#this fic left SUCH a lasting impression on me that i was able to find it fuckin 20 years later.

[mangoamango]

tagged by my mutual comrades @brofisting and @sixohsixoheightfourtwo !!

three ships: this question ouugughhgh it's TOO HARD. so i'm just going off of my last 3 ships i got ao3 emails about: ed/stede (ofmd), eddie/richie (it movies - muschietti), hua cheng/xie lian (heaven official's blessing). i already feel like i have revealed Too Much.

first ever ship: TK/Kari (Takeru/Hikari) from Digimon. Yes. I know. YES. I AM AWARE. but if I am going off of the "first ship i read fic for" then this is 100% the truthful answer. I still completely unironically love digimon btw, it is a Good Show. WHO else had characters falling into depression caves in 2000 hmmm? NO ONE

last song: “Hypnotic" by Dead Sara (via my discover weekly playlist)

last movie: “The Menu." love 2 support women

currently reading: V5 of "Heaven Official's Blessing", and rereading the first two books of the Dreamer trilogy by Stiefvater so I can read the last one. Just finished V4 of "The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation" (there was only one bath!!!!!!!!!!! area man biggest idiot alive!!!!), and "The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida" by Shehan Karunatilaka, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

currently watching: The Bear, My Love Mix Up!, To Your Eternity, Abbott Elementary, Vox Machina S2, various and sundry kdramas and brit crime tv

currently consuming: mandarin orange that i tore into like a feral animal bc the skin was too hard to peel

currently craving: frozen rosé drink from a local neighborhood restaurant

tagging @valdemort18 @bripops @misterhaderach @jemware @shortcrust @beeintransit

#sry. sry i took way too long answering bc i got Self Conches about some of these answers lmfao #anyway do u guys wanna know more about my digimon hot takes. #the takes are: it's good. #ALSO. anybody want the link to a ff.net christian tk/kari fic where they go to another world and get worshipped by squirrel ppl #bc i have it. i have the goods. #this fic left SUCH a lasting impression on me that i was able to find it fuckin 20 years later. #ask meme

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP FIC IDEA: The Dauntless Matchmaker

Danny Fenton is short on cash. He has been short on cash almost all his adult life, but usually, he can pull through untill the last minute before breaking and asking his family for help.

It's a pain in a half trying to find a job that is flexible enough to accommodate his "Health" issues.

He needs time off to keep his agreement. See back when he was sixteen, he realized that the ghosts that had been bothering him were all trying to challenge him for his power.

At first he looked like easy prey- being new and all- but the more fights he won the more his reputation rose and that made the ghosts attack less frequently.

They just became harder since the big guns wanted a crack at him. Danny proposed that the fights be in neutral grounds- the ghost zone- since fights in Amity Park were ruining his haunt.

Haunt Rights were highly protected and respected in the Infinite Releams.

His adversaries agreed under the condition that Danny responded to the battles within two hours; otherwise, they would haunt him in the human world.

Ghost fighting in the Infinite Releams to keep the ghosts busy, and nowadays, only the strongest bothered him like a bi-weekly challenge from dead beings that don't understand scheduling.

It worked out.....until he couldn't explain why he was missing so often in the human world. With the help of some friendly ghosts, he was able to fake a diagnosis of some muscle disorder and has been living with the excuse that he would go MIA because of it. He missed a lot.

Often enough to have almost every job he's gotten to fire him.

This brings him to his current problem. Yes, Danny can argue that he has a disability but to do so would mean having someone look into it and realize it's not real.

So when Charlie from the Tea MadHouse tells him not to bother returning tomorrow after a four-day-long battle, he can only sigh and turn in his tea maker apron.

He might have to call his parents to ask for help on this month's rent. That's a bitter pill to swallow.

If only there was a job that he could do that had no problem with him taking multiple days off without notice.

"Pardon me. I need a moment of your time." a voice calls out. Danny twists around, turning his neck slightly downwards to meet the green-eyed stare of a young boy.

"I have a proposition for you. My elder brother requires a fake lover to fool our family butler into thinking that he has moved on from the heartbreak of his last disastrous relationship. Not that anyone could blame Dowd for ending things with Drake. In any case, seeing as I have witnessed your unemployment, I figured you would do well for the job."

Danny blinks "I'm sorry?"

The kid pulls out a wad of cash. Danny can practically hear the ca-ching sound surrounding the boy as he raises a brow.

He gapes as the youth slaps the cash into his hand without so much as a blink.

"Do we have an accord?" The boy asks while Danny slowly turns the money in his hand.

"Whatever you say, temporary in-law," He says after flipping through the bills only to realize it's a hundred-dollars. A quick count of how many he's been handed causes his eyes to almost pop out of thier socket.

It's more then enough for this month's rent-hell he has some left over for at least four months!

"Excellent, we are expected at dinner. If Drake acts surprised to see you merely tap the table six times, then four. He shall fall into line and build off our lie."

Danny scrambles after the kid, nodding to himself. "Six, then four. Got it. Ugh, does the dinner have a dress code?"

It sounds like it would since a young boy just gave out hundreds like it was nothing. Danny would feel bad showing up in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Maybe he has a formal shirt somewhere.

The boy's green eyes flickered to him, then his watch on his wrist. "An impressive observation. Pennyworth will not be impressed by a poorly dressed paramour. We have time to purchase a suit. Come along."

Danny has no idea how someone so small can walk so fast. He feels his breathing is coming in quick bursts, but the boy doesn't seem winded at all. He winces when the boy enters a well-known suit place that is very pricey. "Is this coming out of my pay?"

"No. This shall be covered by the company card," The strange child says, holding up a black card with a quick flick of his wrist. At the sight of it, two store attendants appear at their side, offering assistance. Danny has never seen such power.

"W-wait we have a company card?" He shutters, overwhelmed by the attendant pushing him into a changing room and a light blue suit in his arms.

"Yes. However, you have a limit on what can be spent with it. I shall review the details later regarding your medical, dental, and vision benefits."

"I GET DENTAL?!"

"Of course. America's ridiculous health programs will mistreat no employee of mine simply due to lack of funds. " The boy scoffed, sounding offended by the very idea.

Danny doesn't care how long he needs to pretend to be this boy's boyfriend, and he'll sign a contract right now.

_______________________________________

Damian waited for Fenton to finish trying on all the suits the personal sellers had pushed onto him. He personally thinks the light blue was the best but it doesn't hurt to try other options.

They need Fenton to look his best to woo Drake and get him to stop acting so pathetic.

Yes, Dowd had broken up with him for reasons Damian is unaware of, nor does he care enough to find them, but Drake has had plenty of people break up with him before and remain on good terms with him.

Just look at Brown.

Drake had also always bounced right back after the breakup, usually because he would get tied up in either work at Wayne Industries or Red Robin.

Yet, for some reason, unlike all the others, Dowd leaving has not only been messy it also threw Drake into a downwards spiral.

He has refused even to get dress- walking around in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers- eating ice cream and sobbing over photos of Dowd for hours on end. He taken a leave from Wayne Industries and mostly stayed on monitor duty as Red Robin.

At other times, he plays sad songs and watches romance movies with a dead look in his eyes. Usually there were crumbs of some unknown spicy chips all over his face too.

Really it was unseemly.

It's been four months of this, and Drake does not seem to be getting it together. Damian had researched online, and all of the articles indicate that he should have felt better by the third-month mark.

He would have left the fool well alone only Pennyworth is beginning to worry. And Damian refuses to let Pennyworth worry over something fixable.

His research showed that a "rebound" was highly recommended (if done correctly), in the healing process of a breakup. Drake refused to find one, so Damian assigned himself the task of finding one for him instead.

He considered Drake's past lovers' looks, interests, and personalities. Then creating a list of what was considered a good candidate he wandered around Gotham in search of someone who would be a perfect rebound.

His efforts led him to Tea MadHouse- a tea shop with a surprisingly good coffee menu- where Daniel Fenton worked. Over three weeks, Damian had watched him, categorizing the pros and cons that Drake would find within Fenton, and concluded that he would be perfect.

The fact Fenton has lost his job now only worked in his favor. He'll convince Drake that Fenton is a decoy for Pennyworth - since Drake was getting fed up with all the hovering- and he would never notice that the real target of this fake relationship would be Drake himself all along.

Fenton will woo him, sweep him off his feet, make him forget Dowd and ride off into the sunset with Drake none the wiser. It was full-proof.

Damian will make Drake rebound on Fenton, even if he has to throw the idiot at the other teen. He is getting awful tired of the concerned glances whenever Drake slumps his way into a room.

No other reason. He certainly didn't care about Drake that much nor did does he lay awake at night wondering how Drake is doing now that he does not have someone to hold him.

Drake doesn't sleep well alone.

"How do I look?" Fenton stepped out of the booth wearing the light blue suit. It made his eyes pop and framed his body well.

Yes, muscular. The body of a boxer. Drake will lose his mind over those biceps.

"Ravishing." He tells the nineteen-year-old. Damian barely bites back a smirk as Fenton flushed, painting a pretty picture. Drake enjoys talking his lovers up, and Fenton will do well to receive plenty of compliments. "Let us be off."

Drake won't know what hit him.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #The Dauntless Matchmaker #Damian Wayne really said if you want something done right do it your self #Danny went along cause Damian has that much of a commanding presence #hes also poor and needs the job #Tim is in the trenches from Bernard leaving him

[strawberrysturniolo]

I genuinely want a Matt or Chris with someone older fic. Like a well done, met at work/on set… they need to impress her because she’s older and she’s just trying not to flirt back but totally is flirting … but needs to be secretive because it could cost her a job.

But he’s just so obsessed with her in the best way and his brothers can tell even though he won’t admit it

someone older

summary: chris reaches out to a new photographer in hopes of taking Fresh Love to the next level, but they find their attraction to each other too difficult to hide

part two

I’ve been in LA pursuing photography for a few years now. Coming out of college with my dream in the back of my head only made me hungry for that spot in this career field. It’s hard to be taken seriously sometimes, but I’m grateful for the opportunities LA has brought me, along with the clients who are just as invested in their careers, and are in a position to want to have me there to take them to the next level.

That’s exactly how I was approached by Chris Sturniolo, YouTuber and entrepreneur. I scrolled through my Instagram DM’s one day, checking the requests to go through any work opportunities I needed to work out. That’s when I stumbled upon a request from Chris, explaining his desperation as he tries to expand his clothing brand, Fresh Love. His message expanded on the fact that he wants to take things to the next level, reaching higher heights and satisfying his goals the way he hasn’t been able to in the past. 

“I need a better photographer,” he said. “And you have exactly what I need.” 

Count me in.

The money he was offering was another good reason for me to say yes, but I was more drawn into the fact that he models most of his own clothing. It’s easier for me to do a shoot with him considering it’s his brand and he knows what he wants. We won’t have to worry about his visions not coming to life as clearly through models who are just there to get their money from Chris, rather than someone who actually cares about the brand's success. 

We had been messaging back and forth over Instagram, working out times that would be best along with a location. I invited Chris over to my apartment, where a room was set with studio lights and backdrops to satisfy the shoot he was looking to complete.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled as he carried a box of Fresh Love gear into the room. 

“Cool right,” I smiled, positioning my camera in the center of the room.

He gazed at the backdrops – one plain white, one with oranges covering it, and one with scattered hearts, all of which matched some scheme of his brand. 

“This is amazing,” he added. “Even better than what you sketched out.”

“It was a pretty simple idea, just had to be executed right,” I shrug, not wanting to take too much credit for a simple job.

I let himself get situated in the room, grabbing a few different items from the upcoming drop and letting him get comfortable. 

Upon receiving his message request and working out a time for us to have this photoshoot, I did find myself watching a few of his YouTube videos to get a scope of his personality. I had never heard of this kid before. I wanted to make sure some creep wasn’t going to come to my apartment. Unfortunately, that has happened in this industry. 

I noticed how talkative and chirpy he was in these videos, but now that he was in my home, it was like something changed. He was suddenly quiet and closed off, almost like he was feeling shy. The last thing we needed for this shoot was him feeling uncomfortable. There was no way any of these photos would come out alright if that were the case. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” I offer. “I have some water, soda, iced tea…”

He nods, his focus on sorting through his things. “A soda would be good, thanks.”

I left the room and let him get situated while I got him something to drink. I had to admit, this kid was cute. I was only a few years older than him, but there was something about the fact that he was so driven in his career to pursue this project that I found myself attracted to. At 25, it’s safe to say most guys don’t think like that, but somehow at 20 he has things figured out for himself. 

I came back with a drink for him, noticing that he had changed his shirt into one of the upcoming drops. “Oh, I like that a lot!”

He looks down at his shirt, smiling back up at me. “Thanks! I suck at drawing, so I have to be really detailed when I try to pitch ideas to my creative team. Luckily we’ve got a good crew there so it isn’t too hard.”

I nod as I listen to him, finding myself fascinated. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m gonna have you stand in the middle of the backdrop, right where that X is. I’m gonna take a few test shots, so don’t worry about posing or anything. I’m just checking the lighting and the angle.”

He listens closely to my instruction, following just as I said. He pulls at his clothing a few times, trying to let himself be comfortable. Then, he looks down at the X, then back up at me. It’s like his entire demeanor changed. There was an entire switch in him. He looks up at me with these… dead eyes. Staring into the lense of the camera in a way that has me sucking in a breath. 

Jesus Christ. 

I clear my throat. “Yeah… just… keep moving around a little. I’m still doing some test shots but don’t stand too still. I need to see if we need more lighting in certain angles.”

“I got you,” he nods, now swaying his body around a little bit as he tries different angles for me. He takes instruction well, making this a much easier process than most. Not to mention he’s nice to look at. 

“Alright,” I stand straight again. “We got our lighting and everything settled. Is there anything you want me to take control of or do you want to be in charge here? It won’t offend me if you want to have more creative control since this is your brand after all.”

“I have a few ideas,” he says. “But once I get those shots I want, you’re free to do whatever you think looks good from your side of things. I really appreciate this by the way.”

“Of course,” I smile at how sweet he’s being, truly grateful for me taking time out of my day for him even though this is my job. He’s paying well too, so I can’t complain too much. 

Chris relays some of his ideas to me, taking a few shots then checking behind the camera to look at the photos so far. He smiles as his vision comes to life, thanking me over and over again for today.

He stands shoulder to shoulder to me, and I have to keep myself focused. “I like this one here,” I point out a shot of him with a pair of sunglasses on, a playful smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, that one’s sick,” he agrees before heading back to help me switch out the backdrops. 

Somehow along the way we find ourselves talking about my career, mostly with Chris wondering how I got to LA and what drew me to photography. The conversation continues through the next set of photos until we can’t stop talking and it starts interrupting our shoot. 

“You want to take a little break?” I suggest. “We can order some food and talk while we look over the pictures so far? See what you like and what you don’t so we can make the final shots right.”

He almost looks shocked that I would ask him that. “Yeah, that sounds really good actually.”

I laugh at his reaction. “What’s that face for?”

“I usually don’t get asked if I want a break. It’s just… go go go until the day is over. This is nice.”

“Well, if you want to do more shoots with me… you know my rates,” I tease. 

He follows me to my living room where we order some food and set up my laptop, exporting the photos. I delete some of the blurry ones, and others where the lighting is too crazy for the clothing to be seen. After the poor photos are disposed, we start taking a closer look at the ones that might make the cut.

“I like this one a lot,” I point out, zooming in on certain elements of the picture. “The pose is really good, but the look on your face sells it. You’re a natural at this, you know?”

His cheeks turn a pink color. “Thank you.”

“I’m serious!” I continue. “Something special about this is also how you model your own clothes, and if anyone else does, it’s friends and family. People like that. You have a unique creative mind. This thing is gonna go places, Chris.” 

He smiles at me, a cheesy, dorky smile that I can’t help but smile back at. 

“You make it easy,” he praises me instead. “You’re great at this but I’ve never felt so comfortable with a photographer. Plus, you’re nice to look at… so I guess that keeps me wanting to stare at the camera… or what’s behind it, I guess.” 

There it is.

I knew I wasn’t going crazy. I saw the way he was looking at me, and this just confirms it. 

“You’re sweet, Chris.”

He gives me a soft, tight lipped smile before turning back to the computer to take a closer look at the photos. “You know, I was wondering if you wanted to try a few pieces on and take a few pictures in them? I also have a polaroid camera we can do a few with. Or maybe some together would be good?” 

I smile at his suggestion, playing into it. “You’re suggesting this after I just praised you for doing this on your own?” 

He shrugs, a bit of confidence washing over him. “Some of these pieces would really suit you, and you’re too pretty to be hidden behind the camera.”

“Okay,” I nod. “I’m in.” 

An hour passes, which soon turns into two. We spent the time talking about ourselves while we ate, learning more about each other and our careers. Despite Chris being this funny, loud character in his YouTube videos, it’s obvious that he’s extremely smart as a businessman. He knows what he wants, and he’s going to make sure he gets it. 

We head back into my studio room, setting things up again. 

“Try this shirt on,” he says, holding a shirt out to me.

“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to interfere with his creative ideas. 

“Absolutely.”

I take the shirt into my hands, pulling off the one I’m wearing without a care considering I have a tank top on underneath. Chris watches every movement, waiting for me to put his shirt on instead. 

“It looks good,” he nods, licking his lips before standing behind the camera. “Go ahead and stand on the X like I did. Give me some… over the shoulder looks.”

I smile at his attempts at conducting this photoshoot. He sounds adorable, but it’s also hot knowing he has his business brain going. I do as he says, looking over my shoulder with a certain look on my face that is working wonder’s for him.

“That’s it,” he mumbles, taking a few shots before peeking at me over the camera. “Give me some more.”

I do a few different poses as he praises me for my work. 

“You look better in these than I do,” he breathes out.

“That can’t be true,” I deny, walking behind the camera to take a look at what he’s gotten so far. 

I have to say, the gray Fresh Love sweatpants he’s wearing aren’t doing the best job of hiding what’s going on in that head of his. 

I look through some of the pictures, hearing his breaths gain strength next to me. “Why don’t we take some together like you suggested? I can set a timer and it’ll do a flash of a hundred at a time.”

He nods. I take his hand in mine and lead him back in front of the camera. “Is this how all your shoots go with clients?” he asks quietly.

“Only the cutest ones,” I tease. 

I move him around until I find a pose that works for us, settling on me sitting on the floor in front of him with him behind me. His hands rest on me, a simple feeling that I had been aching for all day. 

We spent about 10 minutes posing together, alternating between us standing in front or behind each other until we decide to take a few looking at each other. 

“This could be a good way to tease the new drop,” I say. “Just a few shots of the sides while we’re looking at each other.”

He nods, willing to do anything I offer at this point. 

We stand with our chests almost touching, our faces close enough to feel each other's breathing pattern. I hear a flush of photos being taken, a small smile growing on my face while I look at him. As the photos continue to take, he makes his move. 

Suddenly, his hands are on my face, holding me closely as he kisses me hard. I wasn’t expecting this in the slightest no matter how much I was hoping for it. The photos continue to capture the moment as it grows more heated, his tongue finding a way into my mouth until I’m falling backwards and he’s catching me at my lower back. 

He pins me against the backdrop, funnily enough, the one covered in red hearts. 

He pulls back with a sharp inhale, catching his breath. “I’d been thinking of doing that since I walked in.”

“Took you long enough,” I tease. 

“Shut up,” he mutters, placing his lips back on mine. “You’re distracting me from my work.”

“I think you were doing just fine,” I assure him. “Great, even.”

“Mmm,” he hums, a mix of pleasure and satisfaction from my compliments. I smile at the sound of the camera going off, which makes Chris pull back from me. “What?”

I point behind him, watching as he focuses on the camera, and it continues to flash, capturing his smirk while my lipstick is all over his face. 

I can’t wait to look at these later. 

tag list: @freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl @oliviasturniolo21 @keira324 @sstvrnioloo @sturnitup @sturnsvoid @theyluv-meee @therewilljustbereputationts13 @ilovedasturniolos @dancemomsfanee @rootbeerworshiper @sturn3ol0 @swaggygirlboss123 @lustfulslxt

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision. despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 9k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i don't even know what to say. i normally don't talk a lot and i'm mostly very unserious, but this is the last chapter of the farmouse and honestly, i'm super emotional about it. i'm really grateful for those of you who took the time to read and support this fic, every kind word has meant everything to me. i wrote this fic during a tough time when i needed warmth and joy, so i hope that this fic was able to bring even just a little bit of that for you while reading. (the writing of this chapter was quite literally delayed because my three year relationship ended midway through lol) this was also my first piece of writing in years and it's safe to say that i was able to fall in love with writing again because of this fic, so it'll always hold a special place in my heart. thank you times a hundred again <3 

part ten: the midsummer festivalㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ   previous. epilogue. masterlist

  xxiv. the midsummer festival

squeezing through bodies in the stands, it took all of your focus to not drop the popcorn and drinks wedged in your arms. you should have asked someone to come with you, but you were in such a rush, not wanting to miss a thing. finally, you made it to your seat, plopping yourself in between jiwon and yoongi, and your eyes remained fixed on the lawn the entire time.

  amber valley had the most beautiful days you’d ever laid eyes on and today was no exception. you weren’t sure if it was because of the natural charm in the sleepy town or a biased sense of nostalgia towards the countryside that you carried. the midsummer festival was held at the peak of the season, where humidity was as thick as honey and not a single cloud escaped being casted away from the cerulean of the sky. you had no choice but to throw on a tank top and shorts because anything else would feel like suffocation.

  “i didn’t miss anything, did i?” you didn’t mean to scream, but there was no other way for your voice to beat the crowd amongst yourselves.

  jiwon shook her head, her hair splaying from underneath the baseball hat that she so obviously stole from her brother. “no!”

  the show-jumping competition was one of the newest additions to the fair and it proved to be one of the most popular. not only did the majority of the town come out to observe, but the fair also drew in an impressive number of visitors from elsewhere - some of which attended the fair specifically to watch the show-jumping. 

  “LETS GO KOOKIE!” screamed hoseok at the top of his lungs, holding up a customized poster board with a printed picture of jungkook and leo, depicting the words ‘go jungkook!’

  yoongi groaned, “can you sit down? they haven’t even finished setting up for the jump-off yet.”

  at this point in the competition, it was down to jungkook and another competitor, a man a few years younger named yesung. up until now, they both achieved the same score after the round performance and both cleared nearly perfect showings. the jump-off was a shortened course with tighter turns and higher jumps, intended to break the tie and determine the winner.

  the crowd began cheering when jungkook and yesung reappeared, standing and waiting for instructions. you found jungkook adorable in his outfit, a dark green show jacket and breeches that emphasized his leg muscles. you had to catch yourself from staring too hard at his thighs because it seemed like yoongi caught you, waving a hand in front of your face with a snicker. you only glared at him.

  it was mayor kim with the microphone, explaining the rules to the crowd. “and, to decide the order for performance, we have conducted a random draw. as a result, we will see. . .choi yesung go first!” he proclaimed, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd.

  from where you stood, you noticed jungkook naturally relax his shoulders. for that, you also breathed out a sigh of relief. he stepped away to where leo was, making way for yesung to complete his round.

  when it was time to begin, everyone rose to their feet. from what you saw and heard of yesung, he was also a well-seasoned equestrian. he wasn’t as decorated as jungkook, but he had the advantage of winning the last show-jumping competition in the spring. you didn’t realize jungkook was out for vengeance, but he was indeed looking to reclaim his name.

  every fraction of a second mattered in the jump-off round and so, your eyes were glued. the pressure was on and you watched yesung charge ahead. he decided to take some risky turns, likely to shave off time. the first one was executed perfectly and you nearly jumped at the second, challenging turn. it was not calculated well, as it resulted in a rail down at the penultimate fence.

  “oh shit!” one of the boys yelped, watching the unfortunate accident. 

  yeung finished the course at a respectable, but flawed time. it was shame, since his speed and ability could have easily secured a victory. he knew it, too, judging by the disappointment in his eyes. you almost felt bad for him, if it wasn’t jungkook off to the side and gearing up for his turn.

  now, it was jiwon screaming as loud as she could. “YOU CAN DO IT!” she screeched, cheering for her brother and you joined in. 

  already mounted on leo, jungkook looked up, right at your section. he gave a small wave and you all went wild - even mrs. oh, who brought her own sign to cheer him on. you guys weren’t the only ones, though, as it seemed that jungkook was a favourite amongst fans.

  “jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook,” chanted the boys and you weren’t sure who started it, but you also began chanting, too.

  he readied himself and at the sound of the horn, blasted off. the tensions were thicker, with the stakes at hand and the pressure on a seasoned competitor looking to re-establish himself. you couldn’t imagine the weight of the crowd under the beating of the july sun, considering the heat made you already down your water bottle by the first hour of the competition and were in half the clothing jungkook was in. between you and jiwon was a shared usb handheld fan, as the two of you silently took turns holding it - eyes too glued to the show and shouting jungkook’s name.

  he was fast and sharp, yet every movement of his was so well thought out. at full force was a risky approach, but was so far bearing perfect results. you felt your heartbeat getting louder and louder, making your head pound with adrenaline. the last few seconds, the world became quiet and all you could focus on was jungkook. then, the eruption snapped you back into reality.

  “LET’S GOOO!”

  if someone was somehow not on their feet watching the final round of the show, they certainly were now, as jungkook zoomed to the end with no flaws and an incredible time. even you had to blink a few times, trying to see the time recorded clearly and realize your eyes were not deceiving you.

  “there’s no way that’s not a record!” you heard jimin exclaim and you didn’t doubt him.

  there was a hushed murmur over the crowd, as mayor kim stepped to the podium once more. tapping the microphone a few times, you and the rest of the crowd winced at the feedback that came with it. then, mayor kim spoke.

  “ladies and gentlemen. . .” he begun, loud and clear.

  jungkook was still catching his breath to the side, having yet to even take off his helmet. all eyes were peeled on mayor kim, as he took an extra pause for dramatics. if you weren’t also about to jump right out from your skin, you’d roll your eyes.

  “. . we have a winner AND a record setting time. jeon jungkook, young man, please join me on this stage.”

  no longer holding your breath, you roared along with your friends and the earth practically rumbled. jungkook’s smile was as bright as the day, as he whooped in response and raised his fist in the air. you were filled with nothing but joy. 

  before he stepped up onto the stage, jungkook displayed his integrity by walking towards yesung and enthusiastically shake the other man’s hand. yesung didn’t look too upset, more bewildered at the quality of performance that his opponent put on. they exchanged words, smiles reaching their eyes.

  “that’s my brother!” screamed jiwon, as if no one knew the obvious.

  jungkook then took mayor kim’s hand in one and attempted to balance his new, golden trophy with the other arm. in a split second, your friends, jiwon, and the oh family began filing out of the stands and you could hear hoseok yelling for you to follow. you widened your eyes, shuffling out of your seat as quickly as possible.

  of course, jiwon was the fastest and made it to the lawn first. she squealed, as jungkook embraced her in a hug and spun her around. the cheers didn’t falter and only grew when namjoon and taehyung momentarily put jungkook on their shoulders.

  you trailed behind everyone, nearly stumbling on your way down. you couldn’t see much, tiptoeing as far as you could. the chatter was still loud, but then the small crowd parted as you heard jungkook call out. it was your name. he was calling for you to come to the front.

  “oooooh,” someone said, but you ignored it.

  there was no doubt in your mind that your cheeks were a cherry red, but you refused to look anyone in the eye - even jungkook. you and your friends gathered around the podium with jungkook, as the event photographer asked you to move closer for a picture. everyone made way for you, as jungkook gestured for you to be the one on his right side, while jiwon and mrs. oh were on his left. 

  “congratulations,” you finally said, straining for your voice to be heard over the cheers. you still did not meet his eyes, finding yourself in a kind of shyness that was unknown to your normally headstrong personality.

  that was something that came natural to jungkook, having an innate ability to bring out parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. before moving back to amber valley, you walked around with your chin up, thinking that you knew everything you needed to know. 

  now, at 25 years old, you knew harvesting soybeans and playing cards at the local pub with your new friends. you knew the smell of the ocean in the sweltering summer and you knew riding horses in sunflower fields at sundown. looking at jungkook, you knew what it was like to be slowly, but surely, swept off your feet. the realization creeped up on you, a sneaky little thing.

  namjoon was the one holding onto leo, as your group huddled together for the picture. you instinctively hugged into jungkook’s touch, holding them in front of the camera.

  jungkook spoke, right into your ear. “i’m so glad i was able to have this moment with you.”

  that made you finally look up at his eyes and in that moment, a flash went off. this is when you also snapped out of your daze and despite his stare unwavering, you turned back to the photographer.

  “oh, maybe we should take another -” you started, knowing that neither you or jungkook were looking in the camera, but he waved you off.

  “no, no! this picture came out perfect,” the photographer winked at you and asked for everyone to disperse, before you could argue. something told you that you were going to see a picture of you and jungkook gazing into each other’s eyes on the front cover of the local newspaper.

  he proceeded to take a few more solo pictures of jungkook with leo, followed by some shots with the mayor. jungkook was supposed to be kept busy, but he continued sneaking glances your way.

  it was mrs. oh who gently tapped your shoulder. “now’s the time, honey. come to the store quick before he notices.”

  beside her, sangwoo rolled his eyes. “he’s going to notice, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her.”

  regardless, you scrambled to follow behind mrs. oh. you weaved through the crowd, who all wanted to take a look at their champion in disbelief of the amazing time jungkook scored. the show began relatively early in the day, too, so the streets were only now becoming more and more full with the midsummer festival in full swing.

  the roads were blocked off for pedestrian access only, as the fair was one of the busiest times of the year for amber valley. today was a day that drew crowds from outside of town, as the festival was an adored regional celebration and served as a tourist destination. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were told that the midsummer festival attracted the highest visitors of any other day in the year for the town.

  carnival games, market booths and amusement rides were already set up since the morning and it was already getting tiresome to navigate through the festival goers. but, of course, you were trailing behind the force that was mrs. oh, who made way with ease with her commanding voice. 

  “time to get to work,” she sighed, pulling out a key from her pocket upon reaching the general store.

  you said, “it’s a shame you can’t enjoy the festivities, mrs. oh.”

  “oh, i don’t mind. i’ve lived in this town all my life, i’ve been here, there and everywhere when it comes to the fair,” she mused, unlocking the front door for the two of you. “business is business, the traffic the store will get is more important.”

  a cool blanket enveloped your skin once you stepped in and you were never more grateful for the invention of air conditioning in your life. she was right, though, as you noticed some people nearby the store and already eyeing it.

  “most businesses are closed today, but not us!” mrs. oh smiled, as she turned the sign by the window from ‘closed’ to ‘open.’

  this is how you knew how much jungkook truly meant to mrs. oh. “jungkook is real lucky for you to open late just to watch him,” you said, examining the front counter and spotting a pair of jungkook’s work gloves.

  “the store opens late every time he has a competition. sangwoo adores him and that young man and jiwon are family to us,” mrs. oh mused, seemingly lost in thought, before blinking back into the moment. “ah, don’t mind me. i almost forgot why you’re here, sweetie - the flowers are in the back room!”

  you thanked mrs. oh, following the direction that she pointed towards. jimin called you corny for getting jungkook flowers for your first official date, but you thought it was fitting, given the competition. it was even better with the results of the show and you could only hope that jungkook liked the ones you picked out. you figured that men deserve to get a nice bouquet of flowers at least once, too. 

  the bundle of fresh sunflowers were actually your favourites, but that wasn’t important. you grabbed them from the backroom fridge, wrapped in cellophane and yellow paper. this was when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and your eyes widened, hoping it wasn’t jungkook just yet.

  unfortunately, your hopes disappeared, but the text still put a smile on your face - just because it was him at the end of the day.

  are you at the store? i saw you and mrs. oh lol i can be there in a few minutes. 

  you replied yes and came out to wait. the store already had its first customers within a few minutes of opening and mrs. oh was ringing them out. she met your eyes and winked, mouthing some encouraging words to you. 

  with the same smile on your lips, you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her. 

  although you would have loved to loiter inside the store for the air conditioning, you were already bashful enough from everyone watching you and jungkook at the show and you would have rather met jungkook away from mrs. oh’s nosiness. she was lovely, but she appeared to be one of your and jungkook’s biggest fans and you didn’t want to act awkward, knowing that you were being watched.

  the bouquet was hidden behind your back, as you patiently waited outdoors. you didn’t know what to expect out of your day, but the longer you waited for jungkook, you grew more and more nervous. it was odd, knowing that the anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach was because of your childhood best friend. 

  the thoughts were promptly swept away when you caught sight of jungkook approaching you. he changed clothes from his riding gear, sans his favourite dirty boots that remained on his feet, and was now wearing a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans. you always had to take a moment to admire the definition of his muscles and his sharp gaze that left you breathless, but you were distracted this time by the bundle of golden flowers in his grasp.

  jungkook looked a little bit concerned at your expression, as you were stifling a laugh. you almost felt bad, but the sight was too funny for you to ignore.

  “hey - uh, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

  you revealed the identical bouquet from behind your laugh and he, too, looked dumbfounded. the wrapping and greenery differed from one another, but it was clear that the two of you picked your flowers from the same field by your houses. it was the same field the two of you rode on the past summer and played in as kids.

  “congratulations again for first place,” was all you could manage to say, offering your flowers towards him.

  jungkook finally broke out into a chuckle, shaking his head. “thank you. congratulations, for uh. . “

  “for what? being jeon jungkook’s date to the fair?” you chided, as you took his flowers in your hands.

  “shut up. am i not original or something?” jungkook asked. “like, come on, we got each other the same thing. i’m already failing at this date thing, aren’t i?” he joked.

  you rolled your eyes and flicked his arms. “it’s been, like, five seconds.”

  “ow!”

  “we’re not just on a date today, jungkook. we’re on a mission to win some prizes,” you declared. 

  jungkook tilted his head slightly with a smile growing. “oh, are we?” he paused. “then, am i allowed to hold your hand during this mission?”

  the idea startled you, but you didn’t shy away. nodding without a word, this was the signal for jungkook to pick up your free hand and interlock his fingers with yours. somehow, it wasn’t a moment that sent ringing sensations in your ears nor was it one in slow motion. it was familiar, almost, and felt. . . right. it felt natural, like it was coming home after a long day.

  you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “and thank you for the flowers. you remembered my favourite.” you weren’t even sure how he knew, but you knew that jungkook would only give you a gift with a well-thought out meaning behind them. 

  this time, it was jungkook’s cheeks who reddened slightly. he didn’t say anything else, only squeezing your hand and leading the way.

  ***

  jungkook was tired. you were tired of telling him to suck it up. you had gone two summers in a row without winning a single prize and you were determined to walk away from the fair with at least one thing. albeit, at this point, you ran out of tickets to play games and you knew jungkook had extra, since he received some from his parents, but your grandfather also gave him some. he was your last hope, as you begged him to use the last of his tickets to get you something.

  “hoseok hyung told me these games are rigged. can’t we just go do bumper cars, bunny?” jungkook groaned, as the two of you walked away empty handed from balloon darts.

  you pouted. “no. i just want one of those big charmander stuffies, i know you can win them!”

  “why don’t you play the games?”

  “because i’m bad at them, how do you think i lost all of my tickets so quickly?” you responded, crossing your arms over your chest.

  jungkook grumbled more complaints under his breath, while you forcibly dragged him towards the ring toss booth.

  “hey kids! giving the ‘ol ring toss a try?” beamed the booth attendant, who was the same every year.

  you weren’t entirely sure what his name was, but you and jungkook collectively agreed on calling him “carnival man” and he recognized the two of you each time the festival was in town. though you were about four feet of fury at the time, you had quiet rage against carnival man. you were convinced he cheated you out of getting the xl sized penguin prize last year and you wanted revenge. 

  “kookie will do it!” you exclaimed, smugly pushing your best friend forward.

  “yeah, whatever, kookie will do it,” jungkook rolled his eyes and handed over a single ticket to carnival man.

  carnival man happily took the ticket from jungkook. “it’s nice to see you kids again. you’re always together, huh?”

  “unfortunately,” the two of you said in unison, only for you two to shoot each other identical daggers.

  at this, carnival man guffawed in amusement and gave jungkook his sets of rings. 

  here, jungkook did not win. in fact, he didn’t win you a single thing that summer and you didn’t speak to him for the following day because of it. only a day, though, since carnival man was right - the two of you were always together. you eventually gave in after the first day of silent treatment and showed up to jungkook’s house with your horse, marshmallow, and convinced him to join you by the sunflower fields. he had scoffed, called you stupid, and then without missing a beat, came outside to accompany you.

  ***

  “kookie! and. . .bunny? is that you?”

  carnival man was a lot older than you remembered, but you weren’t sure if it was just the tricks of time playing a game on you. it seemed like everything was so much more youthful and bright in your childhood memories. however, the brightness in carnival man’s smile didn’t falter and it only widened upon laying eyes on you and jungkook. then, his eyes trailed over to your clasped hands together and it widened even more.

  “you remember me?” you gaped, as carnival man took your hand and shook it vigorously. 

  “of course i do! well, i remember the two of you, specifically,” he exclaimed. “i see jungkook here, but i’ll always remember how you two kids came around together every summer! you’re all grown up now!”

  although lines of age creased his smile and streaks of grey contrasted against his black hair, seeing carnival man again made you feel like you were ten years old all over again. the fair seemed so much more larger than life and this moment was one of those moments that reminded you of why you loved summer so much.

  jungkook smiled, “it’s nice to see you, mr. lee.” he appeared to be a bit shy, as the older man was fixated on the sight of you two holding hands.

  it occurred to you that carnival man was never his real name and meeting him as mr. lee felt like a call to the reality in which you were now a grown up. you realized that jungkook continued to see mr. lee at the fair over the years without you and didn’t feel the same rush of nostalgia.

  the only reason why jungkook couldn’t also shake mr. lee’s hand was the abundance of prizes nestled into his arms. the two of you left your sunflower bouquets at the general store - luckily, it was now busy with tourists wanting water bottles or sunscreen and the two of you avoided any gushing or questioning from mrs. oh - and thank god you did because you did not expect to be carrying around so many things. a mini teddy bear, a sheet of temporary tattoos, a t-shirt, some gift cards, and a larger kuromi plush toy that was double the size of your head.

  thankfully, jungkook held onto everything without complaint and remarked that you had no business carrying anything so long as he was there. the funny part was that you two had barely visited all of the games and the only reason why you’d won so many prizes was because you two were competing at each one.

  “and you know i refuse to lose,” jungkook said at the first game, which was a basketball shootout. 

  with the same competitive spirit, the two of you both did very well at each game and walked away with a prize from almost every one. it also probably helped that you were now adults with disposable income and could pay to participate in as many games as you wanted. jungkook had announced that he was ready to make up for his past failrures, never forgetting the summer that resulted in your silent treatment because of his inability to win you a prize. you didn't think that meant struggling to carry around your prizes within the first hour.

  now, mr. lee began setting up the ring toss for the two of you. “so, you moved back to amber valley, young lady?”

  “yes, sir. i’m running the family farm now,” you replied.

  “congratulations, bunny. that’s some hard, honest work, my best wishes to you!” mr. lee said. “you know, i always thought you two had quite a special bond, even at a young age.”

  jungkook avoided eye contact. “mr. lee, you’re kind,” he chuckled, nervously. 

  “i mean it! it fills my heart with joy to see you two here after all these years.” there was twinkle in mr. lee’s eyes as he spoke. “for some people, their universes are stitched together with unseen threads that will always lead them back to where they belong.”

  it was your turn to squeeze jungkook’s hand and neither of you said anything more, only exchanging a look.

  ***

  jungkook wouldn’t stop pouting and you weren’t sure what to do about it. it really wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help the fact that, like most young girls, you got your growth spurt earlier than your male friend. you were a few inches taller than jungkook at this point and he was deflated to learn that you were tall enough for the rollercoaster, while he had yet to measure up.

  “sorry kid. maybe next year,” the ride attendant gave jungkook a small smile.

  you were disappointed, as well, as you and jungkook had waited nearly thirty minutes in line. all for jungkook to not be able to ride the coaster. you turned to him, who sighed.

  he said, “it’s okay, bunny. you can go on without me.”

  a part of you did want to get on the ride, especially after waiting for quite some time, but you didn’t hesitate to shake your head. 

  “no. i won’t go on without you,” you stressed, to which jungkook looked at you in shock. 

  he shook his head. “no, it’s okay. just go, we waited for so long.”

  “i said i’m not going,” you said, standing your ground.

  instead, you walked off from the front of the line, ignoring jungkook calling your name until he ran up to catch up to you. 

  “hey! what are you doing?”

  “i said i’d go with you. if you’re not there, there’s no point,” you shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “we’ll go next time. hey, wanna go see carnival man and do ring toss?”

  you didn’t wait for an answer, as you made a beeline for the ring toss booth. jungkook jogged up to you and you noticed that he was trying to hide the smile on his face.

  ***

  “jungkook. . .this is the kid’s roller coaster.”

  everyone else in the line was about half jungkook’s size, unless they were one of the parents giving the two of you a dirty look for getting on the kid’s coaster. there was no explicit rule that adults couldn’t ride the rollercoaster, but it was a very popular ride and jungkook had the privilege of cutting the line, as the two of you were given a free “fast lane” pass by mayor kim for being local small business owners.  the fast lane pass was costly and the majority of fairgoers opted to wait in the long lines.

  jungkook didn’t seem to care too much, though. “yeah, so what? you picked the giant swing and said the next ride was my choice.”

  “you’re pissing off the kids,” you whispered in a lower voice, as the attendant let out the last party from the rollercoaster. you guys were up next. “i thought you would want to do the drop tower or something.”

  “you promised me that we could go on the ride the last time we were here. remember, when i was too short?” he casually whistled. 

  “jungkook, that was, like, seventeen years ago.”

  he continued, “and i wrote it for our summer bucket list! you may have never seen it, but i was dying to go on this ride.”

  and that was how you found yourself crammed into a kid-sized rollercoaster at the very front with jungkook. with impeccable timing, it looked as though some of the boys were passing by. seokjin caught your eye first and tapped taehyung’s shoulder beside him, who then got namjoon’s attention.

  “oh my god,” you groaned, watching the three of them wave wildly at you and jungkook. 

  on the other hand, jungkook found this hilarious. he waved back and you covered your blushing face with your hands. you were already embarrassed from the cut eye given to you by the parents in line, now this.

  “have fun, lovebirds!” called namjoon, as seokjin and taehyung proceeded to take several pictures of you and jungkook from afar.

  ***

  “my tooth hurts!” you whined, shoving your cotton candy into jungkook’s hands.

  at seven years old, it was on the later side for you to lose your first tooth. you’d been wiggling it for weeks, but cried when jimin offered to rip it out of your mouth for you. this happened just a few moments ago, before jungkook yelled at him to go back to his mommy. 

  jungkook didn’t seem bothered and was actually pleased to double fist two sticks of cotton candy. “thanks bunny!” he ignored your complaints and happily continued snacking away.

  this was the first year that you and jungkook were permitted to roam around without adult supervision - kind of. as long as you were in vicinity of ten year old hoseok, who was sitting on a bench and playing on his gameboy advance, the two of you were free to play together.

  “this isn’t fair, i’m not allowed to eat anything,” you huffed. your grandfather warned you that any sort of sweet will just hurt and you were better off enjoying other parts of the festival.

  “don’t tell my parents, they said i could only have one cotton candy,” jungkook said, as he observed your sad appearance. “why do you look like that?”

  “like what?”

  “you look sad. it’s ugly on you,” jungkook mindlessly commented and you flicked his arm. “ow!”

  you glared at him. “don’t call me ugly!”

  “i said looking sad is ugly on you. so, don’t be sad,” jungkook replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  when your expression didn’t change, jungkook sighed and looked over to where hoseok was sitting. the older boy’s eyes were glued to his screen and was now joined by jimin, who was cheering him on in whatever game he was playing. then, jungkook turned back to you.

  “what?” you asked.

  “wanna go watch the magician show?” he asked, grinning. “so you can stop being sad.”

  your eyes widened, as you took your turn to look over your shoulder at hoseok. “your mom said to stay nearby! what if we get in trouble?”

  “i dare you to come with me to the magician show,” jungkook countered, knowing that was the secret word that made you do just about anything. you hated the idea of losing dares to jungkook and had yet to do so.

  you knew you were going to get an earful if you left hoseok’s sight, who was supposed to be watching over you. then, you remembered that, earlier that day, hoseok refused to let you play a level of mega man on his gameboy and decided you didn’t care if you got him in trouble.

  “okay! let’s go!” your features suddenly brightened and you let jungkook take you by the wrist - not the hand because, ew, it was jungkook - towards the other end of the fairgrounds. 

  the cotton candy had already been consumed and jungkook tossed the paper sticks into the nearest trash can, as the two of you quietly giggled about your mischievous sneak-away. 

  ***

  unlike jungkook, jiwon had no trouble tracking down her sibling at any given moment, even with the large crowds gathered for the festival. she also didn’t seem to care that her brother was in the middle of a date, as you were the one to first notice that she was dragging sangwoo by the wrist in your direction. 

  “is something wrong, jiwon?” jungkook asked and there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice at the appearance of the younger girl. the two of you were engaged in somewhat of a flirtatious conversation and jiwon’s premise immediately killed jungook’s mood.

  “hi y/n!” she greeted and then she turned to jungkook wearing a sickly sweet smile. “oppa, may i have ten bucks?”

  “i gave you twenty bucks this morning,” he raised an eyebrow at her. 

  meanwhile, sangwoo was in awe of the amount of prizes in jungkook’s arms. “woah! you guys won all of those?” at this point, there was an addition of a frisbee and a stuffed octopus. 

  “i won most of them,” both you and jungkook said at the same time, resulting in a shared glare. 

  jiwon cleared her throat. “so. can i have ten bucks, please? we wanna get cotton candy!”

  “what did you do with the first twenty bucks?”

  “we went on the teacup ride! oh, and we got rice cakes and funnel cake and actual cake,” jiwon explained and went a little too fast, so you didn’t doubt that the kids did, in fact, consume all that sugar.

  it seemed like jungkook also didn’t doubt it and while you knew he wanted to scold her, you were taken aback to find him letting go of your hand to reach for his wallet in his back pocket. he sighed and, as he was still carrying all of your prizes, merely held it out for jiwon to fish a twenty out of. 

  “only because today is the festival,” he warned and muttered a second part under his breath, “and only so you can leave us alone.”

  you also had the same feeling that jiwon and sangwoo were not going anywhere without their ultimate goal, especially since the former seemed to have the same persistence that her brother had.

  “thank you, i love you!” jiwon declared, handing the wallet back to her brother and planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. “thank you, thank you! we’ll leave you alone now!”

  the pair scurried off together, as sangwoo also yelled out his thanks. they ran through the crowd together, giggling amongst themselves. when jungkook took your hand again, you were still lost in thought, watching the two purchase cotton candy from far away. sangwoo handed the first stick to jiwon and the two talked with one another, cheerily enjoying their treat.

  “don’t get me wrong, making sure jiwon is eating healthy is important to me, but today’s the fair. it’s special for her and sangwoo like it was for us, might as well let her off the hook for today.” he noticed you watching them and followed your stare. “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

  “they are. how long have they been that close?”

  “since they were born, basically. they’re always with each other,” jungkook shook his head.

  “do you think jiwon has a little crush?” you wondered aloud, as jiwon shoved sangwoo playfully for whatever joke he might have had made. 

  jungkook asked, “did you?”

  he was referring to the two of you as kids, as it was clear that your shared wistful stares at jiwon and sangwoo were a product of looking back at your own childhoods. two best friends that stood by each other’s sides at all times and grew up together. you had to admit, you saw your and jungkook’s reflections when you looked at jiwon and sangwoo. 

  upon hearing the question, you rolled your eyes. “you wish, jeon jungkook.”

  but, you weren’t entirely sure. adults joked that you and jungkook would grow up to marry each other, just from watching you two play chess or ride horses together. there was a magnetic force that naturally stuck the two of you together, from day one. you cared deeply for jungkook before you could have a comprehensive understanding of what it was like to have love for someone beyond your family.

  “pretty sure i had a crush on you. that’s probably why i was devastated when you stopped coming to the valley,” he casually mentioned, but you turned to him in surprise.

  “were you really?”

  “yeah. you were my closest friend.”

  “i’m sorry,” you said. “you were mine, too. i just thought you would forget about me, i guess. then, i don’t know - “

  jungkook cut in, “- we grew up. that’s what happened, it’s okay.”

  that was the reality of life. it was sad to look back on, but it was overshadowed by the incredible forces that brought you and jungkook back together. never, in a million years, would you have ever imagined standing in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again. 

  “ever since i came back, you became my closest friend again. even with all the weird stuff going on between us,” you admitted the last part with the roll of your eyes.

  although you were just teasing, jungkook’s expression turned serious. “hey, i am sorry about that. but, honestly. . . “ he sighed. “like you said, we became close friends again. and so fast, too.”

  “it got confusing, didn’t it?” you asked, looking at your feet. “when things seemed like it could be more, i kept trying to convince myself that, you know, this is just how we are. we’re friends, this is how we act and nothing more.”

  “you read my mind. you really did,” jungkook said, looking at you with a surprised expression. “i think i always knew, though. from the moment i saw you again.”

  you thought back to the first time you met jungkook again. you remembered how soft his hands were and how he managed to make you smile on one of the worst days of your life. that was just jungkook, though, and his way of bringing sunlight into your life, even when it was raining. 

  “i. . .i think i knew, too. but, i thought you just saw me as the little girl who used to play with you in your backyard.”

  he shook his head. “i thought you had so much on your plate. and, well, i’ll admit, i’ve had trouble even considering a love life since becoming jiwon’s guardian. she’s always come first in my life before anything else.”

  “i don’t blame you, i can’t imagine what the past few years have been like for you,” you said. “but, you were a tad bit stupid. let’s be real.”

  jungkook snorted. “yeah, i know i was stupid. believe me, the last thing i wanted to do was fully push you away. my childhood best friend came back into my life and i had to confront that she was now a strong, beautiful and incredibly intelligent woman that i had feelings for.”

  this was the first time that things were finally being said aloud and it was as if a thousand pounds was being lifted off of your shoulders. you were light, you were flying. 

  “but,” he continued. “i also had to confront that you were still my closest friend, the person who i can turn to when things go wrong. you were my friend who i laughed with and shared things with and i couldn’t lose that. i have the guys, but no one compares to how in sync we are.”

  “i know what you mean. we complement each other in this crazy way. . .” you trailed off. 

  mr. lee spoke about destinies stitched together and things meant to be. holding jungkook’s hand felt meant to be in a way that it was just natural. so did laughing with him and making him dinner and letting him do things for you, simply because he didn’t want you to do it by yourself.

  jungkook said, “do you see why i was afraid of this?” he gestured to the two of you holding hands. “if i fuck this up with you, i’ll lose both my girlfriend and my best friend. if i fuck this up with you, i’ll have let you down during a time where you just moved to a whole new town for a job with all these expectations that everyone has for you.”

  “you don’t have to be afraid of those things,” you murmured, gently placing your free hand on his arm.

  “i’m not. not anymore, when the what ifs and the idea of missing out on something good with you is even scarier.”

  suddenly, you took a look around your surroundings. it obviously wasn’t planned, but the two of you were having quite the intimate conversation just across from the face painting booth and the craft stalls. you tugged jungkook into a random corner, where there was a lone chair in between walls.

  “can you put the prizes down for a second?” you asked.

  jungkook was confused. “huh?”

  “can you put the prizes down so i can kiss you?” you commanded, giving him a pointed look. 

  then, he chuckled and without hesitation, placed your various trinkets down on the chair. you rolled your eyes with a smile and jungkook hooked a thumb on one of the belt loops of your jean shorts, using it to pull you closer. he leaned in, placing his other hand at the small of your back.

  jungkook, too, smiled into the kiss and like everything else, it felt natural. it felt like home. you melted into his arms as you always do, softly kissing back. 

  although you could have stood there forever with him, lost in his touch, you had to pull away. “you scared of that?” you raised an eyebrow.

  “shut up man,” jungkook said, but stole a quick peck from you before he let you go from his embrace.

  you thought you would never stand in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again. the world worked in mysterious ways and you were proven wrong. more so, you weren’t just standing with jungkook. you were a woman standing in the middle of the town that built your hopes and dreams. you were standing in middle of the fair that never shook off its magic, even years later. you were standing with the man who made you realize that home wasn’t just a place.

  ***

  it was safe to say that you freaked out when jungkook showed you what he stole from his dad’s tool box. you were so scared that jungkook had to beg you to not snitch on him and even threatened that he would tell your grandfather that you’d been making him help you complete your chores in the chicken coop. 

  “it’s just a pocket knife, bunny.”

  “it’s sharp! you could hurt yourself!” you hissed, stepping a few feet away from him like he had mad cow disease.

  jungkook sighed and ignored you, walking over to where your sitting spot was. this year, the midsummer festival fell on what was easily the hottest day of the summer. the heat wave was unlike any other you’d experienced so far and you were surprised that the fair was still going on. the two of you had completed just under ten minutes at the bouncy castle before you insisted you needed a break.

  the two of you had found a random tree to sit under, as you split an ice cream float to beat the heat. this is when jungkook said he had “something cool” to show you.

  you had no choice but to leave your grumbles under your breath, finding your place beside jungkook since the ice cream float was in his hand. “you’re hogging it all,” you complained and he handed it over to you.

  “are you done freaking out?” he asked.

  “what are you even gonna do with that?”

  it was as if jungkook was waiting for you to ask the question. “this.” he clicked it open and turned behind him, to the lower part of the tree of which you were leaning on. 

  your eyes were wide, as jungkook began scratching away at the wood. the first letter you could make out was “J” and you nervously looked around your surroundings. it didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention to the two of you, occupied with the festivities or trying to not pass out from the sun. 

  jungkook completed a “K” and moved on to slowly carving out your initials. “so we remember today!”

  “it’s gonna be there forever,” you sputtered. “my grandpa says that trees last forever if no one cuts them down. . .so, since our names are there, we’ll be best friends forever!”

  a toothy grin stretched across jungkook’s face. “yeah! we are. we’re going to be best friends forever.”

  ***

  considering jungkook’s victory earlier in the day, several people stopped to congratulate him throughout the afternoon. he was hard to miss and he was also just a generally well-known person around town.

  that was precisely why you were scared shitless that someone was going to recognize either of you committing vandalism. 

  “you’re covering me, right?”

  “i am, but can you hurry up?” you demanded through gritted teeth, trying to look over your shoulder to see if anyone was looking your way without looking suspicious.

  from the unassuming eye, it looked like you and jungkook were merely engaged in conversation. . .but facing the tree. you were sat cross-legged, turned to the tree as if it was another person talking amongst yourselves. instead, you were trying to cover jungkook carving into the wood.

  you shook your head. “i can’t believe our names are still on this.”

  “we did say it would be forever,” jungkook reminded you and if he wasn’t holding a pocket knife in his hands, you would’ve shoved him over.

  you always remembered that your and jungkook’s names lived on the bark of a random tree in town. there was no way you could forget the scolding the two of you received for defacing town property. 

  “what if they notice? we’re adults now, we could get charged for this,” you said.

  “then we say it was always like this,” jungkook concluded and caught your eye. “what? what are they gonna do, tell my mom and your grandpa?” 

  at that, you did let out a laugh. “i can’t imagine what they’re thinking, watching us from up there.”

  then, jungkook clicked his pocket knife close and scooted over on the grass, as he’d been blocking his work from your view the entire time. he made the initials deeper into the wood, ensuring that it wasn’t going anywhere, and added a heart around the letters. once depicting you and jungkook as friends “4ever,” it was now framed by the heart and shifted its meaning altogether. 

  “they likely made a bet about us getting together and the winner is probably rejoicing,” you suspected and jungkook nodded in agreement, snickering under his breath. 

  your hands grazed over the carved design and you thought back to the moment where the two of you first sat under the same tree. 

  jungkook said, “pretty good first date, huh? scammed some booths out of their prizes, pissed off the entirety of amber valley elementary and we vandalized town property.” he looked pleased with himself leaning against the tree and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

  with your legs stretched out and the crime completed, you were able to relax underneath the protection of the leafy branches. “mhm, definitely a first date that i’ll never forget,” you laughed, placing your head on jungkook’s chest. 

  the two of you bought an ice cream float for old times sake and jungkook brought it closer to you, so that you wouldn’t have to move. it seemed to be a constant - jungkook doing things for you just because. just because he didn’t want you to do it yourself. just because he wanted to do something for you.

  “i have arms, you know,” you joked, but took a sip regardless. 

  he responded, unfazed, “i know.” 

  the smile the two of you shared confirmed your thoughts. whether you were kids and jungkook walked you home every time just because or you were adults and jungkook wanted to spend his whole day fixing your windows just because. that was just how he was always going to be for you.

  “well, do you know that a first date implies that there’s going to be a second date?” you decided to be bold for once, as all your anxieties evaporated when you accepted that jungkook was both your best friend and a person you held feelings for - a coexistence that you realized was possible and even exciting.

  jungkook scoffed. “second date? did you not see the tree, you’re stuck with me forever.” his joke resulted in you playfully hitting his chest. 

  “did you just curse me with some witchcraft on this tree or something?”

  “rock hard, huh?” he asked, ignoring your accusation and was referring to you hitting his chest. “trust me, i know.” jungkook flexed his arm muscles and although he was kidding around, it was quite impressive and distracting.

  “i’m totally objectifying you right now, by the way. i can admit that now, right?” you smirked. “‘cause i’ve been checking you out for months.”

  at that, jungkook genuinely appeared to be a bit sheepish, his ears first turning pink like they always do. “drink your float, man,” he insisted, using it as a tool to shut you up. you nearly choked from holding in your laugh as you took another sip, which made him laugh, too.

  you sat up slightly, but still mostly laying your body weight on your jungkook, only to crane your neck to see the letters carved onto the tree. the carving waited for you two for years to return. a part of you couldn’t believe that it was jungkook you were stealing kisses and blushing from. 

  “but, for real,” jungkook spoke, now also looking at his handy work. “a second date is nothing when the tree says you’re stuck with me. that means you’re my girl.”

  he held your chin with his free hand so that you could look into his eyes as he declared the last part. jungkook’s gaze was warm and you now understood what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. it was always one of those things that you read about in books and couldn’t comprehend. you understood the moon and stars and you understood economics and science. this moment with jungkook was a pair of fresh eyes that opened your heart to a feeling of completeness that felt like it had always been there. 

  “wow, you’re not even going to ask me? this is the worst confession ever,” you managed to tease, your smile failing to fight the happiness spreading throughout your body. 

  jungkook retorted, “i saw it in your eyes, you were about to ask me first. i had to beat you to the punch, you know i hate letting you win things.”

  “i think i won either way here,” you beamed, placing your head back onto jungkook’s chest. you could feel his heart beating loudly, but he didn’t seem to mind and planted a kiss on your forehead. jungkook wanted you to know how much this moment meant to him, too. 

  your first summer back in amber valley was nothing you expected. your grandfather’s last wishes for you were for you to discover nature and what it meant to make real connections with people. it was a head first journey that you embarked on, all by yourself. yet, months later, you found yourself surrounded by a family you found yourself and the beauty of a town that you thought was forever going to only live in your memories and dreams. you found belonging. 

  jungkook taught you that home wasn’t a place. home was the sunday market with friends. home was doing things you would have never imagined yourself doing, like salsa dancing and paddle boarding. home lived in watching your hard work bloom into something greater than yourself, with each harvest and each morning you spent feeding your animals. home was even a person - a horse-riding man who was unselfish at his core and loved breakfast for dinner. 

  you dreaded the end of the night, as it seemed like the midsummer festival was a blissful magic that you never wanted to end. you could have lived in this moment forever. 

  “goodnight, bunny. i’ll see you tomorrow,” jungkook said, as the two of you stood at the doorstep of the farmhouse. he leaned down and met you in a soft kiss, where he murmured a thank you against your lips for the perfect day you shared.

  there, you realized that the magic didn’t have to end. there was always a tomorrow to look forward to when everyday was a new day to fall more and more in love with your best friend. the magic in the air didn’t even have to end when the last of the summer heat turned into the first chill of autumn, amidst the shifting hues of the leaves. the magic kept you warm throughout the winter and blossomed in the springtime. 

  for the first time in your life, you no longer had to walk away from jungkook come the rain of september. when you were younger, it seemed like the magic of amber valley only existed in the warmer months. summer was a special place in your heart and the memories of your youth, but home was something that stood by you through the changing seasons.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @shellyyy177 @myseokjinji @teddybeartaetae @jalexad @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822 @seokout @taiwan0618 @firelcrds @xwniazx

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #bts series #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #bts scenario #bts fluff #*** / the farmhouse.

[tojisfavlatina]

‘Me and My Husband’

Wc: 3.9k

Cw: nonconsensual drug use, brief message of SA

An: if you’ve seen this fic before… yeah that was me i accidentally deleted my tumblr acc cuz i didn’t know deleting ONE blog deletes all of them… oops… i also wrote that spider-man gojo fic WHICH I WILL REWRITE AND REUPLOAD

Being engaged to Satoru Gojo was nothing short of perfect. You both completely trusted each other, you were completely in love, you rarely ever argued, and if you did, it was over the simplest of things and you’d both end up laughing at the end of it.

The only problem was his family. They didn’t approve of your ranking as a grade 3 sorcerer and they didn’t like how you chose to spend your time as a sweets maker, instead of trying to become at minimum, a grade 1. You had the potential, they were aware of that, but you just chose not to try and promote your rank. They saw your actions as rebellious and an embarrassment to sorcerers.

When you first started dating Satoru, they all laughed in your face, saying your relationship was nothing more than a fling, but once Satoru announced he had proposed to you, hell broke loose.

They condemned it, they hated it, they even sent you threats, stating if you didn’t break off the engagement, they’d ruin your life.

Satoru always told you to never worry about them. He’d always choose you over his family, and of course, you trusted him.

⋆

“Ugh, do you have to go?” Satoru had gotten a call, another mission he had to oversee, since no one else could be trusted enough to take care of it.

He laughed at your grumbling. “I wish I didn’t, but you know how it is.”

You threw your head back on the couch and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I know… I just wish we could spend every day together.”

“Become a grade 1 and then we can go on missions everyday together.” He sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh.

You placed your hand on top of his. “Very funny, Satoru.”

You felt your phone buzzing and you quickly glanced at it, but the messages weren’t from anyone in your contacts.

2 New Messages From An Unsaved Number

hey it’s mei-mei

let’s go out tonight. just the two of us.

“It’s… Mei-Mei. Why would she be asking me to hang out?”

“Change of heart? I say give her a chance.”

“I don’t know… this feels random. She’s never liked me, Satoru, why would I believe she all of a sudden is a changed person?

“I think you’re acting way too paranoid.” You gave him a light smack on his forehead. He pouted at you as he rubbed it better. “Come on! It’s been forever since you’ve gone out, hasn’t it? Go have fun!”

You groaned with annoyance knowing he wouldn’t stop persisting. “Okay… only because you’re irritating me.” He gave you a smile and kissed your cheek before standing up.

“I guess I’ll see you later tonight. Have a great time baby.” Satoru gave you one last kiss before leaving.

Once you heard the door close, you flopped down onto the couch. You didn’t like the idea of hanging out with Mei-Mei, especially since it’d be just the two of you. There was a bad feeling growing in your gut, but you pushed it down because you told Satoru you’d have fun. You sent her a confirmation text and you felt your phone buzz a couple minutes later, but you didn’t even bother looking at it.

Slowly, you rose up from the couch and started getting ready. You didn’t bother doing much since you didn’t really care how Mei-Mei perceived you nor did you care about impressing anyone there. You were doing this for Satoru and Satoru only.

She sent you the address to a bar nearly half an hour away, so you decided to call an Uber instead of having her pick you up.

⋆

The bar was extremely busy, the only reason you were able to spot her was because of her bright hair.

You tapped her shoulder and let out a small hi. She let out a small gasp and gave you a smile before giving you a bone-crushing hug. “Go find us a table, I’ll get us drinks!” She left before you could even say anything, so you simply obliged.

You sat at an empty table and let out a shaky breath. You wanted to calm down, you wanted to have a good time, but this still felt strange.

She came back and slammed two glasses on the table, sliding one over to you.

“I wasn’t planning on drinking…”

“Come on~ one drink won’t hurt…”

“…Okay.” You took the shot from her and downed it immediately. It burned your throat, making you wince. There was a slight salty taste, but you ignored it, thinking maybe alcohol just tastes like that now. You rarely ever went out to bars or clubs, since Satoru was a lightweight and couldn’t get past two drinks. Mei-Mei giggled at your reaction and took her shot soon after.

“I’m gonna get us some more~.”

“N-no Mei-Mei, please I had the one drink, I think that’s enough.”

“What? You don’t want to have some more fun with your friend?”

“I… I’m gonna find the bathroom.” You quickly left your seat and walked forward, not even knowing if you were headed the right way. You eventually found the line for it and waited.

Once it was your turn, you felt yourself get lightheaded, must’ve been one hell of a shot Mei-Mei gave you.

You finished using the restroom and tried finding Mei-Mei, but couldn’t spot her. Every step you took had you stumbling, you couldn’t even stand up straight. You’ve only had one drink… Why was it affecting you this much?

You spotted white hair in the middle of a group of people, and you let out a sigh of relief. You hoped Mei-Mei could take you home since you felt so strange.

You pushed through the crowd to reach her, but once you did, it wasn’t her you saw.

“S-Satoru? Why are you h-here? … at work…” The words that could leave your mouth came out slurred and mumbled. The music started sounding extremely muffled, every blink you took made your vision blurrier. Satoru kept fading in and out, eventually, someone grabbed your arm and pulled you outside.

Your eyes shut. Once they opened again, you were inside a house, but you couldn’t tell who it belonged to.

Everything felt foggy, you felt nauseous. You wanted to stand, you tried to.

But you must’ve fallen, since the next time you had opened your eyes, you were blinded by the sun’s rays.

The first thing you felt was pain. Your head was throbbing and the light wasn’t making it any better. You rubbed your temples for any sort of relief, but to no avail.

You slowly opened your eyes, hoping they’d adjust to the light. Blink by blink, the light wasn’t so harsh anymore and you could fully open them. You looked around and didn’t recognize where you were.

Satoru. I need to call him. You looked around for your phone, but as you looked down, you weren’t in the clothes you put on last night. Instead, you wore an oversized shirt and sweats, clearly belonging to a man. A sick feeling grew in your stomach. There’s no way in hell…

“Mornin’.” A deep voice caused a shiver to run down your spine. Every worst case scenario went through your mind.

“W-who are you? Where am I?” He handed you two pills, but you refused to take them, you didn’t even know who he was.

The man only rolled his eyes at you before dropping the pills onto the coffee table. “They’re painkillers. Take ‘em’ or don’t, I don’t care.”

“How did I get here… did we…did you…” Sleeping in the house of a stranger scared you enough, but the possibility of him also taking advantage of you, made your heart almost stop.

“No. We didn’t have sex, I didn’t even touch you. The most we ‘did’ was me liftin’ your body off the floor.”

“Did you see the girl I was with? She has white hair-

“Yeah, she left. She came with us last night, but she was gone before I even woke up. Hell of a friend you got.” He walked to another room and came back out with a bag. “Here’s your shit. You should leave soon.” You only nodded to him before he left you alone again.

At the top of the bag was your phone, which thankfully, had enough battery to last you until you got home. There were 27 missed calls from Satoru alone, and a couple of others from your friends. You’d call them once you got home, right now you just wanted to hear Satoru. You dialed his number, but it immediately went to voicemail.

You didn’t think much of it. His phone was probably dead, you were always the one that plugged it in at night. You’d see him soon, so you simply ordered a ride home

⋆

You unlocked the front door, but it was eerily quiet inside. He was probably still asleep, he always woke up late.

You walked towards your room, the door was slightly cracked open, but you could see a figure inside, “Satoru?” Once you opened it all the way, you saw it was him and let all your things fall to the floor. You missed him so much, you just wanted him to hold you.

He had his blindfold on, which was extremely out of character, he rarely wore it around you anymore. He was sitting on your guy’s bed and stared at the wall ahead of him, not even glancing at you. “You’re back.” His tone was cold and his voice was meak, the complete opposite of what you had expected.

“Yeah… I am.” You approached him for a hug, but he stood up and immediately backed away from you. “Satoru? What’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with me… the fuck is wrong with me…” He let out a dry laugh. Everything about him was confusing you. “What exactly did you do last night?”

“I… I don’t remember. I met up with Mei-Mei, I had a drink, then everything after that is… blurry.”

“What were you doing with Toji?”

“Who’s Toji?”

“So you don’t even know the man who you slept with last night. That’s fucking amazing.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

He pulled out his phone and walked towards you. Satoru made you hold it as he swiped. On the screen was a picture of you getting pulled out of the bar by a man and you getting into that same man’s car. You recognized the man, you woke up in his house this morning. You started laughing at Satoru. “Is that Toji? Are you two friends? Wait… you both set this up to prank me! Oh~ you really got me.” You continued laughing, but as you looked at his face, he didn’t find this the slightest bit of amusing, making you stop.

He snatched his phone from your hand before inhaling deeply, “and whose clothes are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. I woke up like this.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, “and you keep lying to me, even though I already know…”

“Already know what?” Your voice grew louder, angrier. “You don’t… believe me?”

“How am I supposed to!? There’s pictures, the clothes you’re wearing, Mei-Mei called and told me everything that happened.” Hearing her name made you pause…

Mei-Mei…

“You believe Mei-Mei over me? Satoru, you know she’s been oddly obsessed with you since you’ve known her.” You threw an accusing finger at him.

He only glared at your finger, and at you. “I’ve also known her longer than you. She’s given me evidence that you cheated on me, so is believing her really the craziest thing right now?” You were taken aback by his words. He had never doubted you before, but now he was believing Mei-Mei of all people.

“So is that what’s going on? Is this your lame ass way to end things with me, so you can go and have her? Is that why you were so insistent on me going out?” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at you.

“Don’t try turning this on me ‘cuz you can’t own up and admit you’re a whore now.” You lifted your hand to slap him, but your hand never made contact with his skin. His infinity was on. Satoru didn’t even trust you enough to have it off around you anymore.

You scoffed, tears were building in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You let out a shaky breath, “okay… I’ll admit to being a whore once you admit you were too pussy to end things with me, so you called your side bitch for help.”

“My family was right, I should’ve never proposed to you.” That was the last straw for you.

“Yeah, they were right.” You started gathering your things, but as you tried walking past him, he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“I already packed my things. You have my number right?” He let go of you and started walking out of the room, “make sure to get rid of it.” He walked further away and you eventually heard the front door slam shut.

Everything that just happened hit you all at once, finally breaking you. At first, you felt so betrayed, so angry. You threw the framed picture of him you kept on your nightstand against the wall, shattering it. Anything that even reminded you of him was broken. Once your rampage was over, you fell to your knees and started wailing, screamed until your voice was gone, you could barely breathe at this point.

You weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

Your entire life, the love of your life, gone.

Just like that.

⋆

A few days passed, you’d wake up hoping it was a nightmare, but the other side of the bed was always empty. He’s in the bathroom… he just woke up before me.

You’d get up to use the bathroom, but of course, it was empty, not even his toothbrush was there.

He was gone, and every time you came to that realization again, you’d break down sobbing.

⋆

A week passed. You knew he wouldn’t be there. You knew he wasn’t coming back. It still hurt, but you had to get use to it.

Word got out to your friends that you’d broken up, and they all sided with him. No one came to check up on you. It sucked, but you grew to understand it.

⋆

Three knocks sounded from the door. They were faint, almost hesitant. At first, you thought you imagined them, but then you heard them again, this time, a lot louder.

You opened the door to see the very man who had caused this depressive episode. Just seeing him made your knees almost buckle. Various emotions coursed through your body; rage, shame, sorrow, but worst of all, love.

You wanted to throw yourself back into his arms, for him to cradle you and say everything’s okay. You needed his warmth against yours and to bring you back the comfort you’ve been yearning for since he left.

But that wasn’t possible. Nothing he could say would fix what he’d done to you. His immediate response being to leave you, told you how much you really meant to him. He was so quick to push you away, like these last couple of years together truly meant nothing to him. It hurt to think about all the empty promises he had given you when he proposed.

How he promised to cherish you forever. How he swore to endlessly love you no matter what. How he’d choose to relive this lifetime over and over again if it meant being with you and only you.

The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you wanted to bawl. All of those happy memories you had with him flooded your mind, nearly drowning you into submission.

A lifetime had passed before you decided to be the one to break the silence. “Why are you here?” Your voice was laced with venom, making him rethink everything he wanted to say to you.

“I… I needed to see you again.” He could barely even look at you. Ironic. He knew he had caused you all of this pain and he wanted so badly to just hold you once more. “Can I come in?”

You exhaled before answering him, this didn’t feel real, you weren’t sure if you wanted it to be. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His eyes pleaded to be let in, making it hard for you to refuse. You opened the door a little wider and let him walk past you. You closed the door behind him and stayed facing it.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t think there’s much else to say.”

He tried turning you to face him, but you wouldn’t move. “Please. Just give me 5 minutes and then you can slap me, kick me, scream at me, I don’t care, please just… listen to me for a bit.”

You sighed. “5 minutes.” He let out a breath and thanked you. You ignored him and you both walked over to the living room.

You sat down and waited for him to start. He was nervous, he wouldn’t stop pacing around.

This was getting on your nerves. “Time’s ticking.”

“I found out my family had paid Mei-Mei to set you up. They paid her to drug you, and they paid Toji to take you home. I talked to Toji and he said he wasn’t aware of this plan they had set up. All he was told was to take you and Mei-Mei to his place and that’s what he did.” He said that all within a single breath.

Everything that had happened that night came back to you and what he just told you, explained everything.

It explained why you got drunk so easily, why you ended up in Toji’s car, why you woke up the next day with different clothes on, and why Mei-Mei had that picture of you and Toji together.

To say you were pissed was an understatement.

“You believed everyone else over me, over your own fucking fiancée.”

“Mei-Mei showed me proof! How am I supposed to believe words over that?” He threw his hands into the air out of frustration.

“Because they were my words! When have I ever fucking lied to you, Satoru?!” He was stunned into silence and you took a deep breath before you continued.

“When you proposed to me, I thought that meant we could trust one another, that we understood each other, that we were in love, but I see that I was wrong. You believed the bitch that’s been trying to get at you since high school. You chose the family that you shit talked more times than you’ve told me you loved me. All of them… over me.”

He was at a loss for words. He felt like the biggest idiot alive. Satoru knew he had made the worst mistake possible, believing others before you, and he could see that now.

Before, he was so blinded with anger, he was so hurt by you, he thought he had hated you. He even blamed himself, thinking you had cheated on him because he didn't care about you or didn’t appreciate you enough. He didn’t even stop to consider you were telling the truth.

You tore your eyes away from his body, knowing if you even caught a glance of him, you’d never say what needed to be said. “Maybe… maybe this is for the best. You need someone equally as strong alongside you. Someone who can pick up from where you may fall short, not someone weak, who drags you down alongside them. Maybe your family doing this was the right thing to do. You need to find someone better.”

Every word you spoke tore his heart apart. He hated hearing you belittle yourself, how you thought leaving him is what’s best, and how the both of you knew, you didn’t believe a single word that came out of your mouth.

He grabbed onto your hands and tried getting you to look at him, but you wouldn’t budge. “But there isn’t someone better. I don’t need to find anyone else… I need you. I can’t imagine my life without you, I don’t even know how I managed to live before I met you. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning and the reason I continue living. You make me want to get stronger so that every time I leave, you have that reassurance that I’m coming back home.” You continued looking away from him, causing him to feel helpless since he knew once your mind was set on something, there wasn’t any changing it.

He fell in love with your stubbornness, and now that same stubbornness became his grief. He couldn’t stop the flow of tears that fell from his eyes. Gojo hated showing weakness, he hated showing that he was just a human. He was never treated as such, so why act like one?

It hurt to see him like this. You hated seeing him in pain, but you kept convincing yourself this was the right decision. “Satoru, I’m always going to love you…” You tore your hands away from him and slid your engagement ring off your finger, “so when you eventually find the perfect somebody, the person who truly completes you, just know it was all because of me. Because I had the strength to let you go. I had the strength to let you find true happiness.” The tears that had been threatening to fall finally came crashing down.

You had spent the last few weeks all by yourself, abandoned by your fiancée, so officially breaking things off should’ve been easy. But it was so difficult having to mourn the very person that stood right in front of you.

It’d be so easy running back into his arms and saying everything’s okay. That everything would be fixed and everything would go back to normal.

However, there wasn’t any trust anymore, the very foundation your relationship was built on, was broken. Staying with him would mean living under his constant supervision, since he’d fear being lied to. You’d never be able to enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. It simply wasn’t possible.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled a few times before speaking again. “It’s been 5 minutes, Gojo. You should leave.”

He was on his knees, practically begging now. “Don’t do this. Don’t call me that. Please, we can make it work again, it’ll be okay.”

“I gave you what you wanted, and now it’s time for you to go.” He very hesitantly got up and tried to at least hug you, but you backed away from him. “Funny, you still haven’t even apologized to me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly raised your hand to stop him. “Don’t bother. Just leave.”

Gojo wiped his eyes and turned to walk out. He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth kept failing him. He decided to say nothing, he didn’t want to make it worse. He opened the door to leave but before he could, you grabbed his shoulder

“You have my number right?” He nodded, a spark of hope lit up in his eyes. “Make sure to get rid of it.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #anime and manga #anime #anime fanfic #x reader #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk angst #angst

[somethingubercool]

my petite protégée (bau x reader/spencer x reader)

Y/N is new to the BAU and works under Garcia. she finds herself being able to see something in the case no one else does, impressing the team, including a specific doctor

this is fem!reader but i will try to make my fics more gen later. in requests btw, if you would like to, please specify what gender you would like the reader to be

genre: fluff

word countL 8.7k

trigger warnings: just regular criminal minds stuff

A/N: So, this took a different turn, a fluffier turn. Originally this was gonna be an angst fic but then I was in a cute mood so. Tell me if you guys want me to continue the Techie Reader series because I would be happy too.  Also, the reader is around 20, and I’m placing Spencer at 26-27 so there is a bit of an age difference, but not too much. This is around season 3

 UPDATED A/N: I wrote this in 2020 and then deleted it when I deleted my old Tumblr. But, I was really proud of this fic, so....here it is.

 This system was far more complicated than what you’ve practiced with when you were at the academy, but you shouldn’t be too surprised knowing the kind of equipment that the FBI tended to use, it was all taught to you at The Academy.

 “And I’ve developed all the software myself!”

 In addition to the fact that the software was designed by Ms. Penelope Garcia herself.

 “This is...amazing,” You gawked, eyes scanning over the array of code Garcia so gracefully decided to show you, whether it was for you to study or be in awe at. Either way, you were doing both, leaning forward in order to scan your eyes over as much of the sequences as you possibly could, although you doubt you would remember it all. You were intelligent, IQ of 159 and almost perfect grades throughout all of your schooling, but you were better with making connections and remembering numbers than memory, so even if you wanted to remember all of Garcia’s code, it was nearly impossible

 “That’s right, stare in wonder!” Garcia exclaimed in a grandiose tone, to which you nodded intrinsically, the blue hue of the laptop flashing into your eyes as you scanned the computer one last time.

 “I am in wonder,” You replied directly, turning around in your rolling chair to look at the extravagantly dressed woman in all of her glory. “But how long did it take you to program this?”

 “A magician never reveals her secrets, Y/L/N.” Garcia replied ominously, to which you gave her a deadpan stare before bursting out into a smile and shaking your head playfully.

 “You’re the boss.” You whispered back, spinning around in your chair once more so you would be facing the computers, hearing the rolling of another set of wheels as Garcia pulled up an extra chair next to you.

 “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone telling me that, although it feels nice.” She giggled, smiling at me before pulling the keyboard closer to her and entering whatever information was needed in order to pull up the FBI’s security page. As you read through the page, you could see all the requested information pertained to you, and even before you could reply with the needed responses, Garcia began to type.

 “Do you have a middle name?”

 “Ah--”

 “Oh, wait. Never mind, I know that.” She scrolled further down the page.

 “Age?”

 “20.”

 “Oh! You’re a youngster, younger than Reid even.”

 You did not recognize that name but decided to not inquire about it.

 “Address?”

 “3--”

 “Oh wait, I know this too. It was on your introductory paper.”

 You begged to wonder why she was asking you these questions in the first place if she knew most of the information, but frankly, you didn’t mind spending time with Garcia so you plainly allowed this to happen.

 “Alright, all your information is in. You’re now my protege, my little bear.” You giggled at the nickname as soon as it left her mouth.

 “Little bear?” You asked, raising your eyebrow amused.

 “Cause you’re cute.” She replied, making you pout appreciatively at her. Yeah, you definitely did not mind spending time with Garcia. 

 “So, what exactly am I supposed to do as your petite protege.” You asked, smirking at her when she raised her eyebrows appreciatively at you for your french,

 “Well, mon petit ours, the BAU will be calling into us multiple times for references, further research on specific dates, events, records, anything regarding the situation at hand or regarding a potential witness or unsub.”

 “Unsub?” You asked, confused.

 “Unidentified subject. The bad guy.”

 “The bad guy.” You confirmed, signaling her to continue.

 “And sometimes, multiple members will call me at once, I’ll be too popular.” She exclaimed playfully, causing you to giggle again at her antics as you nodded in understanding. “So that is where you step in, my little bear. If I am currently researching a topic or on a call with another one of our special agents and am too busy to respond, they can call you.”

 “And I can research the topic as well.” You asked in an attempt to confirm your position, which Garcia affirmed with a single nod.

 “Exactly. I’m going to make a copy of my system to a whole new set of monitors that they should be bringing in tomorrow. It probably would have been here today but--”

 Suddenly, the door was yanked open, shining a bright light into the relatively dimly lit room, causing both you and Garcia to squint and shield yourselves from the scorching rays.

 “Garcia, we have a new case.” You heard a female voice say, one that you were too preoccupied shielding your eyes from to see. 

 “But there is a new case,” Garcia completed, sighing in relief when the blinding ray of light shrunk away as the female voice closed the door. As soon as your eyes were safe, you were able to unfold yourself from your shielded position and look at the source of the voice and the beam of light, a beautiful, petite blond woman with her arms crossed, a manilla folder in her hand, and an amused smile being the origin of it all.

 “Aww, JJ! No sudden lights in the Batcave!” Garcia whined childishly, pouting at the woman, presumably JJ, who was now approaching the two of you with an entertained look in her eyes. She shook her head at Garcia as she leaned against her chair and held the manilla folder up at Garcia’s face. The moment Garcia’s eyes landed on them, they filled with dread.

 “Please tell me this is just penny thievery.”

 “Serial murders.” The woman replied flatly, causing Garcia to shut her eyes in discomfort.

 “That isn’t penny thievery.” Garcia groaned, taking the manilla folder in her hands before throwing you an exasperated sigh to which you sympathetically smiled at. It was at that moment that JJ finally acknowledged you properly.

 “Agent Jennifer Jareau, nice to meet you.” She greeted you, taking your hand in a simple shake as you smiled at her.

 “Y/N  Y/L/N. Techie.” You replied jokingly, to which Agent Jareau seemed to appreciate, smiling at you in a pleased manner.

 “She’s my little protege.” Garcia commented, replying in an exaggerated French accent that caused all three of you to giggle.

 “How old are you, by the way? You seem young.” She asked you, scanning your face as you politely smiled at her. 

 “I get that a lot. Contrary to popular beliefs, I can legally drink within a year.” You replied with a small smile, to which Agent Jareau tilted her head in acknowledgment.

 “Can you believe it? She’s twenty. A literal baby.” Garcia whispered to Agent Jareau, however, clearly with the intention for you to hear, causing you to roll your eyes at her comment. 

 “Again, can legally drink in a year. In Europ,e I can do it right now.” You retorted playfully, smiling at Agent Jareau, shyly, who simply chuckled before nodding her head towards the manilla folder in Garcia’s handande gesturing towards the door.

 “Come on, we need to talk to the rest of the team.” And with that, Garcia got up and prepared to head to where the team was, you presumed, leaving you perplexed on whether you should stay put in the room or follow Garcia and Agent Jareau, not wanting to intrude in places you didn’t know if you were even invited to. However, Garcia answered that question for you rather quickly, stopping her movements in order to spin around at her heel and point at you definitively,

 “You should come with.” She stated, to which you looked back at her with wide eyes and an unknowing stare, baffled to what exactly is taking place. You could see that Agent Jareau had paused and look behind her in the corner of your eye, waiting for the both of you. You gawked at Garcia once again.

 “Ahh...am I allowed to?” You asked dumbly, looking between Garcia and Agent Jareau for a concrete answer. Jareau fixated her eyes on Garcia who looked at you as if you were equally the most precious and most ridiculous person alive. 

 “Of course, you are. But, ah, just for investigation’s sake, why don’t you just sit so that we can give you the information precisely.” Garcia stated, looking back to Jareau for confirmation, to which she nodded and smiled at.

 “Sure.” Jareau simply added, waiting for both you and Garcia to catch up with her. Pushing yourself up from the chair, you adjusted your top before walking towards Garcia, who threw you a proud smile and hum as both of you caught up with Agent Jareau and headed towards the briefing room.

 “We call it the Roundtable,” Garcia whispered to you as the three of you started to mount up a set of stairs, your eyes preoccupied with scanning the numerous amounts of desks and workers around you, watching in awe. Even though you strived to work here one day, called even before you fully graduated, you still could not believe that you were now part of the Bureau. All those sleepless nights where you agonizingly worried if you would ever make it, finishing reports and projects on just caffeine alone, striving to be a part of the Bureau, none of it seemed real now that you were actually there. To you, all of this was insane.

 “And this is it.” You were pulled out of your internal monologue by Agent Jareau’s voice, quickly fixating your eyes on the glass door that separated you and what seemed to be a round table surrounded by various chairs, propped a few feet away from a large screen and projector. Well, at least it fits the name.

 “Come on, we have to set everything up before the team comes in,” Garcia said to you, taking your forearm gently and guiding you inside the room, to which you quickly pushed open and examined your surroundings. Wow, you were actually there.

 “Can you two set up the monitors while I inform the team?” You heard Agent Jareau ask, causing you to turn your head around and stare at her with wide eyes. 

Holy shit you were going to meet the team.

 “Yeah, gotta call everyone in so we can stare at photos of dead bodies like any other Tuesday.” Garcia chirped sarcastically, causing Agent Jareau to throw her a playful, exasperated look while you let out a faint giggle. With that, Agent Jareau left the room, leaving you and Garcia to set up the monitors.

 “Alright, mon petit ours, let’s do this!” Garcia instigated with an encouraging exclamation, to which you smiled and replied to with a slightly less optimistic exclamation of your own. Garcia could have told you to be more cheerful, but you were convinced that she saw your nervousness and decided that what you gave was sufficient. “Can you start setting up the monitors while I get the photos together? I’m gonna transfer you the file so that you can upload it to the monitor from your computer.”

 “Why can’t we just connect the monitor to your computer?” You question with knitted eyebrows, to which Garcia smiled.

“It’s just basic training.” She stated simply, to which you snickered.

 “Doesn’t everyone know how to set up a monitor?”

 “You’d be surprised.” She said with an underlying tone of exasperation, making the smile on your face grow larger. Once you connected the monitor to your computer, you opened your account and waited for Garcia’s transfer, which happened immediately after you opened the account. You looked up at her in playful shock when the little ding exclaimed from your computer. “I’ll teach you how to be fast and efficient later.” She said with a proud smirk.

At that moment, the glass doors of the room were swung open, causing you to jump slightly in shock. In walked four individuals, of them only two recognizable to you, them being Agent Jareau and SSA Aaron Hotchner. He was the one who you first spoke to when you walked into the Bureau, and although he was quite stoic and straightforward, he was nice to you. When you two made eye-contact, he gave you an acknowledging nod, and you gave him a respectful one back, smiling quickly before turning your head towards the laptop, quickly downloading the slide-show that Garcia sent to you before projecting it to the monitor. Once you had finished, you looked up and sent Garcia a nervous smile, to which she sent you an encouraging one back.

At that moment, you could feel two pairs of eyes staring at you, belonging to the other two agents you didn’t recognize, one of them being a beautiful, raven-haired woman and the other a handsome, darker-skinned man, both of them looking between you, Hotchner, and Garcia expectantly. SSA Hotchner turned to Garcia, who jumped into action, walking over to your place in front of the monitor, near the table, and placing two hands on your shoulders with a firm grasp.

“My Power-Rangers, this is Y/N  Y/L/N. Our new Techie and my petite protegee!” She introduced, making you blush at the sudden attention before bowing slightly, one of which you found embarrassing because who even bows in America before straightening yourself and throwing a nervous smile to the two agents. They both gave you polite smiles, the raven-haired lady coming up to you and holding out her hand.

 “Hi, Agent Emily Prentiss.” She introduced, to which you replied with a soft smile before taking her hand and giving it a shake. The male agent followed, holding out his hand as well and throwing you a comforting smile.

“Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you Y/L/N.” He said, smiling as you shook his hand with a slightly more relaxed demeanor now that introductions were essentially over. You pulled away from them and looked at each member of the team, smiling nervously before tilting your head sideways to look at Garcia, who gave your shoulders another encouraging squeeze before you spoke.

“I look forward to working with everyone.” You said politely, to which Hotchner nodded, Agent Jareau smiled, Agent Morgan gave you an amused nod, and Agent Prentiss spoke up.

“Can I ask how old you are? Sorry, you just look so young for someone to graduate from the Academy.” She questioned, looking between Garcia and you for an answer. Before Garcia could explain, you decided to interject. 

“A-actually, ah, I didn’t.” You explained, fumbling slightly as you attempt to elaborate on your response. “The, ah, the BAU was looking for another Technical Analyst to help with the spike in crimes, and, ah…” As you felt your words start to lag, Garcia gracefully stepped in and finished the elaboration for you, thankfully.

“And now she works under me, haha! I am the master.” She explained in an overexaggerated tone, one that made you giggle and relax, in alliance with how Penelope’s jokes usually made you feel.

“That she is.” You agreed, pushing yourself to make a playful comment. Agent Morgan gave you a smile for that, and even that slight gesture made your tension lessen.

“Well, we can all get to know each other later. Right now, we have a case.” You heard Agent Hotchner say, and immediately, your demeanor changed, becoming serious as you nodded at him and walked over to the computer you set up near the monitor. Garcia returned to her respective laptop, pulling a chair to sit in between Agent Morgan and Agent Hotchner as Agent Jareau handed out files to each member of the team. However, you could not help but realize that there were two extra files in her hands after she finished giving each agent their file. Neither you nor Garcia needed one.

Shaking your head slightly, you decided to not dwell on the miniscule detail and focus on the case, pulling up the slideshow Garcia had sent you before reaching for the remote near your hand, handing it to Agent Jareau who thanked you politely and gestured towards the empty chair at the table, inviting for you to sit. You took the invitation, kindly, and watched as various images popped up on the monitor. What you saw, what was presented to you, the team, caused you to flinch and divert your eyes for a second, before you realized that you yourself would now have to see these images almost weekly, daily even. So, stomaching your disgust, you turned back to the monitor and laid your eyes upon the images of the bloody and brutal girls presented on the screen.

“Two days ago, 26-year-old Lina Turner was found dead in her own home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her face was mutilated along with her sex-organs.” You tried to suppress the gag that was coming up your throat when you looked once again at the monitor, photos emphasizing the consequences of the gruesome acts committed flashing before you before the images switched to an entirely new woman, this one with red-hair and of short stature, contrasting the previous woman presented on the screen, who was a slender, yet tall brunette.

“Only thing consistent with the victimology is the fact that they’re females.” You heard Agent Morgan state, his eyes fixating on the two photos of the woman now displaying next to each other on the screen.

“Well, considering the fact that they’re both females and their sex-organs were mutilated,” Emily shook her head in empathy and disgust. “the unsub could be male?”

Your head tilted down as you reminded yourself what the term meant, mouthing ‘unidentified subject’ to yourself before turning and looking back up to the other agents. For a split second, you saw Agent Jareau smile at you endearingly before returning to the table.

“The women were also objectively attractive and fit, coupling that with the mutilation to their genitals, we could most likely have a sexual sadist on our hands.” Agent Hotchner said as he read through the files.

“Well, nonetheless, Philly PD wants us there as soon as possible.” Agent Jareau informed, to which Agent Hotchner closed his case files and stood up from his seat, nodding to Agent Jareau who turned off the monitor and handed me the remote with a quiet thank you. “Wheel’s up in 20.”

“Where are Reid and Rossi?” Agent Prentiss asked, causing your ears to quirk up and your eyes to land on her in confusion before glancing back at Garcia, who acknowledged your confusion with a smile.

“At the Academy. They’re giving a lecture.” Agent Hotchner informed, pushing the leather through the latches of his satchel before heading towards the door.

“Oh boy, Reid trying to talk to a group of young adults, that’s gotta be fun.” Agent Prentiss joked, snickering at Agent Jareau, Agent Morgan, and Garcia who all seemed to share the same opinion and knowledge on a subject you were completely oblivious to.

“At least he’s got Rossi,” Agent Jareau sighed, cradling her files in her hand before catching up with Agent Prentiss.

“Hey, Y/L/N, shouldn’t you be in class now too?” Agent Derek said as he turned towards you, a playful smile on his lips that you internally, greatly appreciated, but externally, you still donned a look of surprise.

“Ah, yeah.” Confidence, Y/N, confidence. “Should probably tell my professor I won’t be able to finish my programming project by tomorrow.” You joked, earing various laughs, chuckles, and snickers from the present agents in the room, causing you to feel accomplished.

“Hope he’s not angry,” Morgan added, leaning against the door.

“Ah, he might be, but I’ll just hack into his computer and delete all his files.”

“You can do that?” Agent Prentiss asked, slightly alarmed. “Those are files secured by the bureau.”

You grinned leisurely and shrugged your shoulders. “It wasn’t too hard.”

“Wasn’t?” Agent Prentiss gawked.

“Uh oh, with her you two are double trouble, mama.” Derek exhaled, to whom you assumed to be Garcia, who let out a chuckle before walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, which you easily relaxed into, feeling quite comfortable with her now, already.

“Apparently all you have to do to get a government job is hack into the government,” Garcia added, leaning her head against your shoulder, causing you to giggle.

“What a simple task.” You replied, sarcastically, causing Agent Prentiss to shake her head in disbelief before smiling at you.

“Oh, I like her.” She commented before pushing open the doors and heading down towards her desk, Agent Jareau laughing at the whole interaction before catching up with the dark-haired agent.

Agent Morgan looked between you two, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before letting out a quiet chuckle in content. “You two are gonna completely destroy the office,” he said before pushing open the door with his shoulder and turning outward. “See ya later, Baby Girl. See you later, Pretty Protegee!” He called as he walked down the hall and towards the stairs, leaving Garcia smiling and you with a slight blush on your cheeks, a grin plastered over your face as well.

“Pretty Protegee?” You asked, turning towards Garcia with a wide smile.

“Ah, he does that with a lot of people. Although, I will admit—well, gloat,” You snickered at this. “That I have the most nicknames. But yeah, he does that a lot. Its one of his endearing qualities.” She explained, causing you to nod in understanding.

“They’re really nice,” You commented, before remembering something that irked you earlier. “Who are Rossi and Reid, by the way? There names were mentioned before and Agent Jareau had extra files in her hand so, I assume they were for them.”

“Ah!” Garcia exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your bicep as she placed her computer under her arm and started to lead you towards the door, your laptop and file already in your hands. Rossi is this, like, super-rich author who was actually one of the original starters of the BAU. He kind of retired to work on his books, which are like uber-famous, by the way, but came back not too long ago.” You pouted in acknowledgement as she fed you the information, walking across the catwalk with her and towards the elevator. “And Reid—he likes to be called Doctor Reid, by the way.”

“Is he a Doctor?” You inquired, pressing the elevator button corresponding with your floor.

“He has like, 3 PhD’s and can read a bazillion words per minute. He’s super smart, like Einstein smart.” She ranted, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke.

“Einstein discovered the theory of relativity, Garcia.”

“Well, Spencer has an IQ of 187!”

That shocked you, the piece of information donning on you as you both ascended to your chosen floor, your mind trying to rap around the thought.

“Jesus Christ…” You gawked, looking at Garcia with wide eyes.

“Yeah, he’s an actual genius.” Garcia cemented, wide eyes mimicking yours in empathy. You shook your head in disbelief before the doors of the elevator opened, allowing the two of you to step out and head towards Garcia’s lair.

“How old is he? You said he was young.” You asked, opening the door for her, which you thanked you kindly for before walking in.

“Twenty-six.”

“You’re kidding…” You whispered, eyes wrapping around the idea of working with a genius. Of course, everyone in the bureau was intelligent, but people easily get wrapped around by numbers, and you were quite enamored.

“Yeah,” Garcia said, waking up her computers before taking a seat in her comfy chair, and you had followed close after.

“Hmm, does Morgan have a nickname for him as well? Young genius? Einstein?” You asked, opening the case file as you started your laptop back up.

“Yeah, it’s Pretty Boy.” She said with a chuckle, causing your head to spin around in interest.

“Pretty Boy?”

“Cause he’s pretty!” Garcia giggled, spinning towards you in her chair, her fingers fiddling with the fluffy end of the pencil that she decided to pick up.

“He’s pretty?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow before turning back towards your laptop, which still had Garcia’s presentation displayed on it. You quickly exited the screen, shivering in disgust at the memory of the photos.

“Yeah…” There was a slight quirk in her voice that did not settle with you well.

“…Garcia.”

“Why are you so fixated on the fact that he’s pretty?”

“I’m not, Garcia I don’t even know him!” You defended, although you don’t know why you were defending yourself at all, but the slightly upbeat in Garcia’s voice pushed you to explain yourself as if you were caught doing something wrong.

“But the fact that he is pretty interests you.”

“Garcia, again, I don’t know him.

“I think you’d like him, my petite protegee. He likes Star Trek and reading and a whole lotta sugar in his coffee.” She giggled, turning back to her monitor, causing you to stare at her in defense as your mouth moved and contorted to spit out explanations and excuses that never came. Instead, you decided to sigh defeated, slumping in your chair before you loaded your file up to the presentation you desperately hated by knew you needed to look at, quickly skipping towards the ID photos of the two victims before you opened up your case file.

A beat of silence went by.

Screw yourself for being inquired by this guy.

“…so, he’s a nerd?”

Another excruciating beat went by.

“Yeah, he is.” A pause. “Are you into nerds, Y/N?”

You do not know how this escalated so fast, but god do you wish you could turn it back.

* * *

“Your magic oracle is here to serve you, oh wise one.” Garcia said as she picked up the phone, causing you to burst out into laughter behind her, earning a playful glance before she turned back around towards the phone. “Ignore my petite protegee, she has lost all her magical senses. Whatcha need?”

You heard a faint question of ‘petite protégée?’’ from the other end of the phone, and as much as you wanted to stop yourself, you could not help but wonder, Reid? However, logically, the voice sounded too old to be Reid, and by process of elimination, assuming that it’s not a Philly officer due to how the voice seemed genuinely confused by your presence, you concluded that it was Agent Rossi. Though, you cursed yourself for allowing even the thought of Reid to slip through your mind.

“Baby girl, can you look up to see if any of the victims recently had a plumber or any kind of manual worker come to visit them recently?” You heard Morgan on the line ask, and even before you could glance at her, Garcia had started to search away, which at this point you should expect.

However, what you did not expect, was for the other desk phone to ring.

Quickly, you looked at Garcia for guidance, who paused her furious typing to stare at you in expectance, encouragingly nodding at you to pick it up. You pushed yourself off your chair to reach for the phone, bringing it up to your ear in preparation.

“Hel—”

“Garcia can you check to see if the victims all went to the same school?”

The sudden question surprised you, causing you to become speechless as your nervous mind attempted to connect with your mouth and form concrete setences.

“Ah…”

“Garcia?”

“Ah…I’m not Garcia.”

“You’re not?”

Process of elimination.

“No, I’m her new assistant.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

“Y-you’ve heard about me?”

Your nerves released themselves via soft chuckle as you awoke your laptop from sleep mode.

“Garcia told me a lot about you.”

“What did she say?”

‘Reid.’ It was faint, quiet, but it definitely came from Agent Hotchner, the firmness indicating for Reid to be punctual and to not become distracted by whatever you two were doing. It seemed like the two of your snapped out of your weird trance simultaneously, your fingers hovering over your keyboard and phone placed on speaker as soon as Reid started to talk.

“R-right! Sorry. Y/L/N, can you see if the three victims went to the same high school?”

At this point, you could barely feel the keys on your keyboard as your fingers aggressively typed away, pulling up various records of the victims before key-searching on education and diplomas.

“Same high school.” You concluded, surprised by the connection.

“That’s what I thought.” You heard Reid whisper on the other line, but you were certain that it was more towards himself than you. “Thank you, Y/L/N.”

“No problem, Reid.”

Then the line suddenly cut, and you were left in slight dazzlement at the little interaction you got with Doctor Spencer Reid, the man whose voice was too soft and adorable to be true.  

You turned agonizingly slow in your chair back towards Garcia’s direction, dread evident through your body as your eyes fell upon her plotting grin, her smirk putting the Chesire-cat to shame.

“….what?”

“What was that little thing you two had in the beginning?”

You let out a groan in dramatic agony.

“Garcia! I barely know him!”

“But you seem smitten.” Her last word was too punctuated for you to be comfortable, so you threw her a sharp glare before turning back towards your laptop and pulling up your programming exam.

“Oh, you are not going to ignore me!” She exclaimed behind you in offense, to which you have an exaggerated shrug of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have important matters to attend.”

“Oh, this is not over, missy.” She let out an offended gasp, and you bit your inner cheek to inhibit yourself from letting out a chuckle as you loaded up your Java program.

* * *

“Your oracle is ready for you, sir.” You heard Garcia say into the phone, your seat rolled up next to her as you both leaned in towards the device, the entire BAU team compiled on the other end.

“We looked through various records and backgrounds, but no one seems to fit the profile.” You heard Agent Hotchner explain from the other end, Garcia immediately pulling up the information you two have collected on the victims and previous suspects so far. Still, it seemed as if the team has got gotten anything conclusive, and since the last time you called, apparently, another body was discovered in a hotel room, more brutally mutilated than the others.

‘He’s evolving.’ You remembered Doctor Spencer Reid say in a previous phone call, only meaning that the situation was getting worse and the team was running out of time.

“Okay, let’s get over what we know so far,” You heard Agent Morgan start, speaking to both the team and the two of you present in the computer lab. “This unsub is efficient and quick,”

“He sexually assaults the victims, humiliates them,” Agent Prentiss added, disgust and fatigue evident in her voice.

Wait.

“Mutilates their bodies and their faces, so he has something against their looks” Agent Jareau voice emulated from the speaker.

Why is it…

“All the victims are from the same college, so the unsub is connected to them in that means. Former student or staff member?” Reid threw, voice questioning.

Why can’t it be…

“These girls were all pretty and popular, maybe he was upset that they made fun of him, or never dated him?” Rossi tried, hoping to find something, anything to add to the case.

Hold on.

“Why do you keep saying that the unsub is a ‘he’?” You interrupted, much to the surprise of Garcia, who looked at you, taken aback, and to the silence of the team, which you interpreted as surprise as well.

“…what do you mean, Y/L/N?” You heard Hotch ask through the phone, causing you to become flustered by your outburst, voice wavering slightly as you attempted to justify yourself.

“I-It’s just—” You felt Garcia’s hand squeeze your shoulder, helping ground you, and you took a soft breath before speaking. “You guys kept talking about how the unsub was neat and efficient. You said it was most likely a sneak attack, right?”

“Right, but the preference in females and in relationship with their sex organs—”

“Lesbians exist, Prentiss.” You interrupt, causing both you and her to chuckle slightly before continuing. “But, it doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“You think it might be revenge?” You heard Agent Rossi ask, and before you responded, you pushed yourself away from Garcia’s desk towards your laptop, opening up your closed device and pressing on the various files that you researched during the case.

“So, I got bored when you guys didn’t call us,” You heard Agent Morgan let out a chuckle. “And I started looking into the victim’s high school backgrounds since Doctor Reid mentioned the fact that they all went to the same school.”

“You can just call me Reid.” You heard him tentatively say from the phone, and you forced yourself not to react to Garcia’s smirk before continuing.

“Okay, since Reid mentioned the fact that they all went to the same school. These girls were the queen bees of the school, the Heathers, the Regina Georges.”

“The what?” It was Reid again, and you could not help but let out a giggle at his confusion.

“We’ll discuss that later, Doc. But they were the meanest girls you could think of, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted revenge. You said it might be a boy, but what if it was a girl? Girls, especially high school girls, can be vicious to other high school girls. Maybe one of them snapped.” You explained, displaying your findings to Garcia who scanned them impressed, rubbing your shoulder in pride.

“If they did snap, it would be recent.” You heard Agent Hotchner state quickly before continuing. “Garcia, can you look up any girls from that school who had mental problems during their time in high school, had any psychotic disorders after they graduated, or had any interaction ever with any psych facilities.”

You heard the furious clicking of keys before they came to a sudden halt.

“This is quite a list for such a small school.” Garcia said breathlessly, causing you to shrug.

“Not all of them were bad, some of them might just give anxiety.” You reasoned, to which she smiled softly.

“The unsub, even if brutal, was neat, almost professionally neat. They also would need the specific tools and information to correctly damage and mutilate their sex organs. Baby girl, look up doctors, nurses, med students—”

“Focus on med-students. The victims were 26 and taking in the change that the unsub is also, they probably would still be in med school.” Reid specific, causing Garcia to open her key-searcher and specific the search even more.

“Ahh, geez, I got three names.” She replied, to which you scrunched your eyebrows in shock and disgust.

“How?” You exclaimed softly, to which she shrugged before turning back towards her keyboard.

“The unsub knows the area well to dump the bodies in secluded yet well-visited sites, so search locals, people who were born here, raised here, and stayed here.” Agent Jareau finalized, and in a sudden halt, one name and picture centered at the screen.

“Rebecca Malwizer. Twenty-five. 3356 Walnut Drive.”

“Let’s move.” You heard Agent Hotchner command before the phone was picked up and his voice was heard sharply. “Good work, Y/L/N.” Suddenly, the line was cut, and the bat cave was filled with silence.

Until Garcia enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug and spurted various praises and exclamations to you.

“Ahhh! I have the smartest protegee in all of existence, that was so good!” She gushed, rocking you two back and forth as you laughed at her antics, your hands grasping onto her forearms as you two swayed, chuckling softly at her.

“I learned from the best.” You replied, enjoying the wonderful warmth that was Penelope Garcia.

“Aww, well I can assure you that Doctor Spencer Reid loves smart women like you.”

“Aaaand, you ruined it.” You replied flatly, rejecting her once comforting hug and making attempts to escape them, which she did not allow, only pulling you tighter into her mother-bear embrace.

* * *

“They should be coming any moment!” Garcia exclaimed, jitterily walking towards the elevator with you dragging your feet behind her, smiling softly as you hugged a soft, pink blanket around you,courtesy of Garcia herself.

“They’re probably tired,” You said behind her, catching up to the excited blond with a sigh, leaning against the desk you found yourself near, the entrance to the floor only a few feet away from you. The BAU had been gone for three days now, each day requiring the team to work for countless hours without sleep, meaning neither you nor Garcia got to sleep either. You mentally cursed at the bribing you would have to do with the professor before remembering that you now worked under the Behavioral Analysis Unit and could ask the department to help you be excused.

“Which is why we need to help cheer them up!” She countered, sending you a wide yet strained smile, forcing you to shut up and bend to her will, chuckling to yourself as you cuddled into the blanket, closing your eyes just for a moment as you waited for the team to arrive.

Not even a minute later, the doors creaked open.

“Hello! Hi! Welcome everyone! Hello!” Your head jutted upwards when you heard Garcia exclaim, body jolting straight so you could face the team in front of you.

Agent Prentiss, Morgan, and Jareau all laughed at Garcia’s greeting, with Agent Hotchner giving her a firm nod, acknowledging her before his attention turned to you,

“That was good deduction, Y/L/N.” He addressed to you, giving you a slight grin that filled your whole body with pride, even if all you could return was a tired smile.

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” You said, voice as professional as you could make it in your exhausted state.

“Call me Hotch. No one on the team calls me Hotchner,” He said before gracing you with a full smile, which only made you feel more accomplished.

“Okay, sir.” You replied, glancing slightly to see Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Garcia all smiling at me as well.

“Oh, on that note, call me JJ. That’s what everyone calls me here.” She said, tilting towards you,

“Will do.” You replied, nodding.

“So, you’re the new technical analyst.” The source of the voice was an older gentleman with dark hair and a slight beard, his face appearing as if it had seen the worst that the world had to offer, while at the same time the owner of seventeen yachts. “Y/L/N?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir. You’re Agent David Rossi?” You asked, feeling nervous again at the presence of one of the agents, especially one who apparently was world-renowned.

“I am,” He affirmed, holding out his hand to shake, which you took instantly. “So, tell me, what did these knuckle-heads tell you about me?” he teased, earning a chuckle from you, pulling your hand away from him to tug on the blanket that was slipping from your shoulders. You wanted to be polite, but you were cold.

“All good things, I can assure you.” You smiled, looking over to Garcia out of habit. However, when you did, you saw a slight twinkle in her eyes, snarky and maniacal, in the most well-intended, Garcia fashion possible. You decided to follow where she was staring, and as soon as you did, your eyes landed on her intended receiver.

Oh.

“H-hello.”

Oh fuck, he was adorable.

“H-hi.” You could physically feel Garcia radiating from where you were.

“I’m, uh, Doctor Spencer Reid.” He said, adorned with a soft, half smile and a quick wave of his hand.

Ohhhh, Garcia was never going to let this go.

“But you told me to call you Reid, right?” you said, smiling at him softly. He looked stunned for a second, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. He gave you a dazed nod, to which you didn’t know if you wanted to smirk at or blush, so, you decided to do both, looking at your feet timidly.

“Y-yeah. I did.” He finally chirped, his voice a tad higher pitched than it was before, for reasons that you were too red to consider.

“Well then,” Oh you did not like the airiness in Morgan’s voice either. “It looks like everyone knows everyone.”

“Well, we can get to know each other more later. Right now, we all need some rest. All of you have the weekend off.” You heard Hotch announce, followed by various sighs of relief and pure pleasure—that’s the most accurate way you could describe it—by the other members of the team, causing everyone to head to their desks tiredly.

You felt Garcia’s arm wrap around your bicep before she laid her head against your shoulder.

“Please drag me back to the bat cave so I can get my stuff.” She mumbled, cuddling into you, to which you giggled and rested your head on top of her hair.

“Come on, Garcia.” You said, affectionately, maneuvering yourself around so both of you could go back to the tech lab and grab all your supplies.

As you did, however, you quickly locked eyes with Reid, to which both of you gave each other a soft and timid smile before continuing your courses of action.

* * *

“Hey! Y/L/N!” You heard your name be called right as the elevator door was about to close, causing you to glance up in surprise. When your eyes locked with the warm brown ones of a certain doctor, your hand instantly reached for the elevator buttons and you pushed for the doors to open again.

“Thanks,” Spencer whispered softly as he got in, standing next to you in the elevator and waiting for the doors to close.

“No problem, Reid.” You replied, giving him a polite smile as the doors finally shut, and both of you started to descend downward. The both of you were silent initially, and at that moment, you quickly glanced over at the man, taking in his purple cardigan, the brown sweater-vest peaking from under it, as well as the sleeves of his white undershirt, and his leather satchel, which he held onto the strap of with two hands. With the addition of his converse, mismatched socks, one pumpkin themed while the other one contained math equations, and his floppy brown hair, the only thing that radiated from the man next to you was warmth, a warmth that competed with the pink blanket that was wrapped around your shoulders.

Oh, right, you still had that one.

“Is that Garcia’s?” Reid asked, referring to the suspected object.

You gave him a curt nod in affirmation. “Indeed, it is. I should probably give it back to her but its too warm.” You joked, causing both of you to giggle slightly, the young doctor giving you a soft smile that made your heart tighten.

Oh wow, he was adorable.

“You, ah, what you did during the case, that was really cool.” He complimented, looking up at you with appreciation and earnestness.

“Thanks, Reid. But I’m sure you have those breakthroughs all the time, being a genius and all.” You complimented, causing him to shake his head and smile.

“It was still impressive.”

“I appreciate that, Reid.” You thanked, looking at him softly, and keeping your gaze on him, your mouth slightly ajar in thought, to which he waited patiently for. Suddenly, your expression broke, and you decide to ask him now, or never, because what the heck?

“So…you like Star Trek?”

You have never seen a twenty-six-year-old’s eyes widen so fast.

“Do you like it too?” he exclaimed, voice loud and excited, causing you to giggle loudly.

“I prefer Star Wars, but—”

“What?! Why?” The way that he looked so wounded and sounded so devastated almost made your heart break if it was not for the current subject matter, which you were very passionate.

“Because Star Wars is superior!” You exclaimed, causing Reid to audibly gasp in offense.

“I couldn’t disagree with you more.”

“I am so sad that you believe that Star Trek is better than Star Wars, Reid. Truly, that is a great tragedy.” You replied in faux sympathy, causing him to scoff playfully before turning back to you. By this time, the elevator had reached your destination, but both of you were too engrossed in your conversation to care, walking off together into the parking lot.

Both of you continued to argue about which film series was better, animated, and passionate until you reached your car, to which you leaned against before turning back to the young doctor.

“Okay, fine. But answer me this: Sherlock or Doctor Who?” You looked at him challengingly, watching as the man paused his movements to ponder, expression frozen as he tracked through his mind to find his answer.

“Doctor Who.” You wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god. For a second, I thought I would have to murder you, Doctor Reid.” You joke, causing him to smile at you broadly before laughing himself, making your insides to fill up with warmth like they previously did, smiling dopily as your rested your head against the window.

“I like Sherlock, but the tenth doctor is just—”

“David Tennant is a gift from God, I completely agree.” You said, smiling widely at him. For some reason, this caused a pause in your conversation, one that was not odd, but almost relaxing, natural. You were honestly taken aback by how comfortable and easy the conversation between you and Reid was, and you had a hunch that he felt the same.

“Ah, it’s getting late. You should probably get home.” He said, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I should get home?” You inquire, causing his eyes to widen and his demeanor to change.

“I-I don’t mean that in, ah, a demanding way, its just ah,” He was fumbling for a response, and you didn’t know if you should relieve him of his anxieties or let him continue out of amusement. “I-I’m sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself—”

“I’m sure that I am too.” You hummed, only causing him to spur further into his defense.

“I—Just, it’s late and unsubs are out at this time and—”

Of course, he still called them unsubs, even off the job.

“Relax, Reid. I get what you were trying to say.” You interrupted, your eyes softening as his body visibly relaxed, head drooping slightly as he looked down at his shoes, giving you a shy smile when he lifted it up once again. You returned him one equally as shy. “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“Ah, no problem…”

Then, you two just looked at each other, eyes soft and demeanors gentle, the quaint and quiet atmosphere that the nearly empty parking lot surrounding you in a serenity that made the situation more intense, but…warm.

Maybe warm was the best way to describe Doctor Spencer Reid.

“I should, ah…” You interrupted softly, breaking the quiet atmosphere that encompassed the two of you, to what seemed like Reid’s disappointment. But you didn’t want to read too much into things. “I should get going.”

“R-right.” He affirmed, nodding towards your car before looking behind him “I should get going too, enjoy the weekend before Hotch calls us in again for a sudden case.”

“Oh, god, does he?” You groaned and looked at him defeated.

“You sadly cannot control when a psychopath will attack”

“Those damn psychopaths.” You murmured jokingly, causing Reid to laugh. You let out another giggle before reaching over and unlocking your car door, throwing your bad into the backseat before turning to Reid once more, holding your blanket closed with one hand before extending the other out to him. “Well, goodnight, Reid.” You said, waiting for him to shake your hand in affirmation.

When he stared at your hand for more than a couple seconds, you could not stop yourself from being confused, scrunching your eyebrows at the young doctor.

“Reid?” You asked, looking up at him.

Suddenly, his head snapped back at you, then glanced back down at your hand, before unwrapping his hand from where it was on his satchel strap and taking yours, holding your hand gently as you shook.

“G-goodnight, Y/L/N.” He said softly, smiling at you timidly. After a few seconds, he stopped shaking your hand, and to your shock—and secret pleasure—he held on for a few more seconds, before letting go and quicklyreturning his hand back to his satchel strap, awkwardly rocking on his feet. “I-I’ll see you Monday.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” You confirmed, looking up at him.

Neither of you made an attempt to move.

“Hey, Reid?” You asked, slightly dazed at the continuous contact.

“Y-yeah?” He replied, seemingly as entranced as you were.

Whatever the hell was happening, you didn’t want to stop. But you had to go home. Your professor might kill you for not turning in your programming assignment on time.

“I really gotta go.” You giggled out, causing the boy to almost jump out of contact with you, pulling back his hand and wrapping it around his satchel strap. You smile at the flustered expression on his face, one that you are sure matches yours.

“R-right. Sorry…” He trailed, but you instantly shook your head.

“Don’t be. It’s just...I got this programming assignment, and my professor would kill me if I don’t turn it in on time.” You explained,

“Oh! I’ve programmed once. I programmed on Java and even was able to create a program where—”

“Reid?”

“Hm?”

“I gotta go.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, blushing ever so darker at his own antics.

This, however, got you thinking.

“How about you continue your thought Saturday night, at my house.” You offered, and for a moment, Reid didn’t respond, choosing to stare at you stunned. He started at you long enough for you to regret your question, considering it a mistake, before he answered.

“Y-yeah! Sure!” He finally replied, his face sporting a wide smile that immediately allowed you to relax.

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, umm, I’ll text you the address?” You offered, to which he looked at you awkwardly.

“I, uh, don’t text often.”

“But you text on the case?” You asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, but I don’t bring my case phone home.” You explained, to which you let out a soft breath, expecting nothing else from the doctor, with the minimal knowledge you had of him.

You hoped that the knowledge grew.

“Then…your home number? I’ll call you to tell you.” You offered.

“Can’t you just tell me now?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow, to which you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but this is more fun.” You giggled, and he smiled in response.

Quickly, you pulled on your backpack so you could unzip the small compartment, pulling out a sharpie before turning around and holding it out for him, as well as extending your wrist.

He ogled the two offerings in confusion.

‘Your number, Reid.”

“Oh!”

Quickly, he grabbed the sharpie, and with a gentle hold your wrist, one that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach, he quickly jotted down his number. Once completed, he let go on your wrist and gave you back your sharpie.

“So, ah, Saturday?” he asked, to which you confirmed with a nod.

“Saturday. Then I can show you how much better Star Wars is than Star Trek.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” You retorted playfully, causing you to laugh.

“Okay, okay, or we can watch Doctor Who?” You asked instead, to which he gave you a satisfied nod. “Cool…” You turned back to your car, knowing now that you have to leave, or your professor will murder you. “See you Saturday, Reid;”

“See you Saturday, Y/L/N.”

You could not help your heart from fluttering when you saw Reid stand in the parking lot and watch to make sure you left safely.

You also could not help the soft smile you sported once you got home and when you saw Garcia’s text, exclaiming about how she saw you and Reid, and demanded you tell her the details.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #reader x bau

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - June-December 2023.

Can you believe we are almost at the end of 2023? These last six months have been quite busy for me so sadly haven't been able to read as much fic as I would have liked. But I am still here and will continue to create rec lists whenever I get the chance to read more fics. I am also rounding the word counts so please click on the links for the exact word count. :)

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) (1/1 | 4K | General)

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious. And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork (1/1 | 17K | Explicit)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly. The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection. “So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’ In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Undertow by entanglednow (1/1 | 4K | Mature)

"I don't want you to die because my swirls weren't swirly enough."

Fire and Water by GreyHaven (1/1 | 2K | General)

Derek is full of unspoken words and unexpressed emotions that sear him from the inside out until finally, finally, he allows them to escape into dark ash stains that smear across the harsh white of his notebook. Or, the one in which Derek is compelled to write a story. Turns out, he's writing about Stiles. What will happen when Stiles reads it? Angst and healing and two people finding safety in each other.

eli's parents are so gross (read: in love) by ash_mcj (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

"I would’ve been here earlier, but nobody thought it would be smart to call the one person who’s intimately dealt with the Nogitsune before, so,” Stiles said bitterly as he threw his hands up. "Now I have a list of asses I gotta kick over this very avoidable fiasco. Scott’s first, since he’s the Alpha—I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. His responsibility, or whatever.” The familiar sound of Derek’s car pulling into the driveway caught Eli's attention, and he grinned. “Is Dad on your list?” “Hell yeah, Dad is on my list! Right under Scott.” “Well, he just got home, so—” Stiles didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence before stomping off in the direction of the living room—and Eli quickly scrambled to follow him, ready to eavesdrop on what was likely going to be a rather impressive and amusing lecture. [or: eli is glad that stiles is home, since derek has nearly died several times in his absence, but he really wishes they were a little less glad to see each other] -- prompt | a reunion kiss

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller (1/1 | 2K | Teen)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside. "I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll (1/1 | 9K | Explicit)

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles (1/1 | 10K | Mature)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth. The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles. Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles. Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal. He’s still not convinced any of this is real. Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it. Edited in October 2022

Stiles is My Safe Place by Star_crossed02 (5/5 | 10K | Mature)

Stiles gets bitten by Kali, and after a brief adjustment period, proceeds to co-lead the Hale Pack to defeat the Alpha Pack once and for all. OR What happens when a sassy spark-werefox starts courting an alpha sourwolf?

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

princecharmingwinks special mention (My plane flying companion - I read a new chapter every time I took a new flight)

First Son, Last Chance by orphan_account (12/12 | 60K | Mature)

When First Son Stiles Stilinski, beloved public figure and the bane of his private security team, goes missing without a trace, ex-security officer Derek Hale finds himself tangled up in the world of Argent Security, a world he was forced out of when rumours abounded that he was sleeping with his charges. There's no leads, no time and no way Derek is going to rest until Stiles has been brought home safely. (Inspired by this post.)

That is all folks for 2023! Sorry again for a late addition. See you in the new year. Remember to leave kudos and comments for our wonderful writers.

#sterek #sterek fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

[gretagerwigsmuse]

skyrockets in flight, afternoon delight

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw has a little too much adrenaline pumping through his veins after a test flight at work and needs to ask his girl for a favor...

OR office sex - just office sex, in your fancy, glass office - and bradley in his flight suit

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 3.6k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (p in v, vaginal fingering, public sex(ish) they fuck against a glass window, and as always with these two slight dom/sub and praise and rank kink elements). this entire fic is an hr nightmare

gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight

“Pick up, pick up, pick up. Come on, sweetheart, pick up.” 

Bradley drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and tapped his left foot on the truck-bed as he sat in some mid-afternoon San Diego traffic. The dial tone had only been droning on for - he glanced at his phone - thirteen seconds, but fuck - everything seemed like an age when he was rocking what felt like the worst semi of his life. 

Because how the fuck did this still happen to him? Wasn’t getting keyed up on adrenaline something that they beat out of cadets in flight school? Bradley sure as hell thought it was -

Your voice suddenly filled the car. “- Hey, bubs.”

“Hey - err hi." Bradley cleared his throat. "Are you uhh - you busy?” 

“I just finished my meetings for the day - what’s wrong?” you asked without any further preamble. 

Fuck, he didn’t want you to be worried. You two normally texted during the day, sure. But a call was a little out of the ordinary. “N-nothing uhh like that. Can I swing by your office? Just kinda need -”

“- You’re scaring me -”

Bradley groaned. “- I kinda need you - like need you? I did this run at work just now and it got me a little keyed up? And fuck - I haven’t felt like this since flight school and I ran through all my soapy titty pics in my office, but nothing’s working and I can’t shake the adrenaline or whatever the -”

“- Fuck.” He could picture you moving around on your desk chair, that skirt you had on this morning riding up your thighs as you subtly rubbed them together, your legs bare but topped off with a pair of heels. “Bradley -”

God it was a miracle he was able to stay in the passing lane. He slipped one hand off the steering wheel to adjust himself. “- I need to fuck you - like now.”

It was quiet on your side of the line and Bradley briefly thought the call had dropped until he heard you humming Afternoon Delight. 

He scoffed. “Very funny…”

“My motto’s always been when it’s right it’s right. Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night…” 

On his end of the line, Bradley groaned. It was a mix of exasperation and longing. He could picture you perfectly, sitting in your office, spinning around on your desk chair with a coy smile on your face. It was a fantasy of his that he had long wanted to play out. 

And now was his chance. 

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes and I want you on your desk waiting for me.” And then he hung up before you could say anything in response. 

-------

Sure enough, Bradley pulled up to your office some ten minutes later - if he had pushed the speed limit a little too much on the last stretch of I-5 to Del Mar then he was just lucky he hadn’t been pulled over. After having dropped you off for work a couple times when your car had been in the shop or you had forgotten something, Bradley knew where to park, but he hadn’t exactly been inside your office before. And he didn’t necessarily think it was the best first impression to be sporting a semi when he met some of your coworkers for the first time. 

So, he quickly glanced around his car, desperate for something to carry to hide his problem until he found a folder of paperwork in the back seat. That could work - he’d say he needed you to sign something and that it had to be notarized by the end of the day - hence the late afternoon drive out to Del Mar. 

As he approached the front doors, his phone buzzed. You’ll have to check in with Margie at the front desk once you get upstairs - I told her you were…coming 

Bradley rolled his eyes. Funny girl. He nodded towards the security guard at the main entrance and was thankful he was wearing his flight suit - it simultaneously created more and fewer questions, but it did give him some legitimacy. 

Even if he was only in the building to have a quickie with his fiancée. 

The elevator ride to the top floor passed quickly and before Bradley knew it, he was approaching the frosted glass doors to your company’s office. He made sure the folder he grabbed out of the car was still covering his crotch area as he walked up to Margie at the front desk.

“You must be Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?” Bradley nodded. “She said the commander part was important.”

Fucking brat. 

“And you’re Margie?” The older woman simpered and Bradley wouldn’t have minded chatting her up for the next few minutes - if only because he knew it would piss you off - but he really really needed you. He flashed his license, confirming his identity, and Margie printed him off a visitor’s pass. “Just got to drop these forms off for my girl to sign, could you point me in the direction of her office?”

Margie wheeled around her desk, clearly intent on showing him the way herself, but Bradley practically jumped back once she got closer. “I can go myself, just need to be uhh - pointed in the general direction?”

“Oh - of course, just down the hall, take a right, and she’s the fourth door on the left. Pretty sure she’s the only one on her team in the office today. It’s normally pretty quiet on Fridays.”

Thank fucking god. With a final nod towards Margie, Bradley headed down the hallway. The offices were all relatively dark the further he got into the bowels of the building. From your chatting about it, Bradley knew your fourth floor office consisted of floor to ceiling glass windows that looked out onto the street in the back right corner of the building - as opposed to the CAVA and Shake Shack in the front. He took a right and then counted one, two, three, four doors on the left until he saw your name prominently affixed to the wall with your job title underneath it. He groaned. 

His fucking smart girl. 

He knocked on the door and barely waited for your soft come in before pushing the frosted glass door open. And there you were, perched on the edge of your glass desk, just like he had requested. Your plaid, grey skirt was sitting sinfully high on your thighs and your black, heeled Mary Janes made your legs appear even longer than normal. You looked like every one of his fantasies come to life. 

“Jesus, that was fast - did you fly the -”

Bradley crossed the room in two strides, before he pulled you against him. God, you felt as good as he had imagined - better even. You gasped against his lips and twined your arms around his neck, appearing as desperate for him as he was for you.  

He pulled your black silk blouse out of the waistband of your skirt and grabbed your right leg to hike around his waist. His hand - that wasn’t cupping your breast through your bra - slid up your thigh and towards that sweet spot between your legs. And fuck him - you weren’t wearing any underwear. He groaned your name. 

“You do that for me?” You nodded. “I need you so much, you have no idea, sweetheart. Nothing worked, I tried everything, but nothing -”

“- Bra-Bradley,” you said between sighs as he peppered you with kisses, “the door - lock the door…”

Loathe as he was to do it, he quickly pulled away from you to lock the door. When he turned around, you had sat back on the edge of your desk, legs spread open invitingly. 

“God, look at you…” 

You glanced down at his crotch. “And look at you, poor thing,” you said with only the slightest hint of condescension. The folder he had brought into your office was gone - he didn’t really know where, probably somewhere on the floor - so the evidence of his desire, of his need for you was obvious. “Come here.”

Bradley didn’t need to be told twice. You fiddled with the zipper on his flight suit and slowly dragged it down his body until it rested on his hips, where just the hint of his black boxer briefs was visible. 

You snuck your hands underneath his black t-shirt. He sucked in a breath as the cool metal of your engagement ring glided across his abs and he gripped your thighs tightly in response. Your hands slid lower and started palming his cock over his flight suit. The satisfaction was instantaneous and he sighed. Why did your hands always feel so much better than his own? 

“God, Bradley - you’re so wrecked, bubs…” You slipped your hand between the flap on his boxer briefs, pulling his cock out, and he bucked it into your hand. “You want me to suck you off?”

He shook his head tightly. “No, wanna be inside you. S’only thing that’ll help.”

With shaky fingers, Bradley started unbuttoning your black silk blouse, eventually discarding it on your desk. He moaned once he saw your pert breasts peeking out from the cups of your black lace bra. It was one of his favorites and he knew it had a matching pair of underwear that was probably neatly folded away in your tote bag. 

“So gorgeous, needed this…” he babbled, mouthing at your breasts over the black lace. 

Because there was nothing like having the real thing in front of him. The real breasts, the real body, the real you. That was always so goddamn responsive towards him and could talk back and soothe his aching cock with your hands and press both the sweetest and sloppiest kisses across his skin.

You were a dream. And you were sitting right in front of him. 

Bradley snuck his hand behind your back to unclasp your bra and you jutted your breasts out at the action. Your nipples hardened and he palmed them, loving how soft and smooth they felt in his rough and calloused hands. The same hands that had just been throttling the clutch of his plane as he cruised above the Mojave Desert less than an hour ago. 

You grabbed the back of his neck and played with the ends of his hair, pulling him towards you for a kiss and slightly sliding off the edge of your desk in the process. Meanwhile, Bradley repositioned his hands so they were now trailing up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your cunt with every passing second. He could already feel the heat pouring off you and the slick coating the silk lining of your skirt. Maybe once you took care of him, you’d let him have a taste? But for now, his fingers started coaxing your wet folds. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaking.” You whined and buried your face in his neck, placing butterfly kisses there. “You get this wet talking about supply chain management?”   

“Kept thinking about you - trying to get off on your own - knowing you had to come all - ohhh - the way here for me to take - take care of you.”

Bradley groaned as he felt you clenching around his fingers. Your own hands were feebly grasping his arms, desperate for any sort of support. 

“Almost wish there were more people in the office today.” 

As he spoke, your lips trailed down his jawline, across his cheeks and neck, before they reached his ear. Your teeth nipped on the lobe and Bradley moaned. 

“They’d see me come in - looking ready to take you on the conference table. Then they’d hear all your pretty little gasps and moans and cries from down the hall, wondering how they’d look you in the eye next time you gave a presentation or bent over to pick something up, knowing they heard you getting fucked against your desk all afternoon like a dirty little slut, cause we both know you can't keep quiet.”

You whimpered. “Ple-please, Bradley. Please.”

“You know, at first I thought I wouldn’t last long when I finally saw you, but now it seems like you’re the one who’s not gonna last, huh, sweetheart?”

You let out a cry as he crooked his fingers just-so. “Bubs -”

“- Shh, shh. You gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Don’t want everyone to hear how much of a needy little thing you are? How you had to call me to come up here to take care of you?”

“But - but you called - me…”

“Hmmm, but they don’t know that.” You keened. Whether it was at the thought of your coworkers finding out how much of a slut you were or how Bradley’s fingers felt as he scissored them in your sopping cunt, he didn’t really care. 

“I just wanted to - to take care of you -”

“- Seems like I’m the one taking care of you right now…” 

“What made you - made you like this, bubs?” You rolled your hips. “Some risky flight man - maneuver? The thought of - mmmm - beating Lieutenant - Com-commander Seresin at something - ”

Fucking brat.  

Bradley growled at the mention of his quasi-nemesis and pulled his fingers back. How dare you get Hangman’s rank right when you always fucked up Bradley’s?

“- Fucking brat -” he stated his previous thoughts. You whimpered.

“- And how much better you are than him?” you continued and the fingers were back. You clenched around them and he bit back a smirk. “How much - ohhh - how much smarter - fa-aster and how much bigger you - Bra-Bradley…”

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to have you - all of you - now. Have the one name you were saying be his - not Lieutenant Commander Seresin, but Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. 

“Think you’re ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded feverishly. “Yes, yes. Need you -”

He briefly held your wrists to stop you pawing at him. “- Need who?”

“Need you - need my Bradley.” Any other time, the response would’ve made him smile, but today it wasn’t quite the answer he was looking for from you. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your entrance, teasingly, and you whimpered. “Fine, fine - need Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw to fuck me.”

His rank was said with an undercurrent of sass, but he could deal with that later when you were home. 

“Good girl.” He cupped your cheek. “Now was that so hard?”

You glanced up at him with a pout. “Please, just fuck me.” 

That did it. Bradley grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you even closer, kissing you for all you were worth. Your feet didn’t even touch the floor, they just swung back and forth. 

“Hmm, but there’s much shit on your desk for me to fuck you there. Would hate to mess anything up for my smart girl...” 

You arched your back at his words, always loving whenever he called you smart. But you both also loved whenever he rendered you stupid. - whenever he fucked you stupid.

“Someplace else then?” Bradley glanced around the office, ignoring the two chairs in front of your desk and the bookcases along the inner wall, before landing on the southward facing windows.

You followed his gaze and sighed. “God, can you imagine the mess? You’d have to come inside me, but I’d get to walk around the rest of the afternoon with a present.”

A present.

His cum - dripping down your thighs, dripping onto your desk chair as you talked to your boss or John from emerging markets and even as you said goodbye to Margie. He growled.

“Who’s in that office? The one next door?” He nodded towards the identical glass building to his right. 

“It’s just Deloitte, but it’s Friday so none of them are working anyway.” 

Bradley assumed that was a Big Four joke. “Then I guess they’ll miss it…” He set you down on your already unsteady feet and pulled the two of you over towards the window. You let out a gasp once your back hit the glass and Bradley invaded your space. 

“How do you want me?” You whispered, watching his hands rove up and down your bare arms and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Turn around.” He didn’t give you a chance to do it yourself, he just grabbed your hips and pressed you against the glass wall. Bradley took it as a good sign - he supposed - that he couldn’t see into the office across the way - meant they couldn’t see the two of you either.

You hissed once you made contact with the glass. “It’s cold, bubs.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll warm right up.” His lips trailed up and down your neck until he found your pulse point and sucked. You whined. There’d be a mark there later, but it had all weekend to disappear.

Or not. 

Without much grace, let alone any mind to the dry cleaning, Bradley bunched your skirt up past your hips, baring your ass to him and your sopping wet cunt to whomever may happen to be looking at the fourth floor, back corner office from the outside at half past three on a Friday. 

He widened your stance with his feet and then dragged his right hand across your still wet folds. You whined and rubbed your ass against his crotch. “Want your cock inside me, need to feel you - please…”

And who was he to refuse when you had offered so willingly. “That’s my girl.” 

Bradley pumped himself a couple times before he slid right into you. You both gasped at the sensation and it felt like the coil of frustration that had been Bradley's constant companion for the past hour or so was lessening. 

“God, you feel so good - just what mhmm - what I needed,” he breathed against your ear. His hands gripped your hips tightly underneath your skirt as he thrusted into you from behind. “Why don’t you touch yourself for me, hmmm?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, allowing him to nibble at your neck. “Where?”

Without even breaking his stride, Bradley grabbed your right hand and brought it to your clit. You gasped at the action and he coaxed your fingers to play with the little nub. Eventually, he removed his hand from yours, trusting you to do the work on your own. “Good girl.”

Now content, he brought his hand back to your hip. Your little whimpers and moans were the perfect compliment to his deep groans and pants. Plus, the thought of your breasts pressed against the glass was so fucking hot. He couldn’t believe you had agreed to this.

“Why don’t you try and tell me - what you were working on before I called? You know I always love to hear how good my girl’s being at work.”

You braced your left forearm against the glass window. “Oh? Uhhh supply chains…”

“What about ‘em? ‘M just a pilot, what do I know?”

God, he couldn't believe he was fucking the smartest, most capable girl in the world right now. Such a fucking pretty picture you painted.

“Working on a paper on ‘em. And how - how they need to be redesigned - ohhhh - to fo-cus on digitization - harder, bubs plea - ahhh.” You had to stop for a moment. “But supp-liers are worried about - oh, oh, oh dadd - please, plea -”

Bradley kept his rigorous pace, knowing he was getting close. Honestly, it didn’t take much; he was already way too keyed up. Meanwhile, you had been too preoccupied with stringing together a coherent sentence to continue playing with yourself. 

“- About suppliers not being up to the technological challenges of digitization,” you finally shouted in one breath. 

After that, you just kept babbling - about what Bradley wasn’t able to follow. But you still managed to sound smart and that was all he cared about.

“- Cloud networking -”

Thrust. Cry. Grunt. Clench.

“ - IOT -”

Thrust. Cry. Grunt. Keen.

“- Upskilling staff -”

Thrust. Cry. Grunt. Clench.

"- ESG factors - "

Thrust. Cry. Grunt. Keen.

Eventually, you just stopped talking and the only sounds coming from you were pitiful whimpers. 

"What's ESG?" You just shook your head. "Come on, what's it mean?" Bradley bottomed out inside you with a particularly deep thrust.

"Environmentalsocialandgovernance," you cried out in one breath.

"There's my good girl..." Eventually, you just stopped talking and the only sounds coming from you were pitiful whimpers. 

“You good, sweetheart?” You hummed. “Smart girl, good girl.” Bradley snaked his right hand down to your neglected clit and played with you until you cried out. “Ready to come for me?”

You whined and Bradley felt it - felt it all the way to his core. You practically vibrated with need, with want. “‘S too much, please I - I can’t.”

“Wanna come at the same time as you…” 

Bradley loved simultaneous orgasms - knowing he had taken care of you as well as you had taken care of him? There was nothing hotter.

“Just gotta tell me, sweetheart.” He sunk his teeth into your shoulder. “Cause all I wanna feel is your pussy milking my cock…”

By now - after almost two and a half years together - he knew instinctively when you were ready to cum and with one final, deep thrust, his orgasm crashed through him and he spent himself inside you, painting your pussy with his cum, hoping it would spur you along. 

“Oh, oh, oh, fuck - fuck -” You finally came with a cry that was definitely heard in reception. “You fill me so good, dadd - oh, Bradley.”

His cocked twitched one final time, the last streams of his cum filling you up. And he knew that when he pulled out of you, it would drip down your thighs. God, you were so perfect - everything he ever wanted. “I know, I know, such a good girl for me. Always such a good girl for me.”

Your body slumped against the glass window before Bradley pulled you against his chest, knowing you needed to be held close right now. 

The two of you just stood there for a moment, panting for so long that your breathing was finally in sync. He helped you turn around to face each other and you burrowed your face in his neck. You always needed to be close to him after sex and he was always there to take care of you. Whether it was telling you how good of a job you had done or petting your hair and cleaning you up - Bradley always wanted to take care of you. You were his girl, just like he was your Bradley. 

“So,” he said after a moment, “think you can sneak out a little early today?”

-------

a/n: well, that was fun? i guess? shout the fuck out to whoever this anon was that got me on this journey??

small taglist: @sunderlust @fivsecondsflat @notroosterbradshaw @seasonsbloom @cloudycluster @whisperofsong @howdysebby @softspiderling @roosterforme @rae-gar-targaryen

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw #this man is a slut!!!! who else drives 30 mins in friday afternoon traffic to fuck their s/o in their office!!! #this was finished with the help of 4 glasses of champagne and listening to streets on repeat #so if it’s shit blame it on that #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

[baddestbittyontheblock]

mapi león fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

❁⊰ spilling the tea mapi león x fem!reader

❁⊰ one night stands mapi león x reader | 18+., heavy smut, mentions of casual sex, choking

❁⊰ just business mapi león x fem!reader

-a businesswoman reader who is accused of being a golddigger by the team

❁⊰ some days are harder than others mapi león x reader | contains some details of mental health issues and insecurities

❁⊰ socializing problems mapi león x reader | not fluff at all, accidental confession, teenager love, a bit of headcanon, reader being a stupid curious, mapi confessing unintentionally, also mapi being an assertive/passive person.

-You are secretly Mapi's love and you have negative impressions about her.

But that ended when Maria accidentally left her sketchbook on the bench at the locker room.

❁⊰ three is better than one alexia putellas, mapi leon x female!reader | smut

-Mapi invites Alexia to join you two.

❁⊰ disobedience mapi león x reader | smut

-a little blurb/ or headcannons about Mapi being a dom, like what pushes her buttons and what punishments she likes to give out?

❁⊰ everything and more mapi león x reader

❁⊰ the swap mapi león x reader | fluff, suggestive content

-why are suddenly being woken by your cat screaming and not her laying on your chest?

❁⊰ you made your mark on me mapi león x reader

-you fuck up the arrangement

❁⊰ mapi ficlet mapi león x reader

-reader gets sent home from the World Cup through an injury and mapi looks after her

❁⊰ "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone." mapi león x reader

-reader is a war time reporter assigned to Ukraine

❁⊰ too much teasing mapi león x reader

-reader plays for the lionesses and they have a secret relationship going on, during the euros and the lionesses find out about the relationship and tease her about it

❁⊰ mapi ficlet mapi león x reader | fluffy, mapi being protective

-reader gets injured in the last game of the season for barca and is worried about not being able to play in the wc because of the injury.

❁⊰ shyness is nice mapi león x reader

-a shy and swedish reader. mapi wants to know more about them.

❁⊰ woso couple things mapi león x reader | just mapi dating headcanons, fluff, suggestive content

-If there was one thing Mapi loved most, it was being in your arms

❁⊰ if i was a man mapi león/alexia putellas x readers | talk about the Rubiales case and it's a longer oneshot than usual

-OCs are sisters, face claims are the women in the picture underneath: Luisa Ruiz Moreno is a journalist and is dating Mapi Leon, Elena Ruiz Moreno is a football player for Barcelona and Spain, she's in a long-term relationship with Alexia Putellas

❁⊰ one night stands (pt:2) mapi león x reader | literally just sex and a tiny bit of fluff. Minors dni.

❁⊰ teasing m.león x i.engen x reader

-being taller than Mapi and tease her about it but being shorter than Ingrig and then get tease by her >>>

❁⊰ the kit switch mapi león x reader | implications of intimacy, offhand mention of blood

-“Took you long enough!” You heard someone laugh from across the locker room. Looking up, you saw Mapi standing in the doorway looking adorably smug.

❁⊰ rules are meant to be broken mapi león x reader

-The Spanish national team are in Italy for a friendly, the game just played ended in a 1-1 draw, goals coming from you and Alexia. Both teams had just congratulated each other on a good game of football. The Spain girls now standing with their families. They watch as you and Alexia swap shirts, the later quick to wear yours.

❁⊰ please mapi león x reader

-mapi does CPR on R

❁⊰ powerful mapi león x reader

-Powerful. That was one word you could describe your girlfriend.

❁⊰ collision madness mapi león x reader | mentions of blood, swearing, slight smut implication, teeny bit of playful grop!ng

-in which mapi and the reader are secretly dating, and both play for Barcelona. during a game against real madrid, the reader gets into a nasty collision with the goal post after being pushed into it during a corner. mapi gets extremely protective and angry, earning herself a red card.

❁⊰ mapi blurb mapi león x reader

-mapi x reader where they play each other in the uwcl final. after the game reader asks for mapi’s shirt but mapi is confused as she already has loads. reader replies that she wants to see how good her new colours will look on her. mapi finds out there that reader is joining barca

❁⊰ so it goes (part 3) mapi león x reader | minors dni(swearing, sexual content, phone sex).

❁⊰ like a best friend mapi león x reader | 18+ minors dni, if you don't like butt stuff, do not read this. Cunnilingus, fingering, butt plugs.

-maria buys you a birthday present, then shows you how to use it.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt #mapi león #mapi leon #mapi león x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #fic recs #fc barcelona x reader #barca femeni #barca fc

[bonkhrnyjail]

sweet plum | chapter two

masterlist | pinterest board

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: g (will become explicit in later chapters, minors dni)

summary: this is a flashback! just a little backstory on how you got your nickname :P

a/n: hi :) i'm planning to make a masterlist after i've uploaded all of the chapters i've completed so far but i'm also rusty as fuck on how to use tumblr (haven't posted since like... 2017 except for to read fics). anyways, pls enjoy. <3 p.s. i said it in the last one, but i wrote this almost 10 months ago before starbucks started publically supporting a genocide, fuck starbucks and free palestine.

It was hot as the fiery depths of hell outside. The team had ordered sub sandwiches for lunch, but the thought of hot deli meat and thick slabs of cheese made your stomach turn, tiny beads of sweat forming at your hairline. No thank you.

It was barely a week into the job, and you were still getting acclimated to the social environment. You just really wanted to make the right impression; professional but personable, dedicated but effortless, confident but humble. You couldn’t let yourself relax too much, or chances were your sense of humor would likely bite you in the ass.

You sat with your back flush against a massive, sizzling hot tire attached to a big ol' trailer, you weren’t sure whose. You sat alone, your legs extended, long blades of grass dancing along the curve of your calves, tickling and irritating your delicate skin.

It’s not that you were a complete introvert, you loved company. You chose this career because you loved to work with people, building relationships with your clients was one of the greatest joys of your life, but truthfully, you'd always lived in the balance. Alone time was essential to your wellbeing. Being able to sneak off for ten to fifteen minutes and breathe in the peace and quiet was like a reset to you, allowing you to settle into exactly who you wanted to be when you returned to the world of the living.

You heard the sound of crunching gravel from behind you, heavy boots making an awkward clunking sound as they eased their way toward you. You lifted your crooked head to find a backlit head of wavy brown hair and a quizzical brow staring down at you.

“What are you doing back here all by your lonesome?” Pedro questioned, juttering in and out of his Joel Miller coded Texas twang. 

“Just enjoying the peace and quiet. You were pretty damn chatty this morning,” you teased, but immediately regretted it coming out of your mouth. “Just kidding.” you added, clunky and awkward and clearly trying to cover your ass.

“There’s no such thing as peace and quiet when you work with me!” he jabbed, letting out a deep belly laugh, one that invoked an involuntary giggle from your throat.

Something about him made you let your guard down, whether you wanted to or not. Conversation flowed with barely any effort at all. Your senses of humor fit together so beautifully that the majority of your time together was spent laughing until your cheeks were sore. You’d been able to stifle your embarrassing laugh with a demure giggle up until now, but you knew it wasn’t much longer until your cackle would make its presence known.

“May I sit?” he gazed down at the patch of grass next to you, a perfect amount of space for him to slide down and sit, just close enough that your thighs would touch his. You patted the empty spot and scooted yourself a bit to the left, enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies. He plopped down, a bit harder than you were expecting, and started unwrapping the aggressively large sub from its crinkly brown paper.

“Did you eat? These sandwiches are really fuckin’ delicious,” he garbled as he took a massive bite out of the oozing bread, filled with more meats than you could count on your right hand. The sight made you queasy.

“I don’t know why, but the thought of deli meat in this heat… I would rather die. I don’t doubt it though, they look like an... experience, for sure.” you let out a huff of air, almost a laugh but not quite, and he giggled through the remainders of his last bite.

“Aw come on, you’re not gonna let me eat alone, are you?” he teased, pushing more sandwich out from the bottom of the wrapper like it was a Gogurt. “I look like an idiot trying to fit this thing in my mouth.”

You rustled through your mess of a tote bag, trying to locate the fruit that you hastily grabbed as you were bolting out the door that morning. You really needed to organize that shit.

“Here,” you held it up for him to see, him looking up with his sandwich lodged in his mouth, lips stretched and straining around hard shell of the bread crust. You laugh, hard, and he nearly spits out the hearty chunk he'd violently torn off.

“I won’t let you eat alone," you smiled, wrapping your lips and biting deep into the soft, delicate skin.

“What is that?” Pedro managed, struggling to swallow the remainder amalgamation of meat and cheese filling his cheeks, mayonnaise coating the wiry mustache hairs above his upper lip.

“It’s a sweet plum.”

You turned the fruit to show him the sticker, the words printed boldly with a smiling fruit dancing under them.

“They're my favorite, I buy them by the case because I go through them fast. I could bring you one tomorrow if you want.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a sweet plum,” he remarked, matter-of-factly. “I’m more of a berry guy. But I’d definitely like to try one.”

“Totally. I’ll bring you one tomorrow morning,” you affirmed with a smile.

He smiled back, dimples appearing as a soft ray of sun illuminated his skin. Your eyes got lost for a moment, unable to resist studying him in this light.

He was gorgeous. His eyes were deep and sparkling like an amber geode, nose curved and structured like that of a roman god. The apples of his cheeks were prominent and bouncy, fading into the skin around his eyes, crinkled and folded to perfection, like origami. His facial hair, soft and shaggy, was hugging a strong, structured jaw. For a moment you were completely transfixed, unable to avert your gaze from the human art piece staring back at you, still smiling but with a softened gaze. You were still smiling too, a heat flushing your cheeks and prickling your chest.

You were finally able to break away from the moment, returning your attention to the plum dripping a reddish-purple down your thumb. With nothing to break the silence, you took another bite, this one sending streaks of the juice down your hand and arm.

“Jesus,” you muttered through a laugh, grabbing a napkin from your bag with your free hand to clean up the juicy mess.

Pedro hadn't stopped staring at you, his head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes deep in thought.

“What?” you asked nervously.

“I like that… as a name. Plum.” He said, watching as you attempt to catch all of the trickling drips before they land on your skirt. He grabbed a napkin of his own and dabbed at a drip that nearly made it down to your elbow.

“Like, for a person?” You questioned. 

“No, no, a nickname. It has a good ring to it. Kinda... rolls off the tongue nicely.” He went for another bite of the sandwich, this one smaller and more manageable. “Can I call you that?"

Your heart thumped in your chest as your mouth fell open in surprise. The nickname, it sounded so personal, like something you’d call a partner or a child. Would it be appropriate for him to call you that? In front of other people? You knew he didn’t mean it that way, as if, but you've learned from observation that things can be misconstrued very easily in an environment like this. A part of you wanted to say no, to avoid any possibility of conflict, but the other part knew that he wouldn't let you get into any trouble for something that was his idea. You could sense it, he was a truly good guy, far better than the majority you’d known thus far. It was just a bit of fun, an inside joke between the two of you. No harm, no foul.

“Sure,” you swallowed the last bit of your bite, savoring the rich, sweet flavor on the back of your tongue. “But only if you let me figure out a nickname for you too.”

“Deal," He pulled the wrapping back over his sandwich and folded the excess paper under to the bottom. "You think on that, bring me ideas tomorrow, along with that plum. We should figure one out for Bella too.”

“Certainly,” You nodded, wrapping the remaining half of your plum in the napkin you had folded between your fingers.

Excitement stirred in your tummy. You used your free hand to push yourself up, stabilizing your feet underneath you and coming to a standing position. You reached a hand down to grab Pedro’s and help him up off the plush grass.

"Wanna head back?"

He extended his hand and you yanked hard, a bit harder than you meant to. He stumbled forward into you, but you caught him by the shoulders, the only thing separating your chests was a half of a sub sandwich. You both let out a hearty laugh as you shuffled away from each other, a thick and palpable tension filling the space between you.

“Thanks, plum.”

The words rolled off of his tongue like they were made for his mouth. You bit down on a grin as you followed him back to the crowd, buzzing and floaty and your head mostly empty, save the echo of his voice in your ear.

. . . . . .

The next morning you woke up with a plastered grin, springing out of bed, probably for the first time in your life. It was much earlier than you usually made it out of bed, but your excitement kept you snoozing your alarm like usual. You'd stayed up late that night, creating a small list of nickname ideas for both Bella and Pedro, tucked away in your notes app for later.

You managed to shower, dry and style your hair, do your makeup, and eat breakfast all before nine. Call was at eleven, and you can't remember the last time you had this much morning. You sat on the couch with your shoes on, three plums wrapped up in napkins, peeking out of your bag. A yawn sprawled itself across your face.

You needed caffeine.

“Hey Siri, call Pedro Pascal.” you said without overthinking it.

You hoped that Pedro wouldn’t mind you calling him with the promise of caffeine on the other end. You’d seen how much coffee he consumed on set… probably enough to kill a pilgrim. 

“... H-Hello?” a deep, groggy voice rumbled through the little speaker next to your ear.

“Oh god, are you sleeping? Jesus I’m sorry, it’s not that important…”

“It’s alright, I mean, I was sleeping, but I probably shouldn’t be. How are you?” his voice still a low and raspy whisper that gave you goosebumps.

“I’m… I’m good! Good," you tumbled on your words, not expecting his thoughtfulness after a such a rude awakening. "Yeah, the cosmos must have shifted because I woke up… early?”

He let out a soft chuckle. You felt a tiny pang in your chest. Making him laugh always made you feel a bit giddy.

“Anyways, I was going to get some coffee before work. I was just wondering if you might want anything? I was gonna get some from the Starbucks down the street from my place. Do you like Starbucks? I know you’re probably used to something a bit more upscale, I can go somewhere else too-”

“I like Starbucks.” he blurts, cutting off your rambling. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Why were you rambling? You never acted like this around any of your other clients. Maybe it was the pressure of the job, or the fact that you just accidentally woke up the biggest celebrity you’ve ever worked with to ask him if he wanted Starbucks.

You felt careless, a little dumb. A text would have sufficed. But something you couldn’t quite explain, something beyond your consciousness, urged you to call. It felt like possession, only gaining back control of yourself when you heard his low baritone on the other line.

“Oh! Awesome. Cool, cool… what would you want?” you ask, your voice strangely higher in pitch than usual. You cringed after the words left your mouth, still flabbergasted at your unnatural behavior. 

“Iced espresso, 6 shots please.” he croaked, the sound of rustling sheets muffling his voice on the other line.

You paused for a moment, in shock.

“Ha ha ha,” you let out a clearly fake and forced laugh.

He couldn’t be serious?

“What?” you heard on the other line, the sink gently running in the background. “That’s my usual.”

“… you’re joking…” you uttered, genuine concern taking over. 

He didn’t respond. 

“Hey, buddy? I can not be responsible for you going into cardiac arrest. I’m not CPR certified and I can’t have a client’s death on my CV.”

He let out that hearty, booming belly laugh he so often did, the one that echoed off the walls of any room and filled the space with its warmth.

“It’ll be fine,” He cooed, doing his best to ease your concern. “I gotta have my go-go juice.”

You laughed hard, barely able to hold in a snort.

“Fine, ok, 6 shots of espresso over ice. Do you know what Bella likes?”

“Uh... It has vanilla in it…” he trailed off, his words replaced by a symphony of ums and ers, ”I uh…. I don't remember. I’ll call them and call you back.”

“You can just text me you know, it’s no problem,” you offered.

“I hate texting. Talk to you in a bit.”

The call drops. 

You sat in the same spot you were, staring at your phone, waiting for the call to appear. You didn’t check Instagram or TikTok, didn’t pull out a book or put on headphones to listen to music… nothing. You simply sat there, staring at your lock screen as the minutes passed, just waiting.

A jolt shot down your body when the call finally appeared, your ringtone set to the highest volume.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice a bit shaky from the jumpscare.

“Hi— You ok?”

He's so thoughtful.

“Yeah! Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting my phone to ring.” you lied, the idiocy of the statement completely oblivious to you in the moment.

“I told you I’d call you back!” he exclaimed, teasingly. “Forgetting about me that fast, huh?”

You let out a schoolgirl giggle, and nearly smacked yourself in the face when you heard the involuntary sound leave your mouth.

“Ok, Bella wants a… hold on, I wrote it down.” he drawled as you heard him searching for the paper. “Medium…. Vanilla Sweet Cream… Cold Brew. Phew. Such complicated names.”

“Remind me to never have you order my drink for me then. You’d probably pass out trying.”

“Go on, lemme try.”

“Grande Iced Blonde Honey Oat Milk Shaken Espresso, light ice, cinnamon on top.” you recited, speeding up your words purposefully, making it sound even more ridiculous.

You heard a soft chuckle, the speaker barely picking up on its volume.

“Damn. Nevermind.”

You laugh alongside him, your stomach balling up into a knot.

“Ok, well, I'm gonna go get your go-go juice, I’ll see you soon.”

“What, you don’t want to chat?” he questioned in a disappointed tone. 

He wants to chat?

“I... well, I suppose I just assumed that you’d have something more… pressing to do.” you spoke in somewhat of a mumble.

“I can do both.” he said, a smile thick and coating his tone.

You put on your headphones and booked it towards the door.

.   .   .   .   .   .

You talked to Pedro throughout your entire commute to work. You both laughed as you ordered his usual, and he tried over and over again to get the name of your drink right while you waited at the counter. You probably looked insane to the people around you, laughing essentially non-stop with your headphones in, the buds unintentionally hidden under your hair.

When you arrived to work, Pedro greeted you from across the lot, the call still going and his phone up to his ear. 

“Should we hang up?” he asked, whispering into the phone so you couldn’t hear his real voice from where you were standing.

You hit the end button without saying anything and started walking towards him with the drink carrier, keys and phone in one hand and your bag in the other. 

“Uh, RUDE,” he shouted toward your direction, hand on one hip and knee popped out to the side. “Do you need some help?”

You let him take your bag as you headed up to the trailer to get started with hair for the day. Pedro plopped himself in the chair as you turned on the brilliant, somewhat blinding lights on the vanity mirror.

“I have a present for you! Other than the coffee,” you said in a lilting, sing-songy voice.

You held the plum in your two hands and presented it to him like something precious and rare.

“I washed it already, but I can wash it again if you want. Do you want it right now?”

He grabbed it out of your hands and took a massive bite. Juice spilled all down the sides of his mouth and into his salt and pepper facial hair. You started cackling at the sight, quickly holding the napkin beneath his chin to keep the little red rivers from dripping onto his clothes.

“Mmmm, I see what you mean,” he managed, his mouth still full of the fruit. “It’s so sweet, but just the tiniest bit tangy, and so juicy."

He went in for another bite, this one somehow bigger than the last.

"It’s really, really good.” he garbled.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied sweetly. You placed the napkin in his free hand and started to set up the products on the nearby counter.

“Helloooo?” you heard from the other end of the trailer, an english accent lilting off the confined walls of the trailer's interior.

“Heeeey guuuurl,” Pedro sang across the space, responding to Bella. “You gotta try this fruit, it's amazing. Here, have a bite-”

“No no, I brought Bella one too!” you cut Pedro off, quickly grabbing the items from the counter and extending your hands toward them; one with the fruit wrapped in a napkin, cold brew in the other. “Be careful, it’s really juicy.”

“Oh my gosh you are so sweet, thank you!” Bella said as they opened their arms for a hug.

You wrapped your arms around them, squeezing them tight with a little shake. So far you felt the most comfortable around Bella out of the whole cast. Something about their energy was so welcoming, and despite their age you felt like you could probably be friends. Real friends.

They pulled away and took a small bite of the plum; napkin wrapped around it, catching any of the escaping drips. 

“Oh my god, this fruit is incredible. What is this?”

“It’s a sweet plum.” Pedro chimed in, enthused. “Which is also my new nickname for my lovely hairstylist.”

“I brought ideas for nicknames for both of you too,” you beamed through a wide smile.

“That's so cute. I love it,” Bella sat in the chair to the left of Pedro’s, legs folded criss-cross and continuing to munch on the fruit.

The three of you went over your list as you started working on Pedro’s hair for the day. You gave Bella your phone to make any adjustments or additions as you considered the options carefully. After a near half hour of contemplation, interlaced stupid jokes and explosive bouts of laughter, you landed on just “P” for Pedro. 

“I like how punchy it sounds,” he explained. “Like, imagine I walk into a room and just say, 'The name’s P.' That’s powerful man. P for the powerful Pedro Pascal.”

You and Bella cackled at the ridiculous sentiment, but agreed that P was fitting. It was punchy, and utterly ridiculous, just like him.

You were halfway down the list of ideas for Bella when Pedro jumped up straight.

“I HAVE IT! I HAVE IT!” He swiveled around in his chair to face Bella, damn near knocking you off of your feet with him. “Bella and Ellie. Bellie.”

You gasped.

“Oh, yes, yep. That’s the one.” You reached a hand down low, palm up, inviting Pedro to high five it.

Bella loved it too.

As you finished up Pedro’s hair, the three of you talked, joked and laughed, roaring until your stomachs burned. You couldn’t remember the last time that you had been so utterly content. 

Over time, the names settled in effortlessly, like missing puzzle pieces in your speech. They belonged there, special, as your friendship bloomed in the months that followed.

. . . . .

chapter three

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #plus size reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[heliads]

Hi there, I absolutely love your stories !! The writing is just beautiful <3 I was wondering if I could request a hunger games fic? a finnick x reader, where they're in the arena and the reader got badly injured at the start and finnick has to help them survive through the game and the reader tells finnick to just leave them, but he doesn't want to, he wants them to make it out of the games together and it's all angsty but then they make it out alive to the transport safely and its a nice fluffy ending. I know you have a lot of requests for stories, so don't feel pressured to write this! Thank you for being such an amazing writer I love your work <3

ok so i didn't actually see the part about reader getting injured at the beginning so i simply had it happen at the end. sorry about that rip but i was 2.8k words in (out of 5k!) when i realized and it was too late to change it

masterlist

You only have a few minutes left before your life ends. After that, you have no idea how long you’ll last. Maybe you’ll be able to brave it out a few days. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it a week. Then again, if you don’t manage to survive the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, this could be your last hour alive. That’s how it always is in the Hunger Games, you suppose, the only difference is that this time you’re not watching but one of the tributes.

Your mentor is in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, trying to impart some last minute wisdom. You’re fairly sure that only stylists are meant to be down here right now, but your mentor is particularly known for his impressive bribes and so you’re treated to the final bit of coaching he can offer you.

Your mentor straightens his back, looking you dead in the eyes to inspire you as best he can. “Look, what happens out there is anyone’s game. Don’t let the Careers talk you into thinking differently. Just take it minute by minute.”

You nod mechanically. “Try not to die, basically. I got that part already.”

Your mentor forces a smile, like he’s mentally running through all the money he’s going to lose when you get out on the first day. “Hilarious. If you can, try and find an alliance you trust not to stab you in the back.”

You arch a brow. “Any ideas? Last time I checked, most people other than the tributes from the first three districts were sticking by themselves.”

“Actually,” your mentor comments, “I do. Find Finnick Odair, if you can. He’s someone you want to befriend.”

You choke back a laugh. “Everyone wants to befriend Finnick, the guy’s got all the sponsors practically eating out of his hand. What makes you think he’ll pick me for an ally and not another Career?”

Your mentor just shrugs. “You tell me. The training session in the Capitol was live streamed, as you know. Everyone saw Finnick looking at you. We couldn’t make out exactly what he said, if he said anything at all, but you’ve definitely got his attention.”

Your mentor gives you a questioning look, but if he wants to hear details about what went down during training, he’s going to be left as empty handed as every other watcher in the Capitol. You’re not even sure what happened during training, and you were there. All you know is that you were minding your own business, trying to refine a few skills before your inevitable death in the arena, and glanced up to see Finnick staring at you appraisingly.

He hadn’t given anyone else more than a quick glance, so naturally Caesar Flickerman and the other Games commentators jumped on that moment to speculate about a potential alliance. In truth, you don’t think it meant anything other than Finnick sizing up the competition. 

And, even if Finnick had been interested by what he saw, it’s not like it would go anywhere. Finnick’s already popular enough in the Capitol due to his looks and inherent charm, he doesn’t need an ally to survive.

He especially doesn’t need you as an ally. The moment your name came up in the Reaping, you could practically see your death flashing before your eyes. You’re going to try as hard as you can to survive, obviously, but you don’t harbor any secret dreams about winning the Games. You might eke it out longer than a couple of days, but you have no chance of beating the combined forces of the Careers, Finnick, and a few of the other strong-looking tributes from the other districts.

Still, your mentor is only trying to give you hope, so you throw him a bone and nod in agreement. “I’ll see what I can do,” you say, and even though both of you know it means nothing, your mentor can at least walk away from this with a clean conscience. He tried to save you, and now that burden rests on your shoulders instead of his.

An electronic voice sounds out from a speaker embedded somewhere in the ceiling, telling you that you have thirty seconds to enter the circular pod in the back of the room so you can be transported up to the Games. Your mentor nods at you one last time.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” he mutters. 

If he says anything after that, you can’t make out a word of it. Plexiglass walls have shot up around you, blocking out any and all sounds other than the tumultuous beating of your heart. The metal surface of the floor beneath your feet starts to lift, and just like that, you’re entering the arena. 

A few seconds later, you’re blinking in bright sunlight. You can see the other twenty-three tributes arranged in a massive circle around the Cornucopia, which seems filled to the brim with all sorts of necessary supplies. The other tribute from your faction is somewhere to your side, and across the circle you see sunlight sparking on golden blond hair. Finnick. 

You don’t have much time to stare at him, though. A countdown is echoing through the arena, ten then nine then eight. You have to make a plan quickly, or end up dying in the bloodbath about to ensue. The timer reaches zero, and then you’re off with the rest, charging towards the Cornucopia in the hopes of getting at least something to save your life.

There’s a small bag, gunmetal gray, lying in the tall grass, and although it can’t hold much you race for it anyway. Another boy tries to reach it at the same time, but you get there first. Grabbing the strap of the bag, you swing it at his head. It connects with a heavy thud and he goes down like a stone. Seconds later, a knife thuds into his sternum and he’s gone for good.

The sight makes your panic flare again, and you turn and sprint away from the Cornucopia without another thought. A few older tributes try to follow you, but you’re high on the adrenaline of trying not to die so you’re able to lose them. The tall grass melts into denser brush a few paces away, and you hurry into its protective shade.

After that, the only thing you can do is try to get away. The most dangerous tributes will be commandeering the Cornucopia, and once they tire of that bloodshed, they’ll start searching for individual people in the thickets. Your best shot at survival lies with getting as far away from them as possible while you still have time.

Your feet thud on packed earth, sending up sprays of dust that stick to your shoes. The jacket you’re wearing shines with some sort of reflective material, which makes you wonder if the nights get cold out here and you’ll need the warmth. With the sun shining, it’s plenty hot right now, but that could change once the light leaves.

Everything could change when the light leaves you. Surviving the bloodbath at the Cornucopia was a very important step, but from here, it will only get harder. You’ll have to find food and water, all the while trying not to die from the fists or blades of vengeful tributes.

It seems like an impossible task, and it most likely is, so you distract yourself with survival tasks to keep your mind off of your imminent death. There are plenty of hanging vines and sturdy plants around the area, so you start to make some rope out of carefully knotted stalks and stems. It can help you make a hammock for sleeping, or if worst comes to worst, a tourniquet to stop at least some bleeding.

You manage to find a good position tucked in the hollow roots of a large tree, and keep your hands busy while you watch the surrounding area for any signs of trouble. A few other tributes have come streaking past you, always running off into the distance without catching sight of you. A few times, they’ve been followed by other tributes. Most of those encounters end violently. 

By the time the first night comes, you’re feeling fairly proud of yourself. You’ve got a shelter and some basic supplies, thanks to the bag you managed to snag. According to the images projected onto the sky, ten tributes have already died, including the other tribute from your faction. You would mourn, but you never really knew the other tribute all that well. They were just another stranger in this crowd of two dozen that underwent the misfortune of having their names pulled in the reaping.

The goal is to stay out of the melee and thus stay alive, but that only works until noon of the second day. You dared to venture out of your hiding place to get some more water, and a boy from District Seven materialized out of the brush, eyes locked on you. For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to entertain the hope that he might not want to kill you, but then he grabs a hunting knife from his belt and lunges at you.

You turn and start running as fast as you can. The boy is hot on your heels, and it’s all you can do to not lose any distance between the two of you. You can’t run like this forever, and after a few minutes you can already feel yourself slowing due to the rocky terrain and lack of proper food in the arena.

A sudden idea occurs to you, and you dart past your shelter long enough to grab something from the hollow in the tree roots. It costs you a few seconds, which is enough for the boy to catch up to you once again. He grins, displaying crooked and cracked teeth.

“Hold still,” he says, but you don’t give him enough time to finish the threat.

Instead, you hurl the woven net you’d taken from your shelter at him. The edges are weighted down with stones, and it leaves him stumbling to remove the twisted knots. You grab the net and wrap it more around the boy’s arms, knocking the hunting knife from his grasp.

He flails at you, knocking both of you to the ground. The boy is starting to get the net off, too, and when your hand closes around the hunting knife that had fallen to your side, you start to mentally prepare yourself to use it.

You never get the chance. Just as you start to raise the knife, a spear thuds into the boy’s chest. His head snaps back, and then he’s still. You stare at the dead boy, then slowly raise your gaze until you find your supposed savior.

Of all the people you expected to help you out, you’re surprised to find Finnick Odair standing before you. He yanks the spear from the boy’s chest, wiping the bloodied tip carefully on the ground by his feet, then plants the metal shaft in the ground and leans against it idly.

You remain still, hardly daring to make a move lest he remember that you’re still a tribute and he could spear you just as easily as he had the other boy. 

Finnick opens his mouth to speak, but it isn’t to issue a threat. Instead, his voice is thoughtful. “That’s a nice net,” he mentions contemplatively, “Great knots. You whipped that up fast. I think I want to ask for some pointers.”

You stare up at him. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.” A spear to the chest wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Judging by the other boy, it’ll be fast. The other tributes may not give you that sort of blessing.

Finnick refuses to act on this, though. “Kill you? Why would I kill you? I was very clearly talking about this net. I don’t know where you got the idea that we’re killing people.”

You arch a brow. “Perhaps it was the spear still in your hand. You know, the one you just used to kill the other boy.”

Finnick chuckles once, evidently unbothered by this. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m not trying to kill you, though. I was trying to save you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You frown. “Why would you want to save me?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I want us to be allies.”

With that, he jams the butt of his spear into the ground, using it as a counterbalance to reach down and extend a hand to you. You consider the outstretched palm for a second, then take it. Finnick pulls you up surprisingly easily, and seems pleased that you’ve accepted his offer.

You’re still not entirely sure you want to trust him, however. “Why would you want me as an ally?”

“You seem smart,” Finnick says simply, “I want someone who’s going to make sure we’re not going to run headlong into danger for no reason. Plus, I want more nets.”

The nets thing actually does make sense. You remember hearing that Finnick was from District Four, fishing, so he’s probably been around nets and tridents his whole life. They do quite well for killing people, as the two of you just demonstrated a few minutes ago.

Your mentor’s words flash through your head. Find Finnick Odair. Well, you have now. He’d better be pleased.

At last, you nod. “Alright, then. Allies it is.”

Finnick claps you on the back. “Excellent. We’re going to make a marvelous team.”

As surprising as it sounds, Finnick is right. The two of you actually get along quite well, and you both have different survival tips and tricks that you teach the other. The whole net-and-spear tactic takes out another few tributes during that day. 

Even still, you can tell Finnick is itching for more. That night, he leads you towards a flat clearing near the Cornucopia. Setting up a camp there would be suicide for anyone, but the Careers are enough of a threat that they even have a fire going.

Finnick whispers something in your ear. “We need to start getting them out. I’m thinking we do it one by one. It’s stupid to rush all of them at once, so if we get one here and there while they’re alone, that should work.”

You incline your head, studying the camp. “Which one should we kill first?”

Finnick’s brow furrows as he considers the firelit figures. “The leader. Colt Hardhill, the blond one that keeps strutting about like he owns the place.”

You follow his gaze to where Colt, a muscular District Two tribute, regales the other Careers with conversation that may not be particularly insightful but makes up for it in volume.

“Actually,” you counter, “I don’t think Colt is the leader.”

Finnick frowns. “Then who is?”

You jerk your chin towards a smaller boy in Colt’s shadow, literally. You recognize his name from the rankings, Lark Steelgrave. He doesn’t say much, but has a way of sticking to Colt no matter what.

“Look at that one. Colt may be the public figure, but Lark’s pulling all the strings. If we take him out, they’ll all be stumbling like headless chickens without somebody to tell them what choices to make.”

As the two of you watch, Lark says something offhandedly about making sure that they have enough stores of firewood so their clothes stay dry. A few moments later, Colt’s voice booms out across the campfire that they should all get more firewood so their gear doesn’t don’t mold. Lark doesn’t look angry that Colt is stealing his thunder, far from it. In fact, the boy’s teeth flash in a pleased grin.

Finnick whistles under his breath. “He’s been putting ideas in the guy’s head all along. Colt is like Lark’s puppet.” He glances over at you, smiling in earnest this time. “See, what did I tell you? I need you for your genius ideas.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t seem to stop a grin from surfacing. “I’m no genius, Finnick. I love a good compliment, but at least keep them somewhat realistic.”

Finnick laughs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, that was perfectly realistic to me. Every day, I never cease to be amazed by your intellectual capabilities.”

You snort. “Now you really are being excessive. Anyone could have seen that Lark was up to something.”

Finnick shakes his head. “Not me. I would have taken out the wrong guy, remember?” His face falls for a second as he realizes something. “You still don’t believe that I want you as my ally, do you?”

You sigh. “It’s hard to picture it. You can get that, can’t you? You’re the one with dozens of sponsors raining gifts down on you every day. What is it about me that makes you think you want me as a partner? You could have been with the Careers if you wanted to.”

Finnick’s lips purse. “You really can’t see it? Y/N, I trust you more than anyone else here.”

You stare at him beseechingly. “Why? The only time we’ve ever even seen each other before this was in that training session, and we barely talked at all then.”

Finnick spreads his hands. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone else wanted to win me over in the hopes of getting some of my sponsors, or extracting a partnership that they could use to stab me in the back the first chance they got. You, on the other hand, looked at me once and couldn’t care less. You weren’t bothering with their faux showmanship, so I knew then and there that I wanted you as an ally.”

“And what about the Careers?” You ask, careful to keep your tone neutral even though your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, “You could have stayed with them and stabbed them in the back before they killed you. My apathy isn’t exactly a strong point in my favor.”

He grins in spite of himself. “Of course it is. You’ve been a friend, Y/N, a real friend during all of this. You think they would make this half as fun? When I’m with you, I don’t feel afraid of the fact that there are twenty-two other tributes all trying to kill us. I just feel normal.”

“And what if I end up stabbing you in the back, just like the rest?” You hazard.

Finnick lifts a shoulder. “I’d rather have it be you than anyone else.”

His tone is light, but his eyes lock onto yours, deadly serious. You realize with a shock that he’s telling the truth.

“Well,” you say cautiously, “I’d rather die by your hands than anyone else. I knew that from when we met for the first time in the arena.”

Finnick smiles, remembering that initial day. “You genuinely thought I was going to kill you. It was funny.”

You swat him in the shoulder, although it only makes his grin broaden. “Of course I did. You had speared somebody ten seconds earlier and you were standing over me with a bloody weapon in your hands. What else could have possibly happened?”

“You mean you don’t look at people pointing weapons at you and think they’ll make good friends?” Finnick asks, teeth flashing in the dark as he laughs.

“Of course I don’t,” you return, “I’m not crazy.”

“What, and I am?” Finnick pretends to look outraged. “I’m hurt, Y/N. I thought I trusted you, and you’re calling me crazy.”

“Perhaps you are,” you counter, “you chose to be friends with me, didn’t you?”

“Ah, but I don’t regret that in the slightest.” Finnick says.

Your laughter trails off quietly. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, blond curls turned almost silver in the moonlight, that makes you feel something more than fear. Your heart’s pounding, but for the first time since you entered the Arena, it’s not out of terror that you’re about to die. Far from it.

Finnick takes a half step closer, and just as you’re sure that the two of you are about to do something you’ll regret, his eyes flicker to the side and he freezes in his tracks. You follow his gaze, glancing over his shoulder, and notice a red light blinking steadily in the shade of a tree. A Capitol camera, broadcasting all of this live to the watching masses.

You step back just as quickly as Finnick does. For a moment, you forgot that this is all televised, that there was anyone else in this world except the two of you. Reality comes crashing down as it always must, but for a moment there, you really thought something was going to happen, something that you would welcome just as gladly as Finnick.

Neither you nor Finnick talk about that moment, and soon enough, it fades back into the distant past. The two of you are able to take out Lark when the boy is alone checking the traps, and after that, Colt goes haywire. The Careers fracture for the first time, and thanks to a few well timed kills, you and Finnick are able to eliminate a few more of your enemies.

During the last attack, though, you don’t get away as easily as you should have. Finnick was grimly efficient thanks to the fantastic gift of a trident sent in by one of his sponsors, but even despite all of his success he wasn’t quite fast enough to save you from one of the Careers lodging their knife into your leg.

It hurt like hell, obviously, and you were able to kill the Career and push their body off of you, but the damage is done. Blood is pouring down your leg, and you don’t even dare remove the knife until you’re back at the base you and Finnick set up a few days ago.

Finnick turns to you once the last Career ran off, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way he looked once he realized that you were hurt. He has always been this positive, joking boy, but at that moment every drop of happiness left him. Even that familiar spark vanished from his eyes, leaving his stare cold and tormented. It was like he was the one bleeding out, not you.

He’d rushed to you immediately, not bothering to let you even try to put weight on the leg but picking you up bridal style. Finnick raced back to your camp, where the two of you tried to salvage the injury as best you could. It’s bad, that much is obvious, but luckily the two of you have accrued a fair amount of medicine from both sponsors and raiding other tributes’ camps.

Still, it’s a pretty bad injury, which spells out a clear weakness. Finnick is still fussing about trying to tie the bandage just right, but you place your hands on his, stopping him from doing anything more.

“Don’t,” you say quietly, “you know what this means. I’m not really in fighting form anymore.”

Finnick eyes you tentatively. “What does that mean?” His voice is casual, but surely he must know what you’re hinting at, because he’s suddenly gone still.

You sigh. “You know what it means, Finnick. You can’t afford to have me slowing you down, not when you’re so close to winning. There are only a few tributes left, you can take them out if you time it right. Go finish this, Finnick. Leave me here.”

Finnick shakes his head mechanically. “I can’t do that. If anyone finds you here, they’ll kill you. I’m not letting that happen.”

You squeeze his hands. “It was going to happen anyway. I’ve fought it off for a while, especially thanks to you, but my death was inevitable. You’ve still got a shot, though. I always wanted you to win.”

“No,” Finnick says, voice ragged, “I’m not doing this. I’m not leaving you.”

You laugh quietly, the sound so bittersweet that he flinches. “You don’t have a choice. There’s only one Victor, remember? One of us was always going to have to die. If you leave now, at least it means that both of us won’t lose our lives, only me.”

Finnick remains silent, and for a second you think you’ve managed to convince him before a new light of determination flares to life in his eyes. “Not a chance. They can have two Victors, they’ll make it happen for us. I will make it happen.”

You realize what he’s hinting at. Finnick has considerable sway in the Capitol, as evident from his numerous sponsors. If he refused to kill you, there’s a good chance that a lot of the Capitol heirs would stand by him.

You start to shake your head, but Finnick raises a finger to silence any and all opposition. “Don’t even try to argue. I’m not letting you go, sweetheart. Not a chance.”

You scan his face, but find no signs of change. He’s standing by his decision, even if it gets him killed. At last, you just exhale slowly.

“Alright, then. You really are out of your mind, you know that?”

Finnick cracks a grin at last, but there’s a haunted edge to it that wasn’t there before. “Of course I know that. I’m rather proud of it, too.”

Despite Finnick’s best hopes, both of you know that the odds of you making it out aren’t that great anymore. Over the next few hours, Finnick takes trips out of the shelter to take out solitary tributes. You stay back and try to make sure your leg doesn’t fall off, fixing knives and mending nets and doing anything you can to be useful.

At last, there are only three tributes left:  you, Finnick, and one of the Careers who’d managed to elude your combined wrath all this time. The Gamemakers must want a showdown, because they arrange for the ground to start cracking and crumbling beneath your feet, forcing the three of you towards the central plains where you’d started the game. You limp as fast as you can, watching the ground where you’d once stood fall away like an avalanche.

Eventually, the three of you are left on the plain, the rest of the ground gone, stranding you as easily as an island. You’re holding a knife in each hand, and Finnick has his trident. The final Career has a sword, but judging by the way his hands are slick with sweat, he’s been injured too.

Still, he puts up a good fight. It takes both you and Finnick giving every drop of your energy to take out the final guy, and when it’s done, the two of you collapse on the ground, breathing so hard you think your ribs might pierce your lungs.

Your wound has reopened, but Finnick pulls you close anyway, heedless of the blood streaking both of your clothes.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, “I’m not letting you go. You hear that?” Finnick raises his voice to a shout, staring straight at the nearest camera, “We’re not killing each other! Two victors just this once, alright? You can make an exception this once.”

It must be a testament to Finnick’s popularity in the Capitol that the stunt actually works. A transport appears overhead, the grass nearby bent almost all the way over due to the force of the circling wind. You don’t entirely remember how you got in, only that there was a sharp prick in your arm like a needle and then the entire world fell away from you.

When you wake up, you almost think you’re hallucinating. The bleached white walls and beeping devices beside you make no sense, and then you remember that you actually did it. You and Finnick won the Hunger Games. Glancing around, you realize you’re in a small room holding only you and a few other doctors, although the door to the hall outside has been left ajar.

You can hear shouting from outside. Curious, you leave your hospital bed, padding quietly to the door and pushing it open. You start to limp out of instinct, but you discover that you actually have no pain, and when you lift the edge of your hospital gown to check, your leg appears completely healed.

The commotion in the hall outside grows in volume, so you creep out of the door and follow the sound. Down the hall, you notice that a young man about your age also dressed in a hospital gown appears to have broken out of his own room and is currently trying to fight off a couple of beleaguered doctors. He’s shouting about seeing someone, and then he turns and you recognize him at last.

Finnick catches sight of you at about the same time, and his face lifts with such hope that it makes you smile. He pushes away from the doctors and races to you, wrapping you up in a hug that lifts you off of the ground a few inches.

He whispers something against your temples as he sets you gently back down on the ground. “I was so worried. I woke up and you weren’t there, and I thought–I thought–”

Finnick’s voice trails off, but you know what he means. Finnick was terrified that Snow had taken matters into his own hands and punished him for trying to have two Victors by killing you off the second you were separated.

You’re alive, though, blessedly alive. “I’m here, Finnick,” you reply, “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, then your cheek, then your lips. “Don’t you ever leave me,” he says, and you smile.

“I won’t,” you promise, and it’s an oath that you don’t mind keeping. You and Finnick have a great many years left in store for you, and you intend on living all of them out together.

temp thg tag list: it's the boy i told you about @thatfangirl42

#finnick odair #finnick odair imagines #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #thg #thg imagines #thg x reader #thg oneshot #hunger games #hunger games imagines #hunger games x reader #hunger games oneshot #thg finnick #thg finnick imagines #thg finnick x reader #thg finnick oneshot #hunger games finnick #hunger games finnick imagines #hunger games finnick x reader #hunger games finnick oneshot

[astral-mariner]

Exclusive Homeworld Lost Preview

A preview from a later section of my fic (Part 1 of 12 posted here)! This chapter from Part 9 gives a lot of the flavor of some of the relationships in Homeworld Lost without too many spoilers. It contains a rather surprising Cui/Raditz sex scene with many narrative and character moments.

A little context: This is the first chapter of Part 9. At the end of Part 8, Vegeta and Raditz had an extremely bitter fight. Vegeta vowed that Raditz would eventually die by his hand. Part 9 catches up with the characters a couple years of space travel after this fight has taken place. We get an impression of how their relationship has been in the meantime. Raditz is in his late 20s here, and Vegeta is right around 20 (Earth years). Cui, envious of Freeza's "favoritism" of the saiyans, has spent years tormenting Raditz with the aim of humiliating Vegeta.

Rating: Explicit (sexual content and dark themes) Relationships: Cui/Raditz & Vegeta/Raditz Content Warnings and Tags: angst, references to alcoholism/addiction, abusive relationships, jealousy, sadism/masochism, humiliation, degradation, slut shaming, anal fingering, ass-to-mouth

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Part 9: Between the Stars Chapter 1: Marks

“I don’t remember giving you this one.”

I reached for my discarded bodysuit as Cui’s fingers traced the outline of a dark bruise at the center of my chest.

“Hm, was it Vegeta who did that to you?” he asked. He applied a bit of pressure. “Looks like it still hurts…”

I slipped my shirt on so the mark couldn’t draw his attention anymore. “Just training,” I answered.

“Does he know where you are right now?” He brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face and smoothed it against the tousled mess his play had left. “Does he know about us?”

Turning away, I stood up from the hired bed. “He doesn’t care if I live or die. But he’d kill you if he knew.”

Cui chuckled to himself. “That doesn’t sound like he doesn’t care.”

“You should leave the station. I know you’ve got another planet to clean up before Sytrus. We’ll be here a little longer.” I retrieved my boots and scouter from the corner of the small room. “He really will kill you if he finds out you’re here.”

He pointed at the scouter. “Read my power level.”

I did. Roughly equal to Vegeta’s, but Cui didn’t need to know this. The prince had made considerable progress since Arcos in spite of everything. Though I hadn’t been able to catch Zarbon unaccompanied, he’d delivered Vegeta back to our quarters himself after I’d woken up alone in the medical wing. He would’ve seen evidence on his scouter if something had gone awry with Vegeta’s energy, and he may have investigated without my prompting. I could only pray that this had happened, and I couldn’t dare ask the prince to contradict it. Whatever the case, when Vegeta joined us, answering our looks with well-versed silence, he was as strong as he’d ever been.

“See?” Cui scoffed. “Last I saw the little saiyan prince in the flesh, his power level was under one thousand. Even if he’s recovered from his…accident by now, there’s no way he’s anywhere close to me.”

“Still.” Now I reached for my armor.

Cui caught hold of my arm before I could pull it over my head. “No,” he said. “The boots and scouter—leave them. You want to stay for a while.”

In truth, I did not. Cui’s crew received cleansing assignments from Zarbon and Dodoria, and there was a small chance I might hear something of their travels or whereabouts. Cui himself could believe whatever he wished about why I’d sought his company. “Not too long, though,” I told him, setting the armor back down against the wall. “You know I’ll be punished.”

“Mm, but you like to be punished, don’t you?” Scaled arms encircled my waist, the gesture almost familiar and saiyan. Cui had learned much despite the infrequency of our trysts. With my suit now protecting my bare chest from his, I could almost forget that cold clamminess against my skin. “Were all of your kind like that, or is it just you?” he asked.

“Couldn’t tell you.”

“But you don’t deny it.” He nudged me back towards the bed till I sat.

Instead of towering over him, now I looked up into his face.

“And neither does your body. How that…thing”—he grimaced—“between your legs swells after pain has left you weak, and I’ve stretched you too far…”

I shivered, and my stomach turned. “Don’t see what you get out of it.”

“I suppose there isn’t a physical component for me like there is for you.” He grasped my chin and tilted my head back so my mouth could receive his. “But surely you saiyans understand the pleasure of finding your enemy’s weakness?” Now that slimy tongue forced my lips apart, slithered between my teeth to taste me from the inside.

“Thought we had an arrangement,” I got out.

“I stopped paying you years ago.” Small, serrated fangs scraped my lower lip. “You and I aren’t enemies anymore, no. You come because you’re lonely.” He let go of my chin only to tangle his hands in my hair, cradling and caressing me as he kissed me again. “Must be dreadful to be a creature that needs someone else… So lonely that you’ll do anything, tell me anything.”

I pulled my legs up onto the bed and backed away, putting some distance between us. “Vegeta would’ve never been your enemy if you hadn’t…”

“No.” He crawled into the bed after me. “I did what I did because he was my enemy already. Lording over all of us, stealing Lord Freeza’s attention… He never did anything to deserve his rank. Just another one of you disgusting monkeys.” Cui’s hand strayed down my chest and abdomen, then between my thighs. He licked his lips when he found me half-hard. “How wretched. No matter how strong you can be on the battlefield, you lower lifeforms languish without such base things as this. Don’t know what Freeza sees in you.”

“W-what makes you think Freeza’s attention is something to be desired?”

“As stupid as you are vulgar.” His fingers crept beneath my waistband so he could tease and toy with me. Bending and rolling me between his thumb and forefinger while I was still soft enough for it. “I’m sure you’ve never actually listened to your superiors. If you did, you’d know that the Planet Trade will make this galaxy a different place. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, since you’re the last of your kind, and your lifespans are so short. But Lord Freeza will rid the universe of vermin like you. He’ll sell planets to those more worthy. In the end, only people like him and myself will remain, and then I will be prince of an empire greater than any monkey could imagine.”

My hand joined his, and though he could overpower me easily, I moved to still it. “It’s less that I haven’t listened and more that you’re just hearing what you want to hear, Cui.” Our fingers intertwined. “If he tortured you, you wouldn’t want to be Freeza’s favorite anymore—fuck—!”

Retaliating, he’d pinched that most sensitive spot under the head of my cock so sharply that I was certain he’d drawn blood, torn the delicate skin. “Lord Freeza does you a kindness”—soothing with light touches that did little more than draw more attention to the echoing pain—“with how you creatures crave to be destroyed. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“If you really want to be Freeza’s favorite,” I answered when I could, “then I hope he notices you. Truly—anything you want. Vegeta and I never meant to deny you anything.”

A nibble at my neck, the sting acute enough to detract from that between my legs, but gentle enough to send a shiver down my spine that was almost pleasant. “You’re always so thoughtful after you get what you want.”

When Cui’s fist circled me to stroke properly, I knew I’d found my chance. “We…I can see you again… If you tell me where Zarbon’s sending you. You aren’t meeting with him, are you? Know it’s dangerous—but I’ll do it. For you.”

“Mm.” He pulled me free from my leggings. “I’ll consider it.”

Obliging him, I removed the shirt I’d used to hide my scars and bruises from his view. Tracing them while his eyes followed, my fingers whispered across my chest till my fur bristled and my nipples stood erect. I met his gaze as I took up rubbing them, tugging and pressing them for him to watch while my cock hardened in his hand.

“I might tell you if you’re good,” Cui purred. “Now tell me something. Does Vegeta do this for you too after he hurts you?”

I arched my neck for him as he leaned in to suck at a conspicuous row of four purple marks. “No,” I answered. “I’m not what he wants.”

“Such a pity…” He stroked a little faster, tightened his grip just enough. How closely he’d observed that first time, forcing me to pleasure myself lest I subject myself to something more painful and humiliating.

“He never touches me like this.”

“Because he imagines himself better than you?” He paused to spread the wetness weeping from my tip over the head of my cock, thumbing firmly and leaving my toes and tail curling at the overstimulation. “But I know the truth. He’s just as filthy of an animal as you are.” Stroking me again while he spoke softly next to my ear. “A simple, battered creature that’s known nothing but suffering as long as it’s drawn breath. Even before your planet was destroyed.”

He kissed me, long and, if I didn’t know better, tenderly. “That night long ago now… When nothing I did brought a single tear to your eye…even after you were screaming and bleeding and begging me to stop. After I grew tired of it, and I held you to my chest, only then did you break down and tell me all about what that wicked lady did to you.”

“Cui…don’t.”

“But you’re not struggling, Raditz.” Another kiss. “You love to suffer now. A beast whose lowly appetites were never fed anything but misery, and you’ve learned to survive on it. Tell me I’m wrong.”

But he gave me no chance to reply. Instead, his free hand seized my jaw, and he shoved two fingers through my lips and to the back of my throat till I gagged and spat up onto my chin.

“Don’t bite—you said you’d be good.” He pressed down hard on my tongue, massaging, making my stomach turn and my mouth water involuntarily. “Yes, I am meeting with Zarbon, actually, so you’ll have to be very careful indeed.”

Once he withdrew, he let go of my cock to tug on my waistband. Then he ordered, “Pull these down and spread your legs.”

I did.

“Such a well-trained monkey.” The pads of those two slicked fingers pressed and swirled around my puckered hole like the flat of an unnaturally cool tongue. “Look at you—so loose and ready for me no matter what you say. Even after everything I’ve done to you. Raped you, beaten you, shamed and disgraced you for all of the Planet Trade to witness. Still you beg to see me. Risk your life.”

My breath hitched as he nudged his fingers inside me. Deftly, he curled them upwards and pushed against my sweet spot rhythmically while his other hand returned to work my cock. “Where, though, Cui? Please…”

He ignored me. “So lonely… Ever since you came back from Fuenghi. Sad looks, long sighs. Your prince is a man now, isn’t he? And you’ve loved him longer than that. Because he hurts you like no one ever has. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Don’t—don’t want to think about him. Just you.” I rolled my hips into his caresses, curled my tail around his wrist.

“Very good.” He rewarded me by rightly fucking me with his fingers, hitting that spot behind my balls again and again till my muscles quivered and clenched, and whimpers escaped unbidden from my mouth.

Unaffected by my unraveling, he continued evenly, “There’s another famous pleasure house along the route to Sytrus. You know how Zarbon likes to collect his slaves. Visit me there. There will be enough depravity going on that no one will notice a little more.”

I bit my lip to contain a moan and nodded. I’d gotten what I needed; Cui could think that he’d won, and it wouldn’t matter. I let my eyes roll back, and instead of Cui, I slipped and imagined Vegeta fucking me, those narrow, strong hands around my neck instead of my own broad ones.

“So filthy—won’t even reach your release without strangling yourself like he does,” Cui muttered. “Broken little slut of a monkey. You like hearing what you are, don’t you? A desperate, whimpering whore who loves to be abused.”

My hands flew to clutch the bed beneath me, and I gasped sharply as Cui fucked me hard through the first spasms of coming. Blood rushing back to my face and air to my lungs, I floated above my body, weightless and high. I couldn’t hear or cringe at the pathetic sounds he wrung from me till it was too late, and it was already over, and I was shivering and groaning while he continued to fuck me mercilessly despite freeing my cock from his grasp.

He chuckled darkly to himself after he withdrew. “I’m not even one of you, but I know I do it better than Vegeta ever would. All he knows how to do is kill them. He doesn’t listen to you like I do. And he doesn’t touch you like I do either. So you say.” He leaned over me and pressed his hand to my lips, fingers wet and scented with my own come. “Clean me up,” he demanded.

Mindlessly, I licked him clean, swallowed myself down. I already felt my heart sinking. I shouldn’t have come so hard by his hand, hearing such venomous lies.

“Now the other.”

A different scent. I cringed away automatically.

“Oh? You don’t like this?”

Perhaps he didn’t understand. To him, each part of my body he had condescended to touch was no different than the other. Primitive organs of elimination.

His amphibious face didn’t often contort into expressions I recognized outright, but the one he wore now I couldn’t mistake for anything but malicious glee. “I haven’t given you my actual schedule, you know. If you aren’t good, I’ll have no reason to give it to you. So lonesome without me…”

I gritted my teeth and bit back every fuck you that rose to my lips. Maybe he knew, and he just didn’t care. Either way, I had no choice. The prince’s life could depend on it, my warning Zarbon. Holding my breath, I opened my mouth and sucked on his fingers till he was satisfied.

“See? Even the mighty saiyan can be tamed.” He took me in his arms then, and he ran those wretched fingers through my hair. “Here, Raditz, I’ll hold you as long as you need. Anything you want, you can tell me. I’ll show you the coordinates, and you can comfort yourself that you’ll see me again soon.”

In spite of everything, the tingling caresses along my scalp did help to distract me, and I let them. As long as I saw Zarbon, I wouldn’t have to see Cui again.

A scouter’s alert. The brief flash of green light told me it was mine.

“You were very good. I’ll get it for you,” Cui said. He stood and retrieved it, then offered it to me without bothering to look into whatever had appeared in the glass.

I didn’t look closely either. It didn’t matter. It was the perfect excuse. “I have to go,” I told Cui.

“Will you miss me?”

“I’ll come to see you,” I lied as I fixed my clothes, got up, and shuffled into my boots and armor. My heart pounded in my throat, and that familiar emptiness widened within me. It always happened after I spent such time with Cui; even he had noticed, always probing my weaknesses, and he would stay to soothe me if only to catch whatever more of myself I spilled.

“I’ve grown fond of you, I admit.” he said before I could escape into the corridor. “I will miss you.”

“Fucking gods,” I cursed once the door had shut, and I was alone. I hurried for a decontamination chamber. Vegeta would have no mercy for me if was already back at our rented rooms, and I hadn’t yet washed, and he found out what I’d done.

I paid the meager sum, stepped inside, and tried not to inhale the harsh chemicals before they were sucked out into space. I only checked my scouter’s alert once I’d already left and made it halfway across the station.

It was from Nappa. Cui is aboard the station. The prince is looking for you, it read simply.

“Fucking gods,” I cursed again. I prayed that I’d reach the rooms before he did, and I hastened to ensure it.

And by the grace of those same gods I frequently cursed, only Nappa was there when I arrived. “I saw your message,” I told him between breaths. “I don’t know about Cui. I didn’t see him. I just went for a drink and took my scouter off.”

“You really shouldn’t drink as much as you do,” he admonished after staring me down. I had never given him many reasons to trust me.

“I know. It’s just…”

“Difficult,” he finished for me.

“Yes, it’s just so fucking hard.” I removed the scouter from my face, folded it, and tossed it into an open compartment. “Why is everything so fucking hard?”

Nappa shook his head. Only then did I notice the half-empty container of dark liquid in front of him. “I have more dreams when I drink,” he said.

I sat down beside him, nudged the container away. “You’d better hide that. Vegeta won’t like it.”

Another solemn nod.

“I’m going to get myself out of this armor. Wash up. Take care of yourself, Nappa.” I squeezed his shoulder before I turned and left him. He’d never spoken much, but he spoke even less after we left Arcos and those seasons of torture behind.

I couldn’t say how long I spent scrubbing Cui’s ichthyian mucus out of my skin, how many times I rinsed out my mouth. But the crash of shattered glass against a wall snapped me out of it. I stepped out of the washroom and stumbled to find new clothes while Vegeta’s low threats loomed closer.

“Where is Raditz?”  he snarled.

A pause.

“He’s here?”

Another silent pause.

I pressed my bare back against the cold wall, hoping it could bear my weight if my knees could not.

“Get out. And don’t dare bring anything back with you but your scouter and the suit you’re wearing.”

Nappa must not have moved after I’d left, and the crash I’d heard had an easy explanation.

A moment later, the click of a door broke the rhythm of pacing boots. More pacing, then it stopped after growing louder, nearer the sleeping quarters I’d shut myself in.

Hesitating.

I kept my eyes shut, my back pressed to the wall.

A click, then more steps. So close now that I could feel his presence, hear the nearly imperceptible hiss of breath through parted teeth. Then the whispered warmth of its ghost whisked against my chest. He stood just in front of me, and I had nowhere to run.

I looked at him.

Our gazes, however, did not meet. Vegeta’s ran over my body. Scars and marks he recognized, new ones and old. Though some of them he did not recognize, and these he lingered on.

“Vegeta, I—”

He smothered whatever I had to say into a kiss. Hard, each gloved hand clutching my face between them, as he, in all his strength, pinned me against the wall. Bruising, desperate. When he broke away only to pant open-mouthed over my lips, we tasted our scents mingled rich between us.

“Listen—” he began, but he couldn’t stand to continue, and he sank into another kiss instead. A muffled groan hummed behind his lips as he dragged his hands from my face down my naked chest. If only he didn’t insist on wearing those damned gloves.

“Listen,” he began again, and this time, he didn’t try to keep himself from kissing me. Rather, he leaned into my neck, and between words, he gave in and brushed his lips and tongue against my pulse. “You—you belong to me. Hear me? You…are mine.”

“I’m yours,” I answered without a second thought. My knees went weak as if he’d captured my tail and wrung it in his ruthless grip.

“Mine.” Though even as he uttered this, he pulled himself back from me. Whatever anger I’d dreaded before, yet missed, he wore now.

“I—”

“Dress yourself, take your scouter, and get out.”

“Please…”

“You heard me. Leave, and don’t come back until you’ve been called.”

“But I have to—”

“Leave. Now.”

I could do nothing but rush to find my boots, then the clean shirt I’d laid out. I didn’t have time to take the armor.

“And don’t you fucking dare forget what I told you.”

“I-I won’t,” I promised before I obeyed and left him.

#vegeta #raditz #cui #vegeditz #dbz fics #astral writing #astral art #homeworld lost

[little-diable]

Truth or Dare - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

I wanted to write the request I got by a lovely anon asking for some dark Aaron smut, but then it escalated into this. I promise anon, I'lll do the dark Aaron soon! I love reading Spencer fics about the episode where JJ confesses her love, so, I wanted to add a twist to it. I'm sure this has been done before. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What if it hadn't been JJ and Spencer, but Emily and Aaron? How will the reader react to hearing Emily confessing her love for Aaron, the reader's husband?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected shower sex, some angst, some tears

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (1.7k words)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Shut up!” The unsub’s voice rang in (y/n)’s ears, eyes flickering to Penelope. The two were holding hands, trying to make it through the moments that clashed upon them like avalanches burying them in heavy blankets of snow. Their hearts were racing, praying to whoever was listening that Aaron and Emily would make it out of the situation alive. 

“Okay, okay.” Emily’s voice didn’t carry any emotion, forcing the others to try and put themselves in her shoes, trying to understand the different sensations thumping through the agent’s system. 

“Last chance, something you’d never say out loud. Not even to your partner here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I’ll kill him.” (Y/n) couldn’t focus on the words the man spoke, could only focus on the clicking of his gun, clearly preparing himself to shoot Aaron shouldn’t Emily speak up. 

A sob clawed through (y/n), the mere thought of losing her husband left her choking on her breaths, cursing herself for letting him go, for not kissing him one last time when she had the chance. A life without Aaron Hotchner by her side was no life worth living. A life without Aaron Hotchner by her side wasn’t ever imaginable to her, not since they crossed paths almost a decade ago. 

“Come on!” The man’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, glassy eyes finding Penelope’s wide ones, watching the tears roll down the woman’s cheeks. This wasn’t an end (y/n) had ever imagined, this couldn’t be the last page of the book, no, there had to be something, something to rip them from this very nightmare. 

A shaky breath was sucked into Emily’s lungs, a sound so clear the two women couldn’t help but jerk in surprise. It took the agent a few more seconds to speak up, shuffling around before she murmured Aaron’s name. 

“I, uhm, I’ve always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before, and things were just too complicated to say it now. I’m sorry. But you should know.” And for a second there was nothing but silence, on both ends. (Y/n) felt Penelope squeeze her hand all too tightly, trying to get a reaction from the woman that was frozen, unsure how she should react to said confession. She had always known that there was something special between her husband and Emily, a friendship they couldn’t put into words to describe the strength of it. 

And yet (y/n) had never even tried to imagine that it could go beyond a friendship, something only she was supposed to share with Aaron. 

“Hot damn, that’s what I’m talking about.” (Y/n) let go of Penelope’s hand, wrapping her arms around herself as she kept listening. The woman tried to hug her, and yet (y/n) wouldn’t let her, not able to give into the comforting touch that would make it all too real, forcing her to realise that Emily had truly just confessed her love for Aaron. 

And even though (y/n) knew that her husband loved her more than anything, she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt something deeper for the dark haired profiler. 

With one last glance thrown Penelope’s way, (y/n) moved away from her the second she knew the others were safe, making her way to the nearest bathroom. Her thoughts were racing, hands shaking as she tried to dry her tears, not able to explain why she had started crying. Even though she hated hearing those words coming from her best friend’s mouth, she knew that it had been their only way out of the situation, praying that the unsub wouldn’t kill them. 

The mere thought of Aaron feeling something more for Emily left (y/n)’s heart roaring in pain. Deep down she knew that her husband loved her more than Odin loved Freyja, watching her golden tears drip from her eyes whenever he left for a longer journey. Deep down she knew that he wouldn’t leave her, sticking to the promise of eternity, and yet her rational thoughts were drowned out by the confusion keeping her heart hostage. 

She felt the minutes passing by as she was sitting on the toilet seat, staring straight ahead to give the different scenarios racing through her mind like bolts of lightning enough room to confuse her even further. Should she say something to Emily? Should she act as if she hadn’t picked up on the confession? 

How does one react to the words that kept ringing in her ears like a crying child breaking the quietness night would offer? 

“Look at me, (y/n).” Aaron’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, gaze forced to find his coffee coloured eyes. He had made it back to the BAU hours ago, wordlessly finding her stiff frame with his hands reaching for hers, pressing her into his chest. She hadn’t spoken up, hadn’t even glanced at Emily as she had followed Aaron to the elevators, set on making it home before morning would break.

“Did you hear what Emily said?”

She could only nod, glassy eyes momentarily fluttering shut. Her mind kept screaming at her, forcing her to ground herself, not wanting to give away the inner tumult she was struggling with. Aaron’s big hand found her cold cheek, thumb caressing her lower lip. He allowed himself to study his wife for a few moments, wordlessly brushing away the salty tears rolling down her cheeks like rain pouring from the dark November sky. 

“I hope you know that nobody could ever make me doubt my love for you. I promised you forever, and I intend to keep that promise. I love Emily as a friend, I could never love her like I love you.” His soft voice rumbled through him, desperately hoping to comfort her. A sob clawed through her, forehead falling against his chest, separated from him by the middle console of his black SUV. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” Her voice trembled, deeply inhaling as Aaron slowly parted from her, pulling her in for a kiss. It took her a few more moments to calm down, wordlessly nodding at her husband as he opened her car door, guiding her towards their shared home. 

Darkness engulfed them as they stepped inside, grateful that Jack was staying with a friend, not wanting to wake him in the early hours of the morning. Aaron pulled (y/n) in for another tight hug, not daring to part from her trembling body. 

“What can I do?” His heart was aching, struggling to take in the tears lingering on her cheeks, wanting to take away her pain. She feared that he could hear her heart racing in her chest, pumping blood that could have dripped from his lifeless body hours ago, rescued by the words that have broken (y/n)’s heart in the process. 

“Just hold me, I need to feel you close.” Aaron tugged her along, making their way towards their bathroom, set on sharing a hot shower that could wash away the reminders of the past hours.

Gentle kisses were shared between them whenever another piece of clothing made it to the ground, ripped from the confines of her clothes like the weight being lifted off her chest. The hot water cascaded down her back as (y/n) stepped into the shower, grateful for the heat that now engulfed her like a warm embrace shared in the early hours of a December morning. Aaron followed her soon after, searching her body with his hands reaching for her waist, pulling her close. 

Aaron’s hands wandered along her body, caressing her skin as if he was scared that she’d evaporate into smoke, disappearing right in front of his eyes like a dream he was ripped from. Her eyes fluttered close, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, relishing in the soft touch that made her shudder. He cupped her heat, fingers exploring her arousal covered core, set on pleasing her till she’d forget about this very night. 

She was pressed against the shower tiles, eyes finding his as he reached for his cock, brushing his tip through her folds. For a few seconds the world had stopped spinning, forcing her heart to race on, trying to focus on the moment, on the feeling of his body pressed against hers, searching her warmth. 

“I love you, I hope you never forget that.” Aaron murmured his words against her lips, pushing into her with a groan clawing through him. Her fingernails left marks on his back, clinging to him with her lips finding his, kissing her husband breathless. There was nothing rushed about the moment, allowing the two to fall into a comfortable rhythm, hoping to chase the eventual high clashing upon them. 

Her whimpers echoed through the room, reverberating through the morning, followed by the sound of their bodies clashing together with every thrust. Aaron’s movements grew faster with every moan rumbling through (y/n), hoping that he could distract her from the whirlwind of emotions she had been stuck in. 

With her fingernails clawed into his back she felt her orgasm arising, threatening to clash through her way too soon, putting an end to the moment filled with emotions fueling her love for her husband. Her vision was blurred, seeing stars as his name rolled off her tongue, giving into her orgasm like a sailor following a siren’s call, giving into her end with her emotions guiding her on.

Aaron fucked her through her high, not daring to let go of her before she trembled against him, wordlessly begging him to follow her down the edge. She felt him imprint himself on her walls, filling her with his release. 

“I love you too, Aaron, I always will.” With a smile tugging on his lips, Aaron pulled her in for a kiss. He was set on reminding his wife of his love, a promise made for eternity, a promise no truth, no dare could break.

#Aaron Hotchner smut #Aaron Hotchner imagine #aaron hotch imagine

[unadulteratedfandomtrash]

Steve Rogers x Reader ~ Early Morning Showers  [Shield Adventures]

A/N: Hi, guys. Sorry for the short fic this time around. I didn’t want to force myself to add more when I’m content with how everything is now. Stay tuned for more!

[My Marvel Masterlist]

Word Count: 1154

When Steve habitually woke up at 0600 on a Saturday morning, he was expecting to find (Y/n) nestled underneath the thick duvet, snoring away for another three hours before her alarm was set to go off. Yet, when the blond super soldier manages to peel open his bleary eyes, an arm reaching out beside him to hug his wife, he is met with a cold bed sheet and soft impression of her body pressed into the mattress.

“Not again…”

Steve comes to the conclusion that the chances of her having left to use the bathroom are slim, given that (Y/n)’s side of the bed would still be warm in that scenario, so he decides to roll out of bed to check the next possible location: the kitchen.

Sock-clad feet shuffle softly on the laminate floors as Steve makes his way to the kitchen in the search for his wife. He starts to lose hope in his assumption the further he walks down the hall. If she were rummaging around in the kitchen, he would be able to hear a huge commotion, or smell the food or coffee, before turning the corner.

“Maybe the balcony,” he mutters. (Y/n) loves to curl up with a blanket on the tufted lounge they purchased shortly after their marriage. She uses the time to gaze at the amazing view offered by the Avengers compound as she reflects on past events; there have been many instances in which the blond super soldier would be scrambling to find his wife, and during his frantic search, the woman in question was simply relaxing out in the balcony bundled up in a fuzzy blanket with a steaming mug of tea, staring off into the distance.

But when Steve turns to look at the balcony sliding door, he realizes it’s raining, so she would not be outside. A bit of panic rises in him once he realizes (Y/n) is not in her usual spots. 

Running over to the room door that serves as their front door—Tony assigned each Avenger their own cottage-sized room—Steve scans the rack of shoes to check for any missing pairs. Sure enough, there is a missing pair of boots he distinctly remembers buying for her last year in celebration of their anniversary. (Y/n) had been eyeing those shoes every time they took a trip to the mall, so Steve snuck out to purchase them on one of his days off when she flew off for a solo mission.

The clattering of keys breaks Steve out of his trip down memory lane. Instead of waiting for the door to be unlocked, the blond super soldier opens it from his side. The door practically flies off the hinges as he flings it open, scaring both himself and (Y/n) as the impact of the doorknob leaves a small indentation in the drywall.

“Steve, be more gentle with that door! I don’t want Tony to make a fuss about you damaging the place when he’s letting us stay for free.”

“It’s fine, I’ll patch it up later on today,” Steve mutters, glancing at the dent for only a brief second before shifting his focus back on (Y/n). All the pent up anxiety floods out and bombards her as the man interrogates his wife. “Where have you been? I was looking all over the place for you. I nearly called Nat to wake her up just to ask if you went over to her room.”

During his frantic questioning, (Y/n) awkwardly glances at the heavy piece of metal to her right. She needed a free hand to open the door, so she ended up resting it on the wall by the door. If Steve finds out, he will throw a fit.

“I just needed to stop by the drug store really quick,” (Y/n) explains as she holds up the several bags of snacks in her arms. 

“Did you buy everything they had in there? Here, let me help you.” Two hands immediately dart out to grab onto the heavy plastic bags, despite the fact that his wife is an Avenger with telekinesis and is perfectly capable of carrying her own shopping, while also gesturing for her to step inside. However, instead of walking in, (Y/n) keeps glancing to her side, which confuses Steve. “What? Did you buy even more stuff?”

“No, I…um-”

Before she can come up with an excuse, Steve is already stepping out to peer into the hallway. The sight should not surprise him, but it does. In the hallway, leaning against the wall, is his shield. It had not crossed his mind to look for the shield when he woke up to find (Y/n) was missing, again.

“(Y/n)!!”

Other than the fact that she had, once again, stolen his prized possession and weapon of choice, Steve is appalled to find the item in question being drenched in water. While he knows the metal will not rust—seventy years in the ice provides enough proof of that—he does not know why his wife needed to bring the shield along for an impromptu snack run. 

“Why exactly did you take my shield with you at 6 in the morning?” Steve sends a pointed look in her direction as he sets the bags down to bring in the shield. A foot stretches out to kick the door shut while he inspects the shield for any damages. Thankfully, the only thing he has to worry about is water stains.

“It was raining outside, and I couldn’t find an umbrella,” she explains casually with a slight pout. “There’s just enough surface area to cover me and my bags of snacks.”

In the darkness, Steve has a hard time reading her facial expressions clearly, but he can tell that something is off. She is telling the truth, that much is obvious, but there is a hint of nervousness in her voice that is leaving him worried once more. 

“Couldn’t the snacks have waited until later on? I would’ve gone with you.”

“Steve, I can handle a quick trip to the drug store.”

The finality in her voice leaves Steve hesitant to push the subject any further. Rather than risking the start of an argument. He knows (Y/n) will eventually bring up the subject later on in the future, so he raises his arms in defeat, choosing to busy himself with putting away the snacks from her recent shopping spree.

As he begins to store the bags of chips into the cabinet, the slamming of a door in the distance catches his attention. Steve briefly wonders if he should go check on (Y/n), but comes to the same conclusion as he did moments ago.

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, (Y/n) opening the plastic bag she snuck inside. The four boxes scatter across the tiles as she tears into each one.

“Okay…let’s see if I’m right…”

#Steve Rogers #Captain America #steve rogers x reader #Captain America x Reader #Steve #Rogers #Marvel #marvel cinematic universe #MCU #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction #x reader #Reader Insert

[chvnnie]

Starlight

han jisung x reader

word count: 5.3k

genre: smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: dom!jisung, sub!reader, public sex, spit (just once), choking, oral (m receiving), nipple play (mutual), unprotected sex (let's not), dirty talk, jisung can be a lil rough? if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: Jisung will not settle for anything less than perfection.

a/n: thank you to nacific (see reblog for inspo) and phantom of the opera for fueling this. also my first full length fic in months? woooooooooo! she finally found her groove again!

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents han jisung as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @humayraaaaa, @americanokisses - comment/send ask to be added

It’s hard to believe that this is the best theater in the city. The seats are uncomfortable, creaking with every shift of weight as if they’re on their last limbs. A cool draft hits the back of the playwright’s neck, which he’s given up on avoiding long ago. Dodging it isn’t worth the terrible squeaking noise.

Though it may be preferable to the frankly horrid vocals of the woman center stage.

Where to even begin? On top of her pitchy, broken song, the monologue she’s chosen has gone on far too long. Jisung is surprised he hasn’t fallen asleep yet, head cradled in his left hand as he stares blankly off into space. From the moment she stepped out, he knew she wasn’t fit for the role before even opening her mouth. 

“Give her a chance.” The director told him. “Her parents donate to the theater.”

God, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

The woman takes a breath, readying herself to continue, and his limit is reached.

“Thank you!” Jisung projects his voice, cutting her off before she even gets the chance. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

Sighing deeply, the director shoots the playwright a sharp look. “She wasn’t finished-”

“It’s an insult to my work to let her continue.” Jisung snaps back. Hours. Hours he has sat in this seat, watching women come and go, none of them even coming close to the image he has in his head. Sure, there have been a handful of phenomenal actresses and vocalists in the group, but not the one. Not his.

It took years for Jisung to write the perfect play. Days spent in tears as he scribbled words and shredded papers, not stopping until everything is exactly how he wanted it to be. There is no compromise; not then, not now. Everything will be as it should be.

Even if it means sitting in this godforsaken chair for several more hours.

“How many more are there?” 

The director flips through the resumes, counting under his breath. “Twelve.”

Twelve. Twelve more chances to find his star. “Tell me about the next one.”

She was lovely. Years of experience, pages of recommendations from mentors and directors. A strong, steady voice with an impressive range. When she sang, the theater shook with ghosts of applause she’s sure to hear someday. Carrying herself with grace and elegance, there’s no question that she was born for the stage.

Though it will not be on Jisung’s.

The next few women that follow are nothing too spectacular. Good, but that’s as far as it goes. Wonderful extras, understudies, or even minor roles. There are places for them in the show, but not the place they want to be.

“The next one,” the annoyance is thick in the director’s voice, at his wits end with the picky playwright, “has only ever held minor roles in her community theater. Has some formal training, but really doesn’t have much of a background. Frankly, I’m not sure how she even made the cut-”

“Everyone deserves a chance.” Jisung says, scanning the short resume. “Bring her out.”

From the second you stepped foot on the stage, the playwright was mesmerized. Though there was nothing “spectacular” per se about you, there was something. It gripped onto him, tugged him with a fervor he’s never quite felt before. Without even speaking, you’ve caught all of his attention and claimed it as your own.

Who are you? Why is Jisung just now meeting you?

Though you hold yourself with confidence, when you speak you stumble over words. As hard as you try, it’s impossible to hide the nerves that stage brings. It’s endearing, genuine. More personality than anyone who stood before you.

Your monologue is rushed. There are places that could use improvement; too quiet at some parts, the pause in the middle was too long. But those are minor issues, nothing that can’t be tweaked. What really hooks Jisung is your voice.

When you sing, he feels like he’s floating on the cloud. All the stars in the sky within arms length, waiting for him to reach out and steal them away. There’s no high quite like your voice, the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. 

The time spent together is too short. Before Jisung has had his fill, you’re bowing. Thanking them for their time. Disappearing before he can call out for you.

“Well.” The director sighs before chuckling. “I think we can agree—“

“She’s it.”

He stares at Jisung, jaw dropped in shock. “You have to be joking.”

“Nope.” He begins to pack his bag, tucking his notepad and stacks of resumes away. His work is done for the day. “She is who I want as the lead.”

“Jisung.” The director stands with the playwright, following him down the aisle. “There were many more qualified than her—“

“Is this your show? I don’t recall you writing it with me.” He keeps walking towards the exit, not slowing down. There’s nothing that will change his mind. “I’ve seen enough today. You can humor the rest, but I have found my star.”

///

You didn’t get a call back.

All day, you’ve sat by the phone. Staring, willing it to ring. They told you they would be in touch by the end of the day if they wanted to see you again. The sun has set long ago, and there hasn’t been a peep from your phone.

Shame. Embarrassment. Rejection. All weigh heavy on your chest, threatening to bury you in the cold dirt under your apartment complex. How silly it was of you to hope, to audition for a show by the Han Jisung. You were mocked; by so called friends, in the waiting room by other hopefuls. A few of them had to have received a call. They were beautiful, talented. 

In comparison, you were nothing. So insignificant that they probably tossed your resume the second you stepped foot on the stage.

Sitting on the window sill, you bring your knees to your chest and rest your head upon it. Looking out the glass, watching as the white stars twinkle in the sky. They’re bright tonight, lighting up the city streets more than any streetlight could. What is it like to be one of them? To command the attention of all those around you, to shine brighter than any light ever could?

Suppose you'll never know, will you?

You’ve resisted the urge to cry all day. Holding it in, letting the bottle fill. There was no reason in throwing a fit until you know. But, now that you do, the dam breaks. Salty, warm tears rolling down your cheeks. Sparkling in the starlight.

What’s it like to be a star?

As your back begins to hurt, the familiar ring of your phone fills the teeny living room. Rolling your head over, you stare at the lit up screen. Projecting a number you don’t recognize. 

Oh, a rejection call. Your favorite kind.

Wiping your tears on your sweater, you bring the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

Your ears begin ringing, a tingling feeling taking over your body as the director speaks. Telling you that the impossible is possible, even if he sounds disappointed to say so. The tears dry quickly, nails digging into your skin as you pinch yourself over, and over, and over. This must be a dream. 

It’s not a call back. It’s not a rejection. It’s the role, if you choose to take it. 

“The table reading is tomorrow at noon.” The director tells you, the realness starting to sink in. “Can you make it—“

“Yes!” You exclaim, quickly feeling embarrassed at your eagerness. “Y-yes. Yes, I can make it.”

There’s an exasperated sigh on the other end, but you don’t even care enough to dwell on it. This is all you’ve dreamed of, all you’ve wanted. Now it’s in your hands, glowing brighter than the lights that dance in the sky.

You’re too excited to sleep, waking up every hour to check the time. By 7:00 in the morning, you’re too jittery to stay in bed. There’s far too much to do; you have to make sure you eat a full meal, that you get a little exercise in. That you change your outfit five times because god, why does nothing in your closet fit the occasion? Do you have time to stop by a shop, or should you just make do with what you have—

There’s too much happening in your head, making it nearly impossible to calm down. Maybe that’s why you left your apartment an hour early when the walk is only twenty minutes. The sooner you get to the studio, the better.

Waiting is simply not an option anymore.

Unsurprisingly, the room is empty. Four tables clicked together to make a square, each seat complimented with a name tag and a binder. You find your place near the “head” of the table, between what you assume to be the male lead, and the playwright himself.

This is incredible. This shouldn’t be your life; no professional experience or schooling, barely held a lead role in a community show. You simply took a risk, expecting to be disappointed. 

Never did you think this would be the outcome. Sure, you dreamed of it, but not a bit of you believed it to be possible. 

You trace the outline of the binder, resisting the temptation to open it. To read the story Jisung has spun; he has such a beautiful way with words. In your opinion, though it doesn’t hold much weight, he’s the best playwright of the century. He’s only written a few shows, each more breathtaking than the last. They have this ability to touch a part of the soul that nobody knew existed, the feeling it brings indescribable. 

And you get to be a part of this masterpiece. Oh fuck, you can’t stop smiling. You want to scream, to jump up and down. To revel in the sheer joy this production has already brought you.

Instead, you keep to your seat. Buzzing as you stare at the black binder before you. 

Slowly, the room begins to fill. People walk the table in search for their names, chatter spinning in the echoey room. Most of them seem to know each other, greetings of hugs and congratulations exchanged. It’s a nice feeling — this is home for so many people.

Yet, it makes you feel a bit lonely. Everyone has to start somewhere; there’s no way you could have bonds like those of your co stars yet. Someday, you’ll be one of them. But today, you stay the outsider, even if it crushes you just a little. 

The door opens, and a silence falls over the crowd. Every head turned in the direction of the playwright. Shorter than you would have expected, yet more striking than any picture you’ve seen of him before. His dark hair is tousled, fluffy like he hardly touched it when he rolled out of bed. Dressed in creams and tans, he gives a sophisticated, yet cozy vibe. Softening his intimidation with a lazy smile and golden, circular glasses.

“Don’t mind me.” Voice smooth like honey, he waves off the stares. “Continue on with your conversations. And congratulations to you all.”

Only when he starts walking to his seats does the chatter begin again. Quieter than before, as if they’re all still stunned by his presence. He dodges the little huddles of people until he reaches the head of the table. 

Until he reaches you. 

An iced coffee is placed right next to your water bottle, the playwright slowly unpacking his bag. A yellow legal pad, a copy of the script covered in scribbles and coffee stains. A black pen. Once the items are scattered across his crowded workplace, Jisung takes a seat, thumbing through the notepad for a fresh page.

“First time, right?” He speaks without looking in your direction, making you question if it’s meant for you.

“Me?”

His brows raise, yet he still doesn’t look up. “You’re the only one seated by me, aren’t you?”

“Oh.” Your face flushes, the heat of embarrassment making you shrink into yourself. “Y-yeah. It’s my first.”

“Hm. It’s a good fit for you.” Jisung takes a drink of his coffee before setting the notepad to the side. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, shaking from all the nerves squeezing you. It’s impossible to sit still — or to shut up. “I was very worried about this audition.”

This time, he looks at you, and honestly, you’d prefer it if he didn’t. It makes the anxiety all the more consuming, knowing you’re being perceived by him. Are you sweating? You think you’re sweating. God, did you put on deodorant this morning—

“Oh, is that so?” He offers you a warm smile, and it puts you at ease just a bit. “You had no reason to be, you were perfect.”

“I-I fucked up my monologue—“

“That doesn’t matter.” A hand rests on your thigh, the weight of it enough to make you stop shaking. To let your shoulders roll a bit, no longer so tense. “You are the star. I knew it from the second I saw you.”

Maybe you’re imagining it, lost in your delusion that the line of reality is muddied. But there’s something sparking where his body meets yours; a bolt of lightning coursing through your veins. His eyes hold so much warmth, like rivers of melted chocolate. Soft against your skin, leaving you with a taste that you’ll never fight a craving for. 

It has to be all in your head. Careful not to lose it.

“Thank you.” Your mouth is suddenly dry, swallowing thickly to shake the heat he’s given you.

With a smile and squeeze of your knee, Jisung turns back to his notepad. Leaving you alone to melt in your seat.

///

You’re no longer rushed. 

The delivery on your lines has been nothing short of flawless. It’s like a switch was flipped; the nervousness is still there, but it’s damn near impossible to detect it. All it took were a few rehearsals for you to find comfort in your lines, in the role, and then poof. Everything Jisung knew you would be, you became.

Steady on your feet when it comes to dance. Vocals perfectly in tune. Lines coming from your mouth as if they were yours, not something you merely read off a paper. 

Stunning. Show stopping. The best star in the entire universe lives on this wooden stage, even the director is now convinced.

“No, no, stop.” The director’s angry voice ends the scene, sighing dramatically. “This is the sixth time we’ve ran this today alone, and you’re telling me you still can’t get it right?”

Well. Almost convinced.

Jisung hates the way the director speaks to you; immediately, you deflate. Shoulder sinking as you disappear into yourself. “I’m trying—“

“Well, try harder.” He snaps. “It’s just a kiss, I’m not asking you to fuck him.”

A round of hateful snickers come from the company, whispers followed closely behind. It’s easy to tell that all of this is getting to you, you’d have to be blind not to see it.

“Something funny?” Jisung’s sharp voice cuts through the noise, silencing the extras in the background. “Or did the company forget you’re all replaceable back there?”

Maybe it’s cruel of him to enjoy the tears in their eyes, but he truly doesn’t have time for their childish games. Even if the director shoots him a hateful look for it.

“Take fifteen.” The other man snaps, dismissing the cast. You stand frozen for a moment before turning in the direction of your dressing room. Running off to cry, if Jisung had to assume. All thanks to this asshole.

Once the room is empty, the director flares at the playwright.

“You need to be nicer to the company-“

“You need to be nice to the lead.” The director stands a few inches taller than him, but Jisung has no problem making him cower. Taking a few steps closer, he narrows his eyes at the man. “How do you expect her to be comfortable with the scene if that’s how you treat her?”

“I expect her to be an adult.” He rolls his eyes. “If she can’t even kiss a man, how does she expect to keep the role—“

“Sorry, I’m just hearing a lot of talk from another expendable person.” The flash of fear in the man’s eyes is just what he wants. Though he seems to talk down to the playwright, to question his every decision, he seems to forget something. 

The director needs Jisung. Jisung doesn’t need him. One name is established, the other is not. Care to venture a guess?

The man sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Jisung, I want this show to be successful just as much as you do. With her as the lead—“

“She has a name.”

“I don’t think it will be.” There’s an exhaustion on his face that pisses the playwright off, eyes rolling so far back he can see his brain. “That kiss is crucial, and if she can’t get comfortable with it, we’re fucked.”

Though begrudgingly, Jisung had to admit that he has a point. It’s a pivotal moment in the show, and as much as he stands by his decision in casting you, there are some adjustments that have to be made. You’ve already made such big improvements, what’s a few more?

He tells himself it’s for the sake of the show. That he’s not more invested in you than the others, that his interest in you is strictly professional. There’s no other driving force behind asking you to stay later for “review”. 

None at all.

You fidget with the sleeves of your sweater, sitting on the edge of the stage as you watch your castmates pout out of the theater. Each time the door opens, you get a glimpse of the setting sun. Soon it will be too late for you to walk; hopefully the review is quick.

Jisung sits on a stool by the curtain, using a music stand to hold his notepad. The only sound in the entire building is him chewing on the lid of his pen, focused in on whatever he’s scribbling.

“You’re doing good.” He says, voice muffled a bit from the pen.

Turning in his direction, you offer a soft smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ve been practicing a lot at home.”

“It shows.” Jisung caps his pen before standing up, walking towards center stage. “I knew you were capable of handling this role.”

You hate that every praise that falls from his lips gives you the tingles, a fuzzy feeling growing from your lower belly. Having this big of a crush on your superior is dangerous in so many ways, but every time you leave the plant to die, he comes in with a watering can. Filling you to the brim with feelings that shouldn’t be there.

“You know what we need to talk about,” he pauses in the center of the stage “don’t you?”

“The kiss.”

Jisung’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “I know it can be hard to kiss people we aren’t comfortable with, but this is an important moment in the show.”

You brace yourself for the scolding. At least you trust the playwright to give it to you nicely, rather than belittling you like others.

“How can we make it easier for you?”

Stunned doesn’t begin to cover it. So taken aback you almost slide off the stage, your eyes widen at him. No criticism, no telling you to suck it up and deal with it — only genuine concern for you and your emotions towards this scene. 

“I’m not sure.” You answer truthfully, turning so you’re facing Jisung. “Really, I’ve tried to come up with ways to make it easier, but…nothing works.”

He nods his head, lips pressed together as he hums in thought. “Let’s run it together.”

Out of everything you expected to hear from him, this wasn’t even on the list. Brows furrowed, you tilt your head to the side. “W-what?”

“Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?” He takes a few easy steps towards you, hand extended. There’s a choice to be made; accept the help, or navigate it yourself. Learn, or continue to be mocked by everyone but the playwright. 

His hand is warmer than you expect it to be.

“Let’s start at the top of the scene.” He says, moving into position at the top of the stage left. You move to your mark, taking a few deep breaths and letting the character take over. 

It’s strange, pretending to be someone else. There’s a thrill in feeling her emotions, in learning how things affect her. The pain caused by the war, the concern for her lover’s safety. The joy she is overwhelmed with when she sees he’s alright, running across the shipyard to greet him with a hug.

Your arms wrap around Jisung’s neck, a teary gasp falling from your lips as you angle yourself towards the audience. His arms coil around your waist, pressing your body firmly against his own. An embrace that was far too long coming.

She tells him how worried she was, how when he never wrote her back—

—he’s quick to reassure her, putting a finger on her lip to silence her. The letter got ruined, muddied and bloodied on the battlefield. Besides, no words could fully encapsulate what he wants to say.

And what is it, she asks, that he so badly wants to say?

Jisung’s hand comes to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back just a bit. Here. This is when she begins to fade, and your nerves take over. Your lips tremble as you attempt to stay in character, resisting the urge to break from his grasp.

“Relax.” He whispers loud enough for only you to hear. “Let me kiss you.”

Before you can blink, his lips are on yours. His lips are soft, molding to yours as if they’re a perfect fit. They move at a pace that freezes time, your body starting to soften in his hold. Hands come to his neck, gently holding either side as he deepens it slightly. Just enough to let you feel more of him. How firm, yet gentle he’s handling you. As if this is all he’s longed for since the moment he met you.

It’s over too soon, soft breaths intertwining in the space between your bodies. You can’t move away from him, hands sliding down to touch the collar of his shirt. Fingers curling around it, ready to pull him back in—

“Good.” Jisung releases his hold on you, taking a step back. “But it could be better. Again.”

Every inch of your body feels like static, mindless as you wander back to your mark. You’ve never felt this way from a simple kiss before; he left you needing more. How you remember your lines is beyond you, only one thing drawing you to stage left. 

The second kiss is sweeter. This time, he smiles against your lips, tongue softly teasing the bottom one. But just as you let him in, he’s breaking it off again, playful smile still on his face.

“Again.”

His tongue finds yours the third time around. It isn’t too intense, or overbearing. Steady, making sure he gets a taste of every inch of you without rush. As if all of his day could be spent like this, all of his life. There would be no better way to spend eternity than tied up with you.

Right as you grip onto his dress shirt, Jisung pulls back. “A-“

“No.” You whimper, eyes starting to water with the idea of going back to your mark. Not caring what this risk means, you press your body back into his, chasing his lips. “P-please.”

Before Jisung can speak, you kiss him. There isn’t a second to breathe, a second to let him gain control — your tongue is dancing with his, desperate compared to the way he kissed you before. If he was patient, you’re wild. Unruly. Fearing the separation of bodies like you’ll die without his contact. 

Fingers tangle in your hair, and suddenly you’re ripped away from him. You paw at his chest, something feral taking over as you fight to get back to him. To his touch.

Jisung clicks his tongue before laughing. “Greedy thing.” His voice is bone chillingly low, the static of your body freezing. “Has all the power gone to your head, my little star? Have you forgotten who was in charge?”

“P-please.” You’re panting, the tears in your eyes beginning to spill. “I need—“

“Need?” He yanks on your hair harder, tilting your head all the way back. The sting of your scalp pulls a broken cry from you, though it sounds very similar to a moan. “You don’t know what you need.”

Before you can say anything else, he uses the grip on your hair to shove you to your knees. Atop his leather loafers you’re perched, forced to look up at the playwright. The creator. The one who made you this damn desperate. 

Oh, what a pretty reminder it is that you’re nothing without him. 

“When you caught my eye, I didn't expect you to be so demanding.” His fingers skillfully unbuckle his belt, pulling it from the loops. “My sweet little star, did the stage already ruin you?”

Before you can answer, the belt is looped around your neck. Fit snugly, the playwright pulls, testing it. Just enough pressure to choke you but not to harm you. Exactly how it needs to be.

Your fingers wrap around the leather, tugging lightly as you shake your head. “N-no sir.”

“Then I shouldn’t hear no come from you again.” He says with a twisted smile, free hand undoing the button of his pants. The outline of his cock is heavy, a tiny wet spot near the head that makes your mouth water. In a fluid motion, it’s in his hand, slowly pumped in front of your face. 

You’re not sure what is happening with you, the static starting to take over your brain. Without thinking, you blink up at Jisung and let your tongue roll out. Ready for him.

“Good girl.” He praises, bending down to spit in your open mouth before he slides his cock in. Lips parting, a breathy gasp leaves him as you wrap your lips around him. Taking every inch of him.

The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, soft gags fluttering around it. Nothing has ever tasted better on your tongue. Carefully, you begin to bob your head, making sure to keep your eyes on him. 

A redness creeps up his neck as sweat lines his hairline. Fuck, he’s so beautiful. Sparkling under the stage lights, every sharp detail of his face looks godlike from this angle. A perfect being to praise so passionately. 

He cups your face, softly stroking your cheek as he chokes you with the belt again. Spit is dribbling out of your mouth, rolling off your chin and hitting the hardwood floor. It’s not long before he starts to lose patience, tightening his grip on the belt and fucking your face with vigor.

“That’s it.” He groans, watching with glee as you start to twitch. Clinging to his legs for support. “That’s my good girl.”

One more sharp, deep thrust and Jisung is pulling out. The tip of his cock is angry, brought so close to the edge only to be denied. Lifting his right foot, he brings it to your shoulder, shoving you flat on your back.

His knees land on either side of you with a thud, rushed hands tugging your white sweater up. At the sight of your pink bra, a bright smile covers his face.

“Look at you.” Jisung pulls the cups down, letting your perfect tits bounce out. “I knew you were perfect for me.”

Your fingers dance across his chest, loosening every button you can find until his shirt falls open. His chest is warm compared to your hands, lingers at his nipples. With a mischievous smile, you roll one between your thumb and forefinger, delighted when his skin erupts in goosebumps.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath before latching on to one of yours, nipping and sucking at the bud until your moans begin to echo. The entire theater getting a taste of the sweet sounds you make. 

Your head rolls back, savoring the feeling of his lips all over you. The stage lights twinkle above you, each one lighting the most beautiful scene this stage will ever see. All consumed by the thrill of him, of being the soul of the stage. It all comes back to you.

Jisung’s hands reach under your skirt, tearing at your panties until they’re ripped from your body. Moving to the other nipple, his fingers dip in your folds. Softly stroking your slit, the slick sticking to him as he feels every inch of you.

Whining, you pinch his nipple harder until he begins to bite at yours. “D-don’t tease me.”

He chuckles, biting down hard enough to leave a pretty little mark on your breast. “Fine.” And then his fingers are gone, as if they were never there.

Shock makes your jaw drop, the protests rising in your throat. What a shame they’ll never be heard — Jisung’s cock quickly takes the place of his fingers, plunging into your depths with little resistance. 

You moan in unison, eyes rolling back as the playwright begins to fuck you in earnest. His hands slip under your thighs, pushing your legs up until your knees are by your ears. The position allows him to fuck you in a way you’ve never felt before; like it’s setting the static on fire. 

Turning his head towards the empty theater, Jisung’s lips brush your calves. “Why did you audition for my show?” He grunts out, slamming into you hard before pausing. “You had no experience, practically no chance, but you took the chance. Why?”

It’s hard to think with the head of his cock pressing against your sweet spot, hands scrambling to find his shoulders. Anchoring onto him. “I-I don’t know—“

“Yes, you do.” The next thrust is more intense, knocking the breath out of you. “What brought you to me?”

Your lips start to wobble, hiccuping softly as you cry. His dark eyes are hard on you, filled with a dark lust completely unfamiliar to you. A feral craving; you thought you needed him?

Oh, little star. But he needed you more.

“Wanted.” You take a slow breath, softly cupping Jisung’s face. “To be c-close to you.”

A silence falls over the theater, long enough to make you begin to regret ever submitting an application. It was silly of you to try out, and then to fuck your idol. God, how dumb—

When Jisung starts fucking you again, it’s intense. The floor quakes beneath you, raptors shaking with the sheer volume of your cries. A large hand cups your face, turning it in the direction of the audience.

“Here you are, my star.” He grunts through his teeth, movements beginning to grow sloppy as he nears his end. “Let me give you my all.”

The heavens are breaking, cracks sending each star down to earth. They begin to rain around you, lighting you in a beautiful white flame. Never have you been so consumed, an orgasm breaking you down into nothing but dust. Body lying limp, you happily welcome Jisung into you. The force enough to rival the sun.

Your legs fall lifelessly, his head hitting your chest in a similar fashion. Wrapping his arms around your body, Jisung lays kisses on your sweaty skin. Carefully bringing you back down to him.

“I don’t think we rehearsed enough.” You say, eyes shutting as your fingers rake through his hair. “Can we run it again?”

©: chvnnie 2023

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut

[bidisasterevankinard]

Inspiration Saturday 👑

tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings

mood board for bra fic to finally end (I will really hope it will help) (i need title)

Meet new wip you rule my heart(I am your royal slave) or King Eddie and his Lord Buckley

thanks to make me think about King Eddie @mandzuking17 💙💙💙

snippet (long) under cut

Because perhaps he has the crown on his head and all the kingdom in his hands, but Lord Buckley has his heart in his hands and his brain wrapped around his long fingers he traces over his waist, tugging the sheets, which hides his as King suspect naked body, lower to the point that Eddie can see the V-line, and with just one look and and faced expression promising what King will have if he just does one thing he was asked. 

Send miss Flores, Christopeher’s english teacher, from the castle. 

Eddie wants to laugh at the fires of jealousy he sees in the oceans but he doesn’t dare to do it because he knows that his lover can easily lock himself in his bedchamber and he wouldn’t be able to even touch him and eventually he would break and do what his Lord wants anyway.  

Eddie just wishes to know what happened that his lover who was happily sleeping when Eddie left him in his bedchamber to have breakfast with his parents, did not come to check on him after, how he always does to cheer Eddie and remind him that he is a much better king than Ramon was and kingdom was blessed with him. And then of course give his King the pleasure so good that the king does not think about anything more than sweet kisses of plump lips and silky hands on his body touching his most sensitive part till the point Eddie sees the heaven. 

After last night King expected that perhaps his Lord would even be in the mood for more than his hands or mouth to bring Eddie to the point of bliss. King really expected to feel the warmth of all the body he cherishes on him while he too deep inside his own blessing in the form of miles of pale skin with freckles, blue eyes and long legs with strong thighs that his lover knows how to properly use to ride him on any surface. 

But Ramon and Helen left for their castle where they live after retirement after breakfast, and Eddie had one meeting today, but his lover did not show.

That is why, wanting to find out what was the reason that the routine that brings happiness to the king for almost ten years suddenly broke. He did not find his Lord in his bedchamber where he left him in the morning, thus he went to check in the Lord’s and of course that is where he found his definitely angry lover reading a book while lying naked, only with diamond necklace Eddie gave him on their one year anniversary and since then it is his favorite to wear, and some rings Lord puts down only during bathing and sleeping. His body hides under silk blue sheets, which makes his pale skin almost shine and beg to be touched and claimed.

However, the King knows better when try to touch his Lord when he is moody. King should listen to what his heart wants and give it to him.

“I will ask Booby to find a new teacher as soon as possible, my love,” Eddie says, reveling in the way his lover waves his head in approval that his hair falls over his eyes and he tucks one of the curls behind his ear. 

“You better do it faster, in a week the most, or,” Buck, the name only the chosen ones have the right to call king’s heart and soul, points his fingers with three rings Eddie gave him during years of their love, three because Buck likes to wear as much jewelry as he can showing off to everyone, who marked this way by King, even if only counted amount of people knows it, and with raised eyebrow and still angry face, “I will sleep in my bedchamber for two weeks. At least,” he rises from the bed gracefully, hugging himself supporting the thin material around his body, which confirms Eddie's theory that he is undressed, but Buck turns from him fast, straightening up to his full impressive height and pushing his chest forward, looking at the roses Eddie’s sure he bought yesterday to his bedchamber for put the smile on the face of his Lord before the blissful night he was promised and had. 

“You can go do as you promised and talk about Miss Flores with Lord Nash, my King,” Buck, still not turning to him, waves his hand towards the door.  “The fast you send this … woman from the castle the faster I will be in your embrace again.”

“And what if I do it today?” Eddie makes the little move trying to be closer to the Lord and with a smile noting Buck does not move.

“If Miss Flores would be out of the castle today then,” Buck turns to him, lowering his hands and letting the fabric that covered him gently descend over his body to the floor. 

King can just swallow the salvina, looking at the body, which still makes him crazy like the first time he saw it under him, and all the marks he left yesterday playing in the light of the sun makes him desire to leave more.Or at least has a chance to trace then with his fingers and lips. “Then you will have to do anything you want with me, my King. Anything,” Buck slyly smiles, almost moaning the last three words and again turning away from him. 

“Now leave me alone, Your Majesty. I want to have my midday bath and relax after my mood was crashed when I was planning to ride you good morning in the throne room after breakfast with your parents to make your day better,” Eddie curses the man who took away this opportunity from him, somehow upsetting his lover. perhaps Eddie should think about executing them so that Buck doesn't resent him anymore.

“At least tell me who crushed it so hard, my soul, and why you want Miss Flores out of the castle,” Eddie stretches out his hand to touch the skin as gorgeous as the roses that Buck admires and even better, but he doesn’t manage to do it when his lover moves away from the touch.

“This … woman did it,” Buck hisses. “I was going to the throne room when I overhead her gossip with other maids about how you complemented her skills as teacher and said how Chris liked her, and she thinks she found the way to be the queen one day,” Buck spits out all these words like poison, and Eddie wants to laugh at his lover's dramatism, when blue-eyed crosses his arms not even a little bit being ashamed of his nudity in front of him. In fact Eddie knows the power Buck has over him being naked but not allowing him to touch, makes his Lord feel better. 

However, he knows better than to do it. Too deep feelings are touched in the heart of the Lord when he thinks that he can lose his king and the prince whom he loves like his son. Eddie knows this because Buck has cried on his chest more than once, afraid that Eddie might leave him. As if it were possible, as if his heart wasn't beating solely because Lord Buckley was his.

And even if he would laugh only about positiveness in the blood of the Lord then he would be just hypocritical, because it is him who once almost executed Lady Kelly for flirting with his Lord.

“You have a meeting soon, my King. Go and work. I want to be alone,” Buck slams his bathroom door in his face.

“I’ll send this woman out of the castle today,” he has only “hmm” as answer on this knowing too well his lover will be in the mood again only after a good bath, nap, food and when Miss Flores would be not even close to him. And perhaps a new suit and jewelry is not a bad idea either.

Hence Eddie orders to make him meeting with Lord Nash and Miss Flores later today and to bring all of the Lord's favorite dishes to his bedchamber immediately. And send tailor to Lord, then pick the best flowers from the garden and send as many bouquets as soon as possible so all the Lord’s bedchamber are drowned in flowers. And also send a jeweler to him. He needs to make a new ring for his lover to make him remember it’s only him in King’s thoughts. Perhaps a new necklace too.

tagging no pressure @daffi-990 @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @transbuck @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @hippolotamus @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddiediaztho @elvensorceress @rogerzsteven @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @ladydorian05 @fortheloveofbuddie @gayarthur @rainbow-nerdss @watchyourbuck @diazblunt @pirrusstuff @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @jobairdxx @giddyupbuck @911onabc @forthewolves @lover-of-mine @fatedking @devirnis @transboybuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @bigfootsmom @ebdaydreamer @monsterrae1 @buddierights

#fic: you rule my heart(I am your royal slave) #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #evan buck buckley #my wips #bra fic