#tried out blending for the first time as i finally figured out that i could use masks for it lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cyofii · 2 months ago

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⩩﹕IN WHICH Phainon, always the playful troublemaker, decides to help his friend Mydei get closer to you. With the new library opening next to your favorite café, Mydei, the kind and mysterious owner, has been secretly watching you but has never had the courage to talk to you. Now, with a little help from Phainon, the chance is finally here. As you share shy glances and small talk, the two of you slowly begin to understand each other. Meanwhile, Phainon watches happily, believing his plan will work… eventually.

wc: 3.6k 𐔌 ᯓ modern/college au, slow burn, friends to lovers, mydei being secretly smitten, mutual pinning if you squint, might be ooc!

“I heard there’s a new library that just opened right beside the café we always go to,” Castorice said, glancing up from her book with a hint of excitement in her voice. It looked like she had been jotting down ideas for a new chapter again—her pen still hovering above the page. You looked up from your phone, eyebrows raised in confusion as you tried to recall if you’d seen any signs of construction the last time you were there.

“Really? Are you thinking of going there to look for inspiration?” you asked, slowly lowering your phone on the table as curiosity began to spark in your voice. Castorice nodded, a soft smile spreading across her face, the kind that made her eyes light up. “I thought it might be nice,” she said, “A change of scenery could help me get through this chapter.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” you asked with a warm smile, your voice gentle as you leaned slightly forward, genuinely interested. “We could check out the library first, and then head to the café to hang out like we usually do.”

Castorice looked at you, her smile growing a little wider, touched by the offer. “I’d really like that,” she replied softly, her fingers pausing on the edge of her notebook. “It’s easier for me to write when you’re around… I feel less stuck.” Her gaze lingered for a moment, as if silently thanking you for always being there.

“No problem!” you said with a cheerful grin, flashing a smile in her direction. As you and Castorice continued chatting, the soft hum of the cafeteria around you blending into the background, a familiar figure with white hair approached, looking mildly frazzled and out of breath.

“There you guys are!” Phainon exclaimed, sliding into the seat beside you with a dramatic sigh. “Professor Anaxa just won’t let me go until I finish that one-thousand-word essay about Dromas,” he groaned, slumping forward onto the table as if the weight of academic suffering had finally crushed him. “I swear he has it out for me.”

“Well, you did turn in a blank essay before,” you said with a teasing smile, unable to hold back a laugh. “So honestly? This one’s totally on you.”

Castorice let out a soft giggle, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, clearly amused by the memory. Meanwhile, Phainon only sighed louder, dramatically resting his forehead on the table.

“I was having a creative block, okay?” he mumbled, voice muffled against the surface. “Totally different situation.”

“Whatever you say…” you said with a playful smile, shaking your head slightly. Then a thought struck you. “Oh, by the way—are you free after class? Cas and I were planning to check out the new library next to the café we always go to.”

Phainon lifted his head, blinking a few times before meeting your gaze. “Library and café?” he echoed, then gave a quick nod. “Sure! Sounds better than sulking in the dorms over that essay, anyway.”

The afternoon sun filtered through the classroom windows, casting golden patches of light across your desk. Professor Anaxa was deep into his lecture about ancient civilizations, his voice steady as he paced across the front of the room. You were half-listening, somewhere between jotting down notes and sneaking glances at your two friends.

Castorice sat a few seats ahead, scribbling diligently in her notebook, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration. It was clear she was trying her best to stay focused, though the way her gaze occasionally drifted to the window hinted that her thoughts were already wandering toward the library plans.

Beside you, Phainon looked like a tired golden retriever stuck in a history class. His head rested on his hand, eyelids drooping every few minutes, and every now and then, he’d scribble something that probably wasn’t related to the lecture, just enough to make it look like he was keeping up.

You nudged him with your elbow. He flinched upright slightly, blinking at you with a betrayed, sleepy expression.

“I was listening,” he whispered, clearly bluffing.

“Sure you were,” you whispered back, trying not to laugh.

Up front, Professor Anaxa paused mid-sentence and turned around. “Is there something amusing you’d like to share with the class?” he asked, arching a brow.

You and Phainon straightened in sync, both shaking your heads quickly like well-behaved students. Castorice glanced over her shoulder with a small, knowing smile, barely hiding her amusement.

As soon as the professor turned back to the board, Phainon leaned toward you again and muttered, “Okay, maybe I do deserve that one-thousand-word essay…”

The moment Professor Anaxa dismissed the class with a sharp tap of his pen against the desk, the three of you practically leapt out of your seats. Phainon let out a dramatic groan as he stretched, slinging his bag over his shoulder like he’d just escaped a life sentence.

“Freedom never tasted so good,” he sighed, trailing after you and Castorice as you all made your way down the hallway.

Castorice chuckled softly, hugging her notebook close to her chest. “You act like you just finished a twelve-hour shift at a coal mine.”

“I might as well have,” Phainon replied, feigning exhaustion. “My brain has withered. My soul aged ten years.”

You smiled. “Good thing we’re going somewhere peaceful. Who knows, maybe the library will help restore your ‘withered’ brain.”

The three of you stepped out into the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. The sidewalk was quiet, lined with swaying trees and the occasional rustle of passing students. Just a short walk from the campus gates, the familiar café came into view—its windows glowing softly, the scent of brewed coffee drifting through the air. But today, your eyes were drawn to the sleek building next to it: tall glass windows, elegant wood paneling, and a freshly painted sign that read Kremnoan Public Library.

“There it is,” Castorice said, her eyes lighting up as she pointed to it. “It looks so calm.”

“And bookish,” Phainon added. “Like a place where the air itself smells like old pages and productivity.”

You laughed. “Let’s check it out.”

The doors opened with a soft chime, and the scent of new books and polished wood wrapped around you like a gentle hug. Shelves stretched high and far, with sunlight pouring in from the skylights above. It was quiet, but not cold—welcoming, like it had been waiting for people just like you.

“I think I’m going to like it here,” Castorice murmured, already drifting toward a corner desk near the window.

Phainon blinked up at the ceiling. “I might actually feel inspired to write that essay…”

You raised a brow. “That’s a big maybe.”

He grinned. “I said might.”

Ignoring Phainon's words, the three of you quietly went your separate ways inside the library.

The space was bigger than it looked from the outside, with towering shelves that seemed to stretch endlessly. You wandered through the aisles, your eyes drifting over titles that sparked your curiosity, history books, fantasy epics, and scientific journals. Despite all the options, you somehow ended up in the light novel section, the one place you often found comfort after a long day.

You slowly scanned the shelves, your fingers brushing across worn covers and fresh ones alike. A few familiar titles stood out, but one in particular caught your attention. It was a book Castorice had recommended to you before. The cover looked exactly like how she described it, and just the sight of it brought a small smile to your face.

You reached out for it without hesitation, eager to finally give it a try. Just as your fingers touched the book, another hand reached out at the same time.

Your hands brushed against each other.

Startled, you looked up just as the other person did too.

A man stood across from you, tall and composed, with an unfamiliar but calm presence. His eyes met yours for a moment, sharp, golden, and strangely warm. He didn’t speak right away, and neither did you.

The silence stretched, not awkward, but still enough to make you realize your hand was still lightly touching his.

“Oh,” he said, voice low and smooth, almost too gentle for someone his size. He glanced at the book between your hands. “Looks like we had the same idea.”

You quickly pulled your hand back, heart skipping a beat. “Ah—sorry! Did you want it?”

He shook his head, the corner of his lips lifting into a small smile. “No, you go ahead. I’ve already read it. It’s a good one.”

He reached up to return another book to the shelf beside you. The cuff of his black dress shirt shifted slightly as he moved, his gestures neat and practiced. Before you could think of anything else to say, he gave you a short nod and stepped away, heading toward another section with quiet, steady footsteps.

You stood frozen, gripping the book.

“He’s… handsome,” you muttered, a bit too loudly.

A soft snort came from behind.

You turned to see Castorice standing there, eyebrows raised and clearly holding back a grin. “That obvious?”

Your face warmed. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

She laughed quietly, linking her arm with yours. “Come on, lovebird. Let’s find a seat.”

The next day, the cafeteria buzzed with its usual midday chaos—clattering trays, low chatter, and the hum of students trying to relax between classes. You and Castorice sat across from each other, your half-eaten lunch long forgotten as the conversation circled back to the one thing that had been stuck in your mind since yesterday.

“I still can’t believe you said that out loud,” Castorice teased, sipping her iced tea with a knowing smile. “You should’ve seen your face.”

You groaned softly, hiding behind your hands. “I was caught off guard, okay? He was just… he had this calm aura. And his voice. And the way he just—ugh. Why are mysterious guys always so cool?”

“He was polite too,” Castorice nodded thoughtfully. “Didn’t even look annoyed when your hand touched his.”

You glanced to the side, then back at her. “I wonder who he is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around before.”

Just then, Phainon plopped down beside you, placing a few snack packs on the table. “You two are talking about Mydei, huh?”

You blinked. “Wait. You know his name?”

Phainon raised an eyebrow like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. We’re in the same Ethics class.”

Castorice nearly dropped her drink. “You know him?!”

“Sure do,” he said with a casual shrug, already tearing open a bag of chips. “Smart guy. Doesn’t talk much. Kinda intense. Has this weirdly perfect handwriting.”

You stared at him. “And you just… didn’t say anything yesterday?”

Phainon stuffed a chip into his mouth. “No one asked.”

You and Castorice exchanged a look of disbelief.

“He’s a student?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Phainon nodded. “Same year, too. He just keeps to himself most of the time. Spends a lot of time in the library ever since it opened. Pretty sure he works there too or something. Might even live nearby.”

You blinked slowly, the realization settling in. “That explains a lot.”

Phainon smirked. “What, you gonna go back to the library and confess now?”

Your hand immediately went to your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering.

Castorice chuckled. “Be honest, if we run into him again, you’re totally going to freeze, aren’t you?”

“I’ll have you know,” you said, trying to sound dignified, “that I am perfectly capable of functioning like a normal person around handsome, mysterious guys.”

Both of them stared at you.

“…Sometimes,” you added.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself back at the Kremnoan Library, though you weren’t entirely sure why.

You hadn’t borrowed anything yesterday. There was no real reason to come back. But here you were, wandering past the front desk with Castorice beside you, trying to look casual while your eyes flicked over every aisle.

Castorice leaned in slightly. “So… are we pretending this is just another visit, or are we being honest about it?”

You gave her a pointed look. “It’s a library. I’m allowed to show up and browse.”

She grinned. “Sure. Totally not hoping to accidentally run into someone.”

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to turn into the same section as before—the shelves filled with light novels and some fantasy titles. You pretended to scan the books, fingers lightly brushing along the covers, heart quietly thudding in your chest for no reason you could admit aloud.

Then you heard it.

“You’re back.”

You turned, and there he was again.

Mydei stood a few feet away, holding a couple of books in one hand, a calm expression on his face. His gaze met yours easily, as if you were someone he fully expected to see again.

“Looking for something specific?” he asked, voice as smooth as yesterday, but a touch more curious.

“I… no,” you admitted. “Just browsing again.”

He nodded slowly, eyes flicking to the shelf you were near. “There’s a new arrival two rows over. Same author as the one you were interested in yesterday.”

You blinked. “You remembered?”

He gave the smallest shrug. “It was a good choice.”

You barely registered Castorice pretending not to hover behind you.

“Well, thank you,” you said, trying not to smile too hard. “I might check it out.”

He gave you a soft look, not quite a smile, but something that lingered in his eyes, before turning and walking past. His footsteps were quiet on the wooden floor.

Castorice waited two full seconds before whispering, “Okay. He remembered what book you were looking at, and you still think it was just a coincidence?”

“I don’t know what to think,” you said, trying to steady your breath.

From the next aisle, Phainon suddenly popped his head around the corner, holding a random book and grinning like he knew everything.

“Are we still pretending this is a casual visit, or are we admitting it now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “How long have you been there?”

Phainon shrugged. “Long enough.”

He tossed the book into the crook of his arm and added, “Oh, by the way, Mydei and I have a class later. I’ll tell him you said hi.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “You are unbelievable.”

“But you didn’t say not to,” Phainon said innocently, strolling off like this was all a normal day.

Castorice was already laughing beside you. “We should’ve known he’d show up.”

“Mydeimos!” Phainon called out, walking toward Mydei, who was just about to exit the classroom.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want now?” Mydei raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with indifference.

Phainon dramatically placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt by the cold reception. “When you’re talking to them, you get all soft and gentle, but when it comes to me, it’s all cold and distant!” He pretended to sniff, his eyes wide with playful sadness. “Why do you hate me, Mydeimos?”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t get all nice and soft for you like I do for others,” he said, his tone playful.

Phainon let out a playful sigh, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I see how it is. I’ll remember this betrayal.”

“You’re impossible,” Mydei muttered, but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

“Still, though, you pulled it off!” Phainon beamed, clearly proud of himself. He hadn’t expected his little plan to actually work.

A few days before you and Mydei spoke for the first time, Mydei had already been admiring you from afar. Ever since Phainon befriended you on the very first day, he’d noticed the way Mydei’s gaze lingered a bit too long whenever you were around. It was a shame, really. Mydei didn’t even share a single class with you.

But Phainon had noticed. Whether it was in the corner of the cafeteria, walking down the hallway, or lingering near the courtyard, Mydei always seemed to be nearby whenever you and Castorice were hanging out. That’s when Phainon decided to do something about it.

He cornered Mydei one day after their ethics class.

“You like them, don’t you?” Phainon had said with a raised eyebrow.

As expected, Mydei did not give him a clear answer. He either dodged the question completely or brushed it off like it meant nothing. But Phainon did not give up. He remembered Mydei mentioning that he was the owner of the new library being built beside the café that the three of you often visited.

That’s when the plan formed.

The moment the Kremnoan Library opened, Phainon made it his mission to drag you there. He figured that if Mydei wouldn’t make a move, he’d give him the perfect opportunity: a quiet space, the two of you alone, no interruptions. Just enough to spark something... or at least get Mydei to finally speak to you.

And now, seeing how things were playing out, Phainon couldn’t help but feel smug.

“You know… I heard something new was added to the menu at the café next to your library,” Phainon said, wiggling his eyebrows at Mydei.

Mydei didn’t even hesitate, he lightly punched Phainon on the arm.

“What are you planning now exactly?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Phainon grinned. “You ask them to go on a date with you! I’ll make sure Castorice and I are conveniently busy so we don’t interrupt.”

He leaned back against the wall with a smug expression, clearly enjoying himself as he imagined how everything might play out. "C'mon, you've got the perfect setting. Just say the word, and I'll handle the rest."

It was a quiet Saturday morning when you found yourself once again wandering into the Kremnoan Library. With no classes and the weather calm and cool, it felt like the perfect day to catch up on some reading.

You were flipping through a book near the back shelves when you heard someone approach. The footsteps were light but familiar, and when you turned your head, you found Mydei standing there.

He looked a bit more casual than usual, wearing the same black dress shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and for a brief moment, he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Do you have any plans today?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not really. Just came here to read.”

“Perfect,” he said, a little too quickly, before clearing his throat. “I was thinking... maybe we could go to the café next door. Together.”

You blinked in surprise. “You mean... right now?”

He nodded. “If you’re free. I thought... maybe I could buy you something.”

You couldn’t stop the grin that formed. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mydei?”

He didn’t answer right away, but a small, almost shy smirk appeared on his lips. “Only if you say yes.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling a warmth rise in your chest. “Then yes.”

Mydei’s smirk grew just a little, and without another word, he motioned for you to walk with him. You both exited the library together, stepping into the gentle morning breeze. The café was just a short walk away, and for a while, the two of you walked side by side in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward at all.

You leaned back a little in your chair, sipping your juice as you watched Mydei quietly fiddle with the handle of his coffee cup. It was rare to see him look unsure of himself. Usually, he carried a calm, unreadable air, but right now, he looked like he was searching for words.

"Mydei?" you asked gently, setting your drink down. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head quickly, almost too quickly. "No. It’s just..." He paused, frowning at his coffee as if it would help him gather his thoughts.

You waited patiently, a small smile playing on your lips.

"I’m not good with... saying things," he finally muttered. "But... I think you’re... nice. And... I like being around you."

His voice was quiet, but honest, almost vulnerable.

You blinked, your heart fluttering at his words. A warm feeling bubbled up inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft laugh.

"That's the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day," you said warmly.

Mydei coughed awkwardly, his hand running through his messy hair as he looked away, his ears slightly tinted red. "I just thought you should know," he added, his voice almost a grumble.

You smiled brightly and leaned forward just a little. "Well, I like being around you, too."

He glanced back at you, and for a moment, the faintest smile touched his lips, gentle and unguarded.

The sun outside glowed a little brighter through the window, but somehow, nothing felt warmer than the look Mydei was giving you right now.

Unbeknownst to you and Mydei, two very familiar figures had quietly slipped into the café. Hiding behind a menu near the entrance, Phainon and Castorice peered over the top, barely containing their giggles.

"Would you look at that," Phainon whispered, a mischievous grin on his face. "Our dear Mydei actually pulled it off."

Castorice nodded, smiling fondly. "They look good together," she said softly.

"Should we say hi?" Phainon asked, already halfway standing up.

Castorice grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him down. "No way. Let them have their moment."

Phainon pouted, but stayed put, sneaking another peek at you and Mydei. The two of you were leaning closer now, smiling and talking like no one else in the world existed. It was honestly too sweet to interrupt.

With a defeated sigh, Phainon slumped in his seat. "Fine, fine. But I’m teasing both of them later."

Castorice chuckled. "Only if you want Mydei to strangle you."

Phainon snickered. "Worth it."

With that, the two of them exited the café, sneaking off down the sidewalk like mischievous partners-in-crime, already planning how they would tease you both the next time you met.

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kiwriteswords · 9 months ago

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And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you."

AN: Since you guys seem to like the Shy!Reader drabbles!

Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: Everyone

TW: shy!reader, alcohol mention

Five times you were shy around Aaron Hotchner because of your underlying feelings for him + one time, Aaron Hotchner was shy around you because of his underlying feelings for you.

one.

The office was unusually quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the soft hum of computers. The rest of the team was out in the field, leaving just you and Aaron Hotchner behind to finish reviewing the case files for the next briefing.

You glanced at the clock. It was just after 6 p.m. Most people would be winding down their day, but for the BAU, the hours always seemed to blend together. Of course, you didn’t mind—working with the best agents in the FBI was an honor, but working directly under Aaron Hotchner, your team leader and a respected figure in the bureau? That was something else entirely.

And today, you were supposed to help him with the case files for the recent kidnapping case. Alone.

“Ready?” His deep voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you nearly jumped. You didn’t have the time to dissect why this man--your boss, made you feel this way. As if every time he looked at you, it felt like he could see things differently--more than anyone else. You felt a level of exposure you were not quite used to. It wasn’t bad, no. Just made you feel sort of funny inside.

“Uh, yes, yes, sir. Just—just a second.” You scrambled to gather your papers, your hands suddenly clammy as you fumbled with the file in front of you. Great start, you mentally scolded yourself.

You could feel his eyes on you, calm and patient, as you tried to compose yourself. Hotch, with his sharp features and intense gaze, sat down beside you at the long conference table, his presence commanding even though he said nothing. As usual, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, tie still impeccably knotted despite the long day.

He always looked so put together, so composed, and here you were, barely able to keep from dropping the entire file on the floor.

And that was the thing about Aaron Hotchner’s microscope; it was never him purposefully looking at you--through you with judgment. Just through a different lens, you could feel it.

“Okay,” you breathed out, finally opening the folder and staring at the first page, willing yourself to focus. But of course, all you could focus on was him sitting beside you, his arm brushing ever so slightly against yours as he leaned in to review the documents.

Hotch’s voice broke the silence again. “I noticed some inconsistencies in the witness statements,” he said, pointing at a section in the report. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the proximity making your heartbeat quicken.

“Right, um, inconsistencies. Yes, I—I saw those too,” you stammered, your voice just a little higher than usual. You could feel your cheeks burning. Pull it together.

As you reached to turn the page, your fingers trembled slightly, and the edges of the papers crinkled under your grip. You cursed yourself internally. He’s going to think I don’t know what I’m doing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hotch glance at you. His brow furrowed, not in frustration, but in something softer—concern, maybe? Before you could stop yourself, you began speaking too fast, trying to fill the silence.

“I mean, the statements are definitely off, like you said. I was just thinking, you know, we could um, cross-check them against the surveillance footage from the convenience store and maybe, uh, match the timestamps, because—well, um, obviously, you’ve probably already thought of that, but I just thought…”

You trailed off when you realized Hotch wasn’t looking at the file anymore. He was looking at you. And oh god, that made things so much worse. You felt the tips of your ears burning now, and you quickly looked down at the paper in front of you, pretending to reread the same line over and over just to avoid his gaze.

“You’re doing fine,” Hotch said softly, his voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You looked up, blinking in surprise. His expression was calm, reassuring even, as though he could sense how flustered you were. For a moment, you thought you saw the tiniest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I—thanks,” you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper. You bit your lip, cursing yourself for sounding so meek. This was Aaron Hotchner—your boss, your colleague. And yet, here you were, acting like a nervous schoolgirl with a crush.

Well, because you did have a crush. A big one. A ridiculous, all-consuming crush that you had been battling for months now. And being this close to him, feeling his presence so close—it was like your brain short-circuited every time. His cologne, his energy--everything that surrounded your senses was just like a drug making your brain work in ways it really shouldn’t be when you have a job to do.

Hotch nodded, his attention returning to the file in front of you, but the moment didn’t pass unnoticed. The air between you felt different now--lighter. As if he understood, on some level, that your nerves weren’t because of the case, but because of him.

You worked in silence after that, the tension slowly ebbing away. But every now and then, you caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if he was still watching, still noticing.

And for the first time, you let yourself wonder if maybe, just maybe, Aaron Hotchner noticed you too.

two.

It had already been a morning and a half. The team had gathered for a debrief, with everyone scattered around their desks reviewing the latest case notes. You felt the weight of exhaustion after the last long night, and from the looks of it, so did everyone else. It was natural for these long hours to catch up to you all eventually.

“Coffee run?” you asked, glancing around at the others. JJ and Spencer immediately nodded, followed by Morgan flashing you a grateful smile.

“I could use about three cups,” Emily quipped, massaging her temples.

You smiled back and quickly made your way to the break room. As you stood by the machine, the familiar hum of it brewing filled the room. You glanced at the lineup of mugs in your arms, including the one you had specifically set aside for Hotch. His was easy to pick out—simple, just like the man himself.

For some reason, even the simple act of grabbing coffee for him made you feel jittery. Maybe it was because of the way he always carried himself—calm, collected, completely in control. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you, like he was always assessing, always paying attention.

Or maybe it was because you had the world’s most inconvenient crush on your boss.

You sighed and shook your head. It's just coffee. Be normal.

When the machine finally finished, you loaded the cups and returned to the bullpen. As you handed the team their drinks, your nerves started to build as you approached Hotch’s office. His door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, you could see him typing away on his computer, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You knocked softly, pushing the door open a little wider. “Coffee?”

Hotch glanced up, his eyes softening for a brief moment as he saw you standing there, juggling the last two mugs. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm but as professional as always.

You stepped forward, holding out his cup. “Uh, here,” you said, your voice coming out a little I quickly. As he reached for it, your fingers accidentally brushed against his.

The contact was fleeting but sent a jolt through your whole body. Your breath hitched, and suddenly, you were hyper-aware of how close he was. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, and you swore he must have heard it. You tried to ignore how your hand trembled slightly, but it was impossible with Hotch standing right there.

For a second, he didn’t move. His gaze flickered down to your hand, then back up to meet your eyes, and you could have sworn there was a flicker of amusement in his expression as if he was beginning to catch on to the hold he had over you. He took the cup from you carefully, his touch deliberate and slow.

“Thank you,” he repeated, but this time, there was something softer in his tone. His lips curved ever so slightly—a small smile, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. You always were.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Why am I such a mess around him?

“Oh—uh, no problem,” you managed to stammer, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. You took a step back, desperate to escape before you embarrassed yourself further. “Enjoy your coffee, Hotch.”

You turned to leave, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly—a rare sound, one that sent another rush of heat through you. You could only hope he didn’t notice how flustered you were. But then again, judging by that tiny smile, he already had.

three.

A grueling case with long hours and high tension called for alcohol and camaraderie. When Rossi suggested they all unwind at a nearby bar after wrapping things up, no one argued. The idea of a drink and a few hours of normalcy was too tempting to pass up--and much needed.

You found yourself sitting at a long table with the rest of the team, squeezed between JJ and Hotch. Normally, that would have sent your nerves into overdrive, but after the first glass of wine—and then the second—you felt your anxiety loosen just a bit. Just enough to breathe without overthinking every little move you made next to him.

The conversation flowed easily around you, with Morgan and Garcia trading playful banter while Spencer tried to argue some statistic about criminal behavior. You laughed along, but every time Hotch spoke, your focus snapped to him. You couldn’t help it. It was like your mind was on high alert every time he addressed the group, or worse—you directly.

“Good work on the case,” he said at one point, turning to you with that intense gaze of his. “You managed the witness interviews really well. I think it made a difference.”

Your heart lurched. He was complimenting you—praising your work in front of the whole team. The sudden attention made your pulse quicken, and you could feel your face heating up despite the buzz from the drinks.

Before you could stop yourself, the words just spilled out.

With a slightly bolder tone than you usually used around him, you turned to face him fully, giving him a playful smile. “Well, maybe I just wanted to impress you, Hotch.”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized how bold they sounded. You raised your glass slightly, locking eyes with him for a moment longer than necessary. You’d just flirted with your boss. There was no going back now.

Hotch blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then a slow smile—rare but devastating—appeared on his face. “Is that right?” he replied, his voice low and most definitely amused.

Your heart practically stopped, but before you could spiral too much, JJ leaned over with a laugh. “Well, someone’s confident tonight.”

You hadn’t even realized that not only did you flirt with Hotch, but you happened to do it in front of your coworkers--your profiling coworkers. Ones that were well-trained and versed in all sorts of fucked up psychology that “having an apparent crush on your older boss” would fall under.

The moment passed quickly, and the conversation shifted again, but your head was spinning. The buzz from the drinks had officially worn off, leaving you hyper-aware of everything. You spent the rest of the night trying to avoid looking directly at Hotch, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t taken your words too seriously.

By the time you walked into work the next morning, the weight of what happened at the dinner hit you full force. I flirted with Hotch. The realization felt like a brick sinking in your stomach.

You avoided his office all morning, burying yourself in paperwork and case files. Every time someone walked past your desk, you jumped, paranoid that it would be him coming to say something—anything—about last night.

Why did I have to say that? What was I thinking?

By midday, you were a ball of nerves. Every interaction with Hotch now felt loaded, as if you were walking on a tightrope. When he passed by your desk and gave you a small nod of acknowledgment, you nearly knocked your coffee over, your hands trembling as you tried to act casual.

You could still feel the burn of embarrassment every time you remembered how easy the words had slipped out. And the worst part? He hadn’t seemed uncomfortable at all. If anything, he had smiled. That tiny, knowing smile that you couldn’t get out of your head.

Later, when you were both in the conference room, going over case files, the tension felt unbearable. You barely managed to string together coherent answers every time he asked you a question, your brain too busy screaming Don’t be awkward.

But even in your shyness, you couldn’t help but wonder if he remembered what you said. If maybe, somewhere behind that calm, professional exterior, Aaron Hotchner had actually been flustered, too?

four.

Everyone else had left hours ago, but you were still there, finishing up some paperwork that seemed never-ending. The only sound was the soft clicking of your keyboard and the occasional creak of your chair as you shifted positions. Being the newest member on the team, you often double- or even triple-check everything, afraid it would be wrong. This cost you a lot of your spare time, but in fairness, what else did you have going on?

You weren’t surprised that Aaron Hotchner was still there, too. He was always the last to leave, always pushing himself past his limits. It was one of the things you admired about him—and maybe one of the reasons you found it so hard to concentrate whenever you were alone with him.

You glanced at the clock. It was well past 9 p.m., and the fatigue from the long day was starting to settle into your bones. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your eyes when you heard footsteps approaching. Before you could turn around, Hotch’s calm, steady voice cut through the silence.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” he said softly, standing just behind your desk. “Maybe it’s time for a break.”

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment. You hadn’t realized how quiet it was until his voice filled the space. His tone almost vibrating against your ears.

You quickly straightened up, trying to act casual, though you could already feel your pulse quickening.

“Oh, uh, yeah… probably a good idea,” you said, a bit too quickly. You glanced up at him, and for a split second, you wished you hadn’t. He was standing close—too close—and the sight of him with his tie slightly loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sent a fresh wave of nervousness through you. Why did he always have to look so effortlessly composed?

Hotch tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. “I was about to make some tea,” he said, his voice low and calming. “Would you like some?”

Tea. Something about the simplicity of the offer made your heart flutter. “Sure,” you replied, smiling faintly. “Tea sounds nice.”

A few minutes later, Hotch returned with two steaming mugs. He set one down beside your stack of papers and took a seat in the chair next to yours.

You quickly pulled your hand back, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way your breath caught in your throat. But of course, he noticed everything. That’s who he was.

“Long day,” he said quietly, sipping his tea and glancing over at you.

You nodded, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling. “Yeah. Feels like the days are getting longer.”

Hotch smiled softly, a rare but welcome sight. “I’d say you handled it well.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Compliments from Aaron Hotchner were few and far between, and when they came, they always seemed to hit harder than you expected. You swallowed nervously, feeling the familiar heat rising to your cheeks.

“T-Thanks,” you stammered, looking down at your tea and willing yourself not to blush. But it was no use. You were hyper-aware of how close he was, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Every word you could have said stuck in your throat, as if your mind had gone blank.

There was a brief silence, the kind that felt charged with something unspoken. Hotch leaned back in his chair slightly, his gaze steady on you. You could feel it—his calm presence, his quiet strength—and it only made your nerves worse. How did he manage to make small talk feel so intense?

“You don’t have to push yourself so hard, you know,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “You’re already doing more than enough. There’s nothing you need to prove--you deserve to be here.”

Your breath caught again. Was he worried about you? The thought made your heart race even faster. You tried to find the right words, but they felt stuck. All you could manage was a small, awkward laugh. “I guess I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

Hotch’s expression softened further, and for a moment, you swore there was something in his eyes—something warmer, more personal. He didn’t respond right away, just held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire now, and you quickly took a sip of your tea, hoping it would calm your racing heart. But the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like a quiet understanding had passed between the two of you, something unspoken but undeniably there.

Maybe he put together all of the pieces and realized you were hopelessly crushing on him, so he had pity and let you be. Maybe he thought men made you nervous--but then again, he’d seen you all buddy-buddy with Reid or even Morgan.

As the minutes passed, the tension slowly ebbed away, but the closeness remained. Hotch’s presence beside you felt reassuring, yet it kept your pulse thrumming in a way that made you wish you could stay like this just a little longer. Even if it meant fumbling over your words, you wouldn’t mind.

five.

The overhead lights buzzed softly, and the air was thick with the smell of coffee. You were sitting at the round table in the conference room, papers spread out in front of you, piecing together a presentation for the case debrief tomorrow. Your focus was sharp, and for once, you weren’t thinking about how close Hotch was sitting. Well, almost.

Aaron Hotchner was seated at the head of the table, reviewing files and notes from his section of the case, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence between you felt comfortable—until it wasn’t.

Out of nowhere, Hotch spoke up, breaking the quiet. “Your organizational skills are impressive,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I don’t know how you keep all of this together so efficiently.”

You froze, your pen hovering above the notebook in front of you. He complimented you--again. The words sunk in slowly, and you could feel your face start to burn. Why did he always catch you off guard like this?

“I—uh, thanks,” you stammered, suddenly feeling the need to escape. Your heart raced as you realized how flustered you must look, your cheeks burning under his calm gaze. You barely managed to glance up at him, but his expression wasn’t teasing. It was soft, warm even.

“I just try to stay on top of things,” you mumbled, pushing your chair back too quickly. The sound echoed through the room, making you cringe. You could feel your face turning crimson as you gathered up your papers in a rush, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Why did he have to say something so nice? Why did you have to react like this every time?

You gave him a brief, awkward smile and practically bolted for the door. “I-I need to get this to JJ,” you blurted out, even though you had no intention of doing so.

As you reached the doorway, your hand on the handle, you heard him call your name—soft but unmistakable. You froze in place, half-turned, not daring to look back fully.

“By the way,” he said, his voice still calm but a touch more serious. “You don’t need to rush out every time I give you a compliment.”

Your breath caught, and for a split second, you weren’t sure if you could move. There was no teasing in his tone, no sharpness—just a quiet, sincere warmth. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Hotch noticed more than you thought.

You finally turned slightly toward him, meeting his gaze briefly. “I… I’ll try not to,” you whispered, your voice shaky but honest. Without waiting for a response, you slipped out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest.

And as you left the room, you heard Hotch chuckle softly to himself. It wasn’t cruel; it was amused, affectionate even. That only made things worse.

As you walked down the hall, the sound of his words still echoed in your mind, replaying over and over. You didn’t need to rush out every time he complimented you. And for the first time, you wondered what might happen if you didn’t.

+one

It had been weeks since the last case that left you fleeing the conference room after Aaron Hotchner’s casual compliment about your organizational skills. You’d spent every day since trying to keep your interactions with him as short and as professional as possible, but avoiding him entirely wasn’t exactly an option. You were part of the team, and your role often required working closely with him. That only made your constant nervousness more exhausting.

Every time he passed by your desk, every time he said your name in that calm, authoritative tone, your heart would skip a beat. The nerves were always there, simmering just under the surface. You weren’t sure if he noticed how flustered you got around him or if he simply chalked it up to work stress. Either way, it made every interaction with him feel like walking on a tightrope.

And today was no different after another intense case had finally been closed. You were finishing paperwork at your desk when you saw Hotch step out of his office, his eyes scanning the bullpen. The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted.

He started walking over, his strides purposeful. You tried to keep your face neutral, even as the heat rushed to your cheeks. Stay calm. It’s just work.

You looked up at him when he stopped before your desk, forcing a smile. “Do you need something?”

Hotch’s expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes seemed different today. Less intense, more… hesitant? “Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you quickly nodded, not trusting your voice. You grabbed your notepad, assuming it was something case-related, and followed him back into his office.

As you stepped inside, he closed the door behind you. The click of the latch made the room feel suddenly smaller--more intimate. You turned to face him, clutching your notepad like a shield.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

Hotch didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he walked over to his desk, leaning against it, his arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but there was something in the way he looked at you—something that made your pulse quicken.

“I’ve noticed,” he began, his voice measured but quieter than usual, “that you’ve been avoiding me.”

Your stomach dropped. He noticed. You hadn’t thought it was that obvious, but of course, this was Aaron Hotchner. He noticed everything.

“I… I h-haven’t been avoiding you,” you stammered, though you knew it was a lie. “I’ve just been busy. Lots of cases lately, you know.”

Hotch’s gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not what it feels like.”

You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to overwhelm you. He wasn’t angry; his tone wasn’t harsh or accusatory, but there was a weight to his words that made your throat go dry. He uncrossed his arms and took a small step toward you, closing the gap between you just enough to make your breath hitch.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he continued, his voice softer now. “But I’ve noticed how you’ve been acting around me. And I have to admit, it’s been difficult to ignore.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind racing. Was he going to reprimand you for being unprofessional? Did he think you couldn’t handle your job because of the way you acted around him? Would he send you off to report to someone different? You felt the familiar heat rising in your cheeks and wished you could disappear.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been… awkward,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. At this moment, you felt like a small child, “It’s just—”

Before you could finish, Hotch interrupted, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t seen before. “You don’t have to explain. I think I know why.”

His words hung in the air between you, and suddenly, everything felt different. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “You do?”

Hotch took another small step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. He was so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. For the first time, you noticed the way his usually composed features seemed more vulnerable—like he was grappling with something inside himself.

“I’ve noticed because I’ve been feeling the same way,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart stopped. He feels the same way? Your mind struggled to process what he was saying. Aaron Hotchner, your boss—the man who was always in control, always so composed—was confessing that he had feelings for you?

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, and all you could do was stare at him in stunned silence.

Hotch ran a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture that sent a ripple of shock through you. He seemed just as uneasy as you were, as though he wasn’t used to being in this position—being vulnerable. “I’ve been trying to ignore it for a while,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reaction. “But…but I can’t anymore.”

The silence between you felt thick with unspoken words, with all the tension and longing that had been building for weeks, maybe even months. And now it was all out in the open.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch smiled—just a small, almost shy smile that you’d never seen from him before. He let out a soft chuckle, “Neither do I. This is… new for me.”

Your mind was still racing, but somewhere amidst the chaos, you realized that he wasn’t just confessing to you. He was just as nervous, just as unsure. For the first time, Aaron Hotchner—the man who always seemed unshakable—was standing in front of you, vulnerable and open.

You felt a surge of courage then, maybe fueled by the realization that this wasn’t one-sided. He was just as affected by you as you were by him. Slowly, you took a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you.

“I didn’t think you’d ever notice,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly, though steadier than before. You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep eye contact, despite the fluttering nerves in your stomach. “I thought I was just… making a fool of myself. That you’d think I was unprofessional.”

Hotch’s expression softened, his gaze never leaving yours. He shook his head gently, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something more tender than you’d ever seen from him before. “You haven’t,” he said softly. “Believe me… I’ve noticed everything.”

The weight of his words hit you, and for the first time, you realized how closely he’d been watching, how much attention he’d been paying to all the little moments you thought were only one-sided. A warmth spread through you, melting away some of the nervous tension that had been building for months.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore—it was charged, yes, but it was also full of something else. Understanding. Relief. The unspoken truth you’d both been dancing around finally laid bare.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, just stood there, the distance between you feeling impossibly small. You took a deep breath, your heart still pounding but lighter now, and offered him a small, hesitant smile. “So… what happens now?” you asked, your voice quieter, as if you weren’t sure you wanted the spell to break.

Hotch’s smile was subtle, but it reached his eyes this time, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “But I do know this… whatever we decide, we don’t need to rush.”

His words were steady and reassuring, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could breathe. The uncertainty was still there, yes, but so was the certainty that you weren’t alone in this anymore. That the feelings you’d been so afraid of had been mirrored all along.

You nodded slowly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Together, then?”

“Together,” he echoed, his voice quiet but firm.

And just as you turned to leave, feeling the tension melt away, Hotch called your name again. This time, his tone was softer, almost hesitant. You turned back to face him, your breath catching in your throat.

“One more thing,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ve spent a lot of time noticing you. Maybe now… we don’t have to hide it anymore?”

His words lingered in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, but it wasn’t from nerves this time. It was from the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real.

You smiled a genuine smile this time. “I’d like that.”

With that, you left his office feeling lighter than you had in months. And for the first time, the uncertainty ahead didn’t feel so daunting.

tag list:

@zaddyhotchzaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #shy!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #kiwriteswords #aaron hotchner one shot

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faebled-stories · 7 months ago

Text

Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hyunjin steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Hyunjin and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

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cherry-pop-elf · 7 months ago

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Kiss It Better Pt: 5

Curly x Reader

SUM: You had been sleeping in the med bay when Daisuke came to find you. Nearly stabbed him, but despite the scare he shared with you some good news! Jimmy managed to open the shipment bay. Now you all can finally get more resources to survive. Right…..?

Warnings: Jimmy, and uh. Actually that’s it. Hmph! Chapter breather again! No real trigger I can tell. Just ya know “it’s a mouthwashing fic” awareness stuff!

Your sleep was miserable. You swore you didn’t even sleep at all. You had just laid there all night, listening to Curly’s painful breathing and flinching at whatever noise the ship caused. No real rest. Only restlessness.

You even heard someone coming down the hallway. Your heart raced, as you gripped your knife tighter under the pillow. There was someone coming, and you had to be prepared. Sure it could be Anya, since she is the nurse.

But what if it’s not?

You would hear the door open, and you tried to look relaxed. Look like you were still fast asleep, and not waiting. Waiting for any sign of proof that it wasn’t Jimmy. Just praying it’s Anya.

So far it didn’t seem so. The foot steps were heavy, like wearing boots. There was also the fact Anya would speak to herself often. Just saying the quietest of things. Just whatever she was thinking. Didn’t hear a an expected ‘oh my-‘ that was gentle and soothing. None of that.

Just heavy foot steps that stood infront of you. Could even feel the body heat coming closer. Made you sweat in fear. The hell was Jimmy going to do? Did he think you were too tired to notice a touch?

Like hell you’ll be next.

You swung the blade right out of the pillow, and was quick to sit up. Panting in a blend of anger and fear.

To your horror it was not Jimmy.

It was Daisuke.

He had managed to fall on his ass just in time. You had been so terrifyingly close to nailing him. You had ghosted his cheek so close you nicked some of his hair right off his head. The small strands now on the floor.

“Oh god, I am so sorry-! I thought you were Jimmy. Fuck, Suke I am so sorry-“ You left the knife on your pillow, as you looked at your hands in disgust. How you were so close to almost seriously hurting your friend.

Typical Daisuke fashion, he laughed it off.

“Don’t worry about it Nakama! I totally get it. You are Curly’s Koibito! Course you were get defensive. I don’t blame you a lick! Pretty impressive, gotta admit. I would even say cool if I wasn’t on the other end of it.” He would laugh away, as he understood the situation.

Strange….He didn’t question you on why you said Jimmy…..

“Oh-! I came in here to tell you something! I figured you were in here, since I knocked on your bedroom door and nothing was responded back. So here’s the deal, Jimmy managed to unlock the shipment door. He told me to round everyone up so we can meet there and enter together.” He explained to you, as he would help you stand up.

He managed to open the door? Finally. His ass was finally being useful. Maybe there was finally something to make these remaining days less terrifying, and maybe extra in case of delays. It was to ideal to expect them to arrive exactly 28 days from now. Never hurts to have extra. Maybe there were better medical supplies! Yeah, also over optimistic but what else did you have left?

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute. Need to check over Curly first and all-“ You explain, as Daisuke gave a nod of understanding. Was also going to be used to help collect your thoughts. Damn you needed some proper sleep, but you were too worried for Curly and Anya. Suppose as the spouse of the captain you felt some kind of responsibility.

You don’t even have a role and you still had more respect and nerve to take care of everyone over the new captain.

How peculier.

“I’ll wait outside the door. Give ya privacy and all that.” He said, before stepping out of the door. He even was whistling to make some noise to give you two somewhat of privacy. Damn that guy was such a sweetheart. Even after so much.

Such a ray of sunshine.

You would run through his routine, and used it to help ground yourself. Just things that were familiar and automatic. Just had to get your brain in the game. Wake up a little bit more.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise. I love you, and remember. Just a few more weeks. You can do this. We can return back to those snowy mountains together. You and me. Have your siblings join us even, and watch them face plant over and over from their shitty balance.” You tried to give him hope, and his broken laugh said it worked.

You would kiss his forehead, before tucking away the knife into your robe pocket. Your card ID was in the other, so you didn’t risk damaging it or losing it when pulling the blade out. You also would lay Curly’s head on your pillow, in some kind of hope it could help him get some sleep.

For once he actually seemed to finally rest his eye. Suppose knowing it was your pillow, and having the faintest scent of you, was soothing something in his brain. That special little button to over run certain factors.

Some rest.

With one more Love You, you would now join Daisuke with heading over to the shipment bay. There with Anya and Swansea. Luckily Anya was standing next to Swansea, so that gave you some relief. Did feel a little guilty you didn’t hurry over sooner.

“About damn time you two. What took you so long? Actually, I don’t care. Let’s just get these doors open and finally see what the hell was so important for us to ship over a year’s time frame.” You glared at the nerve he had to talk to you, AND Daisuke, like that.

Even Swansea was shooting him an annoyed look.

“Just open the damn door, kid-“ The eldest of the group warned. “You got it unlocked, go on and open it already! No point in waiting any longer. Let’s see what the hell was so important they had to have it locked down so hard.” He added on.

Jimmy would give an eye roll, before listening to him. With the scanner triggering the override, the doors would finally click themselves to unlock. Sounded like they haven’t opened in years compared to months. Had you a bit worried.

The doors would slide themselves open, and you all were greater to a massive hall. Was just endless boxes. All about the same size, but it was looking into a sky full of stars. Felt like it went on forever. Was so high you swore you could catch a wisp of a cloud.

“Damn….” Swansea muttered, as you all would walk into the shortage volt. A strong stench of mint was quick to hit you all as well. Good to make the eyes water. Had you cough a bit by such an intense flavor overload.

“Smells like someone threw like a mint bomb in here. Phew-!” Daisuke would wave at his face, as Anya seemed to be the only one not really bothered. Suppose years of disinfect use makes you kinda nose blind.

“Wonder why it’s so minty in here.” You pondered, as Jimmy went to grab one of the boxes. Seemed to have some heft, given the weight lifter had to put in some effort to get it down.

Everyone was soon surrounding the box. Just wondering whatever could be inside. What could have been so important to ship, why there is so many, and why the hell the shipment was taking so long to get. Maybe it’s something important so no matter what people would have come for them? That would be nice.

Seems like thank god you found that transmitter.

“Is….is this-?”

“Mouthwash-?!”

Everyone was left kinda speechless. Just there infront of you was a box stuffed with mouthwashing bottles. Just simple, easy to make, mouthwash. Nothing special at all. Just dental hygiene.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of mouth wash bottles.

Left you all rather speechless. The hell does someone say? It’s just a bottle of liquid you are meant to spit out. It’s not even useful! And this ship was stuffed with it!

Anya would pick up a bottle, and read off the ingredients. Just trying to find some kinda of use for it. Meanwhile the rest of you were kinda having a crisis.

You on the fact Curly went through all this abuse for something that is not worth dying for. Made your ears ring, and nothing could really get through your head. You just had to process this insanity before you. That this was what would have been your final mission call, and what Curly lost his limbs for.

What pulled you away from the cocktail of mixed emotions was Anya panicking.

You quickly looked over, and say Swansea uncorking a bottle. Just out right drinking it.

“Hey hey-! Stop that-!” You ran over, and managed to get him to stop. Half the bottle was empty though. Was it dangerous to drink that stuff? You knew he had been sober for years, but was he really going to be that desperate for a fix?

People were falling apart fast. You needed to bring everyone back into control again. You wish it could be as easy as telling them the truth, but if Jimmy caught scent that help will come he might do something drastic. Maybe go on a killing spree and say he was the last survivor. Maybe something worse? What could be worse?

You didn’t want to know.

“Swansea, please. We still have plenty of rations, right? We aren’t empty on supplies just yet-“ You would take on the position of leader, since Jimmy sure was doing a shit job of it. Didnt say a damn thing when poor Swansea started chugging.

You would jump up on one of the crates, and used it as a stand to get everyone’s attention. Get everyone to focus on you and listen closely. You had to make a plan. Get gears turning in the right directions.

“We are going to be ok. Like I said, we still have supplies left. Curly can afford to stay in his bandages a little longer than normal with how we keep the med bay clean. He can afford to slow down his pain killer usage. We can stretch the food out longer if we make sure to not waste our energy on things that aren’t absolutely needed. We can afford to wait. We can wait. We will wait. At the very least try and give this another month before you guys all go crazy and say mutiny. Ok? We will be ok. Trust me. Curly and I had been victims of a crashed ship before. We will be ok.”

That was a lie.

Curly never crashed a ship in all his years. Never even crashed a damn bike, but sometimes you need to create fake hope to keep people from eating each other alive. That’s what a captain does. You try and take care of your crew by all means possible. You try, at least.

Something Jimmy hasn’t done at all.

“You are right-“ Anya said, before joining you on the box. She was anxious to speak up, because it made Jimmy focus on her, but she wanted to take care of everyone the best she could as well. She wanted to become a doctor for a reason. To help people. Now was her time to shine.

“We just need to remain calm. Panicking and doing things like chugging mouthwash isn’t going to do any of us good. We are still stable right now. Maybe there IS something useful here. We will look through here, while Swansea and Daisuke keep working on trying to repair what they can.”

You were proud of Anya. Having two calm voices was going to have a heavier impact than just one. Seemed to work on Swansea at least. To see you two up there, holding each other for support.

Just like his girls.

“Fine fine. But ONE month. That’s all you’ll get out of me-“ He warned, before whistling for Daisuke to follow him back to the lower decks. Suke didn’t really want to. Not with the fact Jimmy remained so silent during all this, and just glared at the two on the box.

“Jimmy? Your thoughts-?” Daisuke tried to get him to speak. Everyone now looked to the ‘Captain’ now. All he had to do was scoff.

“You heard them. Not like we have any better shit to do.” He narrowed his eyes at you, being suspicious on how you seemed so damn calm about this realization. You hope he thinks you are just good at playing it cool.

“I’m going to see if I can dig my way through some of the foam in the rooms to find any more supplies we can use.” Finally. Something actually useful from him.

That was when the team split up, and you would join Anya in trying to hunt down possible supplies through the thousands of boxes of mouthwash. Maybe something an employee left behind, or other materials stuffed away.

Once you were damn near the back of the storage vault, and any possible sounds of extra footsteps could be heard miles away, you finally pulled her aside.

You told her everything.

She sobbed into your shoulder in pure relief. Things were going to actually be ok indeed. She just had to let it all out. Probably some mixture of that crying was about Curly as well. You had to tell her that part. She’s a nurse. She needed to know for medical purposes. Such as infection risks and what wounds were reopened.

Didn’t know how long she cried, but it was long enough for Jimmy to get suspicious. Ended up hunting you two down in the vault. Fortunately his foot steps were easy to hear from so far away.

You couldn’t help but feel such a heavy dread come your way. That maybe it was better to hide. You didn’t know why. Something just sounded so off about his foot steps. They were heavier…and faster.

“Shhhh-“ You hushed, and she would wipe her eyes clean. Now she heard it to, and it was making her anxious as well. The two of you looked at each other, before to the shelves.

Time to put that ice mountain training with curly to use.

You climbed up the shelves, and tried to get as high as you could. Anya did her best to follow after you. She would directly follow the path you took, but her foot ended up slipping. She managed to grab your robe, and now you were holding on to dear life to the top shelf, while she tried to get her grip again.

“I swear I heard her crying back here. I know I did. I know her crying better than anyone-“ Jimmy muttered, as he was just under you both. Oh how you were trying so hard to keep your grip. You needed to move so bad, but if you did you risked making noise. You just had to hang on. Hang on long enough for him to leave.

Felt like an eternity, but you could hear him walking. That was until Anya’s sandal slipped off from her trying to get her footing.

The echo it made froze your blood.

You could feel him turning around, and you swore it was all over.

“JIMMY! SWANSEA AND I FOUND SOMETHING!” You could hear Daisuke call.

Thank you Ray of sunshine.

You would hear his footsteps fade away, and now you were finally able to help her up to the top shelf. The two of you just hiding there for a while. Catching your breaths, and shaking.

“Will Curly be ok stationed out in our bedroom?” You asked her, when you two were able to breathe.

“Yes….Yes he should. Just need to make sure he remains on clean fabric, a place to hang his IV, and things like that.” She swallowed, as you would stroke her hair.

“And a standby nurse?” You asked, as her eyes stared up at you with such a relief. A real place to hide. To finally get real sleep.

“Never hurts to have extra help.” She consented, as you two kept holding each other. Deep breaths of that painful mint, and the sounds of the ever creaking ship.

You couldn’t help but swear you could hear your husbands groans from the medbay. Maybe it was your imagination or maybe……

Jimmy was taking his anger out on someone.

You closed your eyes, and prayed it wasn’t the latter.

Just twenty eight more days.

Just…….

28 more days until rescue…..

Tag list: @meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562 @dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya @silas-222 @lil-writer-523 @ratkidcalledallie @vainillacookie @gumycandyyy @kawliflo @mikeyswifie @sc4rrc @infl1cted @sakui1 @justsomereaderwholikesanime @strawbrysapphic @bittersw33t-lotus @emmathecouchpotato4583 @crysta4rtist @luvsymai @mythraendir @dietcokeandlana @teenie-beanie @chewbrry @letmebedelutional

Like I say, it depends on when you ask and the fact tumblr doesn’t like me tagging certain usernames. Like they don’t even register. So do a solid and reblog to help people I’m unable to tag to see this post! Thank you!

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hxney-lemcn · 8 months ago

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Friend's From Strange Places — Mr. Crawling x gn! reader

summery: walking home, you meet a strange entity that seems to claim you as a friend on sight.

tw: none.

a/n: had to give my two cents to the Homicipher fandom.

wc: 0.9k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

You felt like you were going crazy. You swear you saw something following you in the corner of your eye, but every time you turned to look there was no one. Sure, it was dark out which meant it was more likely that your brain was playing tricks on you and you were strangely paranoid at the moment, but you couldn’t get over the feeling that something was watching you. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing on end as you walked faster, the street lights glowing faintly in the night not doing much to comfort you.

You tensed, a strange clicking noise causing your breathing to quicken along with your steps. You were basically running at this point, the sound of shuffling and more clicks picking up its pace in tandem with you. You would’ve felt silly, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins overrode any other thought you had. You needed to escape, you needed to hide, whatever was following you seemed otherworldly (if it was even real in the first place).

Suddenly everything was silent. No crickets, no hum of the street lights, no cooing owls or passing cars. The only thing you could hear was your thrumming heart and your panting breaths. Every fiber in your being was telling you to not look back, but it seemed your body had a mind of its own as you slowly turned to look back.

You let out a shriek, raising your hands to shield yourself from the entity. You only managed to catch a glimpse of long black hair and grey tinted skin, but it was enough to scare you as you hadn’t expected to see anything. You heard more clicking before the shuffling noise moved away from you. Taking deep breaths, you tried to get your shaking under control before peaking through your fingers. You nearly let out another shriek, but managed to keep it internal as your eyes met the entity that’s been following you on your walk home.

His hair was much longer than you originally thought, black locks reaching its feet. His hair obscured the upper half of his face, but you noticed the blotchy red splotches of skin that peaked through above his nose. Finally, he wore a pitch blank kimono that would’ve made him blend in with the night if it weren’t for the street lamps. A frown tugged at his lips, head lowered as he let out short clicks. A ghost. You were seeing a real life ghost. You weren’t sure what to think. Was he going to kill you? Why hasn’t he already? Why did he look…sad? Was he…trying to communicate with you? You should run, you should find an exorcist, you should…do literally anything else than what you were going to do. Maybe the characters in horror movies weren’t as stupid as you thought…or maybe you shouldn’t watch so much horror as it seemed the stupid main characters were rubbing off on you.

Pulling your hands away from you crouched down to his height since the ghost was in a crawling position. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you had the strange sense that he was watching you.

“H-hello,” You stuttered, trying to figure out why the hell you were doing this. This seemed to cause the ghost to perk up, head tilting as it let out more chirps. Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure how to understand what he was trying to say. “I don’t understand.”

The being crawled closer to you, smiling as it lifted a hand and pet your hair. You blinked in confusion, feeling your cheeks warm at the sudden affection. It chirped some more before he let out what you assume is a laugh. Your mouth opens, but no words come out as you're left astounded by the whole situation. You were running for your life not moments ago, only for it to be a strangely friendly ghost. Unsure of what to do, you thought it would only be polite to reciprocate his actions, patting his head in return, before standing back up.

“Um, it was nice meeting you,” You waved, feeling a bit awkward. Did he even understand what you were saying? He tilted his head again, crawling closer to you, saying something that went over your head. Unsure of what it meant, you turned around slowly before making your way back to your home. Glancing back, you noticed the smiling ghost crawl after you, looking as happy as ever.

Pausing your steps, you asked, “Are you coming with me?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, of course you didn’t understand his response, the being chittering and chirping. One thing rang clear, he seemed to want to go with you. You purse your lips feeling conflicted. Wasn’t it a bad thing to be haunted? To have a ghost in your life? They trick you into thinking they're good only to harm you. But the way this ghost acted seemed so innocent, like it just wanted a friend and you were probably the first one to notice, let alone treat him kindly. He was following you like he had nothing better to do, and to his credit, you weren’t sure how much a ghost can do without being bored out of their mind.

“Okay,” You relented with a sigh, already crumbling. Has it really been so long since someone was friendly with you that you’d befriend a ghost with no question? “C’mon,” You waved at him to follow you. “Let’s go.” The ghost chirped happily, crawling alongside you on your short walk home.

Who would’ve guessed a human and a ghost could be friends?

#❥ • my works #homicipher x reader #mr crawling x reader #homicipher mr crawling x reader #homicipher #mr crawling #x reader

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ceruleanchillin · 2 years ago

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But is she really yours? (141 x Reader)

Note(s) -

It's long, so be warned.

The guys are doing a little of what we like to call Dirty Mackin, and yes, I think this is something they’d all do in their own way.

Still working on getting those accents to come through, while not stepping into cringe/wrong territory.

I apologize, this is a very messy format (borderline stream of consciousness), and I’m trying to figure out a cleaner way to do this. I hope it doesn’t hurt the reading experience.

And I am the only one who kinda wants to see the reverse scenario, where Reader tries to get the guys away from their trash gfs? 👀Thanks to @bunnyreaper for the idea, it wrote itself as I read that.

Simon:

Annoying. That was the first thing Simon thought of you. So of course you had to work at the only cafe near his flat that made tea the way he liked.

You were always on your phone, arguing with someone (he guessed a boyfriend), and he hated getting stuck at your register. The calls clearly distressed you, and he didn’t know why you kept taking them. Especially on the job.

You’d gotten his order wrong more times than he could count, and you were always having to turn around and ask him to repeat the things he wanted. It got to the point where he waited until the other barista’s line was open.

Unfortunately, other customers had done the same, and it was causing a backup.

Then there was the day. His day started as it always did on his off time. The three S’s, and then he was at the gym to get his time in when he knew it was mostly empty. Then finally, his black tea.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the wait before he entered. As expected, there was a line.

You were there, and you appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with the only person at your counter.

He was surprised to see you had a customer. ‘Must not be a regular.’

As he got closer to the counter, he could overhear the whispered argument. The man wasn’t a customer at all, he presumed he was the boyfriend from the phone calls. Based on the things the two of you were saying, that made the most sense.

‘Great. Getting the live version today.’ Simon had to wonder how you kept this job. Were you the boss's daughter? Did you own a share? Could he steal enough of the signature black tea blend and go into hiding until he had to ship out again?

You looked exasperated, and your co-worker stepped over to your side, coming to your aid.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Simon groaned, realizing the wait would be longer.

He stepped outside for a cigarette, making the mental decision that if by the time he was done with it there was still a line, he would forgo his drink that day.

He chose the alley on the side of the shop, not liking the openness of the sidewalk, and staked out against the opposite building’s wall.

He was halfway past the tip of his cigarette when the side door he’d been eyeing warily opened, and out came you.

You looked frustrated, anxious, and maybe a little embarrassed. He didn’t think you noticed him, instead, walking over to the dumpster and kicking it, hard. It sent a loud, tinny groan echoing through the alley. He narrowed his eyes, feeling that itch of frustration under his skin.

You noticed him finally, and stopped angrily muttering to yourself. Instead, you started talking to him. It was mostly an uninterrupted stream of dialogue for two minutes straight (he timed it), before he could finally understand you.

“Mandatory break! That’s the second one this week, can you believe that?”

He started to say yes, and that he hoped the third one won you a prize: getting fired. He kept his mouth shut though.

“It’s not even me, it’s my boyfriend. He means well, but he just…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” You were searching for something in your apron, but he couldn’t tell what, out of the corner of his eye.

Simon flexed his fingers, eyes narrowing until the shop’s logo mural was a blur. You found it, and walked closer to him until he turned both eyes to you.

“Can I get a light?” You gestured with the unlit cigarette between your fingers to the one burning between his lips.

“Bloody. Fuckin’. Hell, Bird! S’not enough you keep half the fuckin’ place backed up on a good day, but then you prance your arse out here to annoy me some fuckin’ more? Fuck off.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the door you’d come out of.

The alley echoed his baritone, and somehow made his outburst sharper.

You stared at him like he’d taken his head off, instead of having bitten off yours. Eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he thought you might cry, and he began to feel guilt grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten, in the midst of you stirring up similar agitation, that he wasn’t on base talking to some recruit dumped on him.

You did cry, but once you started talking, he suspected it was more due to anger. “Fuck you! You fuck off, I work here!”

He ignored the small voice telling him ‘stop’, and fired back. “Work?” He snorted. “Real fuckin’ rich that is. Don’t confuse work with your million mandatory breaks.”

You clenched your fists, eyes wild with adrenaline and voice shrill with anger. “Go to hell. You’re just some freak in an alley who can’t remember when Halloween is. You don’t know me.”

You angrily wiped at your tears to no avail, as more quickly took their place, and then you started sobbing.

Simon sighed, feeling like shit and wishing he’d held it together just a little more. “Alright. Alright. ‘Nuff of that now.”

“I’m not crying *hic* because of you…” you huffed, trying to get your voice under control. “Just go back to your cigarette. I hope you suck it up and *hic* choke!”

He chuckled, you were the first person in a while who’d lashed back out at his harsh disposition. At least to his face. “Was uglier than I should’ve been, but won’t pretend there wasn’t some truth to it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a shit barista, wanna form a band?” His lips quirked into a smirk around his near-stub cigarette.

For a beat there was silence, until the two of you burst into laughter. Yours a raucous peal of giggles, and his, raspy chuckles.

“Well, you earned that light. Got more balls then a lot of soldiers I know.”

The two of you stayed in that alley for thirty minutes just riffing off different topics. It ended with Simon giving you the friendly (read: rough) advice to not let your boyfriend cost you your job.

That’s not how he saw his day going. Having the most interesting conversation he’d had in a while with the woman who annoyed the piss out of him for the better part of his leave.

You were no longer annoying, you’d been upgraded to interesting, and that was the second thing Simon thought about you.

After your talk in the alley, Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that you’d taken his advice and stepped your skills up. It turned out, you were distracted by your boyfriend, but Simon had come to see why. He was obsessed with knowing where you were, and if you were thinking of him, and wondering if he should drop by.

Simon felt more guilt for being so impatient, and he decided no matter what, he would pick your line. That was the only reason too. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about you after your last conversation.

Sometimes you would take your breaks with him now, exhibiting that same forward nature from the alley, but it no longer annoyed him. He’d tease you about whether or not that break was mandatory, but he looked forward to it all the same.

You talked about anything and everything, from where you were from, to Simon having to explain the delicate ins and outs of football to you. (He was pretty sure you were pushing him to have a heart attack by pretending you forgot a different detail every time you talked).

It was an unstated, but mutually understood, thing that your time together fulfilled something missing for both of you. For him it was cutting into his habit of cutting off socialization until he was back on base or a mission, and for you, it was a break from your relationship.

He liked to think that you looked forward to your talks as much as he did, if your expression every time you saw him was an indicator.

Unlike him, you were an open book, so you did most of the talking. Simon soaked up everything you told him, filing it away. You were funny, and fascinating.

On his end, he was careful about some of what he shared, and nervous about other things. He had more dark or restricted anecdotes than humourous or endearing ones, and he didn’t want to bring you down. After all, you had more than enough of that to deal with.

The boyfriend. He was a nightmare of obsession and insecurity. It was perhaps your fourth break-hangout that Simon saw it completely for himself. He’d all but dragged you out of your seat, which made Simon rise from his so quickly, it almost toppled over behind him. He wasn’t unaware of his size, nor was he afraid to use it on the shorter man, but you assured him it was fine until he sat down.

Your boyfriend was panicking, wondering why you were keeping someone like him company. He wanted to know what it meant for the two of you, and Simon hated seeing you in an endless loop of begging the pathetic prick to believe you loved him. All of your humor and your cute little habits disappeared as he forced you to become a helicopter girlfriend, concerned only with his fears.

Simon decided then he would sway you away from him. He didn’t deserve you, and Simon may not have known you long, but he couldn’t stand to see you withering under him and his emotional blackmail. No one ever accused Simon of being sane.

You would be his, and that was the third thing Simon thought about you.

If he said so himself, he was slick about it. He’d forgotten about the amount of energy it took to pursue a relationship with someone, and why he limited his romantic interactions to hookups with women he found interesting.

You weren’t just interesting, he was fully infatuated with you by the time he started to actively move towards getting you away from that neurotic dumpster. You were worth the effort.

It started with seeing you outside of the cafe in a way that seemed natural. He thought about it for a while, before he settled on inviting you to a football game. He couldn’t believe he’d worried that you’d say no, your ‘yes’ came out before he was even done asking.

You were impressed with his timing, confessing that the night before, your boyfriend had thoroughly embarrassed you at a party, and you needed a fun day.

Simon had smiled tightly all through your hurried explanation that everything was fine, and that he had apologized once you got home with him.

The day of the game, you were absolutely adorable when he picked you up. Giddily introducing him to your roommate. She eyed him with approval, and even congratulated you for trading up.

Before you could correct her, he slipped in his answer. “That remains to be seen. Depends on if she embarrasses me at the game.”

You snorted, launching into that now familiar peal of giggles. “I promise I won’t. Now, which of these soccer teams is yours again? The Manfordshire Mermaids?”

“You wanna ride there on the roof?”

The trip was a better investment than he thought. You were enthralled with what was going on, the hype of the crowd, the skill of the players, and just being there in person. However, you had to rely on him to translate this new world to you, and that left you literally clinging to him in interest. Simon was your whole world in that stadium, and he locked that feeling down tightly for motivation.

Step one had gone off without a hitch, and now it was on to step two.

Outings with you became a series. Simon encouraged as many as possible in order to trigger the response he wanted.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until your boyfriend started getting antsy, and insecure again. You were going out twice as much as you had before you started hanging out with Simon outside of the cafe.

To push the matter, Simon told you his work schedule was getting hectic. It was a half truth, the training period before the announcement of a deployment had commenced, and Simon planned on having a girlfriend to come home to this time. Namely you.

He used the excuse to create later meetups. Dinners, movies, wandering the street and stumbling into things to do. All the while getting you hooked on his touch. Simon wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, and this was something everyone who knew him picked up on quickly. You picked up on it too, but he wanted to touch you. He didn’t though, at least not often.

Starting off with little touches that could be confused as an accident, he increased the pressure but kept the frequency low so you became addicted to his rare touches. He wanted you to feel special that someone like him indulged you in that way, so that you’d seek out more, even though HE was the one who felt blessed every time he felt your skin on his.

When you were together, he made sure things were about you. He didn’t imagine your boyfriend left much room for that with his paranoia, but he wanted to show you what you were in for once you were together.

One night, Simon kept you out later than usual. He’d stayed away from you for two weeks, which wasn’t hard, work was starting to pick up. He could’ve carved out a day or two though, but he wanted to make you crave his time like he did yours.

It worked. He scheduled a late dinner at an upscale restaurant, letting you fill him in on all that he missed. Namely, you missed being with him. You weren’t the type to keep your feelings to yourself, and you’d inevitably vented to your boyfriend about missing your friend. He didn’t like that label at all, but he liked what would come from your actions.

Periodically throughout the dinner, your phone rang, increasing in frequency as the night wore on.

You had to excuse yourself multiple times, and Simon pretended to be annoyed. In reality, he anticipated that. Each time the phone rang, you cringed and looked at him apologetically.

On what had to be the tenth time, Simon said. “Go on then, run off to pamper the pathetic bastard. Powder his arse too this time.”

Your face screwed up in objection to his barbed words. “He’s just worried…”

He shrugged. “Don’t owe me an explanation lovie. S’just a mystery why you’re in such a rush to be a nursemaid.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the table. “I’m in a rush to be a good girlfriend thank you. Stop being an ass, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“S’go,” he downed the last of his bourbon before he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I’ll pay the tab and take you home.”

“What? We’re supposed to have dessert, and then maybe a movie.”

Simon watched your distressed body language and expression with mild amusement, and he was proud of being able to hide it, even though he’d forgone his mask that night. “You’ve gotta tuck in your kid. S’not on me you won’t date a man.”

You pouted and sat back down. “If I put my phone away, you put your wallet away. You promised me dessert.”

He smirked, refusing to hide it now. This was the first time, since he’d met you, that you’d ignored your boyfriend, and it said a lot.

You did it once, so Simon was able to turn it into a habit. Your boyfriend looked increasingly unhinged as Simon made sure you starved him of your attention.

The ugly voicemails and text messages began soon after. He didn’t like that at all, and he had to remind himself the time to deal with your boyfriend would come, but he did appreciate that you were becoming less tolerant of him.

Every time you returned to Simon after having to soothe your boyfriend’s ego, and stop his tantrums, Simon made your life easier. He worshiped you in subtle ways, reminding you of what a man was, compared to a child.

There was guilt on your part, but it felt so good to be taken care of for once. To not have to worry about Simon bursting into a fit of insecurity that made you completely responsible for his feelings, and left little to no room for anything else.

When he touched you, it lit your nerve endings on fire. You knew that the touches were bordering on inappropriate, since you were still taken, but you also knew that your brain went numb with good vibrations with even just a brush of his fingertips.

Simon still kept it light, almost questionable as to whether it even happened, and you finally began to seek it out. Wearing backless tops so that his fingertips would brush your bare skin, sitting next to him in diner booths so a thick thigh was always brushing your own, going for things in high places so he’d steady you by your waist.

He never seemed to miss a beat on when and where to touch you, but it wasn’t enough.

The breaking point came when he invited you to a dinner Price was holding as a goodbye to civilian life until next leave. The verbal invitation was the most valuable thing to you in a while. Not only because you were increasingly becoming addicted to him, but because for someone like Simon to invite you into that part of his life, it meant that he was in deep with you too.

All of Simon’s friends were funny, inviting, and very taken by you. They were so polite to you, complimenting you, and telling you as much as they could about their work, trying to impress you.

You were having fun trying to keep up, but you got the impression that Simon inviting a woman he was seeing to meet them was a new thing, and they didn’t know the protocol.

You were surprised to find he went by Ghost in his field, and they were unused to hearing Simon. You shared how the two of you met, and how polite he wasn’t in your first conversation, and they weren’t surprised.

You were enjoying your time with them, the conversation never stopped, and you would venture to say Simon looked fond at times. Though, as each man became more flirtatious, his expression would change. It became an unspoken game between you and his team to try and make him speak up about it. He didn’t take the bait.

Then came the topic of your boyfriend.

“Come now love, you’re a smart girl. Why do you wanna waste your time with that bellend?” - Price

“I don’t ken what the situation here is, but if Ghost and the other one don’t appreciate you, I promise I will.” Soap

“I had a girl once, who used to follow me in her friend’s car, sit outside my apartment, and call me from different phones to test me. You’re fit as hell love, dump him.” - Gaz

It was a little embarrassing, and you were slightly annoyed that Simon had told them, but your mind kept shortening it to ‘he talked about me to his team.’

During dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While you were washing your hands, Simon slipped into the room, making you jump.

Your eyes met in the mirror, where Simon just glared.

“Have fun with the boys, bird?”

“Have fun broadcasting my business?” You raised an eyebrow, but your tone held no anger to it.

Simon chuckled, locking the door. “S’not my business is it?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slowly.

He trapped you between the sink and himself, hands locking onto the counter on either side of you.

“Let’s fix that.” His lips pressed to the pulse point on the side of your neck, speaking his command against it. “Get rid of him lovie, and come home where you belong.”

You tried to do just that, but for the first time that you could recall, your boyfriend wasn’t taking your calls.

Simon watched you while he packed, tucked beneath his sheets where you belonged, bare. It’d been a week since you took that next step in his captain’s guest bathroom, and you’d been trying to inform your ex he was now in fact, your ex.

You gingerly rolled over to face him, mindful of all the reminders that he loved you he left your body. “Si, he’s still not picking up. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but…”

“Don’t get worked up. Maybe he got the message already...”

Kyle:

He’d re-visited Chicago on his downtime, and met you in a club. Unknown to him at the time, your boyfriend had stood you up for the third time that month, and you decided not to waste the night. It’d made you so free and enthralling to watch, he couldn’t look away.

Gaz spent the entire night with you, glad he’d ignored the jet lag, even when you took him to all the best after-hours spots.

The only problem was your boyfriend, Keith, who Gaz personally believed formed in the bottom of a toilet, and sought life elsewhere. His team thought he was delusional, and/or giving you too much thought.

“You hitting the States again then? Don’t get in the kind of trouble that you can’t get out of because you’re jealous.” - Price

“Garrick! Get your fuckin’ head off your cock, and on the exercise, before I shove my boot down your throat!” - Ghost (after he fumbled a training exercise twice)

Except for Soap, Soap backed his delusions %1,000. “She let you charge your phone when hers needed it more? That’s wedding bells lad, and I wanna be best man.”

Then there was the relentless teasing every time he spent his leave with you, but Gaz didn’t care. He couldn’t bother being embarrassed when you were waiting for him. Your grin was for him, your excited laughter was for him, and your hug was for him. The one he always held longer than friends do, his heart racing when you relaxed in his hold. Smirking when he felt your nose brush over chest quickly. You were sheepish when he grinned down at you, realizing what you were doing.

You’d gotten him cologne on his first (date) daytime hangout with you. You’d been strolling through the mall, Gaz trying to make you forget about the ugly scene he’d walked into between you and your boyfriend when he arrived at your place.

You’d been so sad, and it didn’t suit you at all. He just wanted to take you out of that environment, and let your real-self blossom again.

His hand brushed with yours, pinkies locking and unlocking so he could feel his stomach dip again and again.

He was able to slowly bring you back, into a little world of inside jokes and friendly culture clashes. Gaz fully had you back by the time he stopped in front of an expensive looking fragrance shop and said:

“You know what? I need a new aftershave, but I’m clueless about shopping for that stuff.”

“Uh, aftershave?” you’d looked puzzled, peering into the store window. “Do they even sell that here?”

He let out a confused laugh, pointing at the bottles on the glass shelf. “We’re looking at it, so I’d guess yes.”

“You mean cologne?” you gave him your first real smile since you’d gotten there, and Gaz forgave yet another correction in favor of it.

“Get in here, and help me find an aftershave.”

He proposed that you guys find the perfect scent for the other and buy it as a gift. The two of you spent the better part of thirty minutes teasing and sniffing each other. Every time Gaz lifted a part of your arm or wrist to his nose, he let his lips brush across your skin accidentally.

“Kyyylee..” you whined every time, making him stir in the right places at the wrong time.

Eventually you both settled on something for the other, but Kyle slyly placed himself in the position of paying for both. The thought of you paying never having been a real thing in his mind.

“You’ll get it next time, love.”

He treasured that scent, you’d specifically picked it out for him, and he’d savored the look you gave him when you’d finally found it. Now he was in front of you again.

“Yeah, it’s the one you bought me. Did me a good turn with that. I get compliments like they get paid to give ‘em.”

“Who’s complimenting you?” you asked, your wince revealing it’d probably come out sharper than you meant for it to.

Gaz didn’t mind, he liked you as jealous as he was.

He chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Just..other girls with good taste.”

Your pout and sharp head turn went right on display in the mental gallery he had of you. He couldn’t resist teasing you again.

“Are you wearing the one I picked.” he leaned down hovering just over your neck where he knew you could feel the soft puffs of breath on your neck. He heard your breath hitch when he hummed, confirming that you were.

“I am, and don’t worry about who’s complimenting it, since you have sooo many of your own.”

Gaz laughed as you yanked him after you with a huff. If he was delusional, you weren’t helping.

This visit was going how he imagined it, and he intended to end it exactly that way too. Finally getting that bastard out of a picture he should’ve never been a part of.

When clubbing, Kyle kept you close. You both loved to dance, and every song that came on seemed out to prove that your bodies were built to fit together like a puzzle.

He took an interest in your life, wanting to see what you got up to when he wasn’t there. You’d resisted, thinking it’d bore him. It did not.

He enjoyed meeting your co-workers, and eating at the cafe you loved a block from your job. You even took him to spend an afternoon with your family. Every time he scored a point with them, you gave him this dreamy expression he was determined to see for the rest of his life.

When he suggested making plans with your friends, so they didn’t feel like you were ignoring them while he was there, you were thrilled at how considerate he was, and he got the pleasure of overhearing you hype him up to your friends while you invited them out to do something.

It was you blocking your girlfriends every time one of them tried to push the flirtation with him too far, that let him know it was time.

He decided he would make his move when the two of you were having a movie night at your place. It wasn’t ideal, because that piece of shit was lingering around the place. Kyle hated that you lived together, but wouldn’t let that interfere. He had work to do.

“Kyyyleee.” you giggled, dragging his name out the way he loved when he ran a finger down your cheek to your neck, complimenting your skin.

“Just admiring your skin routine. You’ve gotta share.”

Or, when he shivered, and you instinctively extended your blanket to him. He took it without question, trying not to think about all of the things you could do under a shared blanket. Although, your boyfriend walking in and out of the room, pretending he had things to get out of the kitchen, made the thought more enticing.

You’d invited him to watch in earnest, and he’d just cut you down in a way that made Kyle quickly remind him he was in your apartment, because he’d lost his job, and had nowhere else to go. That you’d sweetly taken him in, and that he should remember that.

He enjoyed kicking him down while raising you up.

Your boyfriend finally just sat at the kitchen table in the dark, fuming. The living room was visible to him from there, but Kyle was glad to have him as an audience to him reminding you of your worth.

You two exchanged snacks and commentary, easily ignoring the unwanted third party.

“No offense love, but beer here is straight piss.”

You laughed, stealing one of the cookies left on his plate. “Beer tastes like that in general.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.” your boyfriend snapped at you nastily, from where he’d been glaring at the two of you for an hour. “And why don't you go back to jolly old England if you hate it so much?”

Gaz lazily rolled his head in his direction, body language shouting how much he didn’t respect him. “Mate, you’re being a right prick right now. It’s not like you bought the beer, or anything else you’ve been shoving in that hole.”

Your boyfriend leapt to his feet, fast enough to knock over the chair. “Come over here and repeat that teacup.”

“Blud, that’s not what you want.”

“Kyle don’t, he’s just drunk and embarrassed. Ignore him when he’s like this.” you quickly passed a hand over the back of his, but he just gave you a soft smile instead.

“That’s his problem, he embarrassed himself. Why don’t you go in the back and find something to do.” He was so effortlessly dismissive, that your boyfriend mistook this for being unprepared to fight.

Kyle’s one rule for his plan was that he wouldn’t physically handle your boyfriend unless he got physical with you. He’d planned to show you how you should be loved, and let a smart girl like you do the rest. That went out the window.

He kept it clean, the other man was stocky, but didn’t stand a chance against his training. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken it further, grinding his hatred of him into harsher blows. Instead, he gave him quick, almost surgically effective, blows to put him down. He was too intoxicated and unskilled to retaliate.

“See, he just needed a nap.” Gaz tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered. “I don’t know why he’s always like this now. He didn’t use to be. I just want this to stop.”

Kyle shushed you, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’ve been dealing with this for too long.”

“I’m so tired.” you admitted, clutching his soft shirt, and inhaling his scent (your scent, that you gave him) that made your eyes roll back in your head. He was so solid, warm, and a darker word popped into your mind, ‘mine.’

“You’ve been so good to everyone, too good. Let me take care of you.” he whispered, hands roaming from your lower back to cup your ass.

He heard the hybrid of a whimper-moan, and it had him at attention before you were done.

“I’d be just like him…” you trailed off weakly.

“That’s not possible.” He lowered his lips to yours, giving you the first kiss from him that couldn’t possibly be mistaken as platonic. You kissed back without any hesitation, not even willing to pull away when he started to lead you to the back. To your room.

Hate him as he did, Gaz noted somewhere in his mind how dark the scenario was. The location, and situation, in which he was about to fulfill the second-to-last step of his plan was kind of fucked.

He cupped your jaw in both hands,“Babe…we can go back to my room at the hotel.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to erase any trace of him here, starting in your room. He wanted you everywhere he could have you in the apartment, and he wanted him to come to just enough to hear it.

“Makes no sense. Too far. Here.” you murmured, pupils blown wide.

Gaz didn’t need to be told twice. You were barely able to string a sentence together, and it was top three one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.

“Yes ma'am.”

Kyle didn’t doubt you’d complete the final step in the morning, and officially dump the forgotten man on the floor.

Johnny:

You and Johnny met through social media. He thought you were gorgeous and, being John “Soap” MacTavish, couldn’t leave your profile without letting you know. Though he threw in some playful critique.

You responded with a thanks, and a challenge for him to do the picture better. It resulted in a months-long photo battle that quickly became a real friendship.

Late phone calls, video calls, and constant strings of texting built a whole world between the two of you.

You were the highlight of his day sometimes, especially when he’d been gone awhile. You helped him reconnect with the world after shutting it out to defend it.

The only problem was your boyfriend. Johnny prided himself on being able to get along with all kinds of people. It was just in his nature. Hate was so rarely felt by him, that he always had trouble identifying it when he felt it.

He felt hate for your boyfriend, and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He was always talking to you reckless, like he didn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in his life. Johnny wouldn’t talk to you like that, he wouldn’t have time to even consider it for all the worshiping of you he’d be doing.

He’d cheated, only to make you feel like that was on you, and you took him back.

When Johnny heard your pained sobs for the first time, he’d been halfway through texting Simon to ask for help with a dark favor before he was able to talk himself down.

It was then Johnny realized how much you’d come to mean to him, and that only made him hate your boyfriend more.

Your conversations ranged from anything to everything, but they always ended with you venting, and Johnny comforting. He didn’t mind it, in fact, most times he initiated it.

He realized, he must mean a good deal to you too, because you got all your comfort from him. Johnny’s thoughts mattered to you, and you sought his advice all the time. He hated what for, but he loved that you did.

“He didn’t even like the dress Johnny. I told him you thought of it, and he accused me of wanting to wear it for you.” your screen shook violently as you stomped into your bedroom, sending said garment sailing through the air.

“M’sorry to hear that. I meant what I said when you showed it to me in the shop. Any guy that doesn’t lose it to you in that dress deserves to be committed.”

You sniffed, choking out a humorless chuckle. “I’m glad you liked it at least.”

“Oh, you don’t ken how much sweetheart. In fact, put it on for me again.”

Six months into the friendship, he convinced you to come visit him in Scotland. You’d been having more trouble with your boyfriend than usual, living with him didn’t exactly give you a lot of places to take a breather.

Once Johnny confirmed he hadn’t hurt you physically, he’d switched to coaxing you into coming to see him for a couple of weeks.

“C’mon bonnie, I’ve been stateside more times than I can count. You haven’t been here once.” He watched you do your bedtime routine, as the sun came up in the windows behind him.

He loved how despite being countries away, the moment felt as intimate as if you were with him. In his home, getting ready to come to bed with him. Except if you were, he’d tell you not to bother brushing your hair. You’d just have to do it again later.

You laughed as you ran a comb through your hair. “It’s not like you came here for me Johnny. We didn’t even know each other the last time you were here.”

“So…you’ll return the favor later. Be my pretty tour guide.”

You wound up in Scotland barely a week later. A suitcase full of clothes haphazardly thrown into it.

“I don’t even know what I packed, it's a mess!”

Cue Johnny, who can’t quit hugging you, and they feel less and less platonic. “Don’t worry ‘bout it bon. I’ll find somewhere for it all to go.”

Somewhere turns out to be designated drawers and shelves, that he’d cleared in advance, for your clothes and bath products. Johnny putting them away himself like the simp for you he is. All the while distracting you from stating how you wouldn’t be there long, and you don’t need all that space.

“We’ll see.”

Johnny had been coaxing less and less innocent behaviors out of you all week, and just worshiping you when he wasn’t. You were a worked up hybrid of desperation, and restored self-confidence. It was addictive, and you started to lean into Johnny’s touches and kisses. You pretended you didn’t hear his murmured dirty statements so he’d have to try again and again.

It came to a head when you finally accepted a video call from your pathetic boyfriend.

You were in Johnny’s living room, wearing his favorite football jersey, with him behind you, absolutely refusing to make himself scarce. You didn’t want to take the call anyway, but Johnny convinced you it’d be good for closure.

Your boyfriend started going off, yelling about how you didn’t respect him or your relationship, and demanding that ‘you bring your ass home’.

“The thing of it is lad, there’s not really anything about this relationship to respect.” Johnny slipped around to your side, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours.

You hummed in surprise, but all of his gentle touches and sweet kisses over the week had you pliant. You immediately responded, squeezing his arm when he slipped his tongue into your mouth as a tease.

He pulled away, looking way too smug, and looking all the more impossibly-handsome for it. “Say bye to your ex-boyfriend then bon. The rest of this isn’t for him.”

You gurgled something like goodbye as you slammed the lid on your laptop, attention still fully on Johnny.

John Price:

Price thought your fiance should crawl in a fire and stay there. Yeah. He wasn’t ashamed.

The man was garbage, and hardly worth you giving him a glance, let alone this much sacrifice. You’d moved countries for him, happy to make your home with him because of his job. He treated it as though that should’ve been a given.

That’s how Price had gotten to know you. You lived in the apartment across the hall from him, and the first moment you smiled at him, John was a goner.

You introduced yourself with a smile, your pretty little hand extended out towards him. He’d stood there, wishing he hadn’t worn his ratty sweatshirt with his old football team logo in fading letters. You looked gorgeous, hair framing your face, slightly out of breath from lugging in your things.

He’d stumbled in his mind until he finally remembered proper social protocol. “Price…Captain John.” He cleared his throat. “Captain John Price.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’, you were visibly intrigued.“Captain? You’re in the military.”

“Yes.”

“Well…thank you for your service.”

Normally, John didn’t react to that line as expected. He’d heard it enough times to wish he had a pound for every time, but that was about it. He didn’t do his job for thanks, and sometimes felt they shouldn’t be for him anyways.

Coming from you however, it was different. He had the reaction he knew most people wanted. He knew from the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, they were red.

Your fiancé, who’d appeared in the doorway behind you, stole his chance to answer.

“Yeah, thanks or whatever. (Y/N), come in here and figure out where you want your hair crap to go. I’m just going to toss it anywhere in a moment.”

“Oh, you could’ve just put it under the sink.”

“You should be getting ready anyways, we have a dinner engagement.” He adjusted his shirt cuffs, eyeing John like he was picturing ways he could kill him.

John wanted to see him try just one.

“Bye John,” you gave a wave, a soft smile on your lips. “I’ll see you.”

You disappeared inside, leaving the two men in a stare down. There was a silent conversation at play, what your fiancé wanted to say was stated without a word. How much John cared about that was conveyed in the same manner.

Your fiancé broke first, slamming the door behind him.

“We’ll see if I’ll stay away.” He muttered, going into his own place.

Over that first month, you two got to know each other well. Your fiance was often at work, and you turned to John with your questions as you tried to settle into your new home. You had no one else there, and even though John had planned to decompress in complete isolation, he couldn’t do that to you. Didn’t have a part of his being that wanted to.

However, as John got to know you, he got to know your fiance too. Enough to know if he was ever going to murder someone outside of work, it’d be him.

It started with small things like what takeout you should go for, or which grocery store did he use? It seemed your fiance was useless.

One day, you needed help putting together your beauty table. You’d come to John, clearly embarrassed, and something told him you’d debated on asking him for a while. Your fiance refused, because you hadn’t paid attention when you were checking out, and didn’t select the construction help option.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me love. You mean to tell me that he never made a mistake?” John was already coming out of his apartment, ready to help.

“It’s stupid, but I don’t feel like arguing with him over it. We’re in an ok place right now.” you laughed awkwardly, leading him inside.

“Ok probably isn’t a place you want to be when you’re headed for the church.” it came out of his mouth before he could think about how it wasn’t his place.

He was so used to being blunt, and dealing out cold, hard facts or opinions. It always took him a minute to readjust to what was appropriate, but by then he was back on duty.

You looked stunned, clearly not expecting that from him. Your arms crossed defensively, giving him a side glance while you mulled over responding.

He meant what he said, but he never would’ve delivered it to you that way, or at all, if he had thought two seconds more.

“‘M sorry. It’s really not my place is it?” he gestured to the back of the apartment. “Where do you need me?”

There were many more opportunities to spend time with you, and with them, opportunities to point out the toxicity he was seeing. It wasn’t in John’s nature to ignore obvious problems, he got paid to do the opposite. He had to resign himself every time so he didn’t upset you.

With every time he gave you directions, or answered a local cultural difference that confused you, you two lingered in each other’s presence a little longer. He wasn’t going to spoil that.

Your requests started to leave the territory of furniture building and directions, and started to cross more into trying a new recipe, and how you could do better at fitting into your new home. Your conversations started to get deeper, more information about each other being shared.

There were times where you dropped off food, having made too much, or your fiance didn’t want what you cooked. John loved your cooking as it was, he normally lived off whatever he could grab and nuke, but he threw in extra enthusiasm for spite and your pretty smile.

Sometimes John found reasons to come over to your place.

“Share a cake love? Don’t get excited, I picked it up at the shops.” “Just bringing back your bowl.” “I can take a look at that window if maintenance is still laying about.”

And without fail, you made him stay every time. You got lonely, and you still knew very few people in the area outside of him. Your fiance didn’t seem to care, he felt he’d set you up with plenty of friends in his circle. John called them posh knobheads, and you couldn’t agree more. You had nothing in common with them, and you always wound up back with John to vent.

He found it easier to talk to you than he had anybody else, and from the never ending conversation between you two, he guessed you felt the same. The topic of the nature of your relationship was verboten, but that was fine by him. By that point, he was more interested in making you forget you even had a fiance. He really hadn’t even made an effort to do it, it just tilted that way, and he leaned into it.

You weren’t exactly stopping his flirtatious comments, in fact, you seemed to light up in ways he hadn’t seen until then.

Then came the outings. As your fiance got more negligent, you got bolder. It started with you taking a chance to invite John to a movie when you two bumped into each other in the mailroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the cinema, and he couldn’t say what was playing if someone held a gun to his head, but ‘don’t see why not’ fell out of his mouth with no resistance.

Then it was shopping together, or you dragging him to a museum and him bullshitting his art knowledge to make you laugh. He didn’t normally spend his time off being this active socially. He decompressed, and prepared for the next assignment. Maybe he’d meet a woman at a pub and bang out some release before getting back into formation.

He’d wondered if he would regret doing things differently on his next deployment, but that stopped the first time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. That alone would’ve been enough for him to keep his delusions (that he definitely did not have) going, but it was the fact that you didn’t correct them. It happened again, and if he thought he imagined things, he hadn’t. You never corrected the person, just gave a coy smile and accepted the compliment.

Well if you didn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to.

The final time that John could say he only found you attractive, instead of wanting you completely, you’d come to him to ask him if he could drive you to a little farmer’s market outside of the city. Things hadn’t been going well with you and your fiance.

You didn’t have to tell John, he could attest to that himself. He’d heard your arguments in his place, and between the noise level, and trying to make sure it didn't go to a place where you weren’t safe, he wasn’t getting much sleep.

Your plan was to cook your fiance a favorite meal from his childhood, using nothing but farm fresh ingredients. You figured that all you needed to get things on track was a quiet night in, focused on reminding each other why you were engaged. John nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from bringing up the fact that it seemed the workload on maintaining the relationship fell solely on your shoulders.

Instead, he shoved his bucket hat on his head, and lied about needing to head out that way anyways.

The car ride started out quiet on his part, with you filling in the conversation. Price may have flexed his fingertips in jealousy more times than he could count, but you were so goddamn beautiful when you were excited. It almost hurt to look at you head on, so he gave you side glances to show he was listening.

At the market, your excitement didn’t die down. In fact, it turned into infectious playfulness. You two teased each other, engaged in playful scams to get more samples, and dared each other to come up with crazier and crazier stories about yourselves for the owner of each stall you visited.

Price would die twice before he admitted that he imagined you were on a date a couple times during the day. You never brought your fiance up, and he had to remind you to check your grocery list more than once.

It was late afternoon when you returned to the car, laden with goodies and constructing inside jokes. John was enjoying his time with you so much, he almost forgot he had to tell you he was shipping out the following week. He didn’t know if you’d care so much as to need an announcement in advance, but he felt he should.

He was worried about you, and he would think of you wherever he was bound to wind up, hoping you’d come to your senses and leave the garbage behind. Of course, he’d miss you…and he certainly wasn’t under any delusion that when you’d taken out the trash, maybe you’d consider him.

“Why’re you so quiet?” you’d squeezed his bicep to get his attention, and he instinctively pushed his arm into your hands, encouraging the touch.

It was quiet for a moment, before you slowly uncurled your fingertips, and placed your hands in your lap. His face flooded with embarrassed warmth.

Had he gone too far by leaning into the physical?

Price white-knuckle-gripped the steering wheel, swallowing down what he thought was a rejection he had no right to be hurt about, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m heading out next week, and it won’t be short. Just thought you should know.”

Whatever reaction he expected from you, it wasn’t the one you gave.

“What?” You placed a hand on your chest, and then rolled your eyes. “Well that’s great.”

John gave you a bewildered expression, and it must've shown, because you quickly straightened up and faced forward.

“I don’t know about great, but it is my job. The one I was quite clear about when we first met.”

“Pull over.” you said so quickly, he wasn’t even sure you’d heard his response.

“What? Why? Are you feeling il-”

“No..just..please.” you gestured to the side of the road.

He obliged, brows drawn tight and carrying all of his questions. “Your boy is going to be home soon, and we still have a bit of a drive ahead of us. What-”

“I wanted to come here because of you.” you breathed out, still facing forward, your posture almost impossibly rigid.

“Me? You’re not making much sense (Y/N).”

You huffed, and when you turned to him, your expression took his breath away. In that moment he could read every thought you were thinking, and it would’ve bowled him over if he wasn’t sitting.

He felt electricity beneath his skin, the feeling he got any time he was about to do something drastic and dangerous.

It was the little hidden thing in your eyes that he couldn’t place that gave him pause.

“I came here, because I wanted to get away with you for today. I needed to.” you turned your whole body to him. “I don’t give a fuck about fresh ingredients for him, he probably won’t eat it anyways.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “We agreed to start over. And I’m going to try, I really am, but…I still can’t stop feeling need.”

In the looming silence, all John could do was scratch his beard, and try not to look as stupid as he was sure he did. He knew what you were saying, what you were toeing at, but surely you were just venting. You couldn’t-

“S’not right love.” Now it was his turn to look ahead. “Not for him, fuck him. For you. You’re upset and you’re scared, and you're raw.”

“And I need this.” you breathed. “If you’re trying to protect me, stop. If you don’t want me in that way..ok, I’m a big gi-”

“Oooh,” his voice came from deep in his chest, baritone thrumming through the car. “That’s not it. I promise you, that’s.not.it.”

Your fingertips gently pulled his face in your direction. “You’re leaving me…and when you get back things are going to have to be different.”

There it was. John swallowed, hard.

“I’m being selfish, but..I thought I’d have a little more time with you before..” Your eyes watered. “It’d be one thing if you really were just my friend, but that’s not right is it?”

John wiped at your eyes with his thumb before cupping his cheek in his hand. “No, it’s not.”

“Just one time.”

It was a struggle to say no to you, and that didn’t stop now. He pulled your mouth to his, hands gripping your shoulders in a subconscious effort to prove this was happening. You were in front of him, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing you.

He unbuckled you, and pulled you into his lap, sliding the seat back.

“I’m gonna miss you.” you were crying now, and neither one of you did anything about the tears.

His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. “Oh, sweet girl. Why didn’t you meet me sooner?”

What transpired after was the most bittersweet moment he could recall. He had heartbreaks and troubled relationships before, but he’d never had to have a breakup with a woman he wasn’t sure he’d been seeing in the first place, but knew that he loved.

He took you twice in his car, before finally, the two of you could no longer ignore the setting sun and had to return home.

John remembered why he preferred to take a girl somewhere quickly, and then spend the rest of his leave in solitude, occasionally seeing a trusted friend. It wasn’t as fulfilling as what he had with you, but it didn’t hurt this deeply either.

He sat in his apartment for hours after he watched you disappear into your own. He didn’t even bother turning on a light when it got too dark, he just sat there, continuing to contemplate how things had gotten to be such a mess. How could he continue to pride himself on being the logical leader he thought he was, when he’d made such a mess of himself so quickly?

How was he supposed to forget you? How was he supposed to forget that he loved you, and that you loved him with another man’s ring on your finger?

The thought of seeing you, carrying your fiance’s child, and looking miserable during what should’ve been one of the happiest times of your life made Price leap from the couch. That familiar electricity raising every hair on his person to a point.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was going to say, but he was moving like he’d planned it for months.

When he stepped into the hall, he paused.

You were sitting on the plush hall couch, eyes puffy, with a death grip on a pyrex dish. Your hair was perfectly styled, and you were wearing a low-cut silken dress that made him want to fall to his knees now that he knew what lay beneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, trying to curb your sniffles.

“I was right, he wouldn’t eat it. He got mad and left.”

“You should’ve made him wear it instead.” John’s fist clenched at his side, itching to do what he wanted from the moment he first saw him get short with you.

You shook your head, rising to your feet. “I don’t blame him this time. I didn’t make it for him, anymore than I shopped for it with him in mind, and I told him so.”

You held up the dish, and John saw it was his favorite. His idea of a perfect Sunday roast in one pot. Your meaning was clear.

“I just kept thinking, it shouldn’t be this hard. I mean, it shouldn’t be, right?” you stepped forward.

“No, it shouldn’t be.” He also took a step forward.

“It’s not that way with you.” Another step.

“I would hope not.” he also took another step

You stopped when all that separated the two of you was the dish.

“So this belongs to me then?” he was staring at the dish, but his hands gently grasped your wrists.

You, however, were looking directly at him when you breathed out. “Yes.”

#141 x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price #reader insert #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #Soap #soap x reader #tf 141 x reader #fem reader

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band--psycho · 8 months ago

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Harvey Specter x Reader - Fight (Part 2)

Just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who read Part 1 of this story!

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

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I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

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Y/n was angry.

Angry and hurt.

She clenched and unclenched her fists continuously for a few moments when she was finally out of the building; Harvey’s words still replaying through her mind.

She knew Harvey was going through a stressful time; but what right did that give him to say those things to her?

Especially when Harvey himself was the very reason that she didn’t work at his firm…

She stood there outside the office, in the middle of the night, the chill in the air cooling down her heated cheeks, as she tried to work out where she could go.

Home?

Back into the office to confront him about what he’d said?

Neither of those options seemed like a good idea right now, not whilst she was this angry.

Although she was angry and had every right to be, she still loved Harvey, that didn’t just stop because of what he’d said….but returning to his office now after what’d just happened just seemed like a bad idea.

It wouldn’t help anyone, it would probably just make both hers and Harveys anger’s spiral into another argument.

No, she needed an outlet for the rage she was feeling.

Part of her just wanted to go home, have a shower and go straight to bed and try to forget the words that were said.

But she knew sleep would not come easily to her, it rarely did after an argument with anyone, let alone Harvey.

And his words would just continue to race around in her mind fuelling her own anger.

She needed a distraction.

An outlet for her anger.

That’s why she went to the gym.

The gym wasn’t somewhere Y/n went often, after work she was normally too tired to go or her and Harvey would have plans, so the gym was never a top priority.

She’d gone with Harvey on the odd occasion when she needed to let off some steam during or after a case; but never on her own.

But she knew that Harvey probably wasn’t going to be coming out of his office any time soon, so that meant that she’d at least get some time to expel the anger inside of her, uninterrupted.

So she called a cab.

The cab took her to her and Harvey’s shared apartment first, allowing Y/n the time to quickly change and to dump her work stuff on the sofa, before heading back to the cab and going straight to the gym.

~~~~~~~~

Harvey was pissed off, more at himself than anyone else.

He hated seeing her hurt, and he certainly hated being the reason why she was hurt.

He’d allowed his arrogance, rage, stress and exhaustion to blend together and cloud his mind.

He knew he’d upset pretty much everyone over the course of this case, the one person he hadn’t, was Y/n, and now he’d alienated her as well.

He knew she’d be angry, and she should be; in all honestly he was surprised she didn’t slap him for what he said.

He deserved it.

He wanted to call her, he’d got as far as picking up his phone and having his thumb hover over the green call button next to her name.

He wanted to apologize for what he’d said and how he’d been acting for the past few weeks.

But an apology was just words; they weren’t going to heal the wound he knew his words had made.

He knew she’d need some space and some time, so that’s what he was going to give her.

He sat in his office for a while, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his evening.

He assumed she’d be at home so didn’t want to disturb her.

He contemplated calling his client and telling him to find another lawyer, but that could wait until morning.

What Harvey needed was to calm down, not get more agitated; and he knew calling his client would make him more agitated instead of calm.

Everyone else at the firm that he’d pissed off would be asleep by now and as much as he was sure they’d answer him if he called, he didn’t want to talk to them, not right now.

Unfortunately he’d just alienated the only person that he did want to talk to.

A long sigh left his lips as he rose to his feet, quickly putting on his suit jacket before heading towards the lift.

He didn’t know where he was going.

All he did know was that he just needed to get out of the office; even if it was just for a short while; then he’d come back, and try to get some sleep before dropping his asshole of a client.

~~~~~~

Y/n had her music blasting through her over the ear headphones at the highest possible volume she could have.

It blocked out the noise from the few other people that were in the gym and allowed her to be completely focused on hitting the punching bag in front of her as many times as she physically could, in time to the beat of her music.

She’d forgotten how good it felt to get her anger out like this, so often she just let it fester away inside of her until she broke down in tears from it.

Her mind kept wandering to Harvey, no matter how many times she pushed the thought of him away he kept appearing in her mind.

After five more intense minutes of punching the still bag before her; she stopped, feeling the exhaustion from releasing her anger slowly creeping in.

As she sat down on the bench beside her to drink some water, she took her headphones out and allowed her eyes to drift to the clock hanging in the center of the gym.

It was 1:30am.

She needed to go to bed soon, she knew she did, she could feel how drained not only her body was but her mind also.

But despite her physical and mental fatigue, the words Harvey had spoken earlier in the evening were still running rampant in her mind, fuelling her anger.

A sigh fell from her lips as she rose to her feet, and went back to the punching bag she’d been standing at for the last hour.

The silence that surrounded her would normally be something that she hated, that’s why she’d been listening to her music so loudly, in an attempt to drown out the world around her and the words echoing in her mind; but hadn’t seemed to work, so she thought she’d try something different and embrace the silence around her.

She thought about Harvey words; and with every thought she punched the bag in front of her, over and over again.

She was focused in her own world, that she hadn’t realized she was no longer alone.

That was until she heard a voice come from behind her saying, “Should I ask who’s face your imagining on that bag?”

The voice made her freeze on the spot and grit her teeth as she attempted to catch her breath.

Harvey.

Harvey was here.

For a split second she contemplated turning around and using him as the punching bag instead, but she knew that would be wrong.

And she didn’t want to hurt Harvey, no matter how much he’d hurt her with his words.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice clearly displaying her anger and hurt.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Harvey explained honestly and calmly; his voice was a lot softer than when she’d last spoken to him.

“I’m going to drop the client,” he continued, taking a step closer towards her but also being very aware that she probably didn’t want him too close to her right now, “You were right, I shouldn’t have been snapping at anyone, least of all you, I know you were only trying to help.”

Y/n didn’t say anything for a short while, allowing his words to sink in; she was happy he was dropping his client, it was about time.

But it didn’t fix what had happened.

And neither did Harvey admitting that he was wrong, or realising that she was only trying to help.

It didn’t erase what he’d said; nor the pain that it caused her.

She was a good lawyer, a very good lawyer, and she could’ve gotten a job at his Pearson Hardman, Jessica Pearson had said so herself.

But there was just one problem.

The fact that Y/n was dating Harvey.

That was why she couldn’t be hired there.

And Harvey knew that.

And although he’d offered to argue it with Jessica, Y/n didn’t want that.

“What I said, about me being a better lawyer than you…I didn’t meant it…I was just…”

His words trailed off as his eyes met Y/ns as she slowly turned her head to look at him.

“Angry?” She finished coldly, taking her gloves off and throwing them on the bench to her side.

“You had no right to throw that in my face,”

Harvey hadn’t thought he could feel anymore remorse and guilt for what he’d said, but then he saw the pain that was still lingering in her eyes and heard the way her voice broke towards the end of her sentence from the tears she was trying to hold back.

He wanted to reach out to her.

To hold her.

To comfort her.

In an ideal world, he’d have a Time Machine and he’d take those words back, but that couldn’t happen.

“Y/n, I am sorry,” he apologised, tentatively taking another step closer to her, “It doesn’t excuse what I said, and I don’t expect you to just suddenly be okay, but I am sorry.”

She watched him, ready to pull away from any attempt of comfort he tried to give her, but thankfully Harvey didn’t come any closer to her, allowing her her space.

She fought with herself mentally about what to say to him, or whether the best course of action was to just remain silent.

He was her boyfriend; and she knew how much stress he’d been under. But that didn’t mean that his actions to her and everyone else in the office was acceptable.

He’d been a dick.

And she couldn’t just forgive him like what he’d said was something small.

It was an attack on her career.

On the job she’d worked so hard for.

And he was going to have to do a lot more than just apologise for what he’d said.

That being said….despite all her fury towards him, she still loved him.

Y/n took a deep breath, calming her beating heart down a little.

“I appreciate your apology, Harvey,” and she did, she knew saying ‘sorry’ wasn’t something Harvey did often so the fact that he was doing it meant a lot to her, “but it doesn’t mean I forgive you,”

“I know,” he acknowledged, trying to hide how heartbroken he was, his mind instantly going to the worst case scenario.

That they were over.

“I can stay at the office tonight, and start moving some of my things out during the day whilst you’re at work,” Harvey explained simply, making sure that he didn’t let any emotion show in his voice.

This was his fault.

He knew that.

He’d hurt her with what he’d said and it wasn’t okay.

“What?” Y/n questioned, confusion clear in her voice.

It wasn’t until a few more moments had passed that she’d realised what he was talking about.

“Harvey I’m not breaking up with you,” she stated, taking a few steps towards him, tentatively reaching out to take ahold of his hand.

“I love you; and yes what you said hurt me and it’ll take time for me to move on from it, but I’m not going to leave you because of it.”

She knew it was because he was stressed and overworked; there wasn’t a person in the world who hadn’t snapped at someone close to them when they were completely exhausted, and although she was still hurt; she also knew that people made mistakes.

And that even Harvey Specter wasn’t perfect.

Relief washed over Harvey as her words sunk in, he’d been so used to people leaving, that he couldn’t help but think that that’s what she was going to do.

“I love you too,” he said, squeezing her hand softly as his eyes met hers once again, “I really am sorry, baby,”

“I know,” she replied softly, “and I’ll move on from it, I just need some time,”

“Okay,” he nodded; he’d give her anything she wanted if it meant he didn’t lose her.

“I think we should go home,” Y/n said, looking at the clock just above Harvey's head; it was close to 2am and she knew that they both needed to sleep.

‘We should go home’ those words were enough to ease Harvey’s anxious heart.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he smiled sleepily, and with that the two of them left the gym, their hands intertwined in one anothers.

Harvey couldn’t believe how lucky he was to not have lost her because of his behaviour; most people wouldn’t give him a second chance, but Y/n did.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

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#harvey specter imagines #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter imagine #suits imagines #harvey specter suits #suits x reader #suits harvey specter #suits imagine #harvey specter

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dance-is-life27 · 5 days ago

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Waiting, Wanting

Parker Robbins x Reader

Summary: After far too long of not allowing yourself to date Parker, to want Parker, you finally cave with the arrival of Riri Williams.

Warnings: Fluff, like a smidge of angst, gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns used for reader like once I think, reader has a code name/alias, not beta read, getting together, kissing, way too much emphasis on those bagels from the beginning of episode two (yes I was hungry), Parker is a flirt and a little bit manipulative, in fact Parker might be a little ooc this is my first time writing him, and inappropriate employer/employee relationship?? (does it matter when your both criminals but he's your boss??)

A/n: tell me why the hardest part of this was trying to figure reader's skill set and what they could bring to the team when everybody else fills every other role lol. I still don't know how I feel about reader's place amongst them in this fic but oh well

Also inspired by this poll I made, let me know if you guys want the smut version of this fic as well!

Reblogs are more appreciated than likes!

You find yourself tapping your fingers against the wood of the table as you stare hard at the bag of bagels a few feet away from you. You probably could be paying more attention to the introductions Parker gives to Riri but your hunger is making you distracted, and impatient.

Clown bumps your knee with hers, “Careful, you keep staring at that bag hard enough, you’ll start drooling.” She halfway whispers to you which pulls a quiet chuckle from your throat.

“Drooling is the least of my problems, you know I’ve got a pit for a stomach down there.” You joke back before you nudge her shoulder with yours, the both of you going playfully back and forth in your seats before Parker clears his throat and looks at you both expectantly.

“And Riri to the right of Clown is Cami, aka Chameleon. Our resident grifter who can blend in anywhere and everywhere, and uses their connection to the local Chicago pd to keep an eye out for cops and give us enough time to get away if the situation calls for it. Ironically, we first met when someone tried to pickpocket me and the rest is history.” Parker’s eyes catch yours as a grin slides onto his face, “It’s still one of the best and most memorable days of my life.”

“Also known amongst the rest of us as Parker’s future spouse.” Roz speaks up, forcing you to turn to her and lift your left hand expectantly.

“Can’t call me that if there is no ring.” You reply with ease before you give her the middle finger with a smile on your face.

“Oh, I can get you a ring no problem.” Parker’s voice cuts through the laughter in the space, “In fact we can go ring shopping right now. How big you want it?”

Your eyes roll instantly, “Ignore him, Riri. He doesn’t know how to turn off the charm.”

“And yet, he seems to only flirt like that with you.” Slug points out with a directed raise of their eyebrow. A scoff leaves your lips as everyone else agrees and you finally cave to reach forward and grab the bag of bagels in front of you.

“Whatever, don’t we have a heist to be planning or something?” You redirect, very pointedly ignoring the way you can feel Parker staring into the side of your face before he agrees and redirects the rest of the planning to John. And if anyone asks you’ll blame the heat rising to your cheeks on one of the warm bagels you just bit into.

The heist, as expected, goes successfully with Riri saving the day in just the nick of time, you’re sure now that she’ll make a great addition to the team. And so, when Parker gathers you all in the midst of the celebration with a surprise heartfelt speech, you can’t help but pull him away from the rest of the group after the cheers resound throughout the space.

“Y’know, I never thought you’d be such a sap. It’s not often you make speeches like that.” You tease, watching Parker duck his head in the most bashful way you’ve ever seen him.

Parker lifts his head before giving you a small shrug, “Yeah well, felt like it was needed after tonight.”

You find yourself nodding in agreement, “Riri’s gonna be good for us.”

“Yeah she will be.” Parker agrees and you find yourself momentarily dazed by the green of Parker’s eyes. The uncanny way he both sees you and sees through you, like the depths of your soul are just laid out bare for him. “And soon enough, most of us will have everything we want.”

Your brow raises, “Most of us?”

“Yeah, there is something missing that I want.” Parker replies, taking a step forward into your personal bubble. His very presence is near overwhelming at times but especially when it’s moments like this, when he’s this close and all of his attention is on you. It makes you feel like you're the only person in the world, makes everything else seem so small in comparison. “You.” Parker admits and you have to bite back the groan in your throat when he takes a step closer to you.

“Parker-”

“C’mon, we both know that I want you and I don’t know why you keep-”

“You know damn well why, Parker. You can turn invisible but you’re not indestructible, you can still get stabbed, still get shot, and can still get hurt. And in a job like this one, that’s already too many risks to put on an already thin line. And we-, I, can’t afford to put my heart out there too.”

You watch as Parker blinks, as he takes in the information you’ve given him. Rejection, you know, is something that he’s used to, but you also know that it’s been a long time since then. You’re wary about how he will take it, about how he will react.

Parker’s brows furrow, those green eyes of his lighting with something you can’t place, a look on his face that you’ve never seen before. “You trust me?”

“What? Of course-”

“Then trust that I’ll come back to you, no matter what. Whatever it takes, I’ll keep coming back to you, for you. And that you won’t be the only one with your heart on the line.” Parker lifts his hands to cup at the sides of your face, “The rest of the world ain’t ready for how good we’ll be, for how good we are, together.” And it’s not a moment later that Parker presses his lips to yours.

Parker kisses just like you imagined he would, tasting like liquor and darkness and a bad idea all rolled into one. And yet, you can’t force yourself to pull away, not when you’ve dreamed about this very moment for far too long in between smaller heists and watching the team build into something beautiful. Not when you’ve ached about what it would feel like to tug at Parker’s curls or trace the tattoos that peek out from beneath his shirt with your fingertips. You can’t help but sigh and fall into the trance, into the depths and mystery that is Parker Robbins as your lips slot together like you're meant to be there forever.

“Shit, Par.” You gasp as you pull apart, you can’t tell if you're feeling dizzy from the kiss or the lack of oxygen to your brain. Either way, what bliss.

Parker presses his forehead to yours as you breath heavily, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the state he’s left you in, “So, what do you say?”

You don’t give him a verbal answer as you pull him back into you and let yourself get lost in the shadows that lurk beyond Parker’s teeth. Your fate for better or worse, sealed with a kiss.

Tagging: @ghostie-cola, @slytherinmates, @mingyuziiiii

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miyukisu · 8 months ago

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Need Your Lips On Mine .ᐟ

❤︎ | You'd think he'd be more enthusiastic to get his hands on you because of the whole 'secret relationship' thing, but maybe it's time to turn the tables (2.3k wc) ╰ feat. osamu dazai (bsd) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 9 | kinktober masterlist

tags - reader works at the cafe, dom/sub dynamics, dazai is mean and annoying, edging, implied mutual masturbation, semi-public smex, toys, light bdsm (he's bound by the hands lol), blowjob, no p in v, p*rn with plot, reader is feisty, profanity

minors do not interact

"Take your hand off... I swear... they're gonna catch us sooner or later."

Your words fell on deaf ears as one bandaged hand kept itself under your skirt and on your ass. "If you keep quiet, then maybe no one will get caught. Hm?"

You let up, settling for nasty side glances at him every once in a while instead. Of course, you were met with Dazai's cheeky smile. This bastard really thought that by having a secret relationship—he could be annoying anytime he wanted as long as it was done in secret.

His job required to keep the existence of your relationship confidential—at least that's what he said. You were the cashier at the cafe located beneath their detective agency's office. Dazai was a detective, that's all you knew and that was more than enough apparently.

A secret is a secret, you figured.

Kunikida was starting to give you weird looks from the booth. You flashed an awkward smile and tried waving at him, failing to look normal.

Well... maybe Kunikida knows.

Why else would Dazai be standing behind you while you were at the register? It was either you were up to no good or Dazai's begging you to forget about his hefty tab.

"Who're you waving at?" he whispers into your ear. You failed to realize how close he leaned down to you.

"Kunikida. He's starting to realize something funny's going on."

"Funny you say?" Dazai repeats before humming in thought. Whatever it was that was running through the detective's head—it probably wasn't anything good or innocent.

Dazai finally lets go of your ass, opting to drape an arm across your shoulders instead. It wasn't anything unusual—surprisingly—because Dazai has been known to be 'friendly' with the cafe staff.

He calls the attention of all the customers i.e. Kunikida, Atsushi, Kenji, and Ranpo who is sound asleep. "I'll be accompanying our cute little cashier on her break. Don't miss us!"

It was highly unlikely that anyone would. Kunikida doesn't even give him the time of day while Atsushi offered an uneasy smile. Kenji was his usual upbeat self and Ranpo—was still fast asleep.

────────────

It felt like an eternity of tongues clashing and breathless whispers blending into each other. Your hands were all over his lanky build while his hands remained firm on your behind. If you were to guess which body part he liked the most on a woman—you'd probably get it right.

Dazai pulled away first—not that he was breathless or anything; he just wanted to see what expression you had on your face.

"Someone's eager," he says in a lilted tone.

"Oh stop it. You disappear for a week... A WEEK!"

He laughs it off—disappearing for a week is business as usual for him. "Shhh... I'm here now though, aren't I? Besides, I find it quite cute how excited you are to get your hands on me."

That earned him a weak punch on the chest from you. "You're so annoying."

Dazai lets out another small laugh, amused by your irritation at him. "Oh, darling. You haven't seen the worst of it."

Knowing him and all the shit he pulls, those words should've made you run for the hills soon as you heard it. Dazai leans in, breath fanning the sweaty skin of your neck. It felt cool against the humid air of the cafe's storage room.

"I've got an idea," he whispers. "Don't move, okay?"

You hear a slight ruffling. Perhaps he was retrieving something from his coat pocket. Then, you feel something cold—something metallic—drag along your thigh. Though, you were unsure what it could be.

The feeling kept getting higher and higher, until it was at a place where you most dreaded it would reach. Dazai smiled as he dragged the unknown metallic object against the fabric of your panties.

"Wanna guess what that is, darling?"

You had a hint, but you decided not to indulge him in his silly games.

"You don't know?" he asks. "Well, I hope this helps!"

Dazai, skilled with his fingers, swiped the fabric out of the way and plunged the vibrator in one fluid motion.

"Good thing you got insanely wet from kissing me huh?"

Your first instinct was to close your legs, but Dazai was quick to put a knee between them. "W-what the fuck are you doing?"

"Thought I'd make things exciting," he says with an irritatingly bright smile. "Also because I have to go now."

Grabbing him by the collar, you pull him down to your level. "The fuck you mean you're going? You're seriously leaving me high and dry after basically ghosting me?"

He gives you a half-assed 'apologetic' smile. "I won't be too long. You can do anything to me once I come back."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

────────────

The rest of your shift was—to say the least—downright miserable. Of course, the stupid vibrator could be controlled by him. You weren't sure if it was purely coincidence or if he was secretly watching you, but the damn thing seemed to turn on whenever a customer would come up to the counter.

On the times you thought you could finally sit down and relax a bit, he'll make sure to turn it up a notch and give you a good surprise.

He gave you no reprieve as his antics continued until your shift ended and it was time to clean up. You were the only employee left because it just so happens to be the day when the most arduous clean up task fell into your care.

Once you heard the bell at the door ring and the familiar set of footsteps, you were ready to yell a certain man's ear off.

"Hey, darling."

"You son of a—"

Turning around, you were met with a smiling Dazai with a bouquet of flowers in his clutches. Normally, any other woman receiving flowers from a lover would be over the moon, but not you. Dazai was quite the unconventional man. Flowers were a tricky thing to interpret.

His smile turned lopsided before he slowly approached you. "I got you flowers."

"I can see that."

He chuckles again. "Can't you at least act like you're happy about it?"

"I don't want flowers," you exclaim.

He sighs, placing he beautiful arrangement on the counter beside you. "What do you want then, pretty?"

"You."

Dazai laughs a little louder this time as if what you said was so hilarious to him. "Me? Little ol' me? My sweet thing wants nothing else but me?"

"You're so annoying."

A large hand pats your unkempt hair. "Yes, I know, darling. You tell me almost everyday."

"Liar. I haven't seen you in a week. Besides—what the fuck is up with the vibrator? Do you know how many customers I've had toda—"

He silences you once more, placing a slender finger over your lips. "You get to do anything you want to me now though. Isn't that right, darling?"

The realization hits a bit too late, but it does, and small smile creeps on your face. This was going to be revenge for disappearing and for the stunt earlier.

You ask him to get the vibe out and he obeys without complaint—the metal apparatus stuffed in his pocket again. You hadn't realized how drenched you were until it was pulled out. But that doesn't matter right now. You were a woman on a mission.

No words left your mouth as you made quick work of his belt. Dazai's eyes never left your hands as he smiled to himself.

"Getting to the good part already hm?" he insinuates. But you don't respond, only silently walking behind him to bind his hands with his own belt. You've learned plenty of things from him and this was one of those.

"Ah hah... we're doing that kind of thing huh?" he says, continuing to talk seemingly to himself.

You walk right in front of him again, grabbing his collar like you did earlier today. With his face closer now, he should understand the situation he's in. "Be a good boy for me, okay?" you say before planting a soft kiss on his chapped lips.

Thrill and excitement coursed through every fiber of his being as you roughly pushed him back against the counter. He made himself weightless and easy to push around because this was entertainment for him as much as it was for you.

But the glint in your eyes tells him this wasn't simply any kind of entertainment for you. You had a plan and him not knowing anything for once gave him a rush he had gotten only in the past.

With the strength you had in your arms, you pried his vest and button up open—albeit you had to carefully unbutton some of the stubborn ones.

"It's kinda hot seeing you take control for once," he says.

Once all of the buttons were out of the way, you were met by his mostly bandaged abdomen. Even you were unsure of what was beneath these strips, but he was adamant to keep them on.

You ran your palms over his body, stopping at his heaving chest. "I've never seen you out of breath before. Are you that excited?"

"Am I? You should feel my dick," he counters.

You try your hardest to stifle a laugh by kissing his bandaged chest instead. The soft gesture seemingly had a soothing effect on him as his breathing slowed a bit and his expression mellowed out—like you had put him in a trance.

Then the kisses went lower and lower—his chest, stomach, until you were just above the hem of his trousers. His adam's apple bobbed, swallowing in anticipation.

"Wow," you mutter, palming at his aching erection. "You weren't lying huh?"

His laugh came out choppier than usual as if his typical air of confidence had been blown away. Dazai tried playing it cool. "Can you blame me?"

"Guess not," you shrug nonchalantly before working on the button of his pants. Thanks to having the belt off, his bottoms came off pretty easily—not that you needed it all the way off.

Palming at his hardening cock after the thin fabric of his boxers made his mouth water and his palms clammy. Even Dazai was starting to wonder what the fuck was going on with him. Perhaps it was the thick air inside the stuffy room or because someone was finally putting his ass in its place.

Whichever it was, it only served to make him exhilarated.

"This looks pretty painful," you coo at him. Dazai would have loved to gently caress your head as you knelt in front of him so sweetly, but alas, his hands were still bound behind his back.

He found it hotter how well you restrained him actually.

"Yeah, looks like you should do something about it no?"

In response, you pull the pesky fabric out of he way, freeing his leaking cock. Truth be told, you weren't expecting for him to be fully hard after all that. Dazai was rather... hard to impress—for a lack of a better term.

You swipe his weeping tip with a thumb before spreading pre all along his length. Looking up at him, you ask the question: "My hand or my mouth?"

"Be serious, darling. You know you need both to get all of me."

"Fine. Be a smartass and you get neither."

He lets out a labored breath. "Jeez. Fine. I want your mouth. Pretty please?"

For as much of a pain in the ass he is, hearing him be so compliant for once made him hard to deny. You rewarded him with a small kitty lick on his tip—to test the waters—before licking the underside of his length.

You've learned to pay attention to those spots. Normally, Dazai was good at hiding things, but it was easy to catch on his sensitive points. In the bedroom, with you, he was an open book.

You watched him—how his eyes were fixated on you—while you went down on him. It made you particularly satisfied seeing him throw his head back in pleasure.

It egged you on to fit more of him and to go faster. You gagged more than once and it was messy—really fucking messy.

Just how he liked it.

He had grown uncharacteristically quiet which was usually a good sign in this case. It meant you were doing good—so good in fact, that it shut him up.

Feeling his dick twitch, you knew he was painfully close. But he isn't getting that orgasm he craves so easily. No way.

Before he could bust his load, you pull away—a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his reddish tip.

Innocently, you stared up at him as if you've done nothing wrong—as if you didn't blue ball him just now.

"Hah... darling... I was so close..."

He sounded so breathless... so desperate. His heart fell to his stomach when you got off your knees and dusted yourself off. Was that it? Was he going to be left standing there with his dick out and aching?

You turn away from him, walking a couple of steps. He could tell you were fiddling with your uniform, but he was concerned more about his predicament down there.

"Thought you were the only one who could edge me?"

He tries to get out of the restraint while you weren't looking, but that blowjob quite literally sucked the strength out of his body.

But all of his movements were halted once you turned around, blouse open and tits out all for him to see.

"Well, two can play that game, darling. Sit tight while you watch me, alright? Gonna play with myself for a bit. Hope ya don't mind."

You tried copying his sing-song tone, but no matter what kind of lighthearted tone you use, there probably isn't one that can fix the frustrated frown on his face.

╰ author's note I'm kinda tired of writing p in v so here you go!! Some good ol' edging and teasing for the soul!!

#bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs #osamu dazai #dazai x reader #dazai smut #osamu dazai smut #bsd #bsd smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #mksu.ktober 24 #mksu.works #bungo stray dogs

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radsoldier · 1 year ago

Text

You're a bad idea.

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?

a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times, also, english is so not my first language. hope you enjoy!

part 2

You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.

You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.

Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.

More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.

Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.

She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.

The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?

So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.

Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?

God, she needed some sleep.

_________

You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.

You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.

"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.

You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.

You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.

Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.

You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.

You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.

"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.

"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.

You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.

Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.

You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.

_________

Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.

You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.

"What do you want from me?" you asked.

She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.

"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"

Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.

"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.

She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.

Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.

You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.

_________

You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.

"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.

You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.

You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.

Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.

You liked the solitude of it.

So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.

"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.

"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.

You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.

"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.

Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.

"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.

And she sounded so sure of it.

Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.

"So pretty…" she said.

Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.

"Fuck" she whimpered.

You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.

"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.

"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.

You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.

You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.

She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.

The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.

"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.

And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet x female reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader

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bloomness · 13 days ago

Note

could i get track thirteen with hawks?? 👀👀👀👀👀 congrats on 500 bloom baby <33

if you want to by beabadobee ft. keigo [hawks]

event m.list

જ⁀➴ having insomnia is hard but keigo makes it easier

contains: gn!reader, pre-relationship/situationship, stubborn!reader

word count: 1.8k

“if you wanna take me”

“go ahead and try my head”

you can see the city lights blinking outside your balcony door from your spot in bed. they twinkled big and small, slow and fast, leaving a reflecting sparkle in your eye. the moonlight slips out through the crack between the blinds that you could never quite fully close. it shone over your fan, which was creaking just a bit too loudly with every turn. it lit up your bedside table, exposing the layer of dust that had been accumulating on top of it for over a week, a task you’d been telling yourself you'd do but had yet to come around to. the moon lit up your hands, still, cold—but not from the fan, from emptiness.

you turned over on your mattress. the pillows that you spent—what now felt like useless—time fluffing huffed softly underneath you. you flicked off an crumb from the blanket that you had washed twice before making your bed to ensure cleanliness.

your eyes darted across the night-dimmed room, tired but awake and it all felt like a joke.

you had tried it all. different flavors of teas, medication, mediation, exercising, everything. but nothing seemed to help seize the running thoughts that occupied your nights and prevented you from a restful sleep.

“experience is nothing compared to”

you threw your sheets off of you and shuffled to the edge of your bed, your head hung in your hands as you silently hoped keigo wouldn’t show up to find you in such a humiliating state. but (unwillingly) knowing the persistent hero, he would.

“the sleep paralysis in my bed”

finally, you decide you’ get up and try to do something productive around the house. you slip on your house slippers and step out of your bedroom and into your kitchen.

the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating your sparkling, clean kitchen. Earlier you had spent forty-five minutes scrubbing all the counters, fifteen mintues washing all the dishes, ten minutes sweeping and mopping the floor, all in hope of crashing out from exhaustion afterwards. it had not worked.

“experience is nothing compared to”

you shuffled over to the fridge and opened it. your eyes searched the levels, drawers, and side doors of the cool box, but to no avail, it still being as empty as it was when you had checked it just an hour ago.

your eyes floated over to the kettle resting on the stove. you could try for tea again, but you knew in the end that’d be helpless.

you then looked to the cupboards. maybe you could make something to eat? but you aren’t hungry, it’d be a waste of food and you need to go grocery shopping anyways.

the clock hung above the archway read 3:32. it ticked softly as you ran your hand over your face, exhaling a low groan.

“the nights I'm always up so late”

suddenly, you heard a thud, one that sounded like it emitted from something made of metal. there was a clang, then a click, and then a soft swoosh. the sounds of cars driving by and street lights beeping momentarily filled your apartment distance before there was another click, and it went silent.

you sighed and flicked off the kitchen light, moving to the origin of the noise with no urgency.

your bedroom door is already open, so it doesn’t take you longer than a second to spot him, leaning against the door frame to your balcony with a dopey grin plastered on his face.

the night's light shines against the back of his lean figure, a vibrant glow outlining the blend from the furry edge of his cherry-stained wings to his rugged corduroy jacket. the set up almost made it seem like the universe was making the petty number two hero out to be an angel sent down from heaven personally for you.

keigo’s the first to speak up today. “you just had to pick the highest floor to live on, huh?” his voice is teasing, but you know his intentions are nowhere near that. he stretches his arms up as he takes a stepped onto your carpeted bedroom floor, pushing the balcony door shut behind him. “that’s okay,” he yawns and walks to your dresser, finger dragging along its edge as his eyes scan the product placed on top of it. “not much of a problem for me, of course.” his head tilts up at you, amber eyes finally making contact with yours.

“hawks.” you deadpan, body still—unable to move—between the threshold of your bedroom door.

you try not to make it obvious that you’re shocked he’s here. this wouldn’t be the first time he did this. or the second. or the third. the truth was, this exact situation has played out more times than you’d like to make the effort to count. but for some reason, every time he said he’d show up, you refused to believe it until he was standing right in front of you.

“uh uh.” keigo waves his finger. “it’s keigo, ‘member? not on duty when i’m with you, babe.”

“you’re in uniform.”

“ah,” he huffs out a laugh and swiftly approaches you. “you’re funny tonight.” he comes to stand right in front of you, his forearm resting up above on the wall you shared. you could see the way his body just barely leaned forward, and the way his head tipped down as his eyes raked down your facial features.

“if you wanna love me”

you feel your face burn under his attendant gaze. “what?” you muttered, bringing a cooling hand up to your cheek as you peered up at him.

“how many hours?” keigo asked gently. he didn’t need to explain himself any further. you knew exactly what he meant as soon as the playful hint in his golden eyes flashed off. the ‘fun and cheerful hero hawks’ was now being temporarily masked with ‘serious keigo’, someone that he claimed only you were lucky enough to see—like you’d believe that.

“try to get inside my brain”

you look past him. “doesn’t matter.”

keigo taps his finger against the wall, “matters enough for me to break into your bedroom at three in the morning.” he half shrugs, like the fact that he’s here so late, in the middle of his shift, when you're both clearly exhausted, isn’t that much trouble for him at all.

you mentally brace yourself before providing an answer, “i took a nap earlier but.. i haven’t been able to sleep since last night.”

you could feel the rhythm of the tapping steadily increasing above you. “and have you been eating?”

“keigo…” the question is personal, too personal to be considered causal, as if anything about this situation was causal.

but he urged on, “answer the question, dove.” you caught a flash of genuine worry spread cross his face.

you shudder at the old nickname and waver. “i’ve been eating well.” keigo gives you a look so you assure, “i promise.”

keigo bites the side of his cheek while nodding slowly before kicking off the side of the wall and making his way to the side of your bed. once there, he begins fluffing your half-deflated pillows.

you blinked. “what are you doing?”

he hardly glanced up at you. “come on, do we have to do this every time? ’m making our bed, love.”

“'cause if you want, you could stay with me in my bed”

“keigo..” you hurry over to the spot beside him, reaching to stop his working hands. “don’t. you shouldn’t.” you grab his wrist, holding them still. and even though you both know well that he is a helluva a lot stronger than you and could pull you off if he wanted, he stops.

“if you want to”

“y/n..” his voice is even softer now, lilt mirroring one of someone super desperate—pleading. he looks down at you, shoulders slump, typical big smile dripping from his face. “why won’t you let me do this for you?”

“only if you want to”

it’s a question not to be answered. it’s a question you can’t answer. you don’t like handouts and you absolutely refuse to take them from anyone, that’s the way you are. but your relationship with keigo felt like only that.

“if you want, you can go ahead and fix my head”

he was helpful, so helpful—more so then you’d like to say out loud. he was kind, sweet, and charming when he wanted to be. and it crushed your pride to let him into your home like this, into your heart like this.

“if you want to”

“let me do this for you.” he said, correcting his words from before.

“only if you want to”

“keigo, no—“

“just one more time.” that what he says every time.

“keigo—“

“please.”

his feathers flutter behind him, and he looks down at you with those sun-glassed eyes.

your eyes narrowed before eventually falling onto the ground, silently admitting defeat.

you didn’t have to look up to know that keigo was back to sporting his proud smile. after a minute of tidying up he says, “tucked the pillows nice and soft for ya,” he held his hands out as if to present the dynasty of keigo fluffed pillows in your own bedroom. “go ahead, hop on in.”

you held back from punching his shoulder—to exhausted to anyways—and simply rolled your eyes, climbing into the bed without a mouthy complaint.

“there we go.” keigo watches as you situate yourself under your blanket and gently rest your head back on the now full pillows. “how we feeling? need anything? water? a snack?”

you shook your head, sinking deeper into the mattress—which felt way softer than it did twenty minutes ago.

“how about the temperature? too hot?” he asked cautiously. “too cold, maybe? dunno about you but i feel a little draft coming in here.” he chuckled sheepishly.

you held back the smile trying to push past your lips and patted the spot beside you invitingly. “you’re.. really stupid, you know that?” you prodded, useless teasing mimicking keigo’s from earlier.

keigo didn’t falter for a second, immediately climbing under the covers and puzzling his body right with yours. his arms wrapped around your waist, and he placed his chin onto your shoulder “am i?” he whispered the question along your neck. “cause it looks like i got what i wanted.” he murmured as his wings came around to warm you up.

you didn’t reply. you didn’t put up a fight, not now. it was too easy now to let yourself drift off into darkness as keigo voluntarily shielded you from the horrors of a restless night.

“if they try to, only if they try to”

some things are bigger than pride. you’d come to realize that eventually.

note: lysa!!! thank you for putting in a request. okay sooooo this is actually my first time writing for hawks so i’m so sorry if it’s a little ooc but i did try my best to encapsulate this dorks personality. i really think he’s lowkey sooo slick and he knows it! but it’s okay cus he’d never take advantage of you (unless it’s cuddling you to sleep, he’ll always do that)

taglist: @stargirlygirl @megumismyhusband @kitkat13001 @peachesvault

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

Text

Thoughts while Reading Red Hood Comics (click for clarity)

To be frank, I only read all issues of Red Hood: the Lost Days, issues 1-12 of the first volume of Red Hood and the Outlaws, and then 1-26 of the second volume of RHATO. So here is what I’ve been thinking and drawing as I read them.

*SPOILERS*

1) I made Artemis a suit that could be used of she was working with Jazz and Jason as Wolf and Red Hood in their gang, with a helmet that covered her identity. However, I might remake it bc I’m not happy with it.

2) I was inspired to draw an outfit with a blend of fashion styles while reading RHATO 2nd vol., issues 7-11. I, of course, drew Jazz as the subject.

3) Chibi Starfire and Wraith for no particular reason.

4) Why did I read all of this? So I could figure out Jason’s timeline during the period of time where he was resurrected so I could use it for Pokémon AU. You may judge me, but be glad I’m doing research!!

5) I remember drawing Kori in her imagined full suit and I was worried that it was too revealing. After reading RHATO, my version of her looks like she's going to church 💀 I did, however, loved the scenes where she got wet/injured bc it was cool asf to see her fire hair being weakened like that.

6) I kept wondering how I was gonna fit Jazz into all of the timeline with this new knowledge, but I think she’d come a little bit after RHATO and the contents of Jason’s journey would probably shift a lot in order to accommodate a DP crossover. However, I wanted to create a space suit for Jazz anyways, as inspired by RHATO issue 12 from the first volume.

7) Legit gagged and wanted to kms when I saw Talia kiss Jason in the comics (ladies, please!!! Bat Dick cannot be this good!!!) but I loved the scenes where she's absolutely terrified of Jason. I thought it was so interesting how everyone feared him, even if it's honestly a load of glazing nonsense.

8) I hated how RHATO characterized Kori, but I kept wondering what would happen if a better version of her (not the RHATO version) and Dan met. I think in a weird way, they'd be really good friends for various reasons. To Dan, Kori reminds him of Jazz and to Kori, she can tell that he is a hurting soul that needs a friend. I also imagine that with Tamaranean customs and ghost culture (the phanon hc that fighting/touch being a big deal in the ghost zone), I think they'd be super fun together. Also, hot and cold?? Orange and green?? Hero and villain?? Like hello?? Is no one seeing the yin and yang going on???

9) I really, really, really wanted to draw a Red Hood plush that is inspired by the Enderman from the Minecraft Cuutopia plushy series. He is squishy and marketable.

10) Isabel is super cute but holy shit, girl, STAND UP!! The way she's written is also ridiculous bc of the amount of plot holes and characterization? To be frank, it's extremely strange that she remembers the 15 year old boy on ONE airplane ride several years ago (especially when she was probably 19+ years old!!), that she would flirt with another passenger (and Jason specifically, like the writers tried to glaze him so much that it was just 😟), and that she'd STILL flirt with him when he tells her that he's going to a funeral. Girl. You're too cute for this. Please raise your standards!!

Conclusion, RHATO the 2nd volume was pretty enjoyable and RH: Lost Days is interesting. RHATO the first volume was hot garbage, but what kept me going for a little while was this one line from a review about RHATO #8: " It makes me wonder if her bed is the final sight on the tour, wink wink cough puke." which made me CACKLE LIKE OMG 💀💀

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paucubarsisimp · 3 months ago

Note

Would you ever write a Hector fort fic of him and reader playing the game where he has to guess the names of makeup products and their use and it’s just hilarious 😂

Have a great day/night 💙

makeup challenge

pairing: hector fort x reader

summary: in which hector tries to guess your makeup products

warnings: none

a/n: sry this took so long to come out! i couldn’t think of anything but @paus-princesa helped me (i love you sm girl)

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

it was one of those perfect, lazy afternoons in barcelona, where the sun was just starting to dip and the world seemed to slow down a little. you were sitting at your vanity, preparing to do your makeup when hector, who’d been lounging on the couch, suddenly sat up with an idea.

“oi,” he said, his voice full of that familiar mischief, “let’s do something fun. i’ll try guessing your makeup products. i bet i can figure them out.”

you raised an eyebrow, amused. “seriously? you know nothing about makeup.”

“exactly,” he grinned. “that’s what makes it interesting. come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

you chuckled. “fine, fine. but i’m not going easy on you.”

“no problem,” he said, a confident smile on his face. “let’s do this.”

eyelash curler

you handed him the first item: the eyelash curler. hector took it in his hands, inspecting it from all angles, clearly confused.

“what is this?” he asked, frowning at it. “it’s like a little clamp?”

you giggled. “it’s an eyelash curler. you use it to curl your lashes before putting on mascara.”

his eyes went wide, and he turned it over in his hands like it was a dangerous weapon. “wait—so you curl your eyelashes with this? how do you not poke your eye out?”

you laughed. “no! it’s actually really easy once you get the hang of it.”

he held it up to his eye, looking at you nervously. “i don’t know… i’d probably end up poking myself. i think i’ll stick to football—much less dangerous.”

eyebrow brush

next, you handed him the eyebrow brush. he stared at it like it was something straight out of a science experiment.

“so… this is for your eyebrows?” he asked, genuinely confused. “why do they need a brush?”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his confusion. “well, yeah. it helps keep them in place and shapes them. you don’t want them looking wild.”

he ran his hand over his own eyebrows, still baffled. “but mine are fine. they just grow, and that’s it.”

you smiled. “it’s not just about growth. trust me, brushing makes a difference.”

he shrugged, still not convinced. “i’ll take your word for it. i’m happy with my ‘natural’ look.”

you giggled. “one day, i’ll show you. you might change your mind.”

beauty blender

now it was time for the beauty blender. you handed it to him, and he immediately began squeezing it, fascinated by how soft and squishy it was.

“okay, this is actually fun,” he said, squishing it in his hand like a stress ball. “what’s it for?”

“it’s a beauty blender,” you explained, watching him continue to squish it. “you use it to blend foundation. you dampen it first, so it’s softer.”

he gave it another squeeze, nodding slowly. “this feels like something i should have in the locker room. imagine how relaxed i’d be before a match.”

“i think your teammates might find that a bit distracting,” you teased.

he shrugged, still amused. “i mean, it’s like a little squishy toy. how could anyone resist?”

you laughed. “maybe we should get you one for the next match.”

lip gloss

finally, it was time for the lip gloss. hector picked it up, giving it a once-over, clearly intrigued.

“okay, so what’s the flavor of this one?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious. “i’m going to guess…”

you raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “go on, make your guess.”

he tilted his head, looked at you for a moment, then grinned. “cherry. i’m going with cherry.”

you stared at him, surprised. “wait, seriously? how did you guess that?”

he smiled smugly. “what can i say? i have a sweet tooth. plus, you taste like cherries, so it felt obvious.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling your cheeks flush. “you taste me?”

he shrugged, unfazed. “had to make sure. it’s all part of the challenge.”

he leaned in and kissed you, just a quick, soft peck on the lips. when he pulled away, his grin was wide. “yep, definitely cherry. tastes like summer in a tube.”

you blinked, trying to hide your smile. “wow, you really went for it, huh?”

he grinned. “what can i say? i’m thorough. i like to win.”

by the time you both slipped on those adorable animal ear headbands—one with bear ears and the other with bunny ears—you were both laughing so much it was hard to focus on anything. hector looked ridiculously cute, and you couldn’t help but steal a few kisses as you went along with the challenge.

he kept sneaking little kisses on your cheeks, forehead, and even your nose, each one making you giggle. every time you’d pick up a new product to use, he’d kiss you and distract you, making it harder to keep a straight face.

“okay,” he said, pulling you onto his lap once the challenge was over, “now it’s my turn. do my makeup. let’s see if you can make me look good.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you really want me to do your makeup?”

“yup,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “let’s see how well you can handle the challenge. but don’t make me look like a clown.”

you smiled, grabbing your makeup products. “no promises.”

as you started applying makeup to his face—carefully, since you couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous he looked—you felt a warm, silly joy bubble up. he kept looking up at you with that mischievous grin of his, clearly enjoying every second.

“you know,” he said, his voice soft and teasing, “i think you might be onto something with this whole makeup thing. maybe i should start wearing it more often. i could be the first football player with makeup.”

you giggled. “maybe you should, though i think the team would have some words to say about it.”

he laughed, pulling you close for one last kiss. “well, at least i’d look good while making history.”

you both ended up laughing, your makeup supplies scattered around, but feeling closer than ever. there was no challenge too silly or moment too small for the two of you to enjoy together.

don’t forget to leave a request!

#fc barcelona #football #football imagine #footballer x reader #hector fort #hector fort x reader #hector fort imagine #hector fort fanfic #hector fort x y/n

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moonselune · 1 year ago

Text

Dark!BG3 | Found you !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion, forced memory loss,

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

After hiding from your lover due to the person they've become, what happens when they finally find you?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The tranquility of the small, secluded village had been a balm to your wounded, broken soul. Hidden deep within the forest on the surface, it seemed like the perfect place to escape the chaos and bloodshed of the Underdark that had come to define your life with Minthara. For months, you managed to lived in peace, and the horrors of the Underdark and Minthara's ruthless conquest slowly became distant memories. But peace, you learned, is a fleeting, foolish, illusion.

It was a quiet evening when she found you. The sun was setting, casting shadows across the village square. You were tending to a small garden, your hands deep in the earth, when the first screams pierced the air. Your heart lurched, a cold dread settling in your stomach. You looked up to see villagers running, their faces twisted in terror, as dark figures emerged from the surrounding forest.

You immediately recognised them to be Minthara's soldiers, ruthless and efficient, and spreading through the village like a hideous plague. Houses were set ablaze, and those who resisted were cut down without mercy, their bodies quickly put on brutal display, their home, their burning pyre. Panic seized you, and you turned to flee, but it was too late. She stood before you, a dark, imposing figure against the backdrop of burning homes.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" Her voice was a chilling blend of amusement and anger. "There is no place you can go that I cannot find."

Her eyes, once a source of fascination and allure, now bore into you with a cruel, predatory intensity. She advanced slowly, savoring the fear that radiated from you.

"You disappoint me," she said, her voice a venomous whisper. "I thought you were stronger than this, more loyal and that your standards were extraordinarily higher than this."

Minthara gestured with disgust the small homestead you had made for yourself. You tried to speak, to explain, but words failed you. The memory of the person she once was clashed violently with the reality of the monster before you. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

"I gave you everything," she continued, her voice soft yet seething with underlying fury. "Power, purpose, and a place by my side. And you ran away."

Her hand moved to grip your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. "Now, you will watch as everything you tried to build without me burns to the ground."

With a wave of her hand, she commanded her soldiers to bring forth the villagers who had been captured. They were dragged into the square, their faces marked by fear and confusion. You knew them, they had helped you, taken you in, wanting nothing but to see you smile. You struggled against her hold, desperate to help them, but Minthara's grip was unyielding.

"Look at them," she hissed, her lips close to your ear. "They suffer because of you. Because you dared to defy me."

Tears of helpless rage filled your eyes as you watched the villagers, they were killed slowly, painfully. You watched the light drain from their eyes, their pleas for you to do something resonating in your skull. Minthara moved closer to you, her lips trailing up your neck, the touch both intimate and suffocating.

"You will stay with me," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "You will learn that there is no escape from my will. And in time you will love me."

As she kissed your neck, a gesture that once brought warmth now filled you with a chilling dread, she pulled back and looked deep into your eyes. "Do you see now? You belong to me, and no matter where you go, I will always find you."

The village continued to burn, the flames casting flickering shadows on Minthara's face. She smiled, a cold, triumphant smile, and you knew that your fate was sealed. In her eyes, you saw the reflection of your own helplessness, a stark reminder of the power she wielded and the chains you could never break.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the dense forest. You had been on the run for months, trying to escape the clutches of Shadowheart, the Mother Superior of the Sharrans. Her cruelty towards others had finally driven you away, you didn't believe your own excuses for her anymore, and you couldn't bear to see the darkness that had consumed her heart. But no matter how far you ran, you always felt her presence lingering, a shadow that refused to let you go.

One night, while you were sleeping in a small, hidden cave, the best you could do without risking interaction with civilisation, you awoke to the sound of rustling leaves and the feeling of an oppressive force drawing near. Panic surged through you, but before you could react, you felt a cold hand cover your mouth, stifling your scream. Shadowheart's face emerged from the darkness, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" she whispered, her voice a chilling mix of anger and possessiveness. "Did you think I would let you go so easily?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to free yourself, but Shadowheart's grip was unyielding. She muttered an incantation under her breath, and you felt a wave of magical energy wash over you. Your body went limp, and your vision blurred as the world around you faded into darkness.

When you awoke, you were back in the Sharran temple, bound to an ornate chair in Shadowheart's private chamber. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting long shadows on the walls. Shadowheart stood before you, her expression unreadable as she looked upwards, muttering incantations, channeling the power of Shar. Her hands glowed with dark energy as they moved and flicked, as you came to you realised the strange sensation in your mind, as if memories were being played and plucked from your consciousness.

"You left me," she said softly, as she looked down at you, her voice filled with a mix of hurt and determination. "But I can't allow that. I won't allow that."

As the spell took hold, the memories of her cruelty and your subsequent escape began to fade. You tried to resist, to hold on to the truth, but the power was too strong. The love you once felt for Shadowheart, the passion and devotion, surged back to the forefront of your mind, overpowering everything else.

"You belong to me," Shadowheart continued, her eyes fixed on you. "And I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side."

Your head swam with conflicting emotions, but the magic of Shar twisted your thoughts until you could no longer remember why you had left in the first place. Instead, all you could think about was your love and adoration for Shadowheart. The memories of her cruelty were buried deep within your subconscious, replaced by a distorted version of reality where she was your everything.

Finally the darkness fully enveloped you, seeping into every corner of your mind, erasing the memories that had driven you away. You felt your resistance slip with it, replaced by a warm, all-encompassing love for the woman before you.

When you awoke again, you were no longer bound, and you were in Shadowheart's arms, both of you tucked under silk sheets in her lavish private chamber. She was holding you close, her fingers gently stroking your hair. You looked up at her, confusion and love warring within you.

"Shadowheart," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "What happened? Why do I feel... strange?"

She smiled down at you, her eyes soft and filled with love. "You had a bad dream, my love," she said soothingly. "But it's over now. You are safe with me."

You nodded, the memory of the dream already fading. You were with Shadowheart, the woman you loved more than anything. How could you ever have doubted her?

She kissed your forehead, her lips warm and comforting. "Rest now, my love," she whispered. "We have each other, and that is all that matters."

As you closed your eyes, the last remnants of your fear and doubt melted away, replaced by the warming love and trust you felt for Shadowheart. She was your everything, and you would never leave her again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

You step into your quarters, the familiar, sacred tranquility enveloping you like a comforting shroud. The moonlight filters through the window, casting a silvery glow over the room. As you close the door behind you, a chill runs down your spine—a sensation that is both foreign and unnerving in this place of sanctuary.

Then, you see him.

Gale stands in the center of the room, his presence as imposing and magnetic as ever. His eyes, once filled with mortal passion, now burn with the intensity of a god. He claps slowly, the sound echoing ominously in the silence. "Well done," he says, his voice a smooth blend of admiration and something darker. "To turn to Selûne, of all deities. Clever. So very clever."

You stiffen, every muscle in your body screaming at you to flee, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "Gale," you begin, your voice steadier than you feel. "You shouldn't be here."

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement and irony. "Shouldn't I? You think you can hide from me, even with the Moonmaiden's help? Oh, my dear, it only made me love you more. The cunning, the defiance. It's intoxicating."

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a frantic plea for escape. "I don't want to return to you," you say, the words rushing out in a desperate torrent.

His expression softens, but there is a steely resolve in his eyes. "You don't have a choice. I've carved out a place for you in the heavens, a place by my side. It's where you belong."

Panic surges through you, and you turn, racing for the door. But before you can reach it, he is there, materializing in front of you with a god's effortless speed. You crash into him, the impact jarring, but he remains unmoved, his arms encircling you in a grip that is both tender and inescapable.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "And I know you've missed me, too."

You shove him, your hands pushing against his chest with all the strength you can muster. He staggers back, not from the force of your push, but from the sheer surprise of it. And then he laughs again, the sound filling the room like rolling thunder.

"Is this the game you want to play? So be it." he asks, his eyes alight with a fierce, unholy joy. His power surges, the air around him crackling with divine energy. "Maybe I can show you a bit of godly wrath,"

You back away, your mind racing for a plan, a way to escape the inevitable. But even as you retreat, you know that this is a game you cannot win. Gale's love, his obsession, is a force of nature, and he is determined to claim what he believes is rightfully his. The room darkens, the shadows deepening as his power swells, and you realize with a sinking heart that there is no sanctuary left for you—not from him.

The room trembles as Gale's godly wrath unfurls, the very air around you becoming charged with his immense power. The ground beneath your feet shudders violently, and you can feel the tremors spreading far beyond your quarters. Objects rattle and crash to the floor, and outside, you hear the distant, terrified screams of innocents caught in the wake of his fury.

Lightning arcs across the sky, its blinding flashes followed by deafening cracks of thunder that shake the walls. The cries of the people intensify. You rush to the window, your heart sinking as you witness the chaos unfolding below. Bolts of divine lightning strike indiscriminately, setting buildings ablaze and sending people scrambling for cover.

"Gale, stop this!" you shout, turning back to him, your voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction. "You're hurting them! Please, stop!"

But his eyes are fixed on you, burning with an intensity that leaves no room for mercy or reason. He steps closer, and the tremors grow stronger, the ground splitting open in jagged fissures. You can feel the raw power emanating from him, an unstoppable force driven by his relentless ambition and obsession.

"Gale, please!" you plead, your voice breaking with desperation. "You're killing them! Stop!"

He seems not to hear you, his focus unwavering, his expression unyielding. The room continues to shake, the walls cracking, pieces of the ceiling starting to fall. You drop to your knees, the weight of the situation crushing you, and tears stream down your face as you beg. "Gale, I'm begging you. Stop this madness. I'll go with you. Just please, stop!"

For a moment, the earth stills, the roaring thunder quiets, and the flickering lightning halts. Gale's expression softens as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of triumph and tenderness. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"There," he murmurs, his voice soothing but laced with satisfaction. "Was that so hard?"

Tears stream down your face, your body trembling from the emotional and physical strain. The cries outside have lessened, but the damage is done—buildings lie in ruins, and lives forever changed. He helps you to your feet, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"I never wanted to hurt them," he says softly, his eyes searching yours. "But you needed to understand. You belong with me. And now, you see that."

You swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. The power he wields, the destruction he can cause—it leaves you with no illusions about your fate. With a heavy heart, you nod, resigned to your destiny by his side.

"Good," he says, his smile returning. Placing a tender kiss to your forehead, as if hadn't just thrown a deadly tantrum. "Let's leave this place behind. There's a place I've prepared just for you."

As he leads you away, the ground beneath you begins to heal, the tremors fading into memory. The devastation left in his wake serves as a grim reminder of the price of defiance, and as you take his hand, you know that your life will never be the same.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The tavern was alive with the chaotic energy of revelry—a madness of laughter, music, and clinking tankards that seemed to drown out the troubles of the world. You had sought solace in its bustling atmosphere, hoping the crowd would shield you from the relentless pursuit of your ex lover, a man you used to call your world, now a godling born of malice.

For months, you had managed to elude him, slipping through shadows and distant towns, always one step ahead. But tonight, fate had caught up with you. As you mingled with the merry throng, trying to blend into the sea of faces, a shiver ran down your spine—a sensation you knew all too well.

There he was, leaning casually against a pillar, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a chill through your veins. Astarion, now ascended to a dark power beyond mortal comprehension (or so he kept telling you), exuded an aura of dominance and danger. He wore a smirk that promised both pleasure and pain, and it chilled you to the bone.

You tried to slip away, to disappear into the crowd, but he moved with an unnatural speed, cutting off your escape route effortlessly.

"Running again, my dear?" His voice was like velvet over steel, laced with amusement and a hunger that sent a jolt of fear through you.

Before you could react, he pulled you into the swirling dance of the tavern. Around you, oblivious revelers spun and laughed, lost in their own joyous abandon. But your world narrowed to the commanding presence of Astarion, his touch igniting a familiar fire of longing and dread.

"You won't get away this time," he murmured, taking your hand in his cold, firm grasp. As the dance continued, his grip tightened, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin. "You've made me chase you for so long," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But tonight, you are mine."

Before you could respond, he dipped you low, his lips finding the curve of your neck. The world spun as his fangs sank into your flesh, a sharp pain followed by a heady rush as he began to drink. The room seemed to blur, the sounds of the tavern fading into a distant hum.

Your strength ebbed away with every pull of his lips, the life draining from your body as he fed. When he finally withdrew, his eyes blazed with triumph and possessiveness.

You collapsed into Astarion's arms, the sensation of his cold embrace the last thing you felt before darkness claimed you. He held you close, cradling your lifeless body with a tenderness that belied his monstrous nature

"She’s had a bit too much to drink," he called out to the concerned onlookers, his voice tinged with faux amusement. "Don't worry, I'll take care of my darling fiancée."

The tavern erupted in good-natured cheers and applause, the patrons none the wiser to the sinister truth. Astarion carried you towards the door, the night air cool against your skin as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Did you really think you could escape me, little love? You belong to me forevermore. The gift I am about to give you will ensure that."

His voice, filled with dark promise, was the last thing you heard before the world went black.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The rhythmic clattering of the factory machines was your lullaby and your solace. The industrial din was a constant reminder that you were safe, cocooned in the heart of Baldur's Gate, far from the forests and nature that had once felt like home. Now, those same woods were a nightmare, haunted by the shadow of the man you once loved.

Halsin had changed. His belief in the balance between nature and civilization had twisted into a dark crusade. What had started as a noble cause to protect the wilds had turned into an extremist vision, with Halsin determined to return the world to a primal state at any cost. You had watched in horror as he resorted to violence, razing villages, and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Unable to reconcile the gentle druid you knew with the monster he had become, you fled.

Baldur's Gate was your sanctuary. The bustling city, with its stone buildings and cobbled streets, was the furthest you could get from the greenery Halsin now worshipped. You threw yourself into your work at the factory, rarely leaving its grimy confines. The city's heart was far from the forest's edge, making it the safest place you could be.

You awoke in a jostling wagon, the familiar scent of the city replaced by the earthy aroma of the countryside. Panic surged through you as you realized you were on the outskirts of the forest. The attendant, a kindly old man, noticed your distress but dismissed your fears, assuring you that everything would be alright.

"No," you rasped, your voice filled with desperation. "You don't understand. It's not safe here."

The attendant patted your hand, his smile meant to be reassuring but only deepening your sense of dread. "The healer is just a little further. You'll be well taken care of."

As the wagon continued its journey, every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the wind set your nerves on edge. You knew Halsin would find you; he always did. The wagon eventually came to an abrupt halt. The attendant frowned and stepped out to investigate, despite your urgent pleas for him to stay.

"Please," you begged, your voice trembling. "Don't go. It's dangerous."

"Nonsense," he replied with a chuckle. "I'll just see what's blocking the path."

He vanished from view, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any noise. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, each one a reminder of the peril you were in. You strained to hear anything - footsteps, voices, anything that could tell you what was happening.

A sudden rustle outside the wagon snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned just in time to see a massive figure emerging from the trees, cloaked in green and brown, a silhouette that was both familiar and terrifying. Halsin. Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached, his eyes dark and intense, the very embodiment of nature's wrath.

The attendant's scream was brief, cut off by a sickening crunch. You felt a wave of nausea, but there was no time to dwell on it. You had to get away. The door of the wagon creaked open, and a towering figure filled the doorway. Halsin's once gentle eyes now burned with an intensity that made your blood run cold. His presence radiated raw, untamed power, and the forest seemed to respond to him, the trees whispering and shifting as if alive.

"There you are," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "I have missed you."

You shrank back, pressing yourself against the far side of the wagon. "Please, Halsin, don’t do this. I had to leave. You’ve changed."

"You shouldn't have run," he said, his voice a dark, velvet caress. "You belong with me, in the wilds."

"No," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Not like this, Halsin. Please."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. "The world must return to its natural state," he murmured. "And you will be by my side when it does. I won't let you go, my heart, not again."

You tried to pull away, but your injuries and his strength made it futile. He wrapped you in his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You felt a mix of despair and a twisted sense of comfort in his embrace.

"You’ve been hurt," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I will take care of you."

You wanted to fight, to scream, but your body betrayed you, too weak to resist. As he carried you into the forest, you looked back at the wagon, the nice old man lying lifeless beside it, plants already making their home in his corpse. Tears blurred your vision. You knew there was no escape now. You were back in Halsin's world, a prisoner of his love and twisted vision for the future.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Something a bit different, but enjoyed writing it, let me know if you want more dark bg3 ! - Seluney xox

P.S Polite reminder that inbox for requests are closed but if you want to just drop in and say hi that fine!

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