, uncertain, before they settle gently on your back.
Her touch is light, not hesitant but careful, as though rediscovering something long lost. And as your bodies press together, it feels as if no time has passed at all since you last lay in each other’s arms.
Agatha’s chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, her lips parted as her hooded eyes lock onto yours.
Her gaze is a labyrinth, a tangle of emotions so layered and profound it’s impossible to unravel. There’s no trace of defiance, no smugness, no sharp wit lurking in the corners. Instead, disbelief and shock hum beneath the surface, while a glimmer of something softer—gratefulness, maybe even devotion—burns faintly. And yet, woven through it all is an aching, unguarded longing.
It’s a silent confession wrapped in questions, and the absence of her usual masks, the sheer vulnerability staring back at you, stirs something deep in your chest, a feeling too overwhelming to even begin to name.
As you pull out of her, you catch how her hips twitch instinctively at the sudden emptiness, and the sound she makes—a quiet, needy whine—makes your breath hitch.
The cock dissolves in a flicker of shimmering light, fading back into the ether, but your eyes remain fixed on what it left behind.
You watch your cum drip from her, thick and glistening as it slides slowly down her folds. The sight is mesmerizing and utterly filthy, making a new rush of heat coil low in your stomach.
Agatha notices the shift in your gaze, lazily tilting her head to follow it. When she sees what’s caught your attention, a smug grin spreads across her face, equal parts infuriating and intoxicating.
“Hmm.” she hums, her voice a sultry drawl that sends shivers down your spine. “You always did know how to leave an impression, darling.”
She pauses, her grin deepening as her eyes flick back to yours, gleaming with sharp amusement. “Though I must say, I never expected to get my powers back this way… not that I’m complaining.”
As soon as you register her words your jaw clenches, a flush rising to your cheeks as frustration surges through you.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. The thought echoes in your mind, relentless and deafening. You didn’t plan this—hell, you didn’t even know you could do that, and the realization leaves you stunned, reeling.
You came here to break her, to strip her of whatever scraps of control she had left, to show her just how worthless she was without her power. You came here to make her pay.
But instead, as always, in the end, Agatha got exactly what she wanted.
The smugness etched into her face says it all. It’s infuriating. Humiliating. Maddening. Everything always plays out in her favor, no matter how the odds stack against her. The universe itself seems to bend for her, conspiring to deliver her victory, while you’re left choking on the ashes of your intentions.
And yet, even in your frustration, there’s a selfish, shameful flicker of satisfaction burning in your chest. You gave her back her power, yes—but you did it your way. Intimate. Indelible. Something neither of you can ignore or undo.
No matter how powerful she becomes again, no matter how she wields what’s been restored, she’ll always know who gave it back to her and how. She’ll owe you, whether she admits it or not.
In that way, you did make her pay. And the twisted irony of it feels like a cruel, bitter triumph.
Agatha notices the shift in your expression, the way your gaze has drifted into the distance as if lost in thought, and her voice slices through the haze with a softness that catches you completely off guard.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.” she whispers, her tone impossibly gentle, like a secret meant only for you. ”When you’re all mine.”
Her words land like a jolt, anchoring you back to the present and cutting through the fog in your mind.
There’s something in her voice, an aching sincerity you didn’t expect, that makes something deep inside you twist painfully.
But even if her tenderness disarms you, it still strikes a nerve, clashing violently with the anger and resentment still simmering beneath your skin. You cling to that anger desperately, using it to shield yourself from the confusion clawing at the edges of your control and threatening to drag you under.
“I’m not yours.” you snarl, but the words lack conviction, and you know she hears it.
Her grin returns, sharper now, as if she’s savoring your futile resistance.
“Oh, darling…” she whispers, her voice dripping with equal parts confidence and affection. “You’ve always been mine.”
You open your mouth to reply, to hurl another retort that might restore some semblance of control, but the words die on your tongue as her hand moves with startling speed.
Her fingers curl around the back of your neck, her grip firm yet trembling, and she pulls you down roughly, her lips crashing against yours before you can resist.
The kiss is instant chaos, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm. Her tongue slides against yours, hot and insistent, tangling and teasing with a fervor that steals the air from your lungs.
It’s wet, messy, the taste of her flooding your senses as she kisses you with the same confident, consuming intensity she always did.
But beneath the confidence, there’s something unspoken.
It’s in the way her body shudders beneath you, in the way her fingers dig into your neck, in the way her lips cling to yours as though letting go might unravel her completely. The vulnerability in her touch and the aching need in her kiss cut through the haze of anger, leaving you trembling and unsure whether the ache blooming in your chest is pain, longing, or both.
But right now, whatever it is you’re feeling, you refuse to linger on it.
You won’t allow her another second of your time, your presence. The very air around her feels oppressive, making it harder to breathe, and you know that if you stay a moment longer it will be too late to resurface.
With all the strength and willpower you can muster, you push yourself up, breaking away from her touch and from her warmth.
You wave a hand, conjuring back your underwear and pants in a blur of hasty magic, your movements jerky and unsteady while every fiber of your being screams at you to put distance between yourself and her. To leave.
Suddenly, the bond hums again, loud and persistent, gnawing and mocking at your resolve. You grit your teeth and force yourself to ignore it, taking a couple of steps toward the door, refusing to look back.
You’ll leave. You need to leave. You want to leave.
But with Agatha, it’s never that easy.
“Wait.”
It’s not a command. It’s not teasing or smug. It’s quiet, almost unsure, and that alone makes you hesitate.
You glance back over your shoulder, your voice sharp with all the frustration burning hot in your chest. “What could you possibly want now?”
She sits up slowly, still completely naked, making no effort to conjure clothes with the magic now thrumming through her.
“Answers.” she says, her tone smooth but tinged with a sly undertone, her gaze locked on yours with unnerving steadiness. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To finally hear the truth you think I owe you.”
She pauses, her lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile as her eyes flick downward to her still-bare body. “Especially after… this.” Her eyes return to yours, glinting with amusement. “I suppose it’s only fair.”
You fold your arms across your chest, your anger warring with the pull of her words.
“You owe me more than answers.” you bite back, your voice cutting and cold. “You owe me years of my life, years of trying to understand why you left.”
“And you’ll have them.” her voice softer now, almost disarming. “But not like this.”
Your eyes narrow, suspicion curling in the pit of your stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She rises slowly, her movements deliberate as she closes the distance between you. Her nakedness robs her of nothing—if anything, it sharpens her power, her control.
When she reaches you, her hand lifts to cup your cheek, her touch infuriatingly warm, a silent challenge wrapped in unsettling intimacy.
“Stay.” she says, her thumb skimming your skin with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. “We’ll talk. Over dinner. But only if you stay.”
You bristle at the condition, your pride flaring.
“Using my need for closure as leverage?” you ask, your voice biting. “How very you.”
Her grin returns, sharper now, but her eyes betray a flicker of something gentler.
“Oh, darling.” she purrs, her voice dripping with confidence, “I know you want this, so, let’s not play pretend. I’d say we’re well past that point, wouldn’t you?”
Your jaw tightens, the weight of her gaze making it hard to hold onto your anger. You hate that she’s right. Hate that you want to stay, that the bond between you has wrapped itself around your heart so tightly you can’t bear to leave.
“Fine. Dinner.” you say, your voice clipped. “But no games, Agatha. You owe me the truth.”
Her smirk deepens for a moment, a glimmer of mischief flashing in her eyes, before softening into a genuine, almost nostalgic smile.
“No games.” she whispers, her tone unexpectedly gentle. “Just dinner… like old times.”
You shake your head, as if trying to clear the lingering warmth of her touch. But it stays with you as you watch her move toward the kitchen, humming softly to herself.
As you follow her, you can’t help but wonder if staying will be your salvation or your undoing. But with Agatha, it’s never a question of one or the other—it’s always both, tangled together in a way that, after all this time, you’re starting to realize you were never meant to escape.
#agatha harkness x reader#agatha harkness x you#agatha harkness x female reader#agatha harkness fanfic#aaa fanfic#agatha all along fanfic#agatha x reader#agatha x you#agatha x y/n
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❝ I Reincarnated Into a Shitty Chirstmas Romance Movie and My Love Interest is a Yandere?! ❞
✎ featuring my creature, Ezra Valentine :3 this is just ezra being a weirdo, some lore for my game? idk blawg just read it and you'll find out
✎ special shoutout tags to these people @yandere-yearnings @forbidden-sunlight @moyazaika @bun3333s @yanderenightmare @cumtastiics @ozzgin
Your "childhood friend" is a bit of a weirdo, you think.
Staring at you for far too long, lingering touches that suggest that he's more than just a bit interested in you, and the weird random confessions about how he wants to get crushed under the heel of your right shoe...
It's just weird.
You've reincarnated into a shitty christmas romance movie. And your "childhood friend", aka the love interest, aka Ezra Valentine, has a crush on the main character, you. Obviously.
You don't even know why you watched this movie in the first place. Boredom, maybe? Yeah, probably was because you started dozing off after hour 1 of the movie. The movie was... 1 and a half hour long? It wasn't even rated that high. Like a... 6.9 at best.
And now you're stuck here all because you watched this shitty movie with an even shittier plot. Where the main character left the small town for a big city, came back home to celebrate christmas and meets childhood friend, decides to give up big city life because they both fall for one another.
Just like every other damn Mallhark movie. Predictable, boring, absolutely TRASH.
You don't even know why or how you got reincarnated into this damned movie in the first place! Did you fucking pass away in your sleep??? Actually just die from fucking boredom???
Well it's no use thinking about that now because you've been stuck in here for a while now. You think that you're maybe about halfway through the original plot, where Ezra and the old mc were supposed to have some bonding time together and shit. But that's not the case now, because you've changed the plot.
And you're realizing that this "childhood friend" of yours... Is acting a little bit differently.
You don't remember him being that much of a weirdo in the original movie. If you remember correctly,he was just like, a little bit of a shy loser boy who was infatuated with the MC and liked gaming. But now... Now he's, what, a masochist? Or did they just not add that fact into the movie? You couldn't have forgotten. If the love interest was openly a weirdo like he is to you, you wouldn't have dozed off in the first place. Just now, he literally asked to be crushed under your right shoe. Crushed. Under. Your. Shoe. How the hell is that boring? You'd be 101% AWAKE. You love freaks more than anything, damn!
Now that you think about it, he's more than just a bit of a weirdo.
He's been calling and acting like he's your boyfriend. Hell, he acts like a CLINGY boyfriend too. Asking where you're going, clinging to you, giving you those damned boba eyes everytime you talk to others, specifically dudes. Fun fact but you wish he'd stop abusing those eyes of his because fuck, how can you resist him when he's looking at you like that?
Worse of it all, you can't do anything. Not when your key out and helper, Ai, said to act cool and to not arouse any suspicion from him.
Ai's also another character in this movie by the way. His character trope: the hot side character that barely gets screentime and is also sentient. And right now, he's helping you find a way back to your world... Meanwhile you've been stuck in Ezra's apartment under the guise of a mandatory childhood bestie sleepover.
It's been days since you've actually last seen Ai in person because of how much Ezra, your "childhood friend", has been clinging to you. In just the past 3 days, he's made you watch the entire fnaf lore theory THRICE. And not once have you stepped outside his apartment. Not because you don't want to, but because he'd always find some bullshit excuse to keep you with him.
"O-oh but kitty you'd miss this very important scene... Where freddy goes hurhurhuhr"
"Kitty! Kitty you can't leave now! We have to watch it again! What? We watch it more times so it gets engrained into our brains! That's just common sense!"
"Keeping you h-hostage?! I'm not! All friend do this! It's just u-um, friend bonding time! We haven't been around each other in so long you know..."
It's weird. Just plain weird.
Thankfully you still have your phone so you could occassionally sneak a message or two to Ai, informing him of your current situation. As long as that black haired man baby doesn't see everything is fine...
y/n: currently watching a new video, thank gyatt for that
y/n: would actually jump if i have to watch more fnaf
y/n: erm... lowkey think this is worse though... its a video about danganronpa
Ai: don't worry, i'll be there to save you in a bit
Ai: i might have found a way to get you out of here
y/n: fr? ty for that silly goober :3 all while im chilling on the couch having some me time :333 ur so skibidi
"A-ahem! y/n who are you texting..?"
Shit. This damned guy! What does he think he's doing? Just popping up the second you finally have some alone time?! Wasn't he passed out from lunch just minutes ago???
"Erm... Just a friend?"
Ezra stares at you with wide round eyes, lps turning down into a frown before he sits uncomfortably close, pressing his long, lanky body against yours. Always the tall skinny guys that are the biggest weirdos man.
"Just a... friend?"
"Yeah, just a friend."
I mean, it wasn't wrong. Ai really was just a friend to you. Or at least that's what you think. To Ezra and his fucked up mind... Maybe you were abandoning him? And now he's jealous and might want to go batshit crazy on AI?
Haha! No way that would happen! Ezra, no matter how crazy he is, wouldn't go that far! He's just a loser who has an added interest in you now after all!
The look in his eyes say otherwise though.
"But I'm your friend, aren't I?"
Cold, dark, obsessive.
The way he stared at you sent literal chills down your spine. He had never looked at you in such a way before. Pathetic and needy, yes. But never this... Whatever the hell this was.
You back into the fabric of the seat, feeling a cold sweat line the skin of your forehead. All of a sudden, the room feels all too small and it's like you're trapped in his apartment with no way to escape.
It was suffocating.
"I'm the only friend you need. The only one you need, y/n."
You don't really recall a time where he's called you y/n so easily. It's always some stupid petname like kitty. And goddamn it, you wish he'd just say that instead. Hearing him call your name while he's staring into your very soul like this is making you feel like you're about to shit your pants.
"U-uh, okay dude chill out. You're my dearest friend, alright? Look let's jsut go back to watching that danganronpa analysis..."
And just like that, the terrifying aura IMMEDIATELY disappears and you're left with a sopping wet puppy of a man. You decide to make the first move, fiddling with the remote as you stand up and move close to the coffee table. Anythinng to gte away from this weird bipolar guy. How the hell did he develop this? A new character arc maybe?
In the midst of you trying to look anywhere but Ezra, you fail to realize that he had already taken your phone, leaving you with no way to contact Ai now.
"Now you'll never have another friend again..."
"What was that?"
"O-oh I said now you'll never be bored again! Haha!"
Right, totally what he said.
#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere concepts#yandere childhood friend#yandere childhood friend x reader#suiana rambling#suiana brainrotting#ezra valentine#The Time I Got Reincarnated Into a Shitty Chirstmas Romance Movie and My Love Interest is a Yandere!
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I know who you are! (Aaron Hotchner x reader)
summary: Knowing a lot about serial killer cases can come in handy when the new resident who asked for your number is a little too familiar.
tags: witness protection era!Hotch, hint of a soft!dom personality, children's book author!reader
It’s an itch in your brain that you can’t scratch. You know that you have seen him before, you just don’t know where. A coffee shop? A grocery store? It’s killing you, driving you crazy, but no matter how many nights you spend thinking, you just can’t remember. How could you forget someone like him? There is something about him, that rare smile, those warm brown eyes that you can’t stop thinking about.
Then, as you are watching an FBI press conference about a serial killer on the loose, you suddenly remember. Of course. Your little obsession with serial killer cases comes with a lot of these press conferences and interviews, that’s where you saw him. And his name… What was his name? Determined to find the answer, you begin to investigate, searching for articles and videos on the internet that luckily doesn’t forget.
And there he is, standing on the steps of a police station, wearing a suit that seems so strange compared to the casual clothes he wears these days. He looks extremely serious, strict, and in all honesty, you can’t blame him. What he did on a daily basis must have been a lot to handle mentally, especially if he had a son to look out for.
The next day you send him a text to find out when he’ll be home, and to your surprise, he replies in a minute, saying he’s there so you can jump in whenever you’re around. It’s been over a week since he asked for your number at his son’s soccer match, but you only texted and talked on the phone so far. Yet, even those were enough to let you learn a lot about him, and you grew to like this man.
When he opens the door with that stupidly handsome smile of his, you begin to wonder if revealing what you know is a good idea, but deep down you can’t help yourself. “Hey. So… is this you?” you ask with a cute smile, showing him a screenshot on your phone.
The blood drains from his face, and his suddenly serious expression tells you maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. He grabs your arm—surprisingly gently, so it won’t leave a mark—and pulls you inside, then presses your back against the now closed door. “Where did you find this?”
“I knew I’ve seen you before, but for days I couldn’t remember where. Then I saw a press conference with an FBI agent about a serial killer on the loose and bam! It came to me as a vision,” you explain calmly. You’re not afraid of him, because even though he definitely looks like someone who could hurt you, you can also tell that he has no intention to do so.
For a long moment he watches you in silence, but then he lets out a sigh and takes a few steps away from you. “Did you tell anyone about this?” he asks quietly, although his voice is laced with worry.
Without hesitation, you shake your head. You’re not that dumb. “You recently moved here with a fake name… Must have a reason for that. I don’t want to get involved, it has more to do with satisfying my curiosity. Now your reaction confirmed I was right, and the case is closed as far as I’m concerned,” you explain.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
He nods, then inhales and exhales slowly, his eyes carefully studying your face. The serious expression is eventually replaced with a much softer look, but he remains silent, as if he was trying to gather the confidence to say what’s on his mind. But it’s weird, he hasn’t struck you as the type of guy who lacks confidence. Quite the opposite, actually.
And then he speaks up. “Stay for dinner,” he says, his voice gentle and a little hesitant, as if it has been a while since he asked anyone out. Or was it that? You must be seeing a little too much into this invitation.
But then you realize what this is all about. “That’s your way of keeping me silent?”
He flashes a boyish smile at you. “Trust me, if I wanted to silence you, that’s not how I would do it,” he points out with a laugh.
“Was it a threat I should be afraid of, or… Never mind.”
“No, no, say it,” he tells you, the request sounding a little like it was an order. “Or what?”
You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, because why would you tell him what you were really thinking about? Hell, you feel ashamed for something like this even occurring to you, you won’t make things worse by saying it out loud. Maybe it’s time to leave, maybe this is the moment when you turn down the offer and walk out of the house with your dignity still intact.
Sadly, when you gulp and move to open the door, he steps closer to you and covers your hand on the doorknob with his to stop you. You must look like a deer in the headlights as you look up at him, frozen from terror because you feel trapped, but it doesn’t bother him, he just raises an eyebrow and waits for your answer in silence.
With a soft sigh, you try to pull your hand away from his, but he only tightens his grip around it. “It just had a weird edge to it, like the sentence had a kind of rated R meaning,” you explain, speaking so fast you hope he doesn’t understand a single word.
But he does. And that smug bastard is enjoying every second of your suffering. “Clever girl,” he purrs as he leans closer. “So, dinner. Now that you know who I am, the least you can do is take the time to one, tell me why you remember stuff like those press conferences, and two, give me some proper adult company.” The end of that sentence shocks you, but he sees the look on your face and quickly shakes his head. “Not that kind of adult company. Just a glass of wine and a conversation after Jack goes to bed.” You let out a sigh of relief, but that peaceful moment doesn’t last long. “Unless you want a different kind of adult activity, because…”
“Hey!” you warn him as you playfully slap his arm. “Just so you know, I spend my time writing children’s books, I need a hobby. Serial killer cases and horror movies are good for me.” He gives you a doubtful look, although there’s a teasing smirk on his lips. “What?”
“Be here at six,” he says as he finally lets go of your hand that slides off the doorknob. “And wear something nice for me.”
For a moment you only stare at him, but then you nod. Damn it, you can’t say no to this face. Anything you want, handsome.
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I love you
꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎
Pairing: Og8 X gn reader
Summary: When the public finds out you're dating your boyfriend, the fans have a lot to say.
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 4.7K
A/N: I have to admit, to whomever requested this, I made this a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I was originally going to. Some of these are a little more serious than others, but I layered a few jokes in, so I hope it makes you laugh. No matter if you date a k-pop idol or not, some opinions of people are just that; opinions (stupid and irrelevant) Live your best life and do what makes you happy <3
_ _ _
Chan:
“I could really use some inspiration,” Chan called over his shoulder. “So if you find yourself growing bored or getting cold or-”
“Not interested,” you mumbled. You took another sip of your drink and continued scrolling through your phone. You didn’t bother to look up when you responded.
Ever since Dispatch released a photo of you and Chan, the fandom was in shambles. Half of them were defending you and the other half was planning ways to end your life. Chan told you to ignore what people said, but it was about impossible to ignore when your social media accounts were being bombed every few seconds.
Every refresh sent new hate tweets and every time you opened Instagram, you were tagged in more and more photos. You had to turn off your Insta comments because they were flooded with hate. Ever since it happened, you’d been glued to your phone. Every new hate comment was another chip at your heart.
Chan was sitting at his laptop and working on stringing the vocals of another song together. Most of the song was being arranged by another producer, but he wanted the beginning to sound a certain way. Chains clanked, a certain whistle sounded, and then the bass dropped.
He’d been working at it for over an hour and he was expecting you to come curl into his lap like you usually did, but as time went on, you stayed behind him on the studio couch. He tried to focus, but it was driving him insane, he just wanted you for five minutes. You were too busy with your nose in your phone to notice.
He finally shut his laptop, stretched his arms above his head, and he let out a groan. He leaned back and kicked his feet to push him away from the desk. At any time, you’d take notice, rush over, and practically jump on him, but you didn’t.
He waited five seconds and then ten. Thirty trickled into forty and then he scraped his foot along the floor to face you. “Okay, what’s got you so obsessed that you can’t even look at me? You’ve been on your phone for so long. Did you find someone else to replace me?”
You finally glanced over at his voice. Your head slightly shook and you hesitated, but clicked your phone off. “I haven’t, but maybe you should find someone else to replace me. The fans are saying that you’re out of my league.”
“Those that are saying that aren’t my fans. Those are cunts that will-”
“You can’t call your fans cunts, Chan.”
“It’s the Aussie way!”
“It’s the way to get your ass in trouble if management hears you.”
“And that’s why they’re not here and it’s just us.” He opened his arms and sat back in his chair. “Come here. Come give me the love that I deserve. Let me love you.”
Your face softened as you stared at him. His hands clinked as he made grabby hands in your direction. “Come on! You know you want me. You want me soooo bad.”
“You’re a child, I swear.” You let your phone lay, placed your beverage on the coffee table, and headed over to him.
He giggled, wrapped his arms around your waist, and jerked you onto his lap. You barely had time to understand it before you were straddling his lap. He cooed and squeezed you tightly as he slightly rocked back and forth in the chair.
“Who’s the cutest of them all? You are. Who’s the prettiest and the best? You are.”
“You’re talking to me the exact way you talk to Berry.”
“And that’s why I know that you secretly love it. You always get cuteness aggression when I do that, don’t you?” He reached up and gently squeezed your cheeks in his hands. A baby voice slipped out and his dimpled smile grew.
You couldn’t help, but burst into laughter as the tip of his nose bumped yours and he gently tickled the sides of your torso. _ _ _
Minho:
“Are you praying or meditating?” Minho asked as he joined you at the breakfast table. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast was sat down in front of you. “You should finish quickly, preferably before your food gets cold.”
Your hands were clenched tight and you sat straight up in the wooden chair. Your nostrils flared as you sucked in a deep breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth. Your eyes remained shut as you finally spoke.
“I’m sending out a message to whatever grand and divine divinity is listening out there.”
“That’s new for you.” He grabbed a fork and scooped up a pile of yellowed eggs. “So enlighten me, what made you find religion at seven in the morning?” He took the bite and began to chew.
“May God give me the strength to not tell Minho’s fans to sit on my middle finger and swivel.”
He stopped chewing and his eyes grew wide. Your own eyes opened and met him. For a brief moment, the two of you held eye contact. It was quickly ruined by Minho’s bubbly laughter turning into a choke. Bits of half-chewed scrambled eggs hit your face and your look of disgust only made him laugh harder.
He swallowed the remnants, grabbed his napkin, leaned over the table, and wiped the moist bits away. “I’m so sorry, but you shouldn’t have said that while I was chewing. You could have waited until I swallowed.”
“This is their fault too.”
“What could they have possibly done to make you so enraged at this early in the morning?”
“One of your so-called fans went viral on TikTok. Take a guess as to why that was.” Your arms crossed over your chest and you scowled.
“Why?”
“Because they lurked on my Instagram and found a post that I posted two years ago. You know how I regularly volunteer at the animal shelter?” He hummed softly. “Well, they found that post and they found the caption where I admitted that I was a dog person!”
“And?”
“They’re ripping me to shreds for it! They’re claiming that we’re not compatible because I’m a dog person! Who does that? And they’re all on TikTok like-” Your voice grew high-pitched as you began to mock the comments that you recounted in your head.
He stared at you and a fond smile appeared on his face. Too engaged in your discourse, you didn’t realize how silly you sounded. You went on and on and on until he stopped you. “Are you done yet?”
You huffed and threw yourself back in your seat. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Definitely a dog person. If a cat person was in your situation, we just would have posted photos with more cats to piss them off more.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I didn’t ever imply I was going to help the situation. That’s called comedy. I might go on Bubble and agree with them. What about that?”
You glared at him and all he could do was chuckle. Without missing a beat, your middle finger went up. “Sit and swivel.”
“You first, sweetheart.”
_ _ _
Changbin:
“And you know what they say,” Changbin whispered as his eyes drooped. “A chicken breast a day keeps the muscles swole and slay.” Half asleep, his words turned into utter nonsense.
Meanwhile, your hands were on your cheeks in the bathroom attached to your bedroom. With the door wide open, you weren’t really paying attention to his words. You were focused on pulling your eyebrows up and pushing your nose down.
“Changbin?”
“No, Hyunjin hasn’t bought me my diamond ring yet.”
“Huh?”
He blinked and jerked upright in bed. His sleepy eyes found you leaning against the bathroom door frame with a frown on your face. “What did you say?”
“I called your name. Do my facial features look weird to you? Ever since the news broke about us dating, they keep calling me ugly. That’s the one prominent thing they keep commenting on.”
You glanced back to the bathroom mirror with a deepened frown. “Are my eyebrows the issue?” You stepped back inside, stood to the side, and sighed. A finger brushed down the slope of your nose. “Maybe that’s the issue?”
“No, Felix, you can’t crawl in my muscles and live inside of them forever.”
Your eyebrows narrowed as you jerked your head back to the room. Changbin’s head tipped down to his chest and his messy black hair sat in every direction. “What did you say about Felix?”
He groaned, his head jerked up, and he rubbed his eyes. “What about the fans?”
“They keep calling me ugly.”
“WHAT?” He kicked and scrambled, nearly tangling within the blankets trying to get up. The sound of a loud thud sent you running back to the entrance to check on him.
When you peered around the frame, he was pushing himself off the floor. “No, no, no!” Both of his fingers wagged as he marched in your direction. “I won’t stand for that kind of nonsense! Ugly? Maybe their personalities are ugly and just plain RUDE.”
“But they keep-”
“Nuh-uh.” He placed a hand on your hip and spun you around to face the bathroom. “I don’t care what they say. They’re not dating you and that means that their opinions are irrelevant.”
He bent down and scooped you up. Your arm went behind your head and you allowed him to carry you back to bed. He bent down, pulled down the blankets, and gently laid you down. “The two of us are going to bed because we’re sleepy and you know what?”
“What?”
“When people are sleepy, the opinions of others start to matter.” He pulled the sheet over you and then a blanket. “We don’t like when that happens, do we?” His head shook. “No we don’t, so we get some sleep.”
“Are you gentle parenting me, right now?”
“Shush.” He patted the top of your forehead fondly and added another blanket. Another blanket was followed by a final blanket and he stood back to take in the scene.
You were covered up your chin with all the heavy bedding. He nodded, walked towards you, and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “And what do we do when we’re sleepy and the opinions of others start to affect us?”
“We go to sleep, I think.”
“Do you know why?”
Your head shook.
“Because we don’t take criticism from people that we’d never go to for advice. That includes meaningless conversations online from faceless accounts. Sleeping also helps reset the brain, so when we can wake up, we can feel fresh and rejuvenated.”
“I like that quote.”
He hummed, walked around the bed, and crawled next to you. A hand shifted beneath your back and he tugged your body against his. “I like that quote too. Now please, go to sleep.”
“What’d you say earlier about Hyunjin not buying you a ring yet?”
“Shut up and sleep.” _ _ _
Hyunjin:
“Babe, it’s not that serious.”
Your heart clenched at the words and you swallowed the hurt in your throat. You stared at the phone in your hand, clicked it off, and gently laid it off to the side. Hyunjin just got home from work and all day, you’d been dealing with the aftermath of your relationship leaking to the public.
Horrible and terrible things were being said about you. You tried not to let it bother you, but things tended to be taken to heart. A few videos were leaked by fans who stumbled upon you and you and Hyunjin were in an argument over something stupid. The fans caught it on tape and since then, you’d been called a variety of curse words under the sun.
“Do you think I’m flawed for taking things too seriously?” You asked after a wave of silence broke between you. “Because even your fans agree, just by one video, that I take things too seriously.”
On the other end of the living room, his face fell. “I didn’t mean it like that. The argument that we were having, they don’t understand that we banter like that all the time. Just because you view life through a different lens, it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”
He pushed himself from the recliner and headed to your end of the couch. “I’m sorry for acting like it’s nothing. I’ve just learned that most fan discourse is to be ignored. They’re always assuming or seeing things that aren’t really there. It’s an endless void and if you let yourself drown in it, you’ll be miserable.”
“I didn’t consider that you’ve never dealt with issues like this before.” He plopped down beside you and tugged you into his lap. “Whatever they say and whatever stupidity that they come up with, it doesn’t define you. I wouldn’t be with you if I hated you.”
“Their opinions are irrelevant and a lot of what you’re hearing, it’s anger from their own insecurities. You were meant for me and that’s just how it is. I’m not meant to live a life following the opinions of others and neither are you.”
“My opinion was the right opinion,” you mumbled. “I just don’t see how they could agree with you over a stupid idea.”
He playfully scoffed. “Nuh-uh! Mine was the right one.”
“Who doesn’t like eggplants?”
He groaned and threw up his hands in disbelief. He shoved you back towards the arm of the couch and threw himself onto his back. “BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU? Were you born sick?”
You’d keep fighting him about this topic, not necessarily because you loved eggplants, but because you liked watching his theatrical reactions.
_ _ _
Han:
“Okay, you’re not talking and it’s really starting to freak me out. What more do you want from me? Honey? You’re not chatting like you usually do.”
“Yeah, I know.” You shrugged and let yourself relax against the porch swing. The metal frame had a canopy above it and the two of you were enjoying the last tendrils of the setting sun.
Milky pink, soft blue, and a dusting of fireball red swirled around the sky. Han was crisscrossed in his socks while he talked about his day. Usually, you’d be piping in with comments or asking him questions, but today, you just occasionally hummed.
You focused on the sky and you let your feet gently sway your body back and forth. He continued rambling and rambling and rambling. Usually, the two of you bounced from topic-to-topic, but when you didn’t utter a word after his third story, he frowned.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Mmhm.”
“Then why aren’t you talking? Are you mad at me?”
Your eyes found his and your head shook. “No, I just thought you might like it better if I was quiet for once. I don’t always need to be saying things and interrupting your conversations. We always change directions and I thought it’d be nice for you to finish a story without you being distracted.”
“But I love when the conversation diverts elsewhere and we talk about other things before coming back. It’s really fun and I like it.”
“Do you really or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
He pushed himself to sit up and let his legs fall to the ground. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Your fans think I’m too loud and too much. I guess I got worried that maybe you think that too. I get so happy and excited to talk to you. I don’t mean to be so loud, but I–”
“Don’t ever apologize for existing loudly. I love knowing you exist and knowing that you want to interact with me. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day, so please never stop.”
“You mean it?” You whispered softly.
“With my whole entire heart.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes slipped shut and you let your body relax. When he pulled away, his eyes twinkled beneath the fading rays of sunlight. “Can I do that again?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you again.
_ _ _
Felix:
“Babe! Babe! Babe!” Felix burst into your room beaming. “I did it! I did it! I’m not bronze anymore! I finally got a higher rank!”
Your eyes widened and you spun around in your gaming chair. On your head, your headphones sat on your ears and your microphone was on. You shot Felix a look of panic and his face fell. “Oh, shit,” he whispered.
Dating the love of your life was easy, but it was harder when you earned your living by streaming gaming content and Felix was an idol. With such public lives, the two of you weren’t sure how to break the news. Felix wasn’t even sure if his company would allow it, so when he found a significant other, he just never told them.
Awkwardly, he grimaced and backed out of the room. Your eyes squeezed shut as you internally cursed and spun yourself back to face the ongoing livestream.
“IS THAT FELIX FROM STRAY KIDS?”
“If the fans don’t kill you first, jyp will.”
“Holy FUCK, when did that happen?”
“And if I said that never happened and the stream glitched?” You laughed nervously and tried to play it off. Your eyes went back to your game and you tried to breathe and not panic, but it wasn’t working.
It didn’t help that when you glanced over, the chat was being filled with hate. People were fuming about you having a significant other. Others were fans of Stray Kids and they were pissed off that you of all people were dating their favorite idol.
“So how about we talk about something else? Like how you guys have been doing or literally anything else?” You forced a laugh, but it didn’t help. More and more comments were rolling in.
When you caught wind of more hatred, you blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Not to mention, the level you were playing, your character kept dying. Too shaken up by the events, your fingers weren’t as quick as they usually were.
After about five minutes of torture, the door to your room flung open and caused you to jump. You glanced back over your shoulder to find an angry Felix striding into the room. Before you could stop him, he pulled your chair away from your camera set up.
“Okay, that’s it, it’s me.” He got on his knees, so he was in the camera frame. “I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t be mean to my significant other in the gaming chat. They’ve worked so hard to get to this point and I don’t think it’s fair that you’re making this about me now.”
“Felix, you don’t have to-”
“Do you know how hard it is to date a gamer when you’re stuck on bronze?” He continued.
“You should date someone with a real job.”
Felix read the comment and frowned. Without missing a beat, he responded. “And I think you should get a real life instead of hiding behind a screen with a Skibidi Toilet profile picture.”
You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, reminding him that he didn’t have to do this. He reached up, gently placed his hand on top of yours, and squeezed you back. He didn’t have to do this, but he wasn’t going to let you deal with the masses alone.
He thought the Skibidi Toilet meme was stupid, so it felt like knocking down two birds with one stone.
_ _ _
Seungmin:
“Are you going to take a break anytime soon? You’ve been busy for the past few hours and I told you that I was going to take you out to dinner.”
“Could you give me another hour?” You glanced up from your spot on the floor. In your hand, a screwdriver and in the other hand, you were holding a shelf of a smaller book shelf that you were trying to put together.
“Um…” Seungmin’s head tipped and he frowned. “Yeah, I guess. Did you get a burst of inspiration or something? You’ve been working in this room the entire day. You stripped the carpet, you put in those hardwood sections that I told you I’d help you with. Now,” he gestured to the bookshelf, “you’re building furniture.”
You shrugged, “I just wanted to get our room prepared. It’s harder to move between an apartment and a house if the rooms aren’t ready, so I thought I’d just spend the day fixing it up.”
“But…”
“But?” You echoed.
He wanted to point out your short attention span and tell you that this certainly wasn’t like you. He wanted to ask if you were okay or mentally unwell, but you looked bored by the conversation. Your eyes continued to wander back to the instruction booklet to make sure you were placing pieces together properly.
“Never mind, just call me when you’re ready and we’ll go.”
You watched him spin around and leave. Your attention went right back to the bookcase. Ever since you caught wind of his fans calling you lazy, you were forcing yourself to be more self-disciplined.
Seungmin did it with such ease. Even when he didn’t want to do things, he pushed himself harder. Maybe that meant staying longer to learn a dance or it meant taking extra vocal lessons. Perhaps, it was just spending extra time in the recording booth to nail vocals. Seungmin seemed to get the whole self-perseverance thing, but you were different.
Tasks were more difficult for you to get through. Having a short attention span didn’t help and oftentimes, you found yourself getting distracted or doing other things. Motivation was hard to come by for you. You were trying to work on self-discipline, but it was a long process.
You were dubbed lazy by Seungmin’s fans after Seungmin made a light-hearted joke in the interview. He called you a homebody and joked that you were like a lazy cat, constantly curled up somewhere and not doing much. It never truly minded Seungmin and it was just a joke, but when the fandom heard it, they weren’t happy.
They didn’t understand how someone with so much go could date someone with such little motivation. It worried them and the lighthearted joke rolled into an entire hate train. Comment after comment was plastered on your feed.
Since then, you were trying to make yourself seem useful. You ignored the short attention span of yours and forced yourself to keep going. This was day one of what you had internally dubbed your new life.
A shriek a short while later sent Seungmin rushing back to the room you were in. You were there with a hammer and gripping your thumb while you cursed up a storm. He rushed to your side and gently grabbed your hand.
“Let me see it. What happened?” He pulled your now red and throbbing thumb away from your other fingers.
All you could do was hiss in pain. It took a few seconds before you could admit that you accidentally slammed your thumb, with the hammer’s head, while driving a nail into the side of the wood.
“Can you bend it?” Worried eyes found yours.
“I don’t even want to attempt to do that. It hurts so bad, I wish I was kidding. I can physically feel it swelling up.”
“Let’s put the restaurant on a rain check right now and let’s get you to the doctor.”
He pulled you up by your good hand and led you into the living room. It was there that he helped you slip into your shoes and began tying the strings. You watched him with a frown on your face.
“This is so stupid,” you mumbled, feeling mortified about everything. “Your fans were right and so were you. I have an awful attention span and maybe all I’m really good for is laying around and being lazy.”
He glanced up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t seen that your fans are hitting me with hate, have you? You made that joke last week and now I’ve become a failure in their eyes.”
“I have a lot to say about that, but I think we need to get you to the emergency room. Do you think the doctor will IV you? Maybe if I take a photo of it and ask for prayers, they’ll think you’re dying and then they’ll feel awful.”
“That’s incredibly petty.”
“Yeah, well, nobody gets to bully you besides me.”
_ _ _
Jeongin:
Jeongin’s arms reached out for you and then you dipped down. You ducked away, spun around, and began to talk about your day. Jeongin’s face puckered in displeasure, but he didn’t fight it.
“How was your day?” You asked once you were finished.
The two of you arrived home at the same time, just like usual. Your days were polar opposite, but it always led to different conversations. You were pretty stationary at your job, but Jeongin was constantly on the move.
“It was okay.” He reached out for your hand, but you tugged it away when you saw him reach for it. “The guys and I screwed around like usual. We started to learn a new dance and I think by the end of tomorrow’s practice, we’ll have it fully down.”
“That sounds amazing. You guys are really good at learning dances so fast. I don’t think I could ever do something that quickly. It takes me a few days to get the dance moves down.”
He hummed and reached out again, but once more, you ignored his outstretched hand and you side-stepped it. When you did it again, he finally reached out, grabbed your hips, shoved you forward, and then shifted you. When he was finished, you stared at him with wide eyes.
His hands remained on your hips and he pinned you against a living room stand. Your throat pulsed as you swallowed a loud gulp. His eyes met yours and they narrowed.
“What?” You finally uttered as you squirmed beneath his gaze. “What are you looking at me like that for? What did I do?”
“Are you playing dumb right now, or are you being serious?”
“Huh?” “You won’t let me touch you. I’ve tried to grab you a few times and you keep wiggling away, like you don’t want to be touched. Did I do something wrong yesterday?” He gently squeezed your hips. “I don’t know what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just…” You trailed off, not sure if you should tell him or not.
“You just what?”
“That video that leaked the other day, the fans think I’m too clingy. I don’t want to seem like I’m suffocating you. I know that you’re not so huge on skin-to-skin contact, but I also didn’t realize just how much I do it.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something just because I like it. You’re allowed to have boundaries in this relationship and if I’m clinging to you and touching you way too much, then I-”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
Your words halted immediately. Under the scrutiny of his stare, it was getting harder to stay still. You sucked in a deep breath and his fingers squeezed your hips once more.
“I know I’m allowed to have boundaries, but I’ve learned to like your touch. I don’t mind it if you’re constantly touching me. If you’re laying on me, curled around my arm, or just holding hands, I’ve learned that I really like it.”
“Are you sure?” You whispered. “Because truly, if you don’t like it-”
“I never admit it because of the guys,” he finally admitted. “If I admit that I don’t mind your skinship, the guys will be all over me. It’s already bad enough that the seven of them still view me as a helpless teenager.”
A smile cracked at your face. “It just means that they love you, Innie.”
“And I love them, but I also love being grown and being independent. Now enough of that, where’s my hug? My evening kiss? I’ve had a long day and I’d really like to be touched.”
“Words of a pervert,” you mumbled beneath your breath.
“What did you just say?”
“Spoken like a true perv-”
He cut you off by pulling you towards him and connecting your lips.
| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |
Taglist: @lia-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy
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#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#stray kids drabbles#skz fanfic#bang chan#lee know#lee minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz#skz fluff#stray kids fic#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfiction#skz x you#skz x y/n
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hey, emo boy! 🎸
synopsis: when you reconnect with your childhood best friend after finding out that he finally achieved his goal of forming a band, you’re introduced to their enigmatic guitarist—a man with an intimidating aura that both intrigues and unsettles you. a chance offer for guitar tutorial sessions brings you closer, and what begins as casual lessons quickly turns into something deeper as you exchange subtle yet intimate interactions. as your feelings grow stronger, so does the undeniable tension brewing between you, complicating a bond that was never meant to be simple.
pairings: guitarist!beomgyu x fem reader ; implied soobin x yeonjun??(just crumbs. don't expect much)
tags/warnings: smut but mostly plot, grinding, dry humping but no actual intercourse, use of pet names, strangers to lovers(?), beomgyu is whiney and gets jealous easily, soobin as y/n's roommate and kai as y/n's best friend, there might be more I forgot to mention- THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD!
wordcount: 13.8k.... i got carried away :((
fic below the cut!!
-----------------------------------
“Y/N! You awake yet?” the familiar voice of your roommate echoes through the surrounding walls of your shared apartment.
“Ugh, what does he want now....” you groan to yourself while you sit up, stretching your arms. You were just starting to wake up from what seemed like an eternal slumber.
“Yeah, what is it?” you reply while yawning, trying to imply that you literally just woke up.
“Can you please buy some eggs and bread from the mart nearby? We ran out, and I don't feel like having just bacon for breakfast.” the voice from the other side of the door responds, lowering his voice and almost muttering towards the end. You still heard it, of course.
You get up from your bed, slipping a comfy t-shirt on and tying your hair in a ponytail as you headed out of your room.
You slightly chuckle at the sight of your roommate preparing breakfast while wearing an apron with purple hearts on it. You noticed that his hair was a bit messy indicating that it hasn't been long since he woke up too, and the way the cute apron looked slightly stretched against his bigger frame, knowing he was at least 6 ft tall, wearing an apron that was clearly not made for someone of his size was quite a sight to see first thing in the morning.
“Did you hear what I said?” Soobin, your roommate, says as he shoots his sharp gaze at you while you were observing him, noticing that you looked amused at his interesting fashion choice.
“I heard you, don't worry.” you shrug. Your smile fading after seeing his clearly unamused expression. “Is there anything else you need?”
He shakes his head as a response and gets back to preparing the ingredients for breakfast.
“Alright then, I'll be right back.”
“Thanks, Y/N.” Soobin calmly says as you head back to your room to get changed.
As soon as you made it to your room, you quickly change into one of your favorite hoodies and baggy pants. You grab your phone after getting dressed and made your way out.
You were heading towards the local mart nearby where you and Soobin would often go to whenever you were missing a few items at home. You both would take turns doing housework, and it was Soobin's turn to make breakfast today so here you are, on shopping duty.
You scrolled through your phone with one hand while you stuffed the other in the pocket of your hoodie as you were walking towards the store. It was a 15 minute walk from your place, and you weren't going to get a lot of stuff, so you decided to walk. You knew you needed a bit of exercise to start your day, so this wasn't too bad.
Multiple notifications pop up at the top of the screen of your phone while you were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. You didn't pay them much attention, until one particular notification from your best friend catches your eye.
(9+ unread messages from Hyuka)
Assuming it was something urgent, you immediately tapped on the notification popup as he isn't the type to send this much messages to you unless it's important, considering you just talked to him last night right before going to sleep. Your eyes immediately widen after reading the thread of messages he sent one after another.
Hyuka:
(hey y/n so i just woke up...)
(GUESS WHAT)
(WAIT NO DON'T ACTUALLY)
(THIS IS CRAZY???)
(YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THIS.)
(you're the first one i'm telling this to so you better keep this a secret for now, ok?)
(I actually can't believe this, wait-)
(So remember when I kept telling you I wanted to start a band?)
(you may not know it but I personally asked a few people at school)
(AND GUESS WHAT?????)
(you've probably guessed it by now ik)
(BUT I DID IT!)
(I FINALLY FOUND PEOPLE TO START A BAND WITH)
(I can't share the full details here yet but I'll def talk to you about it when we meet, kay?)
(See you soon, y/n! <3)
Your surprised expression soon turns into a smile of relief as you could almost feel your friend breaking into your phone and appearing in front of you if he could just to share the good news with you. You knew how long he was waiting for this moment and he was just so eager about wanting to start a band so he could finally showcase his love for music, and share it with the world.
Hyuka was the nickname you gave your best friend, Huening Kai. You have been friends with him for God knows how long, even to the point where his parents would even treat you like you're part of the family and your parents would do the same for him.
You had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before he could reach his dreams, you've always known that he was a genius when it came to music. He would write the most poetic lyrics, play multiple instruments, make the most beautiful melodies, heck, he even wrote you a song for your birthday that you really liked enough to make it your ringtone at some point.
Knowing that he has finally made the first step to reaching his dreams of being in a band, made you feel nothing but proud of him. You witnessed his growth throughout the years, and you knew that he was capable of so much that the world needs to hear the songs he can come up with and know how talented he is.
Before you knew it, you already arrived at the store. You replied to your friend's messages, congratulating him before placing your phone inside the pocket of your baggy pants. You grab a small cart before heading straight to the aisle where you can find what you're looking for, since you've already memorized the structure of the place after shopping here so often.
You grabbed a tray of eggs and placed it on your cart carefully. You add in a few snacks here and there, and soon enough you get to the bread section. You just chose the usual bread that you guys have at home, plopping it unto your cart. You continued to look around, picking up some of them to take a closer look.
After much thinking, you decided to get Soobin a different type of bread aside from the ones that he will be using for the usual breakfast toast. It's a known fact for you that Soobin LOVES bread, he would always bring some home for him to munch on and share with you whenever he could.
You took your time choosing which one to get for him, especially after remembering the frown on his face during your encounter with him this morning. You thought to yourself that the stress from being student council president and having to work part-time on top of that must be getting to him, so getting him a few snacks wouldn't hurt.
You recalled Soobin's favorite had a sweet red bean filling. You also wanted to grab one custard cream filled bread for yourself. Thankfully, those two flavors were right next to each other. You extended your arm to get the bread, since they were at the very top of the shelves, yet you couldn't reach the top, even after trying to get them on your tiptoes.
Feeling a bit embarrassed at your multiple attempts but still not succeeding, you looked around, trying to find some help as it was too late to just back out from getting them. Fortunately, you had found someone in the same aisle just a few steps away from you, who at first glance was definitely tall enough to reach the top of the shelf and get them for you.
Your eyes landed on a tall and lean male with long, dark brown hair resting just right above his shoulders. His bangs were slightly covering his eyes, as he slightly lowered his head to look at the product he was holding in his right hand. You immediately notice his unique sense of fashion as he was dressed in a somewhat eye-catching way.
There were layers of silver and black accessories dangling around his wrists, and his fingers were wrapped in rings. He was dressed in an oversized black tee with a huge print of what seemed to be a band logo in the front, and black ripped jeans held together by the gray belt that was wrapped around his waist. Your eyes dropped down to his leather boots that went just up around his calf, that complemented his overall fit.
Remembering the messages you read from your best friend earlier, you immediately thought to yourself how this man you just saw looks like he would be in a band just perfectly. You couldn't help but be intimidated by the vibe he gave off. You were late to realize it but you stood there, eyeing the stranger from head to toe, slowly admiring him from a distance.
“Never seen someone that's dressed like this before?” the stranger now in front of you says nonchalantly, not even sparing you a glance while still examining the product he has been holding which immediately puts you back to your senses.
You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you blink twice and immediately shake your head, as if you just snapped out of a spell. Realizing that the stranger noticed how you were basically staring him down, you quickly rushed to defend yourself, worried that he might have misunderstood you when you had no ill intentions.
“N-no, of course not! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare... I actually think you're dressed really well. I mean, your style fits you a lot-” you ended up blabbering about how you liked his style before you even realized it. Your mind soon puts you back in your place, reminding you why you even turned to his direction in the first place.
“Wait, no, that's not why I was looking at you-” you sigh, a huge wave of embarrassment taking over you. You were lost in your words when you hear the stranger laugh, finding it adorable how you were a stuttering mess after he caught you staring at him and merely asked you a question.
He finally turns to your way, making eye contact with you and you immediately noticed his sharp features, a hint of eyeliner resting under his eyes, and with a closer look, you noticed that he has an almost angelic face despite the way he presented himself. You weren't sure if it was possible to be more flustered than before, but you were definitely not prepared to have an encounter like this in your local mart, on a random Thursday morning.
“I'm just kidding, don't worry. You just needed help with getting these, right?” he says as he walks closer to your direction, looking at the top row of the shelf.
You wanted to ask how he knew, but you could only imagine how he saw your countless attempts to get them for yourself before finally caving in and ask for help.
“Yes, please. Thank you...” is all you managed to say, looking down while feeling another wave of embarrassment crash upon you once again. You're just glad he was aware of the reason you looked to his direction, at least.
He stood right behind you as he reaches out to get what you needed. He moves his arms just above your shoulder carefully, making sure to not accidentally hit you while he picks up the packs of bread with ease.
“Here you go.”
You turn around to face him as he hands them over to you. You slightly raise your head to look at his face so you could thank him properly, and he shoots you over a smile. You felt your face getting warm after your eyes met.
“Thank you so much, and I'm sorry again, I hope you didn't get the wrong idea... I didn't mean to offend you in any way-” you start off, trying your best to dismiss the fact that the small distance between you was making you really nervous.
“I wasn't offended or anything, don't worry. I was just joking earlier, so don't take it too seriously.” he replies as he gives you a reassuring smile. You smile back at him in relief.
There was a small moment of silence as you both just stood there in front of each other, not saying anything.
“My name's Beomgyu, by the way.” the stranger introduces himself first, breaking the awkward silence.
You felt relieved and glad that awkward moment didn't last any longer. You have been feeling a bit uneasy ever since your conversation started, after all.
“What's your name, pretty?” he adds, the corner of his lips forming a slight smirk, while making sure to meet your eyes.
Getting flustered was one thing, but Beomgyu just managed to make you nervous at every point of your interaction with him. You weren't sure if it was because of his intimidating style, his unreal, almost angelic features, his deep and raspy voice calling you "pretty", the small distance between the both of you or just the idea of him flirting with you was making your heart beat faster and louder by the second, but you swore he could've heard it if you didn't answer him right away.
“I'm y/n.” you answered, smiling back at him, trying to cover up how you were feeling all sorts of emotions deep down at that moment.“You have a nice name, Beomgyu.”
He chuckles at your response and frankly sad attempt before replying, “Thank you. I like your name too, y/n. Will I be seeing you around?”
“Well, I live nearby and I usually go here when I need to get something in a hurry.” you hesitantly reply, unsure if this was the answer he was looking for.
“Great. I guess I'll start going here often then.”
You felt the heat rush to your cheeks once again from his response, and you immediately break eye contact. You attempt to laugh it off before responding.
“Sure, I might run into you again.” you mutter as you awkwardly laugh before looking away. You wouldn't even dare imagine the thought of seeing him here again.
You hear him chuckle for a bit before responding back. “I'll definitely say hi when I do. Well, I have to go now, I have practice in a few minutes. Guess I'll see you around then, y/n?”
Part of you was glad that you can finally get out of this situation, you have been feeling so overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions for a while now and you swear you felt yourself getting physically weak at some point, but a small part of you was also feeling sad that your encounter with Beomgyu had to end there, you just didn't want to admit it, of course.
“Yeah, see you around, Beomgyu. Thanks for your help, again.” you finally look back up at him and smile.
He smiles back and waves at you before turning to leave and walk away. You smiled back, waving your hands until you saw his silhouette disappear from your sight.
----------
“I'm back. Sorry to keep you waiting.” you opened the front door to your shared apartment with Soobin and soon found him lying down and facing sidewards in the small sofa that could barely fit him.
He sits up after he hears your voice and immediately reacts to the smell of his favorite bread. There were times you'd question if he was a bunny in his past life from how he acted around his favorite food.
“Did you get the red bean filled bread? Or am I just smelling things?” he looks up at you, expecting your response. You haven't seen him this alive ever since you woke up today.
You smiled while nodding as a response. He immediately gets up from the sofa and heads to your direction, rummaging through the bags of food you just brought from the store and he has a wide smile on his face after seeing that you got him his favorite bread.
“Thank you so much, y/n! You have no idea how much I needed this. Sorry for acting weird earlier, I wasn't having the best day.” he mutters while fiddling with the bread, feeling apologetic from how he acted earlier.
“That's okay. I got your back, Soobs.” you assured him as you gently tap his shoulder, letting out a small laugh as you noticed him cringe at the nickname.
You help Soobin move the stuff you brought to the fridge and decided to help out with preparing breakfast. He swiftly whipped up two servings of French toast with some bacon at the side which the both of you finished in an instant. Although your roommate wasn't the best cook, he definitely wasn't bad at cooking either. You're just glad you won't have to worry about cooking and washing the dishes for today, at least.
Soobin gets up and brings the used plates and kitchenware over to the sink, and starts washing them.
You help out in cleaning the table while he does the dishes. Teamwork makes the dream work, indeed.
“Hey, Soobin?” you start the conversation while you were both cleaning up, just to avoid any awkward silence, or at least that's what you convinced yourself. It was totally not because you couldn't stop thinking about your short encounter with Beomgyu at the store earlier.
Soobin responds with a small hum while he stays focused on washing dishes.
You hesitated for a bit. You started to question yourself whether you should bring up what happened at the store or not, but you decided to go for it anyway. It's your roommate of all people, surely he won't make a fuss about it, right?
“I'm just asking this because I'm curious, but does the name 'Beomgyu' ring a bell?” you continued, feeling a bit cautious of his response.
You heard him hum for a moment as if he was contemplating something before he finally answered.
“Beomgyu...? I would definitely remember someone with that name, but I don't think I've heard that name before. Do they go to our school?” You weren't sure why, but you felt somewhat relieved after hearing Soobin's answer.
Soobin was right. Beomgyu isn't the type of person you would forget so easily, so Soobin would surely remember Beomgyu right away when you said his name, if they actually have met before, you thought to yourself.
“No, I don't think he goes to our school. It was my first time seeing him at the store earlier. I just thought you might know who he is, since you know a lot of people at school and you visit the store more often than I do.” you explain after realizing it might have been a weird question to ask all of a sudden.
“Well, why do you ask? Does it matter if I knew who this "Beomgyu" is?” he coos, trying to analyze the situation.
Now realizing that it might have been a bad move to ask Soobin about it, you immediately stop wiping the table to look at him. You just noticed that he was done washing the dishes and he was now facing you while leaning back at the counter where the sink was.
“N-no, it's nothing. I was just curious.” you mutter, praying he wouldn't ask you any further but knowing Soobin, you knew the conversation wasn't gonna end there.
“Y/N, don't tell me....” he pauses for a bit and raises an eyebrow. “Do you li-”
(Now Playing: Ariana Grande - Daydreamin')
Before you could stop Soobin from completing his next sentence, the ringtone playing from his phone echoes through the kitchen and you let out a sigh of relief. You're just glad you didn't even have to try and end the conversation. Whoever it was, they had called just in time.
Soobin also sighs, slightly ticked off that he wasn't even able to finish his question especially after he was now curious who this Beomgyu was that you brought up out of nowhere.
He slightly taps his hands at the sides of his pants, making sure his hands were dry before picking up the phone. He opens his phone and you noticed how his eyes widened and his expression changed immediately after seeing the screen light up.
“Oh, right- I HAVE TO MEET YEONJUN HYUNG! SHIT!-” is all he managed to say while he panics for a bit before finally deciding to answer the call.
“Hyung! Sorry, have you been waiting long? I'll be right there soon!” your eyes followed Soobin as he dashed to his room, making you laugh at his antics. You weren't surprised as this wasn't the first time Soobin would act like this, especially after knowing it was from Yeonjun.
You haven't met Yeonjun yet, but you've only heard so much about him from Soobin. From what Soobin had told you, you knew that Yeonjun was a model, he was older than Soobin, and that he's someone that Soobin "owes a lot" to. That kind of explains why Soobin acts like a switch had just been flipped and he's on alert mode when it comes to Yeonjun.
You finish tidying up the table and head to the sink to wash your hands before heading back to your room and changing back into comfortable clothes.
-------------
“Here's your large iced vanilla latte, enjoy!” Soobin smiles, flashing his dimples as he gently places the drink to the small tray in front of him and hands it over to the customer. The girl standing in front of Soobin smiles back at him before taking the tray over to her table with her friends. You noticed her friends giggling and cheering for her while she makes her way back to their table. You let out a small laugh, thinking it was adorable that there are some customers who seem to like coming to the cafe just to see your roommate.
“The boss should really give you a raise. I think this is the third time I've seen that group this week.” You slightly nudged Soobin's shoulder and whispered, just enough for him to hear. He chuckles and shakes his head while feeling embarrassed, you notice his cheeks were flushed with a tint of red.
This scenario was all too familiar to you, and it wasn't a surprise that you've had multiple customers who visited the cafe for the first time, soon turned into regulars because of Soobin. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Soobin was tall and good-looking. He had the sweetest voice whenever he would talk to the customers, he had the most captivating smile that emphasized his dimples, all of which he was fully aware that he would use those to his advantage, and it worked like a charm every time.
You respected how Soobin was dedicated to his job despite being just as busy with his countless responsibilities as the Student Council President. You may have a hard time getting used to seeing this side of him, especially since he's your roommate, but you couldn't deny that he was certainly getting the job done.
You both turn towards the entrance of the cafe as the ringing of the tiny chimes hanging above the door catches your attention. Your attention is soon diverted to the tall figure entering the premises, along with two people following behind him.
“Y/N! Soobin hyung!” a familiar voice echoes throughout the cafe.
“Kai is just as cheerful as ever, huh...” Soobin whispers back, just enough for you to hear.
You greet the tall blonde with a smile, you felt your nerves immediately loosen up after seeing your best friend, Huening Kai. He was always such a comforting presence to you. It felt like the stress you've had from school and the hours of hard work you have been doing up til' now disappeared in an instant, after seeing him come to visit you.
You noticed an unfamiliar face scoot beside Hyuka, to get a better view of the menu displayed on the screen behind you. He was slightly smaller than Hyuka, he had black hair and he had boba-like round eyes that were looking eagerly at the screen, trying to decide what to order.
“I'll have an iced americano, please.” he said, turning to you with a smile. You immediately noticed how his features turned almost cat-like after you saw him smile. You smile back at him and nod, tapping on the small screen in front of you to take his order.
“How about you, Beomgyu hyung?”
You looked up at him again, thinking you might have heard him wrong.
Beomgyu? There's no way it could be the Beomgyu you thought it was, right?
You followed his gaze as he turned to the person behind him, and your eyes widened after seeing the third person standing behind the two men in front of you.
Talk about luck.
It was, indeed, the Beomgyu that you had in mind. The person you met at the store, wearing the exact same outfit you saw him in earlier. Except this time, you noticed his hair was a bit messier, his eyeliner was slightly smudged, and he wore a guitar case like a backpack, the straps looped over his shoulders and the case resting snugly against his back.
You thought to yourself that at first glance, Beomgyu does seem like the type to play the guitar, yet you couldn't help but be surprised after seeing him anyway.
“I'll just have what you're having, thanks.” he mutters while he scrolls through his phone, not even sparing the three of you a glance.
Did he not see you? Part of you had hoped for it, even though you knew that he would eventually, especially since Hyuka will be introducing you to the both of them in a bit.
You weren't too sure how to approach him now, after your first encounter at the store earlier. Should you just wait for him to talk to you first? Should you pretend to not know him? You felt the nervousness that you almost forgot about take over you again, and countless thoughts started to fill your mind.
“I feel like getting that too, so you can make that three iced americanos, y/n. Oh, and let me also get two chocolate chip cookies with that, please.” Hyuka completes their order with a smile, and you can sense that he was excited to tell you all about his new friends and the progress of their band.
You finish taking down their order and you repeat it back to them to confirm if you got everything correct before sending it over to Soobin. Hyuka gives you an approving nod and makes sure to thank you first before they head over to their table.
You head over to Soobin and you help out with preparing their order. You plated the cookies while he was in charge of the drinks.
“I don't think I've seen those guys before, are they Kai's friends from school?” Soobin asks while he fills the three empty cups with ice.
“I don't know, it's my first time seeing Hyuka with them either.” You shrug. Hyuka would usually visit the cafe by himself, and this was the first time he brought someone else that isn't his family. You glanced at their table as you continued to chat with Soobin but you immediately tensed up when you noticed that Beomgyu was looking at your direction.
Feeling embarrassed at the sudden eye contact, you immediately turned your head to Soobin, trying to hide your face that started heating up the moment you and Beomgyu's eyes met. You let out a nervous laugh as you carried on with your conversation with Soobin, hoping that Beomgyu didn't notice.
Soobin wraps up the order and nudged you to take a break in the meantime so you could catch up with Hyuka. You were about to refuse and tell him that you could do that after your shift ends in a few hours since Hyuka usually waits for you anyway, but Soobin insisted and he left to greet the next customer before you could say another word of protest.
Thankfully, it wasn't a busy day, and Soobin assured you that he could manage the work by himself. You promised him you would go back the moment it gets busy however, and he agreed. You would also cover for Soobin during the few times that he had to leave for something urgent in the middle of his shift, so Soobin would gladly cover for you too if the situation calls for it.
You took one glance at Hyuka's table and sighed. You were excited to finally catch up with your friend, but at the same time you were feeling nervous thinking about how it would go, meeting Beomgyu again like this.
You brought the tray containing the drinks and cookies they ordered and carefully placed it on their table. Hyuka gently taps on the empty seat beside him, signaling for you to come sit with them. You smiled at him before taking a seat. He shoots back a really cheeky smile at you in return.
Beomgyu clears his throat loudly, almost as if he intended to interrupt your little moment with Hyuka.
This catches your attention and you all turn to face him. You were surprised to see such a dark expression on Beomgyu's face, it looked as if he didn't want to be there.
“Alright guys, this is my best friend, Y/N. We've been friends for like, forever, that we're basically family now. Right, Y/N?”, Hyuka pauses for a moment and looks at you expectantly, and you felt a bit embarrassed, but you nod as a response, not wanting to let him down.
He smiles after seeing your reaction and continues, “And these guys, are my bandmates. The pretty one with the long hair right here is Beomgyu hyung! He's going to be our guitarist. I've only seen videos of him play before and I thought that he was really good, but after practicing with him and seeing it for myself earlier, I was even more impressed!”
You glance at Beomgyu's reaction and you noticed how he was basically turning red from the compliments and how enthusiastic Hyuka was about introducing him, that it made you giggle and he looked away while resting his chin on his palm as an attempt to cover his flushed face, feeling even more embarrassed. You were now especially curious to see how Beomgyu would play the guitar, especially after seeing your best friend shower him with praise.
“The cute one over here is Taehyun!” Hyuka adds and you look at the young man sitting across you.
“Please don't call me cute.” he looks at Hyuka straight in the eye with a serious expression which made the three of you laugh because doing that somehow just made him look even cuter.
“Alright then, my bad! The HANDSOME one, is Taehyun.” Hyuka retorts, still laughing
from Taehyun's response and emphasizing on the word handsome. “He is our vocalist! He's an amazing singer and he has exactly the perfect voice I had in mind for the songs I've made! Oh yeah, and he's the same age as us, but he's older than me for a few months so that technically makes him my hyung. But he insists that I don't call him hyung, so I just call him Taehyun.”
You and Taehyun exchanged smiles after Hyuka formally introduced you to them. You glanced at Beomgyu and your eyes met, which made you feel flustered. You still couldn't get used to Beomgyu meeting your eyes without feeling nervous.
You could make eye contact with Taehyun just fine, but not with Beomgyu for some reason, was it because you guys already met before Hyuka introduced them to you?
“And I'll be playing the drums.” Hyuka blurts out and you immediately turn to him with a surprised look on your face which makes him laugh. “What's with that look, y/n?”
“Nothing... I just thought you would be on the keyboard or you would play the guitar, too. I just never expected you to be the one to play the drums, really.” you muttered. You knew that Hyuka could play the drums, but it wasn't the instrument he played often so it was a surprise to you when he revealed that he was going to be their drummer.
He laughs before explaining that they needed a drummer, and he's the only one that could do it so he just went for it. He was just happy that he's finally formed a band, officially.
“How about you, y/n?” Beomgyu asks, and everyone's attention was on you now. “Do you play any instruments?”
“Well...” you were caught off guard by the question, and you weren't expecting Beomgyu to ask you that. You hesitate a bit before answering, “I know how to play the guitar a bit... Hyu- I mean, Kai, was the one who taught me how.”
Kai looks back at Beomgyu with an approving nod, looking quite proud of himself. Beomgyu on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, looking like he isn't satisfied with your answer.
“Really? We should play together sometime. I can teach you how, too.” he replied, raising the corner of his lips and forming a smirk.
There it goes again. You were starting to get used to the feeling of being flustered, nervous, and embarrassed whenever you spoke with Beomgyu. You immediately avoided eye contact after seeing how he responded.
“That's right, Beomgyu hyung is really good and I think he would be a great teacher. Plus, you're a fast learner so I trust you, y/n!” Hyuka adds, genuinely supportive of the idea. You saw Taehyun nod, agreeing with Hyuka. You laughed nervously, not even wanting to entertain the thought of how that would go, but you just couldn't say no to that now that everyone's basically on it. It won't turn out so badly as you're imagining it, right?
“Sure, maybe when we have some free time, I guess...” you muttered, in hopes of dismissing the topic there.
“Your number.” Beomgyu places his phone on the table, right in front of you. You look down at his phone, then back at him with a confused expression. “So I could text you when I'm free, and I can teach you how to play.”
You're just now realizing that there's no turning back, and that he was actually dead serious about this. You glance at Kai and Taehyun, trying to find some sort of way out from this, but to your surprise, you see Taehyun with a smile, giving you a thumbs up and Hyuka was covering his face with his two hands as if he was blushing, eyes wide, nodding his head furiously, urging you to go type in your number already.
Lastly, you look over to Beomgyu and he just shoots you a mischievous grin. Was this really a good idea?
You were hesitant at first, but you didn't want to make it seem like you were being forced to do it. A part of you was actually looking forward to it, you were nervous yet excited to imagine meeting up with Beomgyu, just the two of you, so he could teach you and you could play together.
You were starting to feel blood rush to your cheeks at the thought, so you immediately look down to face the screen of his phone and type down your name and number, saving your information in his contacts and quickly handing him back his phone. You were hoping they didn't notice how flushed your cheeks were.
“Y/N!” you hear Soobin's voice call you from a distance, and you turn to his direction, seeing a slight panic in his expression. You didn't realize how the cafe was starting to get full, and you took this as your chance.
“Oh no, its starting to get busier. I'm sorry, I need to get back to work, Soobin needs my help. Let's catch up next time. I'll message you later, Hyuka. See you guys around then!” you said, getting up from your chair in a rush and patting Hyuka's head before quickly heading back to help out Soobin with the workload.
Hyuka starts pouting after you pat his head, him and Taehyun starts waving at your back as you rushed to get back to work. You never noticed since you left in a hurry, but Beomgyu's expression immediately darkens after you left the table. Soobin notices this however, and catches the younger boy's glare at him, as if he did something wrong.
Soon after you arrive at the counter to help out, Soobin immediately thanks you and divides the workload.
“Was this a bad time to call you back? Sorry, it was starting to get hectic.” he whispers, feeling bad and worried at the same time, and he swore could still feel Beomgyu glaring at him then.
“No, no, it was the perfect timing. You saved me there, thanks.” you whisper back at him in relief, which makes him more confused, but he doesn't question it and the both of you continue working.
-------------
A few days have passed since Hyuka introduced Beomgyu and Taehyun to you at the cafe. Since then, you and Beomgyu have been messaging each other. He would also visit the cafe along with Taehyun and Hyuka from time to time, and you have started to feel more comfortable interacting with him, it no longer felt like you were walking on thin ice whenever you talked.
It was safe to say that you were slowly becoming good friends with Hyuka's bandmates, and Soobin also had the chance to meet them at some point. After spending some time with them for few days, you had soon found out that Hyuka and Taehyun were classmates, and it was Taehyun who asked Beomgyu, who is his roommate, to join the both of them to form a band.
Before you knew it, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you stood in front of the door to Beomgyu and Taehyun's apartment. You and Beomgyu both agreed that you would be meeting him today for guitar practice, since you both didn't have school and you didn't have to work during the weekends.
You open the front camera to your phone so you could fix your hair and check your outfit one more time. You didn't want to show up wearing something too extra or too simple, so you asked Soobin for help to choose an outfit. You both ultimately decided on a cropped tee, high waisted jeans, and a pair of converse high tops that matched your outfit. You also wore light makeup to complete your look.
You have been standing in the empty hallway of their apartment for a at least 10 minutes, trying to make yourself look presentable, adjusting the length of you shirt, fixing your hair, and doing a quick retouch to your makeup. You were just making sure that you looked decent, it's not like you were trying to impress anyone, right?
After a lot of hesitation, you took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell and looked around while waiting for the door to open. You felt like your heart almost dropped to the floor when the door opens after a few seconds.
You look up and see a half-awake Beomgyu running his left hand through his hair, while his right hand holds the door open. He was dressed rather comfortably, it was very different to the usual dark outfits he wore outside whenever you met him in the cafe with Hyuka and Taehyun. Beomgyu wore a plain white t-shirt under an oversized black cardigan, and a pair of black pants. You were used to seeing him in his usual dark and "emo" fashion, but seeing a different side to Beomgyu felt new, but you liked it.
He greeted you with a smile before you letting you in and you followed him to his room. You looked around while you nervously stepped inside his room as he closes the door behind you. He had a bunch of band posters surrounding the walls of his room and you noticed he had a shelf stocked with albums of his favorite artists. You saw that he had 3 guitars displayed at the corner of his room, next to a desk where he had a computer setup. You couldn't describe it very well, but Beomgyu's room felt very him.
“You can sit on my bed, I'll go get the guitar.” he says as he goes to pick up the guitar.
You nodded and sat at the edge of his bed carefully. Your eyes followed Beomgyu's back as he prepares the guitar that he will be using to teach you. You started to tense up, remembering the familiar feeling that you've had during your first encounter with him at the store, your heart was beating louder and faster, and you were starting to feel nervous again.
You weren't expecting to get nervous especially after you thought you were finally comfortable being around with him, but the idea of you and Beomgyu being alone in his room made you feel more nervous than ever.
You've been to Soobin's room before to get a few things, and you've always hung out with Hyuka in his room countless times, but why did this feel different? Why were you so nervous about being alone with Beomgyu in his room when you were just going to get guitar lessons with him? The more you tried to think rationally and calm yourself down, your mind wasn't helping you.
The edge of the bed dips down at Beomgyu's weight as he sits down cross-legged beside you, carrying the guitar and repositioning it just above his thigh.
“You okay? You look so nervous.” he says with a laugh as he looks down while tuning the strings of the guitar.
How did he know? Was it too obvious? A hundred questions filled your mind. You were worried you might be overanalyzing everything.
“Y-yeah, I'm okay. I'm just nervous because I haven't played in years.” you answer with an awkward laugh.
That was one of them, but you couldn't possibly tell Beomgyu that you were nervous because you're alone with him in his room, could you? You hoped he wouldn't question you any further.
“That's alright. I'm here to teach you, so don't worry.” he assures you, looking to your direction and he smiles after your eyes meet.
You smile back, feeling a bit relieved. Maybe you were just worrying over nothing.
“Besides, Taehyun won't be coming home today. It's just going to be the two of us.” he says with a hint of mischievousness in his tone. “You won't have to worry about making mistakes, no one's gonna hear them except for me.”
The feeling of relief didn't last long as Beomgyu's words echoed in your head like crazy. You were already nervous even before he told you that, and now you couldn't calm yourself down even if you tried. Your heart was racing and you felt your cheeks heating up.
Beomgyu notices the change in your expression, making him chuckle. You look away, feeling more embarrassed that he's teasing you about it.
“Let's start with something easy. I'll show you first.”
Beomgyu starts playing the guitar, soon switching between two chords simultaneously. You turn to him, paying attention to how he plays. He starts humming along the tune of the song as he strums up and down.
(Now Playing: 505 by Arctic Monkeys)
He plays up till the first chorus, stopping right before the second verse. You clap your hands, genuinely amazed from what you just watched. Hyuka was right. Beomgyu was really good at playing the guitar, and you just saw it for yourself.
Beomgyu chuckles and shakes his head, feeling a bit embarrassed at your reaction. He hands you over the guitar, and you follow him, crossing your right leg over your left leg, and you position the guitar on top of your thigh.
“I really haven't played in years, so don't make fun of me, okay?” you mutter and he laughs, finding you adorable.
“I won't, I swear.” he then demonstrates how to do the chords, placing his fingers on top of his arm, mimicking how he presses the string of the guitar. “These are the two chords you need to remember, first Dm, and then Em.”
You copy how he positions his fingers and apply that on your end, pressing the strings eagerly. You look at him, trying to check his expression if you were doing it right. He tilts his head slightly, muttering a silent hum before moving. He scoots over right behind you.
“Do you mind?” he asks first, and you were taken aback by his actions, but you shake your head, assuring him that you were okay.
Beomgyu leans forward, finally closing the distance between the both of you and he slowly wraps his arms around you, placing his hands on top of yours, guiding your left fingers to show you how to do the chords properly while guiding your right hand to show you the correct strumming pattern. Beomgyu hums while he plays the song again, this time showing you how to do it on your end as moves your hands gently.
You thought you would be okay, and that you wouldn't mind since he was just going to teach you how, but now you couldn't think straight. All you could think about was how he rested his chin on your shoulder, how his deep voice while he was humming along tickled your ears, how gentle his hands felt on top of yours, how you felt completely enamored with his scent and how you felt his warmth on your back as he embraced you.
You're not the type to engage in any physical activity with anyone, even with your family or your closest friends. You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that it was your first time being this intimate with someone, and it was with Beomgyu.
You had hoped he wouldn't notice how you were basically starting to sweat from the nervousness, or how the sound of your own heart beating was louder than the guitar playing in front of you. You bit your lower lip, in hopes of hiding that you were having a hard time breathing from how fast your heartbeat was going at this point.
You were quickly brought back to your senses when you felt Beomgyu stop moving your hands and you hear him laugh.
“Geez, y/n. Were you even paying attention?” he slowly pulls away, gently letting go of your hands before moving beside you, leaving you almost frozen in place. You pull yourself together, clearing your throat before responding.
“Of course I did.” you replied, trying your best to sound normal. You were still having a hard time calming down and regaining composure, but you didn't want to get more obvious by the minute.
“Really? Show me how it's done, then.” Beomgyu says, flashing a grin while crossing his arms, paying full attention to you.
You looked at him nervously one more time before looking down to check if you positioned your fingers at the fret of the guitar correctly.
“If you do well, I'll grant one wish.” he offers, and you look up at him, raising an eyebrow.
“And if I don't?” you question. He wouldn't say that without having a catch, would he?
“Hmm... if you don't,” his voice grows deeper and more serious as he pauses before slightly leaning forward, not breaking eye contact. “Then maybe I should give you a little punishment for it.” he adds, the corner of his lips curling up to form a smirk.
You stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process what he just told you. After you realized what he just said, you were about to retort him when he cut you off.
“Nah, I'm just kidding.” he pauses with a laugh before adding, “We will just have to keep going until you get it right.”
--------------
“Y/n- Y/N!”
You were immediately brought back to your senses when you started to hear Soobin's voice echo in the background, fading in as if you just started to snap out of something.
“Are you okay? What's going on? This is like the third time today that I've seen you spacing out.” he muttered as he puts his both of his hands on your shoulders while facing you, visibly worried.
“Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that.” you mutter and immediately get back to work. You hear Soobin sigh before he took his hands off of your shoulders.
You rummage through the counter before looking up to greet the customer waiting in front of you.
“Good morning! What can I get for you to-”
You weren't able to finish your sentence as you lock eyes with Beomgyu, grinning at you. You felt your cheeks go warm and your heart skip a beat.
For the past few days, you just couldn't seem to get Beomgyu out of your head, especially after your first guitar session with him. It has gotten to the point that even your roommate has noticed you spacing out multiple times, which was unusual for you since you wouldn't usually have problems focusing on work, studies and even on house chores.
You thought you needed to pull yourself together when the source of your unusual antics suddenly appeared in front of you.
“Good morning, y/n. I'll just get my usual order, thanks.” Beomgyu smiles at you, handing over the payment for his order.
“I'm on it. I'll send it to your table in a few minutes.” you smile back at him, an attempt to somehow cover up the fact that you were getting nervous again whenever you were around his presence. He nods at you as a response before heading to his table.
You turned around to get started with Beomgyu's order when you notice Soobin looking at you, raising his eyebrow as he leans on the counter with his arms crossed.
“What?” you chuckled as you question the judging expression on his face.
“I think I might have a feeling I know what has been on your mind these days since you started acting weird... or should I say, 'who'.” Soobin replies and he made sure to emphasize the last part.
“It's really nothing, Soobs. I just have a lot on my mind recently, that's all. I swear I'll do better today, so don't worry too much.” you shrug, clearly getting at what he's implying to you before leaving the counter and working on Beomgyu's order.
You knew that Soobin would be the first to notice these things, so you wanted to stop the conversation there before it turns into another nagging session from him. You were reminded of the few times you noticed how he started to act like he was your father or something, especially when you weren't being yourself. You knew he always meant well, you just weren't in the mood for it at the moment.
Soobin stared at your back as you walked away from him, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. He averts his gaze over to Beomgyu's table, and immediately gets taken aback when he sees Beomgyu glaring at him as if he was about to shoot daggers with his eyes. Soobin scoffs at the sight in disbelief.
You quickly finish Beomgyu's order, placing two chocolate chip cookies and an iced caramel macchiato onto the small tray. You slightly fixed your hair before heading to his table while carrying the tray that had his order.
As you walked towards him, you noticed that he was on his phone with wireless headphones resting on his head, covering both of his ears. Sunlight spills through the window, illuminating the little table where he was seated and perfectly emphasizing his defined features. Despite his dark-presenting exterior, you can't help but notice how his face looks so angelic. It almost felt like you were observing a painting.
He notices you getting closer and turns to you, smiling as your eyes met. You smiled back, hoping he wouldn't notice the tint of pink flushing your cheeks. He takes off his headphones and puts them down to rest on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck.
“Here's your cookies and iced caramel macchiato, Beomgyu.” you carefully place the cup of coffee and plate of cookies on the table, making sure not to spill anything or make a mess. He thanks you and smiled at him as a response.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” you say while you hold the now empty tray in your hands, about to turn around when he answered, stopping you in your tracks.
“You.”
Taken aback from his response, you looked back at him with a confused expression.
Did you mishear what he said? The grin plastered on his face when you looked back at him wasn't much help when you felt your heart skip a beat.
“Sit here with me. Let's talk for a bit.” he suggests, tapping the table as a gesture to invite you to sit down on the empty chair across him.
“Beomgyu, I'm-” you were about to decline his offer when he cuts you off.
“I know, but you always make time for us whenever we visit, and it's not that busy right now.” he looks around, observing the almost empty cafe. There were only three occupied tables, including his.
“Pretty please?” Beomgyu mutters. You were taken aback by the shift in his tone, and the change in his expression, especially how he looked up at you with almost puppy-like eyes that could convince literally anyone, you thought to yourself.
You sighed before placing the tray on the table and sat down facing him, taking him on his offer.
“Fine, but only for a few minutes, okay?”
He smiles at you before taking a sip of the coffee you prepared for him. You noticed how his eyes widened after taking a sip and he nods slowly while savoring the drink, implying that he approves of it.
You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction. Soobin usually prepares the drinks while you're in charge of the counter but today wasn't a busy day so you decided to do Beomgyu's order. You were just glad that he liked it.
“So, where's Kai and Taehyun? Don't you guys usually come together?” you asked, a hint of curiosity visible in your tone. This was the first time he came by himself so you wondered if something had happened.
“Dunno. I never got to ask them. I'm sure they wouldn't really mind, though.” he replies almost nonchalantly as he continues to sip on his drink.
Not quite the answer you were expecting to get, but you didn't question him further. You rested your chin on the palm of your hand as you turned to the glass window just beside the table. Outside, the city wakes up, people hurrying past, but here, in the small and cozy space of the cafe, time feels like it slows down. A short moment of silence fills the air.
“Aren't you going to ask me why I came here so early?” Beomgyu mutters after a while, breaking the silence.
You look at him for a moment before saying anything. He also rested his chin on the palm of his hand, except he wasn't looking out the window, but facing you directly. It was almost as if he was observing you, and silently admiring your features. The thought of him gazing at you intently sent your mind spiraling and you almost felt like your heart was going to explode.
“Alright then, why did you come here by yourself so early?”
Beomgyu leans forward, slowly closing the distance between the both of you with his face still resting on his hand.
“It's because I wanted to see you.” Beomgyu replies, still staring into your eyes. His gaze was somehow intense, yet it felt gentle. His voice was deep and soft at the same time that it almost sounded like a whisper.
You sat there with widened eyes as a fluttering sensation begins in your stomach, like tiny wings beating against the walls of your insides. A mix of excitement and nervousness runs through your veins, a feeling that is only too familiar whenever you were with Beomgyu.
Your cheeks and ears were warm and you felt a weird sensation all over your body. You swore if he could come any closer he could probably hear the raging sound of your heartbeat by now. His answer pierced through your ears, and you were once again intoxicated by the effect he had on you.
You immediately turned away, breaking eye contact before you could completely get lost in your thoughts.
“You know you could still see me even if you went with the others, right?” you respond, a desperate attempt at trying to keep calm and handle the situation you were in.
“I know, but I want you to pay attention to me, just me. This is different.” he responds almost immediately, and you could tell he was serious despite not looking at him just by the tone of his voice.
“Well, you got what you wanted, I guess...” you muttered and you heard Beomgyu chuckle at your flustered state.
Your heart flutters, each beat echoing in your ears. You glance around to make sure no one, especially Beomgyu, hasn't noticed. The feeling is both delightful and awkward, leaving you wishing to disappear and yet wanting to bask in the sensation a little longer.
“Did you two fight or something?” Beomgyu asks and you looked at him with a confused expression on his face. You noticed that he was facing towards the counter, looking at Soobin. You realize that he was probably referring to what happened earlier.
“You mean Soobin? No, we didn't.” you answered and you heard a soft hum from him as a response.
“Huh... weird. It sure seemed like it.”
“He's just looking out for me, that's all.”
“Soobin.... he's not your boyfriend, is he?” Beomgyu mutters while fiddling with the straw from the iced caramel macchiato.
You blinked, momentarily stunned by Beomgyu’s question. The idea of Soobin being your boyfriend seemed completely out of left field. For a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. You quickly shook your head, trying to clear up the confusion before it could spiral further.
“Uh… What? Soobin? No, no, of course not,” you finally stammered, trying to shake off the strange feeling of discomfort that suddenly settled in your chest.
“He's just my roommate. We're just friends, nothing more than that.”
Beomgyu looked at you for a long second, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he were searching for something you weren't saying. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he fiddled with the straw, and it clicked. It made you wonder if he was trying to figure something out, something about you, maybe.
Wait. Is he... jealous?
Your heart raced a little faster, and you couldn’t help but glance away for a second to collect your thoughts. Why was he jealous?
You had to admit, you hadn’t really expected Beomgyu to react this way. His usual carefree attitude seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something else. You couldn't ignore it anymore, the slight edge in his voice, the way his gaze kept flicking between you and Soobin, like he was trying to measure something.
“Beomgyu,” you started, your voice slightly shaky, “You don’t have to worry about Soobin. I mean, he’s just looking out for me like he always does. But there’s nothing between us, really.” You felt your cheeks heat up, and you prayed he didn’t notice how flustered you were.
His eyes flickered up to meet yours, but there was that familiar wariness in them now, like he was still trying to process what you were saying. “It just seemed like you two were...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. His eyes kept darting between you and Soobin, and you could feel his unease pressing against you.
Beomgyu cleared his throat, suddenly shifting in his seat. His eyes avoided yours now, focusing on the iced caramel macchiato in front of him as he stirred the straw absentmindedly, like he was trying to regain some composure.
“I... I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he muttered, his voice much quieter than before.“I was just asking.”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. It was as if he was backpedaling, trying to pull away from the conversation as quickly as possible.
“No, Beomgyu, it’s okay,” you said quickly, your voice a little more steady than you felt. “I just… I didn’t expect you to be so concerned. I promise, there's nothing going on between me and Soobin. You don’t need to worry.”
Beomgyu looked at you briefly, but his expression softened, his eyes a little unsure. “Yeah, I know,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.“I just... I don’t know. It seemed like you two were acting weird earlier, like—” He cut himself off, suddenly aware that he was still digging himself deeper.
“Anyway, forget I said anything. I’m probably just overthinking it.”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the flustered feeling bubbling up again. It wasn’t lost on you that Beomgyu was avoiding your eyes now, his usual carefree demeanor completely replaced with a subtle, almost embarrassed unease.
You couldn’t deny it—he was definitely jealous, even if he wasn’t openly admitting it. The realization made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.
You opened your mouth to say something more, to try to reassure Beomgyu that everything was fine and that his worries were unnecessary. But before you could get the words out, Soobin’s voice rang through the air, cutting off the fragile moment before it could go any further.
“Y/N!” Soobin called, his tone light but firm as he approached the counter. “Break’s over. You’re needed back at the register.”
You blinked, startled by the interruption. For a second, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, almost like you had been given an escape route before the conversation could get any more complicated. You didn’t know what you would have said next, or if you would have been able to keep your composure if the moment between you and Beomgyu had stretched on.
“Right,” you muttered quickly, the words coming out a little too fast. You shot a glance at Beomgyu, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. My break's over.”
You were about to stand up, already feeling the pressure of the conversation lifting, when Beomgyu’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch was warm and firm, but there was an unmistakable softness to it, like he didn’t want to let go just yet.
You froze, your heart pounding at the unexpected contact. Beomgyu’s fingers felt like they had a quiet weight to them, as though he was holding onto something that mattered more than either of you had acknowledged.
“Wait,” Beomgyu said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. His eyes met yours, and there was something deeper there, something more vulnerable than you’d ever seen from him before.
“Before you go... just... I don’t know. Don’t think I’m trying to avoid what we were talking about. I just—”
He stopped himself, like he was second-guessing his words. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was your chance to clarify things, to make sure he didn’t misinterpret everything that had been said. But then, that familiar tension crept in, the same kind of nervousness that always seemed to bubble up around him. You weren’t sure if either of you were ready for it to go deeper, but the connection between you was undeniable now.
You gave him a small, reassuring smile, trying to hide the nervousness in your chest. “I know, Beomgyu,” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything. We’ll figure it out, but right now, I need to get back to work.”
You felt his grip on your wrist loosen just a little, but he didn’t let go completely. His eyes softened, and you could tell he was still thinking about something, still processing everything you had said. He seemed torn, like he didn’t want to let you leave without resolving the unspoken tension, but at the same time, he knew he had to.
“Let's talk when you come over.” he said, his voice more steady now, though there was still a hint of hesitation. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”
You nodded quickly, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment at the way things had left off. Before you could second-guess yourself, you gently pulled your hand away from his, standing up and walking toward Soobin, who was now holding the door to the kitchen open for you.
As you passed by, you stole one last glance at Beomgyu, who was staring at the table, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his cup. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next, if his feelings for you were as complicated as they seemed, or if he would keep pushing them down.
Either way, you knew that things were changing. And for better or for worse, the dynamic between you and Beomgyu had just become a lot more complicated.
For now, though, all you could do was focus on your shift. Or try to, at least.
----------------------
A few days had passed since that awkward, yet strangely intimate, conversation with Beomgyu at the café. The words you had almost said, those feelings you were still trying to figure out—kept swirling in your mind, replaying over and over. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d thought about it the same way, if he felt anything close to what you had felt in that moment.
Today, you were standing in front of Beomgyu’s apartment door, your hand hovering nervously over the doorknob. The familiar flutter of nerves settled in your stomach, but this time, it felt different.
There was a weight to the air that hadn’t been there before—the unspoken tension between you both, lingering after that conversation at the café.
You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. You had been looking forward to this guitar tutorial session for weeks, but now, knowing that things might not be as simple as before, it felt harder than ever.
Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that you’d be fine. It was just a guitar lesson. Just like it always was.
With a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could meet the door, it opened.
Beomgyu stood there, looking just as you remembered: casually dressed, his hair a little messy in that endearing way, and that usual glint of mischief in his eyes. But something was different this time. There was a small pause as his eyes met yours—just a moment longer than usual, before he stepped aside to let you in.
“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm, though there was still an undercurrent of something unspoken between you.
You nodded quickly, managing a small smile, though your heart was still in your throat.
“Hey, Beomgyu,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you stepped inside, your hand lightly brushing past his as you entered his apartment.
The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into Beomgyu’s apartment, the familiar smell of his space greeting you, but today, everything felt different. The usual easy vibe between you two seemed a little distant, as if there were invisible threads tugging between you both that neither of you could quite untangle.
Beomgyu didn’t seem his usual carefree self—his usual teasing smile was replaced with something more guarded. His gaze flickered to you, hesitant, before he motioned for you to follow him.
“Let’s go to my room,” Beomgyu said quietly, standing in front of his living room with his hand on the hallway door, as if he was still trying to decide whether or not he was ready to address whatever awkwardness hung in the air.
You nodded, biting your lip as your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to bring up what happened?
Was he still thinking about that moment at the café when everything seemed to shift between you two?
You followed him down the hallway, and the closer you got to his room, the more nervous you became. The space felt smaller somehow, more intimate now that you were both stepping into it with this new, unspoken tension lingering between you.
Beomgyu pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you enter. The room was exactly as you remembered it—his bed pushed up against the far wall, a few posters of bands scattered on the walls, his guitar resting on a stand beside his desk. Everything felt oddly familiar, but the space seemed charged now, in a way it hadn’t before.
You hesitated before stepping inside, but Beomgyu quickly gestured for you to take a seat on the bed, which you did, sitting slightly at the edge.
“Uh, so... we can just start the lesson whenever,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual, not wanting to acknowledge the tension that was settling into the space between you.
But Beomgyu didn’t seem interested in starting the lesson just yet. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed in front of his chest. There was a noticeable hesitation in his posture, a stiffness that told you he was trying to figure out what to say.
“You know,” Beomgyu started slowly, his voice quieter than usual, “I’ve been thinking about what happened at the café.”
Your stomach twisted at the mention of it, the conversation you’d tried so hard to move past resurfacing unexpectedly. You blinked, looking at him, trying to push down the flustered feeling rising in your chest.
“I, uh, I didn’t mean for it to get so weird,” he continued, his eyes not meeting yours as he fidgeted with his hands. “But I just—I don't know, I thought... maybe I was being too obvious? About, you know...” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable, but you could hear the unease in his voice.
You quickly shook your head, trying to reassure him. “No, Beomgyu, it’s not like that. You didn’t make things weird,” you said, though you couldn’t quite hide the nerves in your voice.“It’s just... things have been a little confusing lately, that’s all.”
The words felt like they were floating in the air, hanging between you both. Beomgyu finally turned his gaze to you, and you could see the uncertainty there, the way he was searching your face for something—maybe an answer, or maybe just a sign that everything was okay.
“It’s not just that,” he said, his voice a little more serious now. “I—look, I don’t want you to think I was being jealous or anything, but... I was. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been acting like a jerk, right? I'm sorry, y/n.”
You weren’t sure how to answer, your heart hammering in your chest. Hearing him say it out loud, jealous, made something inside you tighten. Was that what this was all about? Was that why the air between you two had felt so charged, so different since that day? So he really was jealous?
“Beomgyu...” you started, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I just... I wasn’t expecting it either. I didn’t think you’d feel that way.”
Beomgyu’s gaze softened as he pushed off from the door and walked over to sit next to you on the bed.
His presence was warm, but there was still a tension there, lingering in the space between you. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still wrestling with what he wanted to say next.
“I don’t want you to think I’m being weird,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But I don’t want things to stay awkward between us, either.”
You could feel your heart race in your chest again, the unspoken words hanging in the air, thick with all the things neither of you wanted to say outright. You shifted slightly, trying to find a way to diffuse the growing pressure between you both, to make the conversation feel lighter.
“So,” you started, voice just a little too high, “About today’s lesson... What are we working on? Did you want to go over that new song you were learning?”
Beomgyu gave a soft chuckle at your attempt to change the subject, but it wasn’t one of his usual playful laughs. This one felt a little more resigned, like he was unsure whether or not to just give in to the moment. He turned his gaze toward you, searching for something in your face.
“We can work on the song,” Beomgyu replied, but his voice still held that quiet, heavy undertone.“But, honestly, Y/N, I don’t want to avoid what’s been going on between us. I don’t think it’ll go away just by pretending everything’s fine.”
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the air conditioning, and you wondered if he was just as nervous as you were.
Finally, he sighed, and you saw his shoulders drop, as if he were gathering his courage. He walked toward you, but instead of sitting beside you, he took a step back, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Beomgyu said suddenly, his voice low but clear. The words hung in the air like a confession, and you froze, unsure of how to react.“A lot. More than I’d like to admit.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, trying to process what he was saying. He hadn’t seemed like himself lately, and the fact that he was bringing this up now, in this quiet, vulnerable moment, threw you off. Was he really about to say what you thought he was?
“You’ve been on my mind,” Beomgyu continued, his voice growing softer but more earnest. “It’s been... hard to stop thinking about what happened at the café. I didn’t mean to come off like I was... jealous, but I guess I was. And I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t feel something for you. Something more than just friendship.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the weight of his words. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?
“I like you, Y/N.” Beomgyu admitted, his eyes finally meeting yours. There was no teasing, no playful glint in his gaze this time. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. “And I’ve been trying to hide it, but I can’t anymore. I... I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve been wanting to tell you, and I feel stupid that it took so long for me to say it, but I didn't know how.”
You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs as his confession hung between you two. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, and you weren’t sure if it was the proximity or the weight of his words making everything seem so intense.
“Wait... Beomgyu, I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t deny it—your heart had been racing every time he looked at you, every time you caught his gaze. The truth was, you’d always felt a pull toward him, but hearing him say it out loud made everything feel so much more real.
Beomgyu stepped closer, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how you were feeling. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I’ve been worried, Y/N. Worried that you wouldn’t feel the same way, or that it might ruin our friendship. But I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t want something more.”
Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. You’d thought about this moment before, what it would be like if Beomgyu ever admitted he liked you, if he ever acknowledged the feelings that had been growing between you two. And now, standing here in his room, it was happening.
It was all unfolding right before you.
“I’m not asking for anything crazy, or for us to figure everything out right now,” Beomgyu said, his voice a little softer now. “I just needed you to know how I feel. Because it’s been eating at me, and I don’t want to keep pretending like everything is just... normal between us when it’s not. Not for me, at least.”
For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the world outside fading away as everything settled into this quiet space. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was filled with everything you both hadn’t been able to say before.
You took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions flooding through you. There was so much you wanted to say, but the words felt tangled in your chest. You looked up at Beomgyu, his expression uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart ache.
“Beomgyu...” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about you too. More than I probably should. It's gotten to the point that even Soobin noticed, and that's... that's why you thought we were fighting that day, he was just worried because I was acting so weird. God, I couldn't focus on work because you kept getting in my thoughts.”
His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you could see a flicker of hope pass across his face. You took another breath, feeling your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t look away.
“I don’t know what this means yet,” you continued, trying to find the right words. “But I don’t want to ignore it either. I... I like you too, Beomgyu. I feel the same way.”
The words felt surreal as they left your lips, but the moment they did, the weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying seemed to lift. There was no more confusion, no more guessing. The tension, the uncertainty, it all seemed to fade in the wake of your admission.
There was a beat of silence before his expression seemed to shift, and a mischievous grin slowly tugged at the corners of his lips. The serious mood that had filled the room suddenly felt... lighter. It was like he was shaking off the tension, returning to his usual self.
“Well, well,” Beomgyu teased, leaning forward slightly as his grin widened. “I always knew I was irresistible.”
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Your heart still thudded in your chest, but now you couldn’t help but laugh a little at his cocky, teasing nature returning. His usual playful energy was back in full force, and it made you feel a little more at ease. He wasn't letting this moment get heavy, and it made you realize that maybe you didn’t have to be so serious either.
“Oh my god, Beomgyu,” you muttered, trying to hide the amused smile creeping onto your face. “You’re unbelievable.”
He chuckled, sitting down beside you on the bed and nudging you with his elbow. “Nah, I’m just being honest. I mean, who wouldn’t like this face?” He exaggerated a pout, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint.
“Alright, alright,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to stop laughing. “We get it, you're so charming.”
As Beomgyu's teasing continued, you couldn’t help but notice something unusual. His eyes, which usually had that dark, defining line of eyeliner, were... bare. The usual sharp, bold look was missing, and for some reason, it stood out to you more than it should have.
You couldn’t help yourself—your curiosity got the best of you, and you blinked at him for a moment, distracted from his usual antics. “Wait,” you said, squinting at him. “You’re not wearing eyeliner today.”
Beomgyu froze, his playful grin faltering slightly as he looked at you, clearly surprised you’d noticed. For a brief second, he seemed unsure of what to say, and then, in true Beomgyu fashion, his mischievous smirk returned.
“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back with an exaggerated air of casualness. “You'd have to observe my face really closely to notice something like this, though.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “It’s just that, you always wear it. But today... you’re not. You didn't have eyeliner on during the last time I came, too.”
Beomgyu shrugged, his expression shifting slightly as he looked at you with a glint of something more thoughtful in his eyes.“I don’t know. Maybe I just felt like going natural today.” His voice was light, but there was a hint of something beneath the surface, something you couldn’t quite place.
You narrowed your eyes slightly, knowing he was trying to downplay it. “Uh-huh. So you just happen to forget your eyeliner... whenever you’re alone with me?”
His eyes flickered to the side, and he cleared his throat, trying to mask his slight discomfort with more teasing. “Maybe I just like the idea of being a little more... natural around you. You know, showing the real me and all that.” He looked at you with a playful grin, clearly trying to make light of the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely fooling you.
You tilted your head, half-amused and half-curious.“Is that so? Or maybe you just don’t want me to see you looking too good for me.”
“Maybe I just think you’ll get too distracted if I look too good,” he shot back with a wink, though his words were softer than usual, his teasing tone lacking some of its usual edge. You couldn’t help but laugh, but you felt your cheeks flush a little.
“Right, because that’s totally what I was thinking about,” you teased back, your voice light but warm.“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to not wear eyeliner around me.”
Beomgyu grinned, leaning closer with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, now you know. And maybe you’ll get used to seeing me like this.” He reached out and poked you lightly in the side, trying to shift the conversation back to the usual playful rhythm. “Don’t be too disappointed, okay?”
You rolled your eyes, the hint of a smile still on your lips.“Disappointed? You wish.”
Beomgyu chuckled, clearly relieved that the teasing was easing the tension. “Okay, okay. Maybe I just didn’t feel like being all emo today,” he admitted, but there was a softness to his expression now, a kind of openness that made you feel like maybe this little moment meant something more.
You let out a small breath, your smile growing a little warmer. “Well, you still look good. Eyeliner or not.”
His grin widened at that, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I already knew that.”
You both shared a quiet laugh, the conversation turning into a more comfortable banter after the initial awkwardness had melted away. Beomgyu, now fully back to his usual playful self, leaned back against the bed with his arms stretched out, looking at you with that familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, winking as he stretched lazily. “Am I pulling off the ‘no eyeliner’ look or what?”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “You look fine without it, Beomgyu. But,” you said, your fingers brushing your chin thoughtfully, “If you really want to go back to your usual style, I could always do it for you.”
Beomgyu blinked, clearly taken aback by your offer. “Huh?” he said, his expression confused but intrigued. “You want to... do my eyeliner? Like, for me?”
You tilted your head as you looked at him, feeling a little sheepish but also excited to see if you could make it work. “I mean... I really think I could do a good job,” you said, shrugging a little awkwardly. “I’ve done my fair share of makeup to know the basics.”
Beomgyu’s eyes sparkled with amusement at your suggestion, but instead of teasing you like he usually would, he simply grinned and leaned back on the bed with his arms crossed. He gave you a thoughtful look, as if weighing your words.
“You really want to try it? Alright, I won’t stop you,” he said, his voice playful and low. Rising from the bed, he walked over to his desk, spun the gaming chair around to face you, and settled into it comfortably.
You felt a small rush of pride that he wasn’t dismissing your offer, and your hands twitched with anticipation.“Yeah, I do. I mean, you’ve always done it, so I think it’d be fun to try.”
Beomgyu smiled, but there was a glint in his eyes, like he was planning something. “Alright,” he said, his tone turning casual, “If you’re going to do it, though... you’re going to need to get closer. I don’t think you can do it from over there.”
You blinked, taken aback by his suggestion, but he wasn’t giving you much time to question it. Beomgyu raised an eyebrow and shrugged, his voice casual but almost inviting.“I mean, it’s kind of hard to get a good angle from the side, right? You need to be up close.”
Your heart raced a little at the sudden proximity. You had expected this to be a bit more... casual, but you weren’t sure why it suddenly felt a little different. Still, you didn’t want to back out now. You were genuinely curious about doing his eyeliner, and there was no harm in being closer for that, right?
“Uh... I guess that makes sense,” you said, hesitating for just a moment before you moved forward.
Beomgyu, noticing your hesitation, gave you a reassuring smile and gently patted his lap. “It’s really the best angle,” he said, his voice soft but with a slight teasing edge. “You can sit on my lap, you know. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable.”
You froze for a moment, a little unsure, but Beomgyu’s expression wasn’t demanding. It was calm, almost like he was offering an invitation instead of an expectation. He was giving you the space to say no if you wanted to.
As you hesitated, Beomgyu's eyes sparkled with amusement, and he patted his lap invitingly. “Come on, it's the only way you'll be able to get close enough to do it right,” he said, his voice low and persuasive.
You felt your face grew hotter as your heart fluttered in your chest, but you tried to brush it off as mere embarrassment.
Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself slowly making your way towards Beomgyu, your heart racing with every step. As you hovered beside him, Beomgyu reached out and gently guided you onto his lap, his hands on your hips sending shivers down your spine. As you settled onto Beomgyu's lap, you felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness. You had never done anyone's eyeliner before, and you were eager to try it out on Beomgyu.
“Okay, go ahead,” he said, his voice low and soothing as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on yours. “I'm all yours, y/n.”
Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the eyeliner, trying to focus on the task at hand. But it was impossible to ignore the warmth of Beomgyu's body beneath you, or the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
You began to carefully line his eyes, you notice how Beomgyu's gaze never left yours, his pupils seeming to bore into your very soul. Your skin prickled with awareness, and you felt yourself getting lost in the depths of his eyes. The air around the both of you grew thick with tension, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were reading too much into the situation.
Beomgyu would occasionally ask you if you were comfortable, if you needed to adjust your position, or if he was holding you too tightly. Each time, you would reassure him that you were fine, and Beomgyu would smile at you gently. The tension between you was palpable, but it was a gentle, simmering heat, rather than a raging fire.
You wanted to do your best, to make sure the lines were perfect and the wings were even. But as you leaned in closer to Beomgyu's face, you realized that your current position wasn't ideal.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” you mutter, looking up at Beomgyu with a hint of mischief in your eyes.
Beomgyu nodded, his expression curious, and you asked,“Can I change positions? I want to get a better angle and be more comfortable.”
Beomgyu nodded again, not thinking much of it. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he said, his voice casual. But as soon as you started to shift your weight, Beomgyu's eyes widened in surprise.
“Wait, y/n-”
You straddle Beomgyu's lap, your legs wrapping around his hips as you settled into a more comfortable position.“I'm going to need you to stay still, Beomgyu.” you taunt, voice firm but gentle, as you leaned in closer to his face.“I don't want the eyeliner to smudge.”
Beomgyu's face went bright red as he felt your weight settle onto his lap. He hadn't expected this, and his mind was racing with thoughts he couldn't quite process. He felt a surge of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness, but he was determined not to mess this up for you.
You noticed how Beomgyu held his breath, trying to remain still despite the turmoil inside him while you continued to work on his eyeliner. He couldn't believe what was happening, but at the same time, he didn't want it to stop. He felt your thighs wrapped around his hips, your hand holding his shoulder for support, and the way you tried to maintain your composure despite your arms clearly trembling while holding the eyeliner.
He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around you and pull you even closer, but Beomgyu was determined to let you take the lead and set the pace. So he sat there, frozen in place, as you worked your magic on his eyeliner. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe, for fear of ruining the moment.
As you continued to work on Beomgyu's eyeliner, the tension between you grew thicker and more palpable. Beomgyu's resolve to remain still and calm began to crumble, and he found himself getting more and more agitated. He couldn't take it anymore, the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his hips, your warmth and scent enveloping him, it was all too much for him. He was drunk in the thought of you, and he couldn't bring himself to hold back any longer.
“Beomgyu, I'm done-”
With a muttered curse, Beomgyu's hands shot out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a startled gasp as you felt yourself being drawn into Beomgyu's chest, your hands still holding the eyeliner hovering in mid-air.
Beomgyu's face was buried in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered apologies and silent curses. Your heart was racing as you felt Beomgyu's warm breath on your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around you.
As you shifted in Beomgyu's lap, your eyes immediately widened after you felt Beomgyu's strained hard cock, poking your core, and you couldn't help but let out a little gasp. You tried to pull away in panic, your hands pushing against Beomgyu's chest. But Beomgyu's grip was firm, as he held you close, his body trembling with restraint, as he whispered,
“Fuck, y/n- I'm sorry.... please, don't leave.. I'm sorry, I didn't-”
You felt your resistance begin to crumble as you heard his voice, breathy and desperate. You realized that he wasn't trying to hurt you or overpower you, he was just...lost. Lost in the moment, lost in his desire for you. You let Beomgyu hold you tightly with his arms wrapped around your waist, as he tried to compose himself.
You loosen your grip on your fists, slowly moving your hands from his chest up to his shoulders, and you let Beomgyu hold you. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, his heart pounding against your own. You didn’t know when it happened, but slowly, you stopped fighting the heat of the moment.
Instead of feeling embarrassed or self-conscious, you started to embrace it, letting your body relax into the tension and giving yourself permission to enjoy this closeness with Beomgyu. Before you knew it, Beomgyu's touch was starting to get to you, and your mind was taking you places.
“It's okay, Beomgyu... I-” you whispered, pausing for a bit to catch your breath as you started get lost in the situation too. “I'm not going anywhere.”
Beomgyu's lips were still brushing against your neck, his warm breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. The warmth in your body only grew as time passes, the both of you not uttering another word but your heavy breaths filled the air.
Your thoughts were racing, and a crazy idea suddenly pops up in your head. You hesitated for a moment, before biting your lip and leaning closer to him. Beomgyu feels you shift in his lap and your grip on his shoulder start to tighten.
“Um.. Do you want me to move..?” you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to hide your face in embarrassment.
Beomgyu's eyes snapped to yours, and he looked at you, feeling dazed with a mix of surprise and gratitude. “No, it's okay,” he said, his voice still low and husky. “I'll just...ah, try to calm down.”
You struggled to meet his gaze, feeling your cheeks heating up. “No, I-I want to..... let me help you, Beomgyu.”
Beomgyu's face turns red, and he looked like he was about to die from embarrassment. His lips parted for a moment to say something but he stopped himself before could. He looks at you straight in the eyes and you could physically feel yourself get weak, the ache in your already wet cunt only growing as he observed the mix of curiosity and eagerness in your expression.
After a few seconds, he nodded while his eyes were still locked onto yours. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, y/n... I need you.”
The sight of the desperation in his face and his breathy, apologetic voice was more than enough to ignite the flame that was already burning inside of you. You held him closer, resting your chin on top of his head attempting to relieve the heat in your core as you tried to tighten the embrace of your thighs on his hips.
The slight movement from you sends a jolt in Beomgyu's body, and he bites his lip, trying to keep himself from being too loud as he holds you closer and buries his face on your chest. You let out a small gasp, your cheeks heating up as you carefully adjust your position, feeling his hard-on press onto your underwear from below your skirt, the friction driving the both of you crazy.
“Y-you sure about this, y/n? We really don't have to do this if you-” Beomgyu asks hesitantly as he looks up to you, with a look of guilt and embarrassment visible on his face.
“Yes, Beomgyu. I want to do this with you.” You replied with a smile, trying to mask the fact that you were also nervous about what was going to happen next, but you didn't want Beomgyu to think you were unsure.
You started off by moving slowly, trying to test the waters first while asking Beomgyu every now and then if you were doing okay, you wanted to make sure that you were matching his pace and the both of you were feeling good. You kept one of your hands on his shoulders, and you moved your other hand on top of his, that was holding your waist.
“Beomgyu..” you whisper, catching your breath before finishing your sentence and pressing his hand on your waist tighter. “Y-you can move..me- if you want..”
Beomgyu nods before leaning his head back on his gaming chair, grunting and hissing in pleasure. His grip on your waist gets tighter and more desperate as he moves you to grind on him back and forth.
The wetness of your cunt leaking through your panties, mixed with Beomgyu's precum that was already staining his pants, felt more prominent and made it easier for you to move yourself on top of him. The friction in itself was already driving you crazy, but it still wasn't enough. You wanted to do more for Beomgyu, and you needed more of him.
Beomgyu would give you praises through it, he would tell you how beautiful you looked and how good you were making him feel, and before you even realized, you were already drowning in the feeling of ecstasy.
Your heavy breaths soon turned into whines of pleasure, the feeling of desperation and need for each other was constantly growing. You felt your movements get sloppier by the minute as you felt yourself about to reach your high.
“Shit, y/n... I'm close... you're doing so good for me.” Beomgyu mutters while he starts to move your hips against him faster and more aggressively, looking straight into you with half-lidded eyes. You match his pace, gripping his shoulders tighter as you continues to chase out your high.
“M-me too, Beomgyu...” You replied as you ran one hand through his messy hair. The way he calls your name with his deep voice echoes through your ears and the fucked-out look on his face only riled you up even more. You swore you could feel yourself release then and there.
You slightly tilted your head, and Beomgyu immediately catches your drift, closing his eyes as you leaned in closer to kiss him when-
Knock, knock.
“Beomgyu hyung, we're here.” a familiar voice mutters from outside Beomgyu's room, just behind the door.
“Beomgyu hyung! I brought pizza~ is y/n here yet?” another voice exclaims, and you heard footsteps coming from outside the door. You were certain that it came from Kai, while the voice before him was certainly none other than Taehyun's.
You and Beomgyu immediately stopped what you were doing and froze in place with your eyes wide open, as if you both just snapped out of a trance. Beomgyu's expression suddenly shifts after his sudden realization of what was going on.
“Oh fuck, I forgot I invited them to come over today...”
-------------------
taglist: @tubasmiracle @tyunzznluvr @interestellear-blog @no1likemybbgcharlie @hyunelixbun @dawngyu this fic is dedicated to my lovely supportive moots <333 lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!!
#txt#tomorrow x together#txt x reader#txt fanfic#txt hard thoughts#txt thoughts#txt imagines#txt smut#txt beomgyu#beomgyu#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu smut#beomgyu scenarios
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I’m not a kid! pt. 1 ✫ jeon jungkook
in which you’ve always had a hopeless crush on your brother’s best friend, Jungkook, who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t feel the same—until a family vacation forces buried emotions to the surface.
CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! age gap, arguments, jungkook is an ass with reader, just a kiss...
NOTE: i’ll upload part 2 later… someday!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)
part 1, part 2.
The salty breeze of Busan’s coastline always carried the scent of the ocean and the faint cries of seagulls circling above. The city was alive with contrasts: the bustling fish markets that lined the shore and the quiet charm of the winding streets that climbed up the hills.
For Jungkook, Busan had always been home. The neighbourhood where he grew up wasn’t particularly special, but it was familiar—a place where kids spent endless summers playing soccer at the nearby park. That’s where he first met Minho.
Minho, your older brother, was the kind of boy everyone gravitated towards. He was a social butterfly while Jungkook was a shy eight-year-old, reluctant to join in but unable to resist Minho’s easygoing charisma.
“You’re on my team, Jeon,” Minho had declared one afternoon, tossing a worn-out soccer ball to Jungkook without waiting for a response.
From that day on, the two were inseparable. They shared everything: snacks bought from corner stores, secrets whispered during sleepovers, and dreams about what they wanted to be when they grew up.
That’s how you came into the picture.
You were Minho’s little sister, always tagging along, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. You were the sunshine to Minho’s confident energy, with an eternal optimism that made everyone crack a smile. But to him, you were just Minho’s sister—someone to tolerate because you came with the package.
Instead, over the years, your bubbly nature and obvious admiration for Jungkook became harder for him to ignore. You lingered on the sidelines of their soccer matches, offering water bottles and clapping too enthusiastically when he scored a goal. You laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t funny and gave him small, thoughtful gifts on his birthday—things like handmade keychains or little notes tucked into envelopes.
And while Minho teased you endlessly about your obvious crush, Jungkook’s reaction was always more severe. He hated it—not because he didn’t like you, but because he didn’t know how to like you. That made everything infinitely more complicated.
So, he did what he thought was best: he pushed you away.
NINE YEARS AGO…
The evening had the magic that only Busan nights could conjure: warm, salty air and the soft glow of lanterns strung along the bustling street-side restaurant.
Your family and the Jeons had planned this dinner weeks ago, a casual gathering to catch up and enjoy good food before Jungkook left for another training session in Seoul.
“I’m moving to Seoul,” he announced some years ago at your family’s barbecue, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just shattered your world.
Your heart sank.
“For what?” your brother asked, genuinely curious.
Jungkook’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. “To be a trainee. BigHit is giving me a shot.”
You froze, the words hitting you harder than you expected. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t even hinted at it. That night, you cried alone in your room. You felt betrayed: that was your only dream since childhood. Eventually he left Busan to become a trainee, which had made you wonder if you’ll ever have an opportunity in the industry.
The long, wooden table was nestled under a canopy of fairy lights, with plates of grilled fish, spicy tteokbokki, and steaming bowls of jjigae scattered across its surface. You sat beside Jungkook, not by choice but because the seating arrangement had worked out that way. Your mother was chatting animatedly with Mrs. Jeon, and your brother Minho was in a heated debate with Jungkook’s older brother about which soccer team was superior.
You couldn’t focus. Not with Jungkook so close, his presence filling the air between you. He was dressed casually in a black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly messy from the seaside breeze. He was scrolling through his phone, barely acknowledging you, but you could feel the heat radiating from his shoulder whenever it brushed yours.
As the clock neared midnight, the temperature dropped. You rubbed your arms, the thin pink cardigan you’d worn doing little to ward off the chill. You tried to focus on the conversation, but your shivering gave you away.
“Are you cold?” your mom asked from across the table, concern in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, forcing a smile.
But you weren’t fine, and Jungkook noticed your trembling.
Later, when the two families were chatting, you hesitated for a moment and then glanced at him. “Can I… borrow your hoodie?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
“Your hoodie,” you repeated, trying to sound casual. “I’m freezing here.”
He stared at you for a second longer than necessary, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, without a word, he pulled the hoodie over his head, his black t-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a toned stomach. You quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks.
“Here,” he muttered, holding it out to you.
You slipped it on, the fabric warm and smelling faintly of his cologne—a mix of citrus and vanilla. It was far too big on you, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but it was comforting nonetheless.
“Thanks,” you said softly, stealing a glance at him.
He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It’s just a hoodie.”
But as the night went on, you noticed little things. How he subtly shifted closer when the breeze picked up. How his knee brushed against yours under the table, and he didn’t pull away. How, when he thought no one was looking, his gaze lingered on you a second too long.
And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just a hoodie after all.
That dinner had stirred something in you. Maybe it was the way Jungkook had handed you his hoodie without hesitation or the bubble gum scent on it. Whatever it was, the feelings swirling inside you.
SEVEN YEARS AGO…
It all started at one of Minho’s infamous parties. The room was crowded, music pumping, and you tried your best to enjoy yourself but the thought of being there just because you were Minho's sister made you cringe. That was until you saw Jungkook laughing in the corner with his friends. He had got back from Seoul a few days ago because his company gave him some free days.
Your chest tightened as you saw him. It was impossible to ignore how Jungkook’s carefree laughter carried across the room, pulling you into a spiral of softness. You retreated to the kitchen, determined to drown your emotions in a cup of punch. That’s where Juwon found you, one of your brother's friends.
"Stop pouting," he teased, ruffling your hair. "What’s wrong, kid?"
You shrink at the thought of being called a "kid". "I’m not a kid," you snapped, pulling away. "And nothing’s wrong."
Juwon didn’t believe you, but before he could pry further, Jungkook walked in. His sharp jawline, dark eyes, and smirk made your heart skip a beat.
"Juwon-ah," Jungkook greeted casually before his gaze flicked to you. "What’s with the long face? Did someone steal your crayons?"
Your jaw tightened, and Juwon chuckled. "She’s sulking about something. Probably got dumped." You glared at him, but Jungkook’s smirk only widened.
"Dumped?" Jungkook tilted his head mockingly. "You’d have to date someone for that to happen, kid."
That was the last straw.
"Stop, I’m not a kid!" you snapped, slamming your cup onto the counter. "I’m not some little girl you can just mock whenever you feel like it, Jungkook!"
The room went silent, tension crackling between you. Jungkook’s smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. Juwon shifted uncomfortably, sensing he’d made a mistake by staying.
"Alright..." Juwon muttered. "I’m leaving you two to... whatever this is." When he left, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.
"You’re really something, aren’t you?" he said, his voice low. "Always so desperate to prove yourself. What are you trying to prove this time? That you’re all grown up?"
You felt the sting of his words but refused to back down.
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually apologize. Instead, he muttered, "You’re too young to understand."
"Stop using that excuse!" you shot back. "I’m not a kid anymore, and you don’t get to decide how I feel!" The argument hung in the air like a storm ready to break. Jungkook opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, his expression darkened immediately. He went closer to you, his height suddenly making the space between you feel even smaller.
“Are you kidding right now?” he asked, his tone cold. Your noses were almost touching.
Your heart sank and you closed your eyes. “I… I just want to be serious with you. For once.”
“Serious?” His voice rose, sharp and cutting. “Kid, you'll never be.”
The words hit you like a slap. You blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanour.
“I don’t need this,” he continued, his frustration spilling out. “I don’t need you trying to play house or whatever weird crush you’ve got going on. Stop wasting your time on me. You’re just a little kid.”
Your chest tightened the sting of his words bringing tears to your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The cup you were holding was long forgotten.
"You’re... impossible, stubborn, and way too good for someone like me." Your breath hitched as his hand brushed against yours.
"Kook..."
He pulled back suddenly, as if afraid of what might happen next. "We can’t," he muttered, more to himself than to you. But before he could walk away, you grabbed his wrist.
"You’re an idiot," you said, tears pricking your eyes. "But if you walk away now, you’re proving me right."
Jungkook froze, his expression conflicted. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours. He began to kiss you, gently biting on your lower lip trying to make you open your mouth. You’ve never, in your whole life thought Jungkook would be kissing you.
The kiss was messy, desperate, and everything you’d imagined it would be.
One hand on your waist gripping you tightly as his other hand is gently holding the side of your face. His hands are constantly roaming over your body, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.
Jungkook began to press kisses along the length of your neck, stopping just above your jawline.
“That feels nice,” you blushed.
He chuckled as he leant in towards you, brushing his hand against your cheek. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his voice shaky.
Once again, his eyes travelled to your lips but before he could kiss you he turned quickly, rushing back into the living room before you broke down completely. It was better for you to stop caring about him now than to keep chasing something he couldn’t give you.
Or so he thought. That was the first time Jeon Jungkook kissed you and the first time he made you cry.
That night, sitting alone in your room with tear-streaked cheeks and a heart that felt both shattered and strangely free, you made a decision: it was time to focus on yourself.
Becoming an idol had always been your dream. You remembered the exact moment you decided this was what you wanted—a moment of clarity during a school talent show when the cheers of the crowd and the spotlight on you felt like home.
But dreaming of something and pursuing it were two entirely different things.
When you told your family you wanted to audition, they smiled indulgently, thinking it was a phase. Your brother, ever protective, had scoffed, telling you to "be realistic." Jungkook, who was still part of your life, had smirked and asked, "Do you even know how hard life my is?"
And he was right.
Auditioning for agencies was gruelling. There were days when you faced rejection after rejection, each one feeling like a crack in the foundation of your confidence. You’d wake up at 5 a.m. for practice sessions, juggling school, part-time jobs, and long hours of singing and dancing in a cramped studio. Every week, you had to convince yourself to keep going when everything in you screamed to quit.
The hardest part, though, wasn’t the physical exhaustion—it was the emotional toll.
Friendships began to slip away, you missed birthdays, family dinners, and countless moments that made your hometown feel like home. Moving to Seoul for training was bittersweet. You were chasing your dream, but it felt like leaving behind pieces of yourself.
Training wasn’t glamorous, either. There were days when your trainers yelled at you for missing a note or a beat, and you’d spend nights in the dorm crying into your pillow, wondering if you’d ever be good enough. Some trainees around you gave up, packing their bags and leaving without a word. But you stayed because deep down, you knew this was what you were meant to do.
And then, one day, after years of relentless hard work, you got a call from BigHit. You had been selected to debut. You and the four other girls you’d grown close to over endless practice hours were going to be idols.
But with debuting it came him.
Jungkook had debuted first, of course, with BTS. And every time you crossed paths at the company, at award shows or music programs, he made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about it.
It was a surreal moment as you and your group—Mimi, Sky, Nari, and Yunjin—stepped into the large studio for the BigHit family photoshoot. The air buzzed with energy as staff members rushed to set up lighting and cameras. You were dressed in coordinating white outfits, your makeup and hair perfected to the last detail, but none of it stopped the nervous flutter in your stomach.
The nerves only intensified when you saw BTS already gathered near the set, their laughter and chatter filling the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them; in fact, you’d met the members long before they became global sensations, back when Jungkook was still a trainee.
Taehyung and Jin had always been the most welcoming, making an effort to befriend you during those early, uncertain days of training. You had countless memories of Taehyung showing you silly tricks to lighten your mood and Jin bringing snacks to share after practice sessions. Even now, they greeted you with warm smiles, as if no time had passed at all.
Taehyung waved enthusiastically as you approached. "Look at you! All grown up now."
You laughed, cheeks flushing. "And you haven’t changed a bit, Tae."
But the moment your eyes landed on Jungkook, your breath hitched. He stood near the backdrop, hands tucked in his pockets, looking impossibly good in his fitted suit. His gaze met yours briefly, and he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.
You had seen him a few weeks ago at a family lunch back in Busan, but every encounter still carried a weight you couldn’t quite shake.
"Alright, everyone!" The photographer clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention. "We’re starting with the full group shots. BTS and our newest girl group, together."
Your heart sank. You weren’t sure you could survive being this close to Jungkook, especially under the teasing gaze of your members and his.
As the groups began to arrange themselves, chaos ensued. Jin insisted on being in the middle, Taehyung joked about needing his best angle, and your leader, Mimi, declared she wouldn’t stand anywhere near Namjoon because he was too tall. Amid the commotion, you somehow ended up right next to Jungkook.
You tried not to panic as you felt his body press against your back in the cramped arrangement. His arm brushed yours, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Y/N," Sky whispered, barely containing her laughter. "You’re blushing."
"Shut up," you hissed back, but your cheeks betrayed you, turning even redder.
"Look at them," Jimin teased loudly, his voice drawing everyone’s attention. "Our maknaes! Should we make room for you two?"
"Park Jimin," you groaned, burying your face in your hands.
Sky and Nari joined in, giggling as they exchanged knowing looks with BTS’s members. Even Yoongi couldn’t resist chiming in. "Let’s make a maknae photo. Everyone else, move aside!"
The teasing only worsened as the photographer tried to get everyone to focus. Jungkook remained quiet through it all, his expression unreadable, but you were hyper-aware of his proximity.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.
"Enough," Jungkook said, his voice firm but not harsh. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him.
He looked down at you, his expression softening. "Let’s just take the photo, okay?"
You nodded, too flustered to say anything. The teasing subsided after that, and the rest of the shoot went smoothly, though you couldn’t stop your heart from racing every time Jungkook shifted beside you.
As the session wrapped up, Taehyung leaned over and whispered in your ear, "He still cares, you know."
You didn’t respond, but the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence and the memory of his quiet defence stayed with you long after the photoshoot ended.
The photoshoot felt like a blur in your memory, but one moment lingered vividly—Jungkook standing beside you, his quiet presence both overwhelming and grounding. When he had stepped in to silence the teasing, you’d felt a warmth you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just his defence but the softness in his eyes, the unspoken understanding that had stayed with you.
Since then, things between you have been… complicated. Jungkook was still distant most of the time, his words often cold, but there were cracks in his armour. Small, fleeting moments where his gaze softened or his words carried a hint of something deeper.
Now, backstage at the award show, the weight of his presence pressed on you like a phantom. You hadn’t exchanged more than a glance, but his impact lingered, just like it always did.
“Okay, so who’s the most nervous?” Nari teased, trying to break the tension as your group sat in a quiet corner.
“Not me,” Sky declared, though her knuckles were white around her water bottle.
“What about our maknae?” Mimi leaned closer to you. “You’ve been off all morning. Thinking about Jungkook again?”
You groaned, rolling your eyes as the others giggled. “I’m not,” you lied, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.
“You totally are,” Yunjin added, poking your side. “He’s got you all flustered, and he hasn’t even spoken to you yet.”
Before you could respond, Taehyung and Jimin appeared, their easy smiles immediately lightening the mood.
“Ladies, looking stunning as always,” Taehyung greeted, his tone playful as ever.
Jimin offered his signature kind smile. “Nervous? Don’t be. You’ll do great.”
Their presence was a welcome distraction, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Taehyung dramatically declared, “We’re here to protect you from Jungkook’s glaring.”
But the laughter was short-lived. Across the room, Jungkook leaned against the wall, his sharp gaze fixed on you. When Jimin ruffled your hair, earning a bright laugh from you, Jungkook’s jaw tightened.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the performance ahead. But just as you steadied yourself, he approached the group.
“Hey,” Jungkook called softly.
Everyone turned, surprised to see him standing next to you, his expression unreadable but his tone lacking its usual sharpness. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards your group's dressing room.
“Don’t let me ruin this for you,” he said, his voice so low you could bearly hear him. “You’re… good at this. Just do your thing.”
It wasn’t an apology for everything, but it was something.
Your eyes searched his, looking for any trace of malice, but all you found was a flicker of uncertainty. For the first time in what felt like forever, his walls seemed to lower, if only slightly.
“Thanks,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.
As he walked out, Yunjin sidled up beside you, a knowing grin on her face. “What did Jungkook say?”
“Nothing important,” you lied, though your heart told a different story.
“Sure,” she teased.
The words stayed with you as you stepped onto the stage, ready to perform. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the same boy you’d once known, but beneath the cold exterior, there was still something there. Something worth holding onto.
The night of your group’s single release party was supposed to be a celebration. The venue buzzed with excitement, filled with industry friends, labelmates, and staff. Your group were the stars of the evening, basking in the glow of your latest success. You’d worked tirelessly for months, and now, you deserved to let loose.
You flitted around the party, sharing laughs, clinking glasses, and posing for photos with everyone who came to congratulate you. But a familiar tension brewed in your chest, one you tried to ignore as much as you could.
It didn’t help when Jungkook and his members arrived.
You didn't expect him to come, even though he’d been the first on your personal list. Yet there he was, standing near the bar in a sleek black outfit, grey jeans and an oversized t-shirt that fitted him nicely. His gaze found yours almost instantly, but he didn’t approach. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, sipping his drink and chatting casually with Hoseok.
“Babes,” Sky called, tugging you out of your thoughts. “You good?”
“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”
But the truth was, Jungkook’s presence threw you off. The history between you—complicated and unresolved—lingered like an unspoken storm. His quiet indifference always hurt more than it should have.
As the night wore on, you avoided him, focusing instead on celebrating with your group. You danced, laughed, and tried to push him out of your mind. But when you stepped outside for a moment of air, the cool breeze hit you, and so did the realization that he’d followed you.
“Couldn’t even last the whole party?” Jungkook’s voice carried a teasing edge, but there was a hesitation in his tone.
You scoffed, not turning to face him. “Why are you here, Jungkook?”
“To congratulate you,” he said, stepping closer. “Big night for you and the girls.”
You turned to find him standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. “Funny,” you muttered. “Didn’t think you cared.”
“I care,” Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been avoiding me since the meeting in the backstage.”
You laughed bitterly. “And you’ve been ignoring me for years. Why do you care now?”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was palpable, years of unresolved feelings bubbling to the surface.
“I don’t ignore you, kid.” He said finally, his voice quieter.
“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I think we’re okay, you push me away again.”
His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost guilty. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple,” you pressed, the frustration you’d bottled up for so long finally spilling out. “If you don’t want me in your life, just say so. Stop playing this game, Jungkook. I’m tired.”
His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Kid... I never wanted you out of my life.”
“Stop calling me 'kid'” you demanded, your voice breaking. “Why do you act like I don’t matter?”
“You matter,” he said, stepping closer. “You matter so much it scares the hell out of me.”
The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw. Your heart pounded as he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. You pulled away, tears brimming in your eyes.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered, your voice shaking.
“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours. “But I don’t know how to let you go.”
You stepped back, creating space between you. “You need to figure it out, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep doing this.”
The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, but neither of you said another word. You turned and walked back into the party, leaving him alone in the cold night.
"Let me take you home," he said. His tone was strong, not what you were used to. Still, the ride to your flat was silent, you sitting in the front with Jungkook while faint music played on the radio.
Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white. “You think you mean nothing to me?” You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.
Jungkook rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.
Although he would never admit it.
"I got them!" You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Jungkook in the eye for the first time since the party.
"Thank you," he didn't want to hear it. After all, you were just his best friend’s sister.
"It's no big deal."
After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back. He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.
"Goodnight."
It’s been two months since the party. When your mom first suggested a getaway, you thought it was the perfect idea to forget Jungkook’s situation. “You’ve been working too hard,” she had said over the phone, her voice tinged with concern. “A little break will do you good. Sunshine, good food, some family time—it’s exactly what you need.”
You’d been reluctant at first. The idea of slowing down felt foreign when your life had been moving at a breakneck pace for so long. But your mom’s persistence—and your own exhaustion—eventually won you over.
“We’ve already rented a villa by the beach,” she added, excitement in her tone. “Oh, and the Jeons will be joining us. It’ll be like the old days!”
The Jeons. You hadn’t heard that name in a while, but the memory of warm summer evenings spent with Jungkook’s family hit you like a wave. Your stomach sank as you considered the possibility of seeing him again.
“Do you mean the whole Jeon family?” you had asked hesitantly, trying to gauge just how much of a challenge this ‘relaxing’ trip would be.
“Of course!” your mom said brightly. “It’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together.”
You hadn’t been able to come up with a convincing excuse to avoid the trip, so you packed your bags, hoping the villa would be big enough to keep a comfortable distance between you and Jungkook.
But the moment you stepped onto the patio of the villa, you knew that hope was futile. He was there, leaning against the railing, staring out at the ocean like he belonged there. And when he turned and saw you, the atmosphere immediately shifted.
His dark eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. You felt his gaze move over you briefly before he turned away, as if dismissing you altogether.
Your brother’s voice broke the tension. “Surprise! Kook managed to clean his schedule.”
You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Great,” you said, your voice flat.
“Hey kid,” he smirked.
“I’m not a kid!” Inside, you wanted to scream for help.
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Aventurine, Sunday and Ratio w/ a Memokeeper...? 👀
“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us”
Tags: Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Memokeeper!Reader, Character Study, Existential Themes, Introspection, Emotional Growth, Intellectual Tension, Mysticism, Loss, Haunted Past, Unresolved Regret, Journey of Self-Discovery, Temporal Manipulation
Warnings: Existential Crisis, Trauma, Philosophical Discomfort, Emotional Weight Vulnerability in Characters, Mature Themes (regret, guilt, and self-worth).
Ratio, with his signature plaster sculpture concealing his face and his wavy hair cascading just past his shoulders, was a figure both revered and feared within the Intelligentsia Guild. His sharp eyes, the color of fading twilight with a ring of yellow at their core, saw everything and everyone, evaluating, analyzing, dissecting.
It was here that you, a Memokeeper from the Garden of Recollection, first encountered him.
You had come to this world, as you did with every other, to preserve memories, to seek out moments that spoke of the lives lived, the forgotten faces, and the stars that fell into oblivion. In the endless cycle of existence, you had learned that the only thing that truly mattered was memory. To think, to feel, to exist—those were not just ephemeral things, but imprints on the fabric of reality itself.
But when you met Ratio, it was as if all the weight of time had been condensed into a single moment. He, too, had an unyielding belief in the importance of knowledge, in the idea that ideas, too, were immortal. He understood the power of remembrance, but to him, it was intellect, not memory, that was the truest form of immortality. A fascinating paradox.
"You're a Memokeeper, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, like velvet over steel, his eyes locking onto yours, seeing straight through to your very essence.
You nodded, concealing your true form beneath your disguise, as was customary for those like you. In this world, you were just another scholar, another wanderer with a collection of knowledge to trade. But unlike the others, your knowledge wasn’t of facts or figures. It was of memories, of moments suspended in time, of people long gone and forgotten.
"You believe that memory is everything, don’t you?" Ratio's gaze never wavered, as if he was testing you. "You think that by preserving memory, you preserve the soul of a person. But memories are subjective, fleeting. They are not absolute. Ideas, facts, theories—these are what endure. These are what define existence."
His words were confident, dismissive even. But you knew there was more behind them, a deeper yearning to understand what lay beyond the limits of mortal comprehension. You could see it in the way his hands gestured as he spoke, the sharpness of his thoughts revealing a man who, despite all his brilliance, was searching for something more.
"You misunderstand," you said, your voice calm but full of a quiet intensity. "Memories are the only things that cannot be erased, not by time, not by entropy. They are the proof of existence. Without them, what are we but ghosts, vanishing without a trace?"
Ratio's eyes glinted with something unreadable—was it interest? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, but it was enough to pique his attention. "And how do you preserve them? What makes your memories so… important?"
You smiled faintly, an ethereal expression. "I don’t just remember, Dr. Ratio. I preserve. Through the Garden of Recollection, I collect and store memories, not just from the world I come from, but from all worlds. I can live through them, feel what they felt, see what they saw. I can carry the memories of thousands, and in doing so, they live on."
For a moment, there was silence. Ratio’s gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. "And what of your own memories?" he asked, his voice softer now, though still brimming with intensity. "Do you ever remember yourself? Or are you too lost in the memories of others to even recall your own?"
It was a question that struck deeper than you had anticipated. You, who had shed your mortal form long ago to live as a memetic entity, could not remember the life you once lived. The body you had was but a vessel, an illusion of the past. Yet you held the memories of countless lives, each one a thread in the grand tapestry of existence.
"I remember," you said quietly, your voice distant, as if recalling a long-forgotten dream. "But only fragments. I carry the memories of all those I've encountered, of all the lives I've touched. And in that, I live."
Ratio stared at you, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. "Fascinating," he murmured, as if the concept of your existence challenged everything he had ever known. "You are a paradox, then. A being of memory, yet unable to fully grasp your own existence. How… tragic."
You tilted your head slightly. "Perhaps. But in some ways, it’s beautiful. Every life I encounter becomes a part of me, and in that, I become part of them. A perpetual exchange, a never-ending cycle of remembrance."
Ratio’s lips quirked upward slightly, a rare and almost imperceptible smile. "Perhaps," he echoed, his voice tinged with something akin to admiration. "You might be right, after all. Memory is the only true form of immortality. But don’t forget, my Memokeeper, that intellect and knowledge are what shape the universe. Without them, memory would be meaningless."
You met his gaze, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "And without memory, even the greatest intellects would fade into obscurity, leaving nothing behind."
For a moment, you both stood there, two beings of immense knowledge and power, staring at one another in the midst of a universe that seemed both infinite and fleeting. In that fleeting moment, there was no need for words. You understood each other, in a way that few could.
As you turned to leave, your final words lingered in the air, like a soft melody, echoing across time itself.
"Remember me, Dr. Ratio. After all, that is the only way I can truly exist."
He watched you disappear into the endless flow of time, his mind racing with questions, with curiosity. The Memokeeper had left an impression, a memory etched into his mind. And though Ratio would continue his work, seeking to change the world through intellect and knowledge, something had shifted within him.
Perhaps, in the end, the preservation of memory and the pursuit of knowledge were not so different after all.
The Astral Express hummed with the faint rhythm of its journey through the stars, its steady pulse a stark contrast to the turbulent thoughts that swirled within Sunday’s mind. He stood by the window, watching the unending expanse of the cosmos pass by, his eyes reflecting distant stars. His thoughts were as fractured as ever—an unyielding dissonance between his ideals and the weight of his past. Yet, there was something different now, something new stirring in him, as if the winds of change were gently sweeping through his world.
You, the Memokeeper, stood just a few steps away from him, an enigmatic presence, yet somehow, your existence felt more real than anything else. Your presence was like an anchor in a sea of uncertainty, a testament to a truth he had not yet fully grasped.
To think is to exist.
He had never truly questioned his existence in this way before. For all his lofty ideals about dreams, suffering, and the balance between them, there was something about you—your quiet, eternal purpose—that made him reconsider his place in the universe.
You had explained, on occasion, the nature of your kind. A Memokeeper’s task was to collect memories, to preserve them as proof of existence in a world where everything, even stars, would eventually fade. Unlike most, who viewed reality and imagination as distinct, Memokeepers saw them as one. It was a perspective that intrigued Sunday deeply, yet he struggled to fully comprehend it. Perhaps because, in the end, he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.
"How do you hold on to something so... fleeting?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a weight that betrayed the many layers of his thoughts.
You turned toward him, your expression serene, but there was a flicker of something deeper in your eyes, an understanding of the burden he carried. "We don't hold on to it. We let it flow through us, and in doing so, we become it."
Sunday looked at you, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of your cheek, the ethereal quality of your being, and how it seemed as though you were made of light itself. "Do you ever feel... trapped by your memories?" His voice faltered at the question, as though he were reaching for something he couldn’t quite touch.
For a moment, there was silence, save for the distant hum of the train and the occasional flicker of stars outside. You took a step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against the air as you spoke, your voice gentle and calm.
"Trapped?" you mused. "No. We are the keepers, not the prisoners. Memories are not chains. They are bridges."
His brow furrowed slightly. "But what if the memories are of things you can never change? Things that haunt you?" His words were quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. The weight of his past—of the choices he had made, of the lives he had shaped, for better or worse—pressed down on him once more.
You studied him with a knowing gaze, as though seeing through the veil of his facade. "Hauntings are but echoes of what was, Sunday. The question is not whether the memories are painful, but whether we let them define us." You paused, letting your words settle. "What you choose to do with them—that is what matters."
Sunday’s eyes flickered as if a distant thought had just emerged, one that had been buried beneath layers of rationality and philosophy. He had spent so long trying to change the world, trying to create a place free of suffering, that he had neglected the simplest truth: he could not change the past. He could only move forward.
"But how?" he asked, his voice filled with quiet desperation. "How can I move forward, when the past keeps whispering in my ears?"
You smiled softly, a knowing, almost maternal expression on your face. "You are already moving forward, Sunday. Your journey on the Astral Express is proof of that. The question is not if you will move forward, but how you will choose to remember."
There it was again: remember. It was a word he had often associated with pain, with the weight of regret and guilt, but somehow, in your presence, it felt lighter. It felt like a possibility, a way to reclaim something precious without being bound to it.
For the first time in a long while, Sunday allowed himself to truly look at you. Not just as a fellow traveler aboard the Express, but as someone who embodied a truth he had yet to accept.
"I... I think I understand," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Memories are not the end of us. They can be... a part of something greater."
You nodded, your eyes fluttering slightly as you gazed at him with an expression of quiet encouragement. "Exactly. And sometimes, the greatest gift you can give to the past is to let it go, while still carrying it with you."
Sunday fell silent, his mind now processing your words, considering their implications. Perhaps this was the true path to redemption—not the erasure of pain, but the acceptance of it, and the ability to carry it without letting it define him.
As the train continued its journey through the stars, Sunday found himself standing a little taller. He wasn’t sure where this journey would take him, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he might finally be on the right path.
In the labyrinthine corridors of the IPC, where deals and schemes wove through the very fabric of power, Aventurine stood as an enigma, a master of manipulation with a heart haunted by the ghosts of his past. His smile, enigmatic and ever-present, was a mask that concealed the fractured man beneath. The ‘Aventurine of Stratagems,’ a name he wore with pride, was a title earned through unrelenting gambles and sacrifices, yet it was the one thing that kept him from truly losing himself.
But on this particular day, something—or rather, someone—was pulling at the threads of his carefully constructed world. Someone who didn’t need to gamble to see through the veil.
You. The Memokeeper.
A fleeting figure, a whisper of another existence, you moved through worlds unrestrained by physical boundaries. Memokeepers were creatures of memories—preservers of the immortal, the eternal. You had no flesh, no true form. Only the shifting remnants of memories you carried with you, the fragments of countless lives you had touched and stolen.
When Aventurine first encountered you, he had been intrigued. Memokeepers were not common, and your mysterious nature had piqued his interest. But it was your ability to navigate through time and space, your unflinching grasp of memory as a permanent artifact, that truly captivated him.
"You never forget, do you?" Aventurine's voice was smooth, laced with his signature mix of challenge and curiosity as you stood across from him in a darkened room, a flicker of memory flashing in your eyes.
You tilted your head slightly, a soft, almost imperceptible smile gracing your lips. "For a moment, I thought you would say 'never forgive.'" You said it with an air of knowing, your voice gentle yet profound. "But no... you are too familiar with your own regrets to seek forgiveness."
Aventurine’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. The hint of vulnerability did not go unnoticed. The last surviving member of a lost clan, haunted by survivor's guilt—those wounds ran deep. His facade was usually flawless, but before you, it felt fragile, a thin layer barely holding back a flood of emotions he hadn’t let surface in years.
"You speak as though you understand me," he remarked, his voice regaining its usual confidence. "But I’ve played this game for too long to be an open book."
"Yet, here you are," you countered, stepping closer, the air thick with the power of your words. "A man who wagers lives as easily as others breathe. Do you think I can't see the stakes you're playing for? The past you can never escape?"
There was a moment of silence, one where Aventurine’s usual bravado seemed to crack slightly, revealing the ever-present tension in his posture, the subtle guarding of his left hand behind his back. He wasn't ready to expose his fragility, not yet.
"You play with the illusion of luck," you continued, your voice almost hypnotic. "But I know what you really seek. You gamble because you fear being forgotten, because you fear that if you stop playing, your existence will cease to matter."
Aventurine’s eyes narrowed, gleaming with a mixture of challenge and intrigue. He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating your words, but his tone remained steady. "And what of you, Memokeeper? Are you truly immortal, or just a collector of lies?"
You didn’t flinch. "Memory is the only true immortality. Everything fades—worlds, stars, even gods. But memories... memories last longer than anything else. They are what make us real. What make us matter."
He chuckled softly, his lips curling into that all-too-familiar grin. "I suppose you would say that. After all, you're in the business of making things last forever."
Aventurine’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than he intended, and for a brief instant, he wondered what it would be like to have his memory preserved—not his reputation or his empire, but his very essence. Would someone like you, a Memokeeper, truly see him for who he was beneath the layers of strategy and artifice?
"I’ve seen countless memories," you said, your voice soft but heavy with meaning. "But there's something about you... You're not a mere gambler, not just someone who risks it all. There's something darker in you, a longing for connection, yet a fear of it."
He looked at you with raised eyebrows, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "You really think you can see all that from just a glance?"
"You show more than you think," you said, your gaze steady, your words unshaken. "And it's those little things—the way you hide your left hand, the pauses in your speech, the smile that never reaches your eyes—that tell me you are more than the games you play."
The silence stretched, an unspoken challenge between you. He couldn’t deny it. He had always thought of himself as untouchable, an orchestrator of every move. But you? You had no need for power or control. You simply existed, transcendent and free.
And yet, despite all that, Aventurine felt something strange stirring within him—a desire to be remembered, not just for his gambles, but for the man he truly was.
"Perhaps you're right," he finally said, his voice quieter, more contemplative. "Perhaps there is more to me than even I realize."
You smiled, a soft, knowing expression, and for the first time, Aventurine’s smile seemed a little less rehearsed, a little more genuine. The idea of someone, a Memokeeper no less, understanding the depths of his soul was an uncomfortable yet fascinating thought.
"I don’t need to gamble to know your worth, Aventurine," you said, your eyes twinkling with an almost imperceptible warmth. "But perhaps, just once, you might stop playing and let someone else remember you. For who you really are."
For the first time in a long while, Aventurine didn’t immediately respond with a quip or a strategy. He simply watched you, his mind turning, calculating the possibilities. What would it mean to be remembered? To be seen beyond the mask of the gambler, the strategist, the survivor?
In that moment, Aventurine felt the first stirrings of a gamble he had never before considered: the gamble of letting someone in.
Oh damn, this was long af... 🫣😨
Also I couldn't come up with a better title so yeah...🧍♀️
#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#hsr dr ratio#ratio x reader#hsr ratio#dr ratio#hsr sunday#sunday x reader#sunday hsr#sunday#memokeeper!reader#character study#existential themes#introspection#emotional growth#intellectual tension#mysticism#loss#haunted past#unresolved regret#journey of self discovery#temporal manipulation#veritas x reader
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— bedroom hymns
mand'alor!sub!din x wife!dom!reader
rated e - 2.5k
tags: mand’alor!din, sub!din, soft dom!wife!reader, breeding kink, beskar cock cage, reference to needles & birth control, enthusiastic oral sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, references to pregnancy
a/n: my fic for @wannab-urs's event - dom that middle aged man! 💖 thank you so much for hosting this (and excited to share, I've always wanted to write sub!din!)
You’d liked this, when you first got together. His desire. How much he wanted to consume you. To take - the weight of his armor pressing into your back, as he drove you into the thin mattress of his bunk.
But this is what you like more. The leash he offers so willingly to you. Eager to obey, even as the collar tightens. Following at your heels.
After all, his duty is to his people. But it’s you that he serves.
His gaze has been on you all night.
You’ve learned the weight of it, even through his helmet. How his eyes find your form, again and again.
Lingering on your face - bare, as the traditions of your clans. On glint of silver against your throat, dipping down to your breasts.
His helmet tilting as he finds you again.
Knowing what he is thinking, for it is on your mind as well.
You’d managed a quick reunion. Lasting no more than a heartbeat, as you met him at his ship. Fingers tracing against your hip, as your lips pressed against the curve of his helmet. Bunching in the whisper-thin silk of your ceremonial dress.
Not finding what he was looking for. A growl, that was cut short.
All too eager to whisk you away, but even with his unexpected arrival, he hadn’t been able to escape his duty.
You’re too far away to hear the debriefing, but you can imagine your husband’s voice getting shorter. Impatient. Clipped.
That’s what two weeks away from you does to him.
Especially with the messages you sent to his holo, two days prior. Waiting until after the negotiations were done.
Giving him everything except what he wanted. Glimpses of flesh, where the gossamer robe wrapped around you. The soft curve of a breast, the fabric pebbled at shadowed peaks.
Glistening fingertips between plump flesh, swollen with desire.
The last was the only one with a message. A small, thin chip pinched between thumb and forefinger.
He’d know what it was.
Had been there when it was placed in your hip, his hand wrapped in yours as the needle pierced flesh.
Had talked about it often, late a night, a shared wish for the future.
One that has come, now.
Come home soon.
Din had been two days away.
After your message - he had made it in one.
He’s on you the moment the bedchamber door closes. Backing you up against the heavy stone. Gripping at your waist, as your face tips to his.
You’d liked this, when you first got together.
His desire.
How much he wanted to consume you. To take - the weight of his armor pressing into your back, as he drove you into the thin mattress of his bunk.
But that felt like a lifetime ago.
“Let me see you.”
There’s no hesitance in the way he reaches for his helmet, and you can feel the space between your thighs dampen.
His dark eyes blown wide with need, when it lifts off his head. Parted lips as he pants, brow furrowed. The thick curls, begging to be tugged.
But this is what you like more.
The leash he offers so willingly to you. Eager to obey, even as the collar tightens. Following at your heels.
After all, his duty is to his people.
But it’s you that he serves.
He moans against the press of your mouth. Once-clumsy kisses now practiced. Your teeth nipping at his lower lip until he opens willingly. Hips rocking against yours when you lick into his mouth.
Red painted against his mouth, from your painted ones.
It’s been far too long.
You’d never tell him, but you’d been waiting as well.
A sigh slipping from your lungs at the hands that skitter up your waist. Almost pawing at you as he mouths at your throat.
The pulse point beneath your ear.
Knowing better than to leave a mark.
That’s only for you - his skin your canvas.
His lips hovering at the necklace - a silver pendant tucked between your breasts. A soft and reverent kiss against it, as his legs start to bend.
Slowly lowering to his knees, as your thighs make room for him.
His nose ghosting against your belly. Down - tilting to kiss against your hip. Your mound, before he’s moving to inhale you.
“Let me.” It’s rasped out, as his eyes tilt up. Fingers gathering the hem that brushes your ankles, as his knees spread against stone.
“You were good?”
Din groans, his mouth pressing against your core. The silk dampening beneath his tongue, sticking the fabric against your slick folds.
His breath hot, and you have to resist the urge to squirm.
“Fuck,” His fingers inch higher. Stroking against soft skin, “You know I was, cyare.”
Your breath hitches, when his knuckles drag against your slit. Something akin to a whine sliding from his throat when he meets bare skin - his earlier curiosity finally sated.
“How did it feel?”
There’s a ragged huff of a laugh. His other hand dropping down to palm at his crotch. Teeth gritting, hips flexing.
Fingers parting you, letting the tip of his finger nudge at your entrance.
“You shouldn’t have sent those messages.”
Your eyebrow arches, your grin sly, “You didn’t like them?”
He makes another rough sound. A hand fisting on the hem of your skirt again - tugging it up until it’s gathered against your abdomen.
Baring you fully - the part of your thighs, where his palm curves against your core. Tongue dipping across his lip in anticipation.
An effort, in the way his eyes drag back up to your face. Voice rough, the scrape of stone against metal.
“You know what you do to me.”
You clench around his finger. Eager for him, though you’ve learned to school your face - a second mask to the one you wear.
How well your husband listens.
The verbal confirmation sending another hot rush of need. Your own fingers slipping down, past his knuckles. Fitting beneath the dip of his chin, petting between your slick thighs.
The tips coming back shining. His mouth parting automatically, as you slip two fingers against his tongue.
“And see what you do to me?”
His eyes slip shut - groaning, as he sucks. Tongue laving against your skin, thankful for anything you give him. Another shift of his hips, his own hand flexing against you, when you slide your fingers free.
Forefinger and thumb against his chin, leaving a gleam of spit behind, as you guide him where he aches to be.
You can feel the heat of his breath for a heartbeat, before his mouth meets you. The moan breathed out against your skin, tongue flattening against your clit.
Hungry, in the way he devours you. Lapping at the tight bud, while his finger remembers how to move. A second added, as his lips wrap around and suck.
It sends waves of bliss coursing through you. A tremble in your legs, before one hooks over his shoulder. A heel pressed against his armor, urging him closer.
He’s all too willing to obey. Losing himself in your pleasure, soft sounds slipping from his throat as he works you open. As his tongue flicks, again and again.
You can already feel it start to build. He’s always known how to touch you, his eagerness and your own self-restraint only fueling the fire in your belly.
“If only they could see you now,” You breathe out, in wonder. Tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck, but it only makes him moan, “On your knees for me.”
His eyes lift to meet yours. Giving himself to you, his mind focused on only one thing - the taste of you against his tongue.
“What would they think, knowing I keep their Mand’alor in a cage?”
A low oath slips from him. Another flex of his hips, as his fingers curl against a spot that makes you see stars.
Your next words coming as a soft command.
“Show me.”
You mourn the way his fingers slip from you. Gleaming, as they drop to his armor. Loosening the golden belt, removing the ven'cabur beneath. Drawing himself out.
The light catches on the beskar beneath.
Pretty and gleaming. Ornamental in its design, but your family did come from a long line of forgers.
It had been easy, to craft a piece to compliment him. An extension of his armor. A near-constant reminder of your absence.
For that is what it was.
Not to punish him. Din would never stray, you believed that with your whole heart.
Instead, it was to ensure that he did not spill himself needlessly. That every drop of his essence was spent where it belonged - deep inside his wife’s pretty cunt.
A shared idea. A secret.
He had almost been late in leaving, with the amount of time it had taken to lock it around him. The key left with you, along with his heart.
“Pretty,” You coo. Even better up close, you're sure - though you will have to wait.
He hums in agreement. Focused now, tracing your clit with a pattern he knows will make you cum. The hand leaving his armor to knead the flesh of your ass, tilting your pussy to his mouth.
But you can’t resist teasing him, even as your breath grows short. As your tone catches on an edge, needing to hear it.
The toe of your boot shifting just enough to nudge at him.
“Whose pretty cock is that?”
A groan is muffled against your skin. His rhythm knocked off-kilter, as he mumbles his reply.
“Yours, cyare.”
You’re nearly there. The edges of your vision darkens, heart hammering behind your ribs.
“You-,” You start, as your toes curl. As the pressure builds in your belly, threatening to burst, “You want me to take it off?”
Surely he must feel the pressure of the metal. The way his cock strains with desire against the cage, still held back.
“No.” He rasps.
“Not yet.”
The denial makes you come. A cry leaving your lips as you fall apart against his mouth. As he licks at you eagerly - fingers fitting inside you once more, to give you something to clench around. Feeling the tight pulse around them, against the flat of his tongue.
Letting you ride out your orgasm, the pleasure shared. Hips shifting involuntarily, meeting open air.
And only when your back relaxes against the door, does he allow you to lead him to bed.
You leave marks against his skin, as you move down.
His armor removed carefully. Ritualistically, set aside in the padded crate near your shared bed.
Streaks of red from your lips, their outline lightening as it transfers. Neck, chest, abdomen.
Halting at the one piece he still wears.
The metal encircling him, giving you peeks of swollen skin. A jerk of his hips when you trace against his sack, drawn tight with need.
Then, up.
“You’re dripping.” Your fingers trace against the tip, just brushing the flushed skin beneath.
Coming back shining, his eyes fixed on yours as you taste him with your tongue.
“Is it for me?”
His answer comes in a roughened rush.
“Always.”
You hum, lips curling. Pushing yourself up, letting him watch the way you tug the dress from your shoulders. Baring yourself - the soft sways of your breasts, shifting until your hips rest flush with his.
His hands twitching where you pushed them above his head, warning him not to move.
Your name gritted out, a futile warning, when you shift against the cold metal of the cage.
Letting it slide against your clit, slick with your release. With his need, so wholly restrained.
“Please.” It’s bitten out.
Your fingers play with the necklace. His reaction cataloged away, for later. Eyes fixed on his as you slowly dip back down.
“Should make you wait longer,” You muse, “But you listened, didn’t you?”
He has long enough - you can see it in the way his muscles string tight. The need written across his face, as he watches your movement.
“I would wait,” Din husks, “For as long as you wished it.”
The spark flares to life again. A kiss press against the metal, before your necklace touches against it.
A click as the cage unlatches - careful in the way you ease it from him.
His breath comes in a low hiss, when you touch him. The feather-light drag of your nails against sensitive skin, jerking to life beneath your fingertips.
Hardening, now that he was no longer restrained. Two weeks of that tight pressure eased, and it feels like a fresh breath of air.
He tastes like you, when your mouth presses against his. Tongue stroking against yours when you line him up against your entrance, your fingers struggling to wrap around.
Moaning against your mouth, when you finally sink down.
Finally home.
Finally where he needs to be, as you gasp at the intrusion. His fingers opening you up before, but it’s always a stretch.
Leaving behind a delicious burn, one you’ve craved. Hips rocking as you get used to the weight of him inside you, once more. Until that dull ache bleeds away to bliss.
And finally your hips lift - gliding up the full length of him. Clenching around the tip before you drop back down.
One, two.
Hands braced against his chest as you bounce on his cock, as his own curl into fists. Eyes glazed - lips parted as he watches you, his heart pounding beneath your flattened palms.
Three, four.
Stroking a spot deep inside you, one you’d chase if he wasn’t so far gone. His eyes greedy where he watches you take him, the shine of his cock before it’s buried in you.
Five, six.
It’s then that you lean forward. Lips ghosting against his, pulling back before he can chase after.
“Are you going to give me what I want, riduur?” You croon, testing your teeth against his throat.
His pulse spiking - a rough buzz beneath your lips as he exhales a sharp breath.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Picking up speed, as you nip at his ear.
“Fill me? Get me swollen with you?” A hand ghosting across your belly, as you sigh against him, “Let everyone who you belong to?”
Din growls, but it pitches long. Low, caught in his throat at he shifts beneath you.
“Gedet’ye, ner runi.”
Slipping into his native tongue, as his thoughts loose in his grasp. His begging is a symphony, combined with the slap of your skin against his. With the slick slide of his cock, his panting breath.
“I can’t-," Din husks, "Not going to last.”
Your lips stretch wide with your smile.
“Want you to,” You purr, “Give me what you were made for.”
Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen.
Once again, your husband comes early.
Forgetting himself - his hands coming to grip at the curve of your waist. Denting flesh as he tugs you down, holding you against the rut of his hips as he spills with a muffled shout inside you.
A ragged breath, each time his cock throbs. Wordless moans as two weeks of his desire is spent, filling you until it threatens to spill over.
Until the iron-grip of his fingers relax. Eyes left-heavy lidded. Only tightening when you make to move off him.
Keeping you in place, his cock still notched to the hilt inside you.
“I missed you.” You tell him, fingers tracing his jaw. Against grown-long scruff, flecked with silver.
A kiss pressed against the spot that never fills in all the way. More peppered across his cheek, until his breathing slows.
“Missed you.” It’s huffed out. The flash of teeth, as he draws your mouth to his.
Still hungry, even after all this time. Barely sated, even as he fills you.
“Did you-?” It’s murmured against your lips, when you break to breathe, “You meant it?”
Your eyes are soft, when you grab his hand to your hip. The still-tender spot, letting his thumb press against soft skin.
He groans, low and throaty. Flipping you beneath him, as his eyes drag down your form - as if you have changed, already.
As if it’s already taken, as your thighs widen to make room for him. Letting him slip from you, but his fingers are already there.
Sliding against slick skin. Gathering himself up - where he’s leaked from you. Fucking it back inside, working himself deeper.
Stroking against that spot, as his lips slot against yours.
He’ll make you come again.
Again, and again, if that’s what it takes.
Your husband was always good at giving you what you want.
thank you so much for reading! excited to start this year off like the last - domming our fave old men. 💖
mando'a translations:
cyare - beloved riduur - spouse ven'cabur - codpiece ner runi - my soul gedet’ye - please
#the dom that middle aged man campaign 2025#javier peña fics#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x f!reader#dmamc 2025#dmamc2025
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「 ✦ pinks and neons ✦ 」
Jinx x ballerina!reader / modern AU
─── ballerina masterlist ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ // second position
summary: Your friendship was a delicate balance, like a tightrope stretched between two distant worlds. One night, Jinx led you away from the soft glow of your studio and into the neon chaos of her underground. But a hand lingered too close, a grin cut too sharp—and her storm broke loose. In the quiet aftermath, something between you began to shift.
contents: modern AU, opposites attract, harassment
author's note: posting two days in a row? diva.
Jinx still didn’t know how it happened—how someone like you, with your soft eyes and even softer voice, had become part of her world.
But it started with quiet evenings in the studio, watching you twirl and leap with a precision that made her mind spin. She would sit cross-legged on the scuffed wooden floor, doodling nonsense in her notebook, stealing glances at you as if afraid to blink and miss something, occasionally tossing out commentary that made you groan and smile in equal measure. You, in turn, would sit beside her as she tinkered with gadgets, your steady presence anchoring her in a way nothing else ever had.
You found yourself lingering after practice, not just because Jinx made you laugh, but because she made you feel—alive, seen. Somehow, the girl with the blue hair and reckless grin was both a storm and a shelter all at once.
You had learned to laugh more, to let yourself be carried by the unpredictable current of her energy. Jinx, in turn, softened her sharp edges for you, learning how to sit still, to listen, to care. You were still opposites, but in the way day and night needed each other or how silence made music more profound. You weren’t something yet, not exactly, but you were more than nothing—there was something blooming there, something unspoken but undeniable.
The city breathed in rhythms you were only beginning to share. Somewhere, between pristine ballet studios and street corners sprayed in neon, your lives had started to intertwine.
And so, nights in the studio gave way to walks along the city’s edges, where she would point out graffiti tags like old friends, and you would listen, laughing at the outrageous stories behind each one.
But tonight was different.
“Alright, ballerina,” Jinx announced, her voice crackling with excitement and swinging an arm over your shoulders as you stepped off the subway. “I’ve been playing nice in your world long enough. Tonight, you’re coming to mine.”
And tonight your worlds collided at an underground party.
Deep in the industrial district, tucked inside a forgotten warehouse, brought to life with neon lights and the pounding rhythm of heavy-bass music. It was a riot of color and sound—Jinx’s natural habitat. You, however, stood near the edge of the chaos, wide-eyed and out of place.
“Are you sure about this?” you asked hesitantly.
“Relax, you’ll be with me,” she reassured with a wink. “C’mon, live a little!”
She led you inside, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. You passed dancers, graffiti artists tagging the walls, and a makeshift bar. You tried to ignore the eyes that lingered on you—a soft, pink-dressed figure standing out in this world of spikes and leather. You stayed close to Jinx, who didn’t seem to notice or care about the stares as she grabbed a couple of sodas, handing one to you.
“See? Easy. Just stick with me, and you’ll have fun,” she promised. “I’ll make sure no one bites.”
You took a sip, trying to focus on her energy rather than the overwhelming scene. The party was wild, unapologetic, just like Jinx—a far cry from the orderly beauty of the studio. And you, for all your nerves, wanted to trust her.
The music pounded, electric and deafening, a rhythm you couldn’t quite follow—too fast, too rough. She grinned as she pulled you toward the center of it all. “Dance with me!” she shouted over the noise.
“I don’t know how!” The statement was so foreign to you. You laughed, only half-protesting, but she just spun you in a clumsy circle, her energy infectious.
It wasn’t long before you began to relax, your body finding its own rhythm amidst the chaos. For a moment, you felt free, unbound by rules or technique, lost in Jinx’s world.
But then the spell broke.
A man approached from the crowd, his steps slow and deliberate. He was taller than the blue-haired girl, broader, of course, with a slimy grin that made your skin crawl.
“Hey,” he said, his voice heavy with the slur of alcohol. “You look a little lost, sweetheart. What’s someone like you doing here?”
You came to a halt and stiffened, slightly out of breath. “I’m fine. I’m just… here with a friend,” you managed, your voice soft but firm as you took a step back.
The man leaned closer, his grin widening, and it almost felt like a wolf was snarling right down at you. “A friend? Come on, doll. Let me show you around. This isn’t your kind of scene.”
He reached for your arm, but before you could respond, a figure slid between you like a blade—sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.
Jinx.
Her grin was gone, replaced by a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“Touch her again,” she began, her voice low and cutting, infused with a subtle warning, “and you’re gonna wish you hadn’t.”
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What, you’re her bodyguard? What’s your problem?”
She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “My problem?” she echoed, cocking her head like she was genuinely thinking about it. Then she leaned in, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “I don’t like people who don’t know how to take a hint. Makes me itchy. You don’t want to see me itchy.”
He straightened, frowning. “I was just talking to her.”
“Yeah? Well, now you’re talking to me,” she retorted, her grin all teeth. “Lucky you.”
There was something in her eyes—something wild and unhinged—that made him hesitate. His bravado faltered, but he tried to recover. “Look, I was—”
“No, no, I get it,” Jinx interrupted, nodding earnestly. “You see a pretty girl, you do the whole caveman thing. Real classic. But here’s the thing—” Her hand suddenly dropped to her side, where her fingers twitched like they were itching for a fight, wrapping around the neck of an empty bottle. “She’s not interested. And if I have to explain it again, I’m gonna get real creative.”
The man hesitated, clearly sizing her up, but her sharp confidence didn’t waver. When he finally muttered something about “crazy chicks” and stumbled off, she turned to you, her expression softening instantly.
“You okay?”
You nodded, though your hands trembled slightly. “I didn’t know what to say. He just—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she assured gently, her hands brushing your shoulders. “This was a bad idea. Let’s go.”
Without waiting for a reply, she laced her fingers with yours and pulled you toward the exit. You emerged into the cool night air, the noise of the party fading behind you. The sudden quiet was jarring, but it felt like a relief.
Jinx kept walking, unusually silent and unaware of the way she still held onto your hand. Or maybe she just liked it too much to let go yet, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin beneath her thumb as it brushed over your knuckles.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here,” she eventually spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I thought it’d be fun, but I didn’t think about… well, that.”
“It’s okay,” you said, glancing up at her. “I wanted to see it. I wanted to see… you.”
Her steps faltered, her blue hair catching the glow of a distant streetlight. A flicker of something you didn’t quite recognize flashed in her eyes. “You don’t need to do that. You don’t have to dive into my mess just to understand me.”
You just smiled, soft and warm. “I want to.” The statement is simple—too simple even. But you had said it so naturally, with so much conviction, that she couldn’t bring herself to argue against it. “And… Thank you for defending me, by the way,” you added, quieter this time, more sheepish than usual.
She laughed, a low, breathy sound. “Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta keep you safe, ballerina.” Jinx wasn’t the hero in anyone’s story—far from it. But, much to her surprise, she wouldn’t think twice about being the biggest, fattest hero the world has ever seen for you.
You started walking again, your pace slower now, the city stretching out before you. Her world was chaos, yours was order, but in this moment, you were somewhere in between.
“Next time,” she began, “we’ll stick to your studio. Just you, me, and some boring classical music. Deal?”
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Deal, powder keg.” It slipped out teasingly, a way to get her back for “twinkle toes”, but her reaction wasn’t quite what you expected.
Jinx froze for a fraction of a second, her breath catching in her throat. Powder. The name clawed its way out of her past, dragging memories she didn’t want to touch with it—volatile, destructive, dangerous. You glanced at her, your doe eyes holding concern at her sudden change of demeanor.
You thought you had said something wrong—and in a way, you did, though you didn’t know what. But before you could take it back, she just tugged you closer, swinging an arm around your shoulders, the movement so familiar you relaxed instantly.
“Come on, ballerina,” she simply said, steering you down the quiet street. She didn’t correct you, didn’t explain the weight behind the name you had just so casually given her. Instead, she let it sit there, unspoken but not unbearable. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve—not when you said it. For once, the name didn’t feel like a weight on her shoulders. It felt… lighter, almost. “Let’s get you home.”
And somehow, tonight, the distance between your worlds felt smaller than ever.
—dedicated to my helpful softies .ᐟ.ᐟ
@jinxsbunny // @luckybunny555 & @ladey 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane league of legends#arcane jinx#arcane jinx x female reader#arcane jinx x fem!reader#arcane jinx x reader#jinx#jinx arcane#jinx x f!reader#jinx x female reader#jinx x fem!reader#jinx x y/n#jinx x reader#jinx x you#jinx arcane x female reader#jinx arcane x fem!reader#jinx arcane x y/n#jinx arcane x you#jinx arcane x reader#jinx league of legends#jinx league of legends x reader#modern au#opposites attract#ballerina au#lesbian
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Doctor’s Orders
(Boom!Sonic x Doctor!Reader)
A/N: I suck at summaries. Just a bunch of fluff. I'm sorry if this sounds ooc. I might make this a series. The dividers were created by @pixxiecup I know they said their free to use with no credit but I want to give thanks and tag them here anyway.
Warning: Just one part that is just a pinch suggestive but nothing extreme.
This was getting ridiculous. It was one thing to help Sonic, Tails, and the rest of your friends -mostly Sonic and Tails- with a sprain, scratches, or a cut here and there, but this was starting to get out of hand. It shouldn't have been surprising to see them with an injury that needed stitching, bandaging, or even a cast once you learned they were considered Seaside Island’s heroes. But as time went by, it always seemed their injuries were getting worse than the last time you saw them. Initially, you thought it was only because of Eggman. At least that way, they had an excuse.
Hell no.
A crazed circus man that bought equipment from said man, Frog-whatcha-mccall-it cult (?) trapped in Sticks’ basement (?), meteors, Sonic being trapped with Eggman in a temple while everyone around was too busy arguing about being the leader, -the conversation was going nowhere and being the only person with no knowledge or experience with fighting you were about to leave as you were announcing that you would be waiting back at Tails’ home with medical equipment ready when the ground beneath all of you caved in and you got involved regardless- and you don’t even want to start talking about when Knuckles was purposely injuring himself to ‘shift the balance of luck in the universe.’
As more time passed, the number of ridiculous reasons for injuries seemed to be balanced with the actual reasonable excuses. Not that you weren’t already stressed out with some of your friends’ reckless decisions when they were up against an enemy.
Cough, cough. It was mainly Sonic and Tails, with Knuckles in third place—surprisingly—cough, cough.
You came to Seaside Island thinking a small yet gorgeous place like this would not be hectic. And best of all, there was a job opening where you could help people. You should have known there was a reason there was a job opening that somebody else hadn’t already snatched up so quickly before you could even apply. You should have seen an even bigger sign when you were hired quickly. Looking back at the day you graduated from university, you remembered how you almost cried tears of joy that the worst of it all -late nights, all-nighters, missing out on events, get-togethers, friendships, and relationships- had come to pass. All you had to worry about was being able to find an opening and the usual stresses that being a doctor would come with. All that you felt more than ready and determined to face head-on.
Oh, how naive you were.
You haven’t even lived on Seaside Island nearly as long as you have lived on campus in university. Yet, everything that has happened so far has given you more heart attacks and stress than any homework, studying session, or test combined. But then again, it’s not exactly your fault for falling for a place like Seaside Island that looks so deceivingly peaceful. Just like it’s not your fault for thinking assuming your now close friends would only get injured because of some foes they’ll have to come face to face with.
You can’t help but find the humor in it all. The fact that you weren’t expecting to make some new friends the same day you finally had moved to said island. Just like you were surprised to find out later that they were this island’s heroes, you assumed that it was just by chance that you met them and talked to them on day one. You didn’t think they would all actively reach out to you -for any other reason than just medical aid- to hang out and become friends with you. You didn’t mean to become close to them, just like you didn’t mean for word to get around the island, and people started identifying you as the group’s doctor. And you didn’t mean for people to start associating you with the group of heroes.
It just so happened that you were the first person they went to whenever someone was hurt. You somehow became a close friend to these famous names despite not being super fast, strong, a technical genius, or having other skills or quirks that made you stick out like the rest. You had also become a ‘hero’ in the eyes of the citizens living on Seaside Island, despite a few other doctors and nurses also living there. You became your friend group’s doctor, although you have not signed a contract stating that you were only their doctor. Your company doesn’t seem to mind somehow. You guessed that’s the perk of being considered the island’s ‘heroes.’
You would be lying if you said there weren’t multiple times where you muttered under your breath that you were only a doctor, not a hero. So much so that it feels like it’s become just as much of your catchphrase as Sonic’s “gotta go fast.” You’d also be lying if there weren't moments when you thought that maybe moving to this island was a mistake. But, deep down, you know that it isn’t. You care and love your friends to death. You never had friends quite like them, you never expected people like them to want to become friends with someone like you, and you especially never had bonds with others as strong as the ones you have with them. No matter how much you may complain, scold, and yell on a few occasions, you’ve never felt more at home.
You’ve also never felt more like a ‘mother’ -so Sonic likes to joke- than moments like these.
Sonic and Tails are sitting on a couch battered to the point that you’re pretty sure it is more than normal—whatever is considered normal at this point. And if that’s not telling, then definitely the way they’re both avoiding your gaze as you stand in front of them, arms crossed, foot tapping, and glaring at them.
“Do I even want to ask?”
Sonic perked up, “Oh, how kind of you to ask what happened!”
A sigh leaves your lips as you open your bag to work on them. Tuning out whatever Sonic is saying. Whether Sonic is retelling what transpired or is lying out of his ass and making up a story, -he’s done it in the past- for the sake of your sanity, you decide not to bother this time around. Most of the time, you end up chiding them, especially if they’re lying. This brings up the repetition of you reminding them why lying to doctors is an awful decision. But based on the fact that you don’t hear Tails butting into Sonic’s explanation with a slightly raised voice to say that that’s not happened, and instead is calmly telling the story from his perspective, providing proof that he can attest to Sonic’s words. As much as you wish, you can always depend on Tails to speak the truth when incidents like these occur, like how you thought when you were getting to everyone, you couldn’t. As time passed, you learned the hard way that boy has picked up a few bad habits from Sonic. Lying about his wounds is one of them. Thankfully, it's not as bad as the blue hedgehog.
The entire ‘conversation’ between you three was just you perfectly timing when to hum, nod, and pretend you were listening to them as you finished patching them up. On the other hand, Sonic finally catches up to this as Tails finishes speaking and points this out.
“Hey. Were you even listening?”
“Not really,” you responded bluntly.
“Hey! Aren’t you our doctor? We’re supposed to tell you these things, right?”
Ignoring the warmth creeping into your heart as Sonic put not just his trust but also his and your guy’s friends' health in your hands, saying, ‘Our doctor,’ you frowned and looked at him and Tails as you stood up, hands on your hips. They both sheepishly smiled, knowing what was coming.
“I don’t know. Should I listen to you guys? Just like how well you guys listen to me regarding your well-being?”
There was no actual bite behind your tone or attitude. Sonic and Tails both knew it. Still, that didn’t mean they didn’t feel some guilt, knowing the stress that weighed on you by being their doctor. Or at least, if not Sonic, then surely Tails.
“We really are sorry (y/n). We do appreciate everything you’ve done for everybody since you arrived.”
Hearing Tails’ words and genuineness, the frown on your face disappeared, and your hands fell from your hips. You sighed.
Damn him for being adorable.
“I understand there will be moments where you guys are bound to get hurt. But that doesn't mean go ahead and be reckless since you will get harmed anyway.”
Tails’ smiled and nodded, “We understand.”
Sensing the conversation would end, you asked, “Are you going to be working on something?”
“That’s right!” Excitement shone in his eyes.
“Make sure you work sitting and relaxed. Do nothing with a lot of movement, but don’t stay too long sitting up. Take breaks, lay down, rest, and don’t push it.”
“I won’t.” Too thrilled to head straight to work on a gadget, he ran towards the door.
“No running.”
“Right, sorry.” He chuckled, rubbing his neck before closing the door.
Right as he left, you immediately turned, “And you!”
Your sight set on Sonic, who tried sneaking away, “What?”
You swiftly approached him and grabbed his wrist. “You’re lying down,” you said.
You dragged him towards the couch before he yanked his arm away, “Why does Tails get to go scot-free? And what’s up with the switch up all of a sudden?”
“Your wounds are more severe than Tails’; that’s what’s up.”
Your reasoning was full of shit, and you knew it. But damn do you need to find a way to make Sonic slow down for once, “Now lay down.” You pointed towards the couch.
Sonic faked a groan, “You know how it is (y/n). Got a reputation to keep up. ‘Fastest being alive.’” He signaled his thumbs to the door while scooting around you. But before he could go any further, you grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the couch.
“Doctor’s orders.” Your brows furrowed, and your voice stern.
For you, it was just a second or two. For the fastest being alive, it felt like more than two seconds.
The view of you above him arms out, hands firm on him, sitting him down, demanding tone, and your face—he already knew you were quite the sight, but he’d be lying if he said the upset look on your face didn’t look especially gorgeous on you.
Sonic played it off by lightly swatting your hands away, crossing his arms, and looking away, “Fine, fine. Doctor’s orders, I guess.” He shrugged, hoping that his face wouldn’t give away how warm it was starting to feel.
Smiling and satisfied with this little victory, you nodded and walked away to get a pillow, blanket, and a book.
Once the blue blur was lying comfortably with a pillow and blanket, you sat by him and opened the book in your hands.
“Are you going to read me a bedtime story, Mom? I’m too old for that.” Sonic said dryly.
“No. I don’t trust you won’t start running again when I leave, so I’m staying until you fall asleep.”
“Seriously?” He rolled his eyes, not meaning it, and honestly didn’t mind.
“Seriously.” You smiled and started reading the book in your head so Sonic could fall asleep without any disturbance. Unknowingly to you, he wished you spoke the words under your breath so he could have an excuse to listen to your voice.
You open your eyes and find yourself lying on the couch with a pillow and blanket. Your mind is foggy and confused. You remember falling asleep upright while reading a book when suddenly you jerked up. Realizing the pillow and blanket on you is the same one you gave to Sonic. Looking around, he was nowhere to be found. Calling out and looking for him would be pointless; you already knew he was probably up and running again.
Shaking your head, you wondered,
Maybe I should contact the previous doctor who worked on this island and ask why they left.
#fanfic#fanfiction#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#sonic boom#boom!sonic#reader#x reader#reader insert#y/n#x y/n#(y/n)#sonic x reader#boom!sonic x reader#sonic the hedgehog x reader
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Anomaly Chapter 5
Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.
Chapter Summary: You and Eddie make some calls and get to know each other a little more.
Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of y/n
Word Count: 2.4k
Master List
No beta, you all should know better by now.
“You’re old enough to buy your own now, you know. I’m only gonna up-charge you.”
“What? Can’t a girl just buy some smokes from her friend?”
“Right. Friends.”
“Fine, then I’m supporting a local business.”
“What do you actually want, Stacy?”
“I’m just making sure that you two are going to play nice.”
“What the Hell? Shouldn’t you be telling her that?”
“She’s always nice.”
“Right, and I’m the queen of Sheba.”
“Well then, your majesty, just give me my smokes and I’ll be on my way.”
Bev wasn’t too happy that Eddie was going to be coming in an hour and a half later than expected on his Wednesday shift but she waved it off. The Hideout survived without him for god knows how long, the small dive could handle losing a busboy for a few hours on a weekday night.
He sauntered into Ms. Benson’s classroom a fashionable ten minutes late, and a few dollars richer. You were already sitting at a desk chatting with Ms. Benson about who-knows-what before taking his own seat on top of the desk.
If Eddie had to be here, he might as well rebel in his own way. He really would rather be bussing tables and trying to convince Bev to give him extra time on stage than do school services with someone who hated him.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Munson.” Ms. Benson said, ignoring the fact that he was on his desk. She pulled out a thick binder and a rolodex that looked like it would fall apart if she didn’t hold it just so. “In here, you’ll find the budget for Spring Day and all of the different vendors and events that we’ve used over the past ten years.”
Being the smart woman that she was, she placed the rolodex in front of you and dropped the binder on Eddie’s lap. He raised an eyebrow and flipped through it casually, as if looking through the Spring Day binder would provide him with secrets to the school that he could use to force Higgins to let him graduate this year.
“There’s a phone in the teachers lounge you can use.” She continued, grabbing her own purse. “Let me know what you come up with on Monday.”
“Wait- are you leaving?” You asked, jaw dropped as Ms. Benson started out of the room. “You’re not gonna help?”
“There’s only one phone. Just get some quotes for vendors. All of the information is in the binder. Just close the door tight when you leave.”
Your mouth was still agape as Ms. Benson left, which was very amusing to Eddie. It was dead silent before Eddie burst out in a maniacal cackle that echoed through the classroom and made you jump. That also amused Eddie.
“Well well, it looks like it’s just us in charge of Spring Day.” He got off the desk and dropped the binder down where he had just been sitting. Eddie leaned over the binder and flipped through it. “I’m thinking evil clowns, adding balloon popping back but with knives, and a petting zoo with snakes and goats.” Eddie turned and grinned wide at you.
“What, no fortune teller to tell you how you’re gonna die a gruesome death?” Your voice was flat, but Eddie could pick up the hint of amusement in your voice which made his grin widen.
“I’m sure we can dress you up in something covered in stars. I’ll sit under the table and shake it. We’ll make a killing!” Eddie laughed.
“A killing? Really?” You shook your head at the terrible joke and flipped through the rolodex with a sour look on your face. Eddie hadn’t meant to make a pun, but if it annoyed you he’d keep it up.
Play nice.
As if Stacy had any say over what happened between the two of you. He barely knew either of you.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to charge for anything, anyway.” you continued, flipping through the cards almost as fast as Doug flipped through long boxes at the comic shop.
“What doesn’t kill Higgens won’t hurt us.” Eddie pressed, not even fully invested in the idea himself. Something about his talk with Stacy just got under his skin, and the only way he could shake it was by getting under yours now.
“I don’t think half of these businesses even exist anymore.” you said to yourself as you kept flipping through the rolodex with your good hand. Eddie sighed and figured you were ignoring him until you continued. “This laundromat shut down last year. I heard it was a front for some mafia and there was a shootout.”
Eddie perked up a little, had that been an attempt at playing along? It wasn’t completely in line, but everyone in town knew that the laundromat had just been flooded from the inside when a pipe burst.
“There’s no mafia in Hawkins.” Eddie said, looking over your shoulder at the rolodex. “Only cults that sacrifice people to the dark forces.”
You stopped messing with the rolodex, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d said something wrong. You had apologized before, maybe it was too soon to joke about it?
Eddie was usually good at reading people, but you were harder to understand.
“So, what’s the budget that we’re supposed to be working with?” You asked, changing the subject.
“Three pennies and an expired coupon for Benny’s.” Eddie replied, flipping back to the first page.
“Yeah, that sounds right. I guess there’s no room in the budget when the basketball team needs new jerseys or the cheerleaders need pom-poms.” you rolled your eyes, done messing with the rolodex.
Eddie was a little surprised at the dig towards the cheerleaders, considering your best friend was one. Had been one. Why the hell had she wanted to buy smokes from him today?
The two of you finally got up and made your way to the teacher’s lounge. Ms. Teedee, the art teacher, gave him a half hearted wave as she finished washing her coffee cup. Eddie liked Ms. Teedee, she didn’t give a shit about his reputation. Art and shop were the only classes he had ever done consistently well in, so when he was saddled with a third senior year he decided to re-take art as an easy A.
The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon calling places and taking down numbers. You did most of the talking, but Eddie took charge when you got up to use the bathroom.
Eddie was surprised when you came back, well that you came back. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had run for the hills and left him alone. But you did come back, two bags of chips in hand. One of them was offered to him.
“Thanks...?” Eddie didn’t mean for that to come out as a question, but it did anyway. How was it that one minute you hated him, but another you were apologizing? You were scandalized to be left alone with him to work on this, and yet came back with food.
He shouldn’t trust it, but he also wasn’t too good for free snacks.
“So, what’s your deal?” Eddie asked, timing his question with you shoving a few large chips in your mouth.
“Huh?” was your graceful reply as you covered your mouth with your hand. He could see that his timing was not appreciated, which made him feel better.
“Your deal. Which of these fine cliques here at Hawkins Hell do you belong to?” Eddie elaborated, spreading his arms as if gesturing to a crowd when in reality he was gesturing to the table the phone was sitting on.
You took a moment to finish chewing, giving him a glare as you finally got the chips down. Okay, maybe Eddie felt a little bad for that, as you had been nice enough to get him a snack.
Play nice.
He was a dungeon master, he wasn’t known for playing nice. He could at least play fair though.
“I don’t belong to anyone.” you said finally, flipping through the binder and not looking at him. “I got in late, made friends with Stacy and... I don’t know. This late in the game, cliques aren’t exactly taking new applicants. Not this close to graduation when everyone has known each other since elementary school.”
Eddie looked at your broken wrist again, looking at all the different signatures. For someone who didn’t belong to any group, you sure were on everyone’s good side.
Everyone had some group they belonged to. That’s how high school worked. The Freaks sat with him, the Jocks sat with their teams, the Science Nerds sat with the science nerds... that’s how high school- no, that’s how the world worked, according to Eddie.
Your response would normally have you tucked away as “new kid” or “freshman” but neither of those fit you. You knew too many people. You hung out with an ex-cheerleader, but you weren’t exactly jumping around with excitement at the last pep-rally. Stacy still dressed like a cheerleader, and was just as nosy as one but you didn’t look popular.
Not that there was anything wrong with the way you looked to Eddie, you just didn’t look or dress like the popular crowd. He could tell you apart from the near identical wave of perms and ponytails.
What was your deal?
When Eddie didn’t respond in an appropriate amount of time for you, you responded with the same question.
“What’s your deal, Eddie?” His name sounded foreign coming from your mouth.
“Huh?” he asked, shoving a chip into his own mouth, mimicking you. You rubbed your face and let out a laugh, to his surprise.
“What’s your deal? Or, I guess what’s Hellfire’s deal?” You clarified.
“Well, you see, it’s a fantasy game-”
“Not a cult?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
“Go on.”
You didn’t interrupt him again as he started explaining the bare basics of the game, figuring that you were just looking for an excuse to stop calling people for a moment. That was fine with Eddie, he’d happily sit here and rant about his favorite game in the teachers lounge, tainting the warden’s space with the game that they tried to hide away from the rest of the inmates.
What he didn’t expect was for you to be listening so intently. You were looking at him, really really looking at him. If Eddie didn’t know any better, and he liked to think that he did, you seemed to be actually interested in the world he was opening up up to you.
His eyes glanced down at your cast, and the curly signature of Chrissy Cunningham shimmered slightly on the underside of your cast. Eddie could barely make out her last name, but he could assume that the glitter gel pen signature belonged to the cheerleader.
That reminded Eddie that, popular or not, you were still in a completely different world than him. One where people actually liked you and didn’t sneer at you for bullshit reasons.
But then why were you looking at him so intensely?
“So you’re playing make believe with dice and if you roll high you can do things and if you roll low you eat shit.” You said, crumpling up your bag of chips.
It was a grossly simplified explanation of the game that Eddie had poured hundreds of hours into.
“Yeah, basically.” At least that had killed a good fifteen minutes.
“And you’re god.” You added, which Eddie did appreciate.
“No, I’m Satan, remember?” He flashed you his most charming smile and you just laughed again.
“You aren’t that bad.” You sounded like you meant that.
“Tell that to my players, they say I’m worse than Satan.” He said with pride.
Your conversation was interrupted by the bell, announcing that any clubs needed to pack up and leave. Eddie took that as your cue that you were done.
You closed the binder and the notes that you two had taken over the past hour and took a deep breath.
“Wait, shit, Mrs. Benson left. What do we do with this?” You asked, motioning to the binder and rolodex. “Do we just leave it here?”
Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice about just dumping it on one of the tables and leaving. He still had his shift to get to, but...
“Come on, we’ll drop it on her desk.” he said, and walked out of the lounge before you could protest.
You caught up to him a moment later, glaring at him for ditching you and leaving you to scramble with your things. Eddie wasn’t sure if he liked you more when you looked like you were hanging on his every word or looking at him with annoyance. Maybe Eddie just wasn’t sure if he liked you. He sure couldn’t tell if you like him at all.
“It’s locked.” you said.
“Barely. Make sure no one’s coming.” Eddie squatted down and pulled out a thin strip of plastic from his coat. He could feel his eyes on him and he looked up at you as you gaped. “Not me, look out for anyone else.” he clarified.
Once you had looked away and down the hall, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Eddie to jimmy the lock open. He grabbed the rolodex and the binder from you before you knew what was happening.
Eddie had broken into the classroom, dropped the items off the desk, and slipped back out into the hallway in less than a minute.
“How’d you learn to do that?” you asked, following him out towards the parking lot.
Eddie just shrugged. “I’m a man of many talents.”
It was cool outside, the winter weather seemed to finally be on its way out. A small beep signaled you to the sleek car that Stacy drove and you waved at her. Being the good friend that she was, Stacy had offered to drive you home that night.
“I guess, I’ll see you next week.” you said to Eddie.
“Same bullshit time, same bullshit place.” he agreed, watching you hop into the car before heading off towards his own van and drive off.
“Sooooo, how was your date?”
“It wasn’t a date, it was school.”
“Did you make out in the teachers lounge?”
“No, I gave him a hand job in the janitor's closet.”
“The one by the gym, or the one by the science lab.”
“The gym. Smelled worse but at least there weren’t any dangerous chemicals.”
“No, really, tell me what happened.”
“We called different places to get quotes for Spring Day. He also talked about Dungeons and Dragons for fifteen minutes.”
“And then you made out?”
“No.”
“But you wanted to.”
“....Stacy, I’ve never wanted to blow someone more in my entire life.”
Author Notes: Sorry this took so long, I got so brain dead writing this. I really need to visit more of the source material. I love Eddie, but he just hasn't been talking to me much lately. Hopefully when Rise of Hellfire comes out it'll help lol
Tag List:
@eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach
@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias
@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess
@sp1dyb0y1008 @projectcampbell @emxxblog @thebadbatchfan
@transparentenemypenguin @ghoulsgraveyard @spread-the-hope @exploding-bonbon @paleidiot
@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta
@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart @bambibiest @mylovelycrazyworld
@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair
@amieinghigh @hazydespair @princesssunderworld
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Confessions of an Insomniac
curly x coworker!reader ⋆ an au where you're his coworker, and he's head over heels for you
⋆ tags : slowburn, coworkers to lovers, jimmy is mentioned like 2 times but never shown
word count : 1k+ ( and proud!! ^^ ) ⋆
⋆ taglist : @likeadeadbattery
Curly never thought he'd find himself in such a compromising position. He took himself for being a professional man. Took pride in it, too.
He was the captain, after all - your captain. Worked with you long enough to know you on a first name basis. He never truly shook off the flush that appeared on his chest whenever he called you by your actual name. He preferred calling you by your title, Doctor (L/N). It was professional. It was propriety. It was what made sense to him.
In all his years of running the Tuplar, he's never felt this way about a coworker before. It made him feel sick with sweaty palms, unable to focus.
That would explain his frequent visits to your office. But you didn't need to know that.
Curly's senses were more hyper-aware than he usually was, more than he needed for his position on the ship as you check his heartbeat with your stethoscope. "Oh, change in pulse." You comment, chuckling to yourself as you scribble that information down.
You were close. So, so close.
Curly knew the procedure. Attentiveness was expected. The way your eyes softened on him wasn't. Checkups were the norm. The way your touch seemed to linger on him like static through the corridors wasn't. He fixes the neckline of his shirt after you pull away to keep himself distracted.
"Have you been working out recently?" You hold your clipboard in your hands. Curly found it hard to tell if you were asking that question casually or professionally. You were using your doctor's voice, but you were asking him something he'd hear you ask over lunch.
Curly straightens his posture at the question to appear more put together in front of you.
"Yes, I have." He replies, though the answer was obvious. His muscles almost jumped out of the fabric of his jumpsuit. He wonders if you asked that question just to hear him say it himself.
"Usually, I do warm-ups in the morning before starting my duties..." You listen to him and nod along as he rambles on about his workout routine, not minding the lax tone of his voice.
Knowing that Curly trusted you enough not to use his captain's voice on you had to be some form of an honor, right?
Both of your words held weight. Both of you had people who looked up to you. You were both similar, in a way. Curly had you and the crew. You had Anya and him.
Curly stops his little tangent when you pick up a different colored pen and scribble more doctor's jargon onto his sheet. "That's good." You respond, eyes focused on your clipboard.
"Good?" he echoes, his face, all the way up to his ears, goes red. Pink against his skin, but red nonetheless.
He was used to people praising his routine, but it felt different coming from you.
"Yes, despite our advancements in technology, we still experience muscle atrophy." You explain, using your doctor's voice. "What you're doing helps prevent the risk." You glance towards him. "You're aware of what that is, yes?”
Curly nods, silently hoping you wouldn't comment on his appearance. "Yes, I've read about it before." He says with a bit more confidence, his hands going from his knees to his thighs.
You chuckle as you speak. "Once we get back to Earth, you won't topple over like a Jenga tower.”
Still red in the face, Curly chuckles along.
"Maybe you should get Jimmy on your little workout regiment, too."
Curly knows he shouldn't laugh at the jab you just made at his second in command, but a little good-natured ribbing never hurt anybody, right? You were joking, weren't you?
“Don't tell him I said that."
You whisper, leaning in to add emphasis to your words.
He smiles, letting out a small chuckle of approval. He eases his tone, feeling less stuffy the longer you went on with your playful jabs at his best friend. "Don't worry, Doctor (L/N)." He reassures you, his hand on the table. "I promise you, I won't tell him a thing. It'll be our little secret." Curly adds an almost teasing tone in his voice.
He relishes in the reaction you gave him. The subtle flush of your cheeks told him everything he needed to know.
You didn't mind breaking the lines between camaraderie and fraternity.
Maybe you did, maybe you didn't.
Maybe Curly was just too deep in his head, too caught up in the version he had of you.
Blinded by your smile and the way you laughed at his jokes. Curly wonders if you feel the same way as him. Saw the same version of him that he had of you.
Curly watches as you work in pure concentration, your eyes glued to your clipboard, pen cap pressed to your chin. He takes in the sight, secretly glad that you were distracted. He had the chance to do nothing but stare, admire you as you worked.
You break your concentration to speak.
"You don't have to keep calling me doctor, you know. You have the bragging rights to call me Doc."
Curly smiles ruefully at your words. He should tamp his feelings down now, shouldn't he? He had to prove that he still had control. That he was the one in charge.
Mostly for himself, not you.
"I suppose you're right." He shrugs, trying to keep his tone neutral as he gazes away to focus his eyes elsewhere. "Bragging rights, huh?" Curly says softly to himself, still smiling.
Luckily, you don't hear the way he fondly repeats your words.
"Are we still up for our little date, captain?" The way you lean in to speak makes him want to look anywhere but you. The phrasing you used made him feel all warm in the chest again.
You were going to be his downfall. All the hard work, the excruciating hours he put into getting where he was now, was just one word away from going completely down the drain.
All because of you.
"You really shouldn't call it that." Curly rubs the back of his neck like a nervous teen. Awkward and clammy. At least now he wasn't as pink as a baby mouse. "Wouldn't want the rest of the crew getting the wrong idea, would we?"
You lean back and let out a laugh, sounding as though you didn't have a care in the world.
"Yeah, you're right. Doing nails isn't much of a date anyway."
Your words sting Curly, just a bit. There was a wordless form of intimacy behind doing someone's nails of someone you loved. Carefully holding the other person's hand in yours. Trusting them enough for your hold to go limp in theirs.
You even get the right to tell others that you had the privilege of having someone else do your nails.
Bragging rights, as you playfully put it. Perhaps he was looking into it too much.
Curly mirrors your movements, his eyes temporarily flick to your hands as you speak. You had nice hands, compared to his. He'd never voice his opinions to your face, of course. Never. It'd be unprofessional of him. More than he was already. He felt guilty, thinking of you in such a way.
The thought of being alone with you strangled all competence out of him. The smell of your shampoo clouded his senses. You, you, you.
All he could think of was you.
"Trust me, Jimmy's not gonna crucify you for wearing some clear coat, Curly."
Your breath mingles with his as you do his nails, his knees were starting to hurt from sitting on the carpeted floor of the conversation pit, but he wasn't complaining at all. He appreciated the level of care you put in as you held his hand. It was endearing.
Curly looks down at his hand, his head tilted at an angle.
"What is a clear coat?" he asks, genuinely wondering what exactly you were applying to his nails. He probably should've asked that before allowing you to do this.
The small grin that appears on your lips when you hear his question makes him completely forget that what you were doing together wasn't a date. That what you were doing was just a favor between coworkers.
With a flick of your hand, you reply. "A clear coat keeps it all shiny and neat. Feels nice, huh?" Curly nods to your question, careful not to move too much as you hold his hand in yours.
"Keeps your nails from chipping, too. Wouldn't we want that, would we, Captain?"
The way your eyes flit up to him almost makes him turn red. He could've sworn he heard a teasing tone in your voice.
"No, not at all, Doc." He replies, looking down at his nails. The changes were subtle. But you were right. It felt nice.
He pretends to admire the way his nails look in the artificial moonlight, when in reality he's looking at you.
"Better waste of time than staring at those pixels, right?"
Curly remembers your words from earlier. Your promise to do his nails as the rest of the crew slept. Two insomniacs against the unrelenting pull of space. Just you and him.
He wonders if your promise was just some flimsy excuse to get him alone with you.
"Right." He repeats, voice softening.
"Captain." You scoot closer to him, your knees touching his.
Your arm brushes against his, just like it did whenever you crossed paths in the halls.
"When this is all over... I wouldn't mind seeing you outside of work."
It takes him a moment to catch on to your words. His own words catch in his throat. The walls of the ship felt more suffocating than they usually did.
"I'd like that." He responds.
Carefully, as if you'd break in his hands, he slots his fingers in between yours. He tests your reaction by squeezing your hand. When you squeeze back, he smiles.
He leans in but doesn't kiss you.
"I'd like that a lot." He adds, his other hand going to your shoulder.
Again, Curly looks at you. Deep in thought as he takes in the way you looked at him. Lost in your eyes, he almost doesn't hear what you're saying.
You looked happy, as if a weight was finally lifted off of your chest.
His eyes widen when you lean in to kiss him.
He tenses up, not expecting you to do the first move. As quickly as you pull in, you pull away. Short and sweet. That's all he needed to know you felt the same.
You were red in the face, just like him.
His thumb brushes over your skin. Curly always tried to see the bigger picture.
He never thought you'd be a part of it, too.
#⋆₊˚⊹♡ like the fic? reblog and show your support in the tags!!#♡ : curly hearts club!! ♡#coworker!au#︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵♡︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵#captain curly x reader#captain curly x you#curly x reader#curly x you#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing x you#mouthwashing fanfic
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