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luveline · 7 months

Note

Hello Jade! I have a request for hotch if that’s okay, I was thinking something like he’s dating sunshine!reader who goes to a police precinct with the team and the sheriff/deputy insults Hotch in front of her (maybe she’s not part of the BAU so he doesn’t realise she knows Hotch?) and she snaps and punches him/pushes him to the ground and afterwards she’s really quiet and refusing to tell anyone what happened cause she doesn’t want Hotch to hear that people were bad mouthing him. Everyone is confused cause she’s usually so bubbly and it’s disconcerting to see her so stern but she has to protect her man damnit 😤

(Ps I’m the anon who got confused about rules n you’re right I was looking under guidelines not requests 🤦🏼‍♀️ sorry!)

hi babe, thank you for your request! (and no worries at all, no sorry necessary!!)

—hotch is dumbfounded when you slap a deputy sheriff, but you have your heartfelt reasons. fem, 2k

You're not specifically BAU, but when Hotch calls, you answer. You don't look BAU either in your skirt with your blue laptop carry case; twice you're asked what you're doing in the precinct and if you need assistance, but eventually you get to the centre of the action upstairs, meandering through the detective's desks toward a conference room with a sticky-taped sign that says to knock before entering.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, shouldering open the door. "They leave you behind?"

Spencer turns away from his white board. "I'm more useful here right now. Did you bring the ethernet cable for Garcia?"

You put your laptop case on the table and pull out her desired cable. "Where is she?" It's hard-pressed for Penelope to be found anywhere away from her computer during case times. You must get twenty or more rejection emails a month from your fellow tech analysist. Sorry, working a case :'(

"Bathroom. There's a kitchen if you need coffee. You have a badge?"

You flash your visitor's badge at him. "Get you one?"

"Four sugars. Thanks, L/N."

You flash him a smile. The kitchen is back the way you came and to the right. It's nowhere near big enough for the workforce, three tables and one microwave next to a sink full of mugs. You smile at anyone who looks at you and beeline for a coffee pot. No one questions you. They must be used to outsiders invading their space this week.

"Mean fucking guy."

You tilt your head to the side, hand paused in their cup cabinet above the sink. You shouldn't be nosy, but they're not being very quiet, either.

"He has to be mean, I guess. That's a tight ship to run," says a second voice.

"I'd understand it if I thought they were getting somewhere. It's been four days, and between the string bean and his pushpin map and that tech girl who won't shut up? They're doomed. The boss is either too stubborn or too damn stupid to realise."

You close the cabinet and turn around.

"I fucking hate this shit. Ties in their suit jackets coming into our investigation and chasing the wrong leads. We could've had Miller in cuffs two days ago if Hotchner hadn't shut us down, two days ago! And now another kid is dead, and there's not a drop of remorse on him. He doesn't care about doing his job, he–"

"He what?" you ask. Your heart is beating hard before you've so much as parted your lips, your hands trembling. You screw them into tight balls.

"Excuse me?"

Your opposition is a rough hewn man in a deputies badge, a cup of coffee held between two paws. He narrows thick salt and pepper brows at your question, his mouth screwed into a telling snarl.

"You think Agent Hotchner doesn't care about his job? So why is he here? Why did he agree to take the case?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

You shake your head in annoyance and take the FBI badge from your little cross body bag. You toss it on the table, your beaming face looking up at him a juxtaposition to the glare you wear now.

He stands up from his table. The lunch room hushes but the riot of precinct cacophony stays strong just outside of the door, a thrum that battles your roaring heart. You're so angry you can barely speak, and it'll only get worse.

"I'm sorry you have to hear it from me, darling, I am, but your boss out there? Agent Hotchner?" The deputy scoffs. "He's a fool running blind. He turned away from the real issue here. He's a prideful, narcissistic idiot who's let the power of his paycheck get to his head, and as far as I'm concerned? So long as he stops us from arresting Jaden Miller? He's a murderer, too. The blood is on his hands."

You know you're going to slap him from the moment he says 'murderer', but the knee to his crotch straight after is a surprise even to yourself. All you're thinking for one horrible white-hot moment is How can I hurt him? It's shameful, and you slam your knee up a second time anyhow.

—

"You can tell me what happened now or later, but it's going to be much easier on you if you tell me now."

Hotch hates this part. What he wouldn't give to have someone else here to reprimand you. He understands why Gideon left and he wouldn't want him back unwillingly, but Hotch thinks your nightly phone call may go over smoother tonight if it were Gideon standing in his place. Half the time Hotch finds he's uninterested in scolding you. It's why you stay firmly in your department and away from his bias in the BAU. He can't be optimal at his job while you're around.

It's not limited to telling you off, of course. When you're near, he wants to act like it. He wants to take your hand, hold your arm, rub a palm between your shoulders. He wants to pull you into his lap, or pinch the soft lobe of your ear between his fingers to watch you shiver, blow warm air at the back of your neck to hear your laugh. This cold silence is his worst nightmare, but he can't cross the line.

Well, he can't cross the line too much.

In the privacy of a cordoned, borrowed office, Hotch can sit beside you. The blinds are closed, and his intimidation act wasn't getting him anywhere anyways. More flies with honey than vinegar.

"I can't show favouritism here, do you understand? Especially when you're being physically violent against the deputy sheriff." Hotch watches the soft pillow of your bottom lip tremble in a private terror. "I know you wouldn't do this for no reason. I know. Give me a reason to take your side and I will."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did he say something inappropriate?"

You don't answer.

"Did he?" Hotch can feel the anger he's been pushing down start to rise. When a woman like you, happy-go-lucky, pretty, and always smiling, turns to violence, it's not hard to picture why. He knows full well the horrible things a man can say to a woman. "Please, trust me to take care of this."

"Hotch, I really don't want to talk about this. You can reprimand me, send me home."

"No. Tell me what he said."

You glare at him. Hotch finds with a heart-skipping hurt that it's the first time he's been on the receiving end of your disdain. "No. I don't want to."

"And I don't want to send you home." He knows how he looks, stony-eyed and furrowed brow. He has to try hard to relax into a more neutral expression. "I won't. Not when I know you'd never hurt someone."

"Well, I did."

"We all do things we don't mean to in anger."

In the quiet, he can hear Emily asking loud questions about what happened, and her almost comedic gasp as someone informs her of the situation. Morgan couldn't find the words to tell Hotch over the phone what happened, just told him to hurry back, and it was doubly difficult to get the story out of Spencer, who'd been the one responsible for standing in your way.

"He called her a bitch," Spencer told him. "I didn't want to hold her back after that."

The sheriff deputy has a good hundred pounds on you, so no matter what he called you, Hotch is glad you were pulled away.

Hearing that you'd been called a bitch set his nerves aflame. When Spencer explained that this was said by a man on his knees after a swift jab to the crotch, Hotch was more confused.

He follows a whim. He's biassed for sure, but he knows you're the most beautiful woman in any room that you walk into. It doesn't shock him that a high-ranking authority figure would take advantage of his position to make a pass at you.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he says softly. "Whatever he said to you, I– I'm not supposed to support violence, but I understand if it got too much. Sexual harassment is unjustifiable, and I'll stand with you and your actions completely."

"He didn't harass me, Aaron," you say, looking down at your knees. You're wearing dark stockings, pinching at the fabric distractedly.

"Did he touch you?"

"No, Aaron–" You sigh frustratedly. "I don't want to tell you what he said because it's not true."

"He insulted you?"

"He insulted you." You glance at him and then away. "I couldn't stand it."

If there weren't cameras in the room he'd bundle you into his arms and kiss the slope of your cheek, because how is he supposed to handle this? You're hitting people when they talk bad about him now?

Hotch doesn't need to ask to know it was bad. You're a well-meaning, well-adjusted person. You'd hardly hit somebody for calling Hotch a jerk. Something severe would've been said to have pushed you over the edge, but, to his detriment, Hotch has heard a thousand awful things about himself from a thousand different mouths, and he doesn't worry about what it was.

"Alright. Listen to me carefully." Your shoulders stiffen. "I don't want you hurting people over me. I don't need you to defend me. I don't want you to fight my battles for me, and I certainly don't want you assaulting people on my behalf."

Your lip again begins to tremble. "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be sorry." He covers your knee in his hand gently, ducking his head to meet your glassy eyes. He's gone about this the wrong way, upsetting you unnecessarily. He rushes to correct it. "I love that you want to defend me, I love that you did, and it isn't lost on me how much it means to have you at my side, but… You could have been seriously injured. Honey, picking on someone your own size is a double-sided coin. What if the deputy hit you back?"

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt."

He leans down more, imploring, desperate to be heard. "I'm afraid of you getting hurt. Me. I'm worried someone's going to hurt you when I'm not around."

"He was saying all this stuff about you and it wasn't true–"

"It's okay," he says, shaking his head slowly from one side to another. "It doesn't matter. I know what people like him think of me, and he's not in an easy position." He drops his voice to a murmur for your ears alone. "I'm not saying you should agree with him, I can't tell you that I like him much."

You laugh weakly, the sound quickly melding to a sniffle. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I shouldn't have hit him. I don't know what came over me."

"We get angry for the people we care about."

He can't kiss you, really, not at work, but he can show you some heavy affection. It's a boundary crossed. Luckily, Hotch knows you won't report him.

"Thank you for defending me. You can stay on the case if you promise not to do it again," he says, squeezing your smaller hand in his, drawing a lopsided heart with his thumb into the back of it.

"I'll promise not to do it again if he promises to keep his stupid mouth closed," you mutter.

"Is it wrong of me to like this version of you?" he says.

You look him straight in the eye, your usual lightness restored, if dimmed just a touch. "I like all your versions, Agent Hotchner."

"Good. Remind the version that's your boyfriend to treat you accordingly tonight. Okay?"

You nod emphatically, both relieved and chastened. "Okay. Thanks, handsome."

You look tired. Tonight, he'll kiss you like he means it, maybe a touch too rough but apparently you're a hard ass now who can handle it, and he'll hold you close even if he can't give you the attention you deserve until the case is done. He'll make sure you know how much he appreciates your protection, rub your back for hours just the way you like it while sleep fails.

"You're welcome," he says. He has more to say but there's no more time to waste. There's still work to be done.

It'll come easier with you at his side, he's sure.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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symbiomancy · 3 months

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PRIZE —ryōmen sukuna

—summary: You and Sukuna make a bet. He doesn't clarify what he wants if he wins. It's okay; you'll find out soon enough.

—cw: f!reader, stepcest, otherwise pretty tame today

—wc: 1,4k // also on ao3

“So, do you even do anything on the court or do you just stand there and look pretty?”

Sukuna turns to you, brows raised. The corner of his lips curls up in amusement. “Just because you don’t understand how the game works doesn’t mean I don’t do anything,” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement makes his biceps bulge and you allow your eyes to linger on them momentarily before you meet his gaze again.

“Prove your worth, then,” you shrug your shoulders once and tilt your body to the side to get a glimpse of the people doing their last warm-up exercises on the basketball court. “Earn a lot of points, be the MVP. Win, or do whatever it is you do.”

He eyes the way you’re leaned to the side and the way you pull yourself straight again and shift your attention away from his teammates, head tilted, now staring at him through your pretty lashes. He likes this angle. You’re not that much shorter than him, but this, this angle he likes, and finds himself wanting to place his hand on your jaw and tilt it up.

“Let’s make it a bet, then.”

You purse your lips, narrow your eyes.

“Alright,” you cede, tilting your head the other way. “If you suck out there, you make me a second bento for a week so I don’t have to grab something from the convenience store on the way to my language classes. And if you win—”

“When I win.”

You roll your eyes. “If you win… I don’t know, what do you want?”

“I can choose anything?”

“Yes, unless it brings me physical, psychological, emotional or reputational harm.”

Sukuna is quiet for a few moments, staring at you with a new intensity. It sends a shiver down your spine and you take a quick breath in to dispel the jitter in your veins. Then, he holds out his hand.

“Deal.” He grins, broad and charming when you accept and shake on the deal. He motions to the overhead level where a crowd has gathered — mostly girls, probably from all years if you had to venture a guess — his other hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the stairs. “Enjoy the show.”

To his credit, he’s good. It takes a while for the game to get going, but when it does, he’s fast, almost graceful in the way he dodges around the other team’s players to make his way to the net. He stops, sneakers squeaking against the vinyl, and throws the ball. It’s a clean shot. His teammates pat him on the back and the girls around you cheer.

Your eyes meet and Sukuna stops, turns his body towards you, and does a small, almost mocking bow. The crowd around you explodes in a cacophony of screaming and you place your hands over your ears.

He sure is popular.

The games pass in a blur. Sukuna keeps up easily, netting point after point after point. Each time, the cheers of your peers threaten to deafen you. Then, the last game is called, the teams shake hands and everything winds down. People still linger when the teams are stretching and cleaning up. You even spot a few volunteering themselves for help.

Sukuna doesn’t say anything about the bet when you meet up after he’s showered and dressed and parted with his teammates. You congratulate him and he beams like you’ve never seen before, eyes bright and hair slicked back, curling at the ends. He doesn’t bring your bet up even at the dinner table or when you’re all winding down in the living room, everyone piled onto the couch and the armchairs. Your parents congratulate him on a successful match and his smile returns full force, launching into a play-by-play for everyone that wasn’t present. You almost think he’s forgotten about your bet by the time the lights are all out in the house.

Until there’s a knock on your bedroom door as you’re getting ready for bed. The clock on your laptop screen stares at you. Just minutes from midnight. You unlock your door and crack it open just enough to see Sukuna on the other side, leaning against the doorway with his hands in his sweats’ pockets. The outline of his cock is obvious against the fabric and you let your eyes linger on it for the fraction of a second before you raise them to meet his. You almost, almost get distracted by his lack of shirt. He notices.

“I figured out what I wanted,” he announces with an easy grin.

“Right now?” You glance at the clock again, then back to him. Sukuna nods. You pull your door open just enough for him to slip in. “Need I remind you the clause about physical, psychological—”

“Emotional and reputational harm. I got it; I took ‘em all into account.” He wanders a few steps deeper into your room as the lock on your bedroom door triggers and picks up the cat-shaped nightlight on your dresser. He smacks it once. It turns purple. He smacks it again and the light changes to warm white.

“So?” You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly rethinking your nearly non-existent sleeping attire. Summer is warm and stuffy; there’s no point in sweating through the night when you can keep your clothing to a minimum and the window cracked open. Cheeky shorts and a thin, cropped shirt help ward off the usual heat. Now there’s a different type of heat simmering under your skin.

“I want a kiss,” he says, placing the nightlight back onto the dresser. “A nice, proper kiss.”

“Why?” You shrug your shoulders when he gives you an incredulous look. “No, I mean like— you had so many girls practically throwing themselves at you during and after the game-meet-thingy; you could get a kiss from anyone.”

“Yeah, I could.” He closes what little distance separates you and hooks his knuckles under your chin. His other hand rests on your hip, draws lazy circles into the flesh. It sends a jolt down your spine, like livewire in your veins. “But I want it from you.” His breath fans your lips. Heat rushes to your face.

You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t ruin your parents’ relationship with something so messy, something like this, something that’ll only blow up in your faces down the line. But he’s all-encompassing, taking up your whole vision, everywhere is him and only him, his eyes glued to your lips.

Sukuna closes the gap. His mouth is slow on yours, his lips warm, slightly chapped. You really shouldn’t—

His hands skirt under your sleeping shirt, and travel up your torso, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Thumbs graze your nipples and you arch into his chest, gasp into his mouth. He swallows the sound, eager and hungry. His tongue slips into your mouth. The heat bubbling under your skin spreads through your body, has your pulse living in your throat. Your hands rest on his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. He grunts against your mouth, digs his teeth into your bottom lip and suddenly you’re lightheaded, his hands anchoring you to place, keeping you from floating off into space. His chest is pressed to yours, large warm hands on your ribs and then down, down, until one rests on the small of your back and he pulls you into him, hip to hip. His cock is stiff against your thigh.

You’re the first one to pull away, hands firmly on his shoulders when you nudge him backwards. Sukuna’s cheeks are flushed in the faint light of your cat-shaped nightlight, lips glossy, eyes half-lidded, breath loud in the confines of your bedroom, hands still on your body.

You inhale slowly but it does little to knock some breath back into your lungs. Your chest is heaving — so is his — and yet you step aside, unlock your bedroom door and pull it ajar. He slips out just as easily as he’d slipped in, his touch lingering as he takes his escape.

When you hear his bedroom door open, you lean into the hallway, calling out his name in a whisper. He looks over, hand on the doorknob, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “If… if you want to keep… this,” you motion between him and yourself, “going, get some chapstick, dude.”

You close the door and lock it.

banners by @/cafekitsune.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x you #stepcest

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starry-hughes · 4 months

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secret santa (jack hughes)

day 17 of star’s ficmas

jack hughes x reader

Jack Hughes tolerated you. He didn’t like you, he didn’t hate you, he tolerated you. You worked in the Devils organization, working as an analyst behind the scenes, meaning you were always around. You’d be in your office, analyzing the game from the night before or practice.

You weren’t exactly sure why Jack didn’t like you. Maybe you made too many suggestions to his game or got him in trouble which forced him to work on faceoffs more. You got along pretty well with everyone else, why not him?

The Secret Santa Tradition was always fun, you looked forward to it every year. You’d appreciate any gift really, no matter how big or small it was. You had pulled Jack. You were excited, hoping this was the chance for Jack to like you. You had given him the gift early, leaving it in his stall, half of the items on his list were bought. But, now it was the last day of the Secret Santa and you tried not to be sad that you hadn’t received your gift.

Jack had drawn your name. He was hoping for one of the other boys, but he got you. He knew who you were. Jack walked by your office every day, seeing you hunched over your laptop, sometimes he’d see you by the bench, or in team meetings. You were smart and he knew it. He actually thought you were really smart and pretty, but he had made a bad impression on you.

He didn’t know what to get you, staring your list of items you suggested, looking at what you like. He wished he didn’t participate. He saw your office decorated for Christmas and could just assume you liked the holiday. Jack picked the smallest item from the list.

The present was thrown into a gift bag and left on your desk. You saw your coworkers getting big gifts and nice things, and the keychain you asked for stared back at you. You blamed yourself for even putting the item on the list but you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting a big gift.

“Dude, my Secret Santa got me this nice blanket,” Erik said. “I got mine a keychain.”

Jack suddenly had the whole locker room staring at him. “You got them just a keychain?” Dawson asked. “It was on their list!”

“Who’d you even gift?” John asked. “(Y/N).”

“You’re a dick,” Nico scoffed. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What did I do?” Jack questioned. “What did your Secret Santa get you?” Luke asked him. “Like four things off my list…”

At the end of the day, you shoved your stuff into your bag. It was hard to not be upset over the small keychain you were given. But you had tried so hard to be in the holiday spirit, buying everyone hot chocolate, decorating your office, offering to do extra work so other people could spend time with their families. And you got a keychain.

You began the walk to your car, when you were stopped by Jack. “Hey, (Y/N), you got a second?” Jack was just going to apologize, make amends. “I was your Secret Santa, and it was a bad gift I guess,” Jack confessed. The guys had all convinced him to apologize. “It’s fine Jack. I put the keychain on the list, I didn’t want anyone to be forced to buy me something special, I appreciate it,” you blurted. Jack frowned, “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “I just,” you sucked in a breath, “I don’t know if I did something to upset you or anything, I put the keychain on my list, I got what I asked for I guess.” Jack felt bad.

“I gotta go Jack. By the way, I hope you liked all your gifts. Surprise, I was your Secret Santa,” you sighed before walking away.

Jack felt like a dick. He remembered how excited he was for getting his own gift, knowing how much his teammates spent on the gift game, he was an absolute jerk. You deserved more than that.

The next day, your office was empty and Jack had brought a bunch of gifts and left them on your desk. The day after that, you were out again. He was thinking it was because of him until you walked in on the third day. Jack finally didn’t have to throw away the extra coffee he bought. “(Y/N), here,” he greeted. “What’s this for?” you whispered. “I’m trying to make it up to you?”

“It’s fine, it was just Secret Santa. Your gift to me is useful, I haven't lost my keys in two days,” you joked. You went to open your office door. Your eyes landed on all the presents. “Jack, I didn’t need these. I’m okay.”

“A date then. To make it up.”

You looked at him, “Really? A date, just to make it up?”

“I don’t hate you, I just don’t know how to act around you. I want to impress you. I’m sorry. Just one date, a Christmas present?”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #star’s ficmas #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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stayconnecteed · 5 months

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❪⠀🪐.⠀𓏔⠀i wanna be yours · masterlist⠀❫

☆ㅤif you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot !!

synopsis: eight stories that take place at the 5-STAR café, known on campus as the best place to study for your exams. the owner, bangchan, recently finished his degree, and decided to turn the place into a shelter for students who are trying to get the best coffee as cheaply as possible. stay and discover the love stories that hid between the walls of the place, in which employees and customers are the protagonists.

content info: stories non-related one shots, there is no specific order, although i will post them in the classic skz order (first the older, the maknae as the last one). specified warnings on each chapter.

( hii, happy sunday!! ♡ )

01. ╱ HOT CHOCOLATE (bangchan).

Every time you tell someone that you don't like coffee, the reaction is total incomprehension, even indignation. But when your university classmates leave you standing at the café where your crush works, you decide to order a coffee to try to avoid looking bad and end up making a fool of yourself.

02. ╱ CAPPUCCINO (lee minho).

After a bad run you are forced to look for a second job, and you end up covering the first shift at the campus café. Every morning you find the same guy waiting for you to open, leaning on the wall, looking flawless, and it gets on your nerves. Until one day you see him leaving the dance academy where you teach, getting on the same bus as you.

03. ╱ FLAT-WHITE COFFEE (seo changbin).

The boy on the train you met the other day invited you on a date at his favorite cafe, and although he seemed like the perfect guy, he is turning out to be a disappointment. Luckily, the cute barista serving you has noticed, and is trying to make you have a good time, despite everything, which makes you think that you wish the date had been with him.

04. ╱ ICED AMERICANO (hwang hyunjin).

When arguments at home get too loud to ignore, you always end up grabbing your laptop to go study at the café next door, but it's not the first time you've run out of battery. Unfortunately, the tables with plugs are usually occupied, even the one next to you, where the annoying boy in your class who doesn't want to let you plug in the charger is sitting...

05. ╱ ICED CARAMEL LATTE (han jisung).

You have been working in the hostelry industry for a long time, and for a few months now at the 5STAR café, but recently your boss has changed everyone's schedule, and now the person who has the shift before you leaves you post-its stuck everywhere. It always makes you smile, until one day you decide to find out who it is.

06. ╱ MATCHA TEA (lee felix).

You haven't been in Korea for at least two years, but when you return to do a trip and show Seoul to your sister, you end up back on the campus with the excuse that you can't leave without your sister trying 5STAR's coffee. To your surprise, the freckled barista still remembers your order perfectly. It can no longer be a coincidence when your sister starts talking about him in your mother tongue and the boy seems to recognize the language.

07. ╱ ESPRESSO (kim seungmin).

With how much effort your grandmother had put into spending entire afternoons trying to teach you how to play chess, no one could have guessed that you would like it so much, or that you would be that good at it. And you had no idea that when you had accompanied your friend to the place where he works and moved that piece on the board, you were going to start a game of anonymous chess that you were more than willing to win.

08. ╱ FRAPPUCCINO (yang jeongin).

Whenever Changbin asks you for a favor, you end up regretting agreeing to help him. This time it is to be in charge of training the new barista hired, who seems to be seeing a coffee maker for the first time in his life. Even so, you take pity on him and try to teach him everything you know, even if that means listening to your colleagues' jokes and customers' comments, even discovering that maybe he didn't know so little.

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taasgirl · 2 months

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say something pt 1.

summary: although playing for the same club, pedri and y/n cannot stand the thought of being around each other. enemies to lovers for all my girlies out there - i got u

a/n: not proofread and all in english + more installments coming soon!!

"I told you I can't go out." Salma hadn't stopped bothering me about some party with the men's team. I had so much school to catch up on.

"Come on don't be a party pooper. You study every night and train every day." I spun my chair to face my laptop. "Seriously Y/N, it's only one night." Rolling my eyes, I continued writing my paper.

I had been at university for the past year or so, while simultaneously playing football. For Barcelona. I know, pinch me moment. But I was so determined to graduate high school, and get a degree. I wasn't going to let anything stop me.

Even if it was my dream profession.

The coaches and staff at Barcelona were very understanding, however they weren't too happy when I had to leave training early for lectures.

But I guess I make up for it, I'm the league's top goal scorer, currently on 21 in 9 games. A feat slightly unbelievable to my lecturers and classmates - they think it's insane that someone 'famous' would even bother with university, but I love journalism. Something about writing is so me. Especially topics that I love.

"Don't be a bum Y/N." Truth is, I really wanted to go, but I had already agreed to help one of my classmates with some work.

"I'm supposed to be studying with Alex." Salma instantly spun me around. "The hot one?" I didn't respond.

Alex and I had our fair share of flirty kisses and almost intimate moments, with Salma being our first and only 'fan'. Seriously her words not mine.

"Well bring him then. You two should loosen up. Literally everyone will be bringing a plus one." Now that would actually be a good idea, but he seemed like he really needed my help, and lucky for me, he didn't want to bother me so it would all be through facetime. I could study in the comfort of my bed, in my pyjamas.

"Sorry Sal, you have fun but I'm staying back." She scoffed, this happened a lot, she'd invite me, I'd reject, and then say, "You look really hot though."

"Wait so what did you write about?" I would be lying if I said this wasn't awkward. We had hooked up a few times, and yet each time we spoke to each other it was just as awkward as the last. The term 'friends with benefits' was definitely not applicable to us.

"Umm, mine's just about some of my teammates. You know, sports injuries and that sort of stuff." He smiled when I spoke.

"It's so cool knowing you." Awkward silence soon followed. "Hey uh, I'd really like to take you out. To dinner maybe? You know, when you're not busy being a professional and all that." Well I can't really reject the guy who's made me orgasm multiple times.

"Yeah sure. I'm sure we could go out after class one day." Yeah I was not going to go out with him.

After a few hours of studying with Alex I got a call from Salma. "Hey Alex, I'm getting a call, I'll message you later." Hanging up our facetime, answered Salma's call.

"How's hot boy? Have you fucked yet." She was slurring her words. Definitely off her face drunk. "Hey is this Y/N?" I replied to the voice, one of a man's. "Listen we need you to come pick Salma up, she's drunk." The boy on the other side of the phone said it almost annoyed.

"Who is this?" Immediately he replied, "Pedri. Now can you hurry? I'm sending over the address." The notification popped up on my phone, she was at a club downtown.

"I can't." Pedri didn't speak. I knew him from our minimal media interactions, but other than that, he had a reputation as a dickhead fuck boy. "What do you mean you can't?" Because I was so preoccupied with school and work, I never had the time to get my license.

"I can't drive, I don't have a license." I could almost hear him roll his eyes.

"Are you serious? How do you expect her to get home?" He was clearly pissed off. "Maybe be a gentleman and drive her home?" He groaned, obviously unwilling to do so.

"Don't put her in a cab. Drive her home, here I'm sending you the address." As soon as he received my message through Sal's phone he hung up. What a dickhead.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard loud banging at my door. Rushing over, Salma practically fell in my arms. "Y/N you won't believe the night I had." She needed to sleep, we needed to be at training by 6 tomorrow for fitness testing. I have no idea why she'd pick tonight as the time to get wasted.

"Thank you Pedri, I'll see you tomorrow." As I went to shut the door, he stuck his foot in, pushing the door wide.

"So I leave a party with beautiful women to drop your lightweight friend off, and you don't even offer me a glass of water?" His tone was condescending, as he followed me through our apartment.

"Yeah well, sorry for ruining your night." As I helped Salma into her bed, he leaned on her doorframe. "You know usually when I take a girl home it doesn't end like this." He smiled, that kind of dickhead-fuckboy smile. I didn't respond, walking under his arm as I made my way to the front door. I opened my wallet and handed him €10. "For the petrol, now please leave." I pushed the money against his chest as he scoffed. "I don't need your money." He looked me up and down. "See you later Y/N."

Salma and I successfully made our way to the Barcelona grounds, a round of water and plenty of bread slowly sobered her up.

"So how was your date with sexy classmate." I smacked her lightly. "Awkward as fuck. You'd think that someone who's seen me naked plenty of times would know how to talk to me, but I guess not." We walked past the front desk. "Morning. And it wasn't a date, just a study session."

Making our way to the changerooms, I made eye contact with a certain somebody. That certain somebody came over to us. "What do you want?" He looked at me puzzled, in a dismissive way. "Oh I'm not here to talk to you." He diverted his gaze to Salma. "You were quite the partier last night." She smiled at him, I have no idea how.

"We gotta go. Bye Pedri." I pulled Salma away from him. "You're literally gay stop making eyes at him." She looked at me as we sped walked through the hallway. "Doesn't mean a girl can't look." I rolled my eyes. I can't take this girl seriously sometimes.

By the time we had made it out to the field, everyone could tell that Sal was hungover. She wasn't hitting anywhere near her top speed and was very slow at our reaction training games.

Jonatan pulled her aside, and soon enough, she was escorted inside by our assistant coach. "Bring it in girls." I stood next to Lucy as Jonatan began a speech.

"It has come to my attention that there was a party last night." The girls began looking around at each other. "And I understand that you are young and want to have fun, but when alcohol or even drugs are involved, it becomes a problem for the club." Lucy looked down at me.

"I need you to all be aware of what you're doing. You are professional footballers, and now is not the time to be partying let alone drinking." The girls started to whisper to each other.

"And I especially need you to look after the kids here. They're young and vulnerable. If you see them in a less than ideal situation, you need to help them out." Jonatan didn't raise his voice, one of the reasons why he has been my favourite coach. "Now get back out there."

Training was tense, and by the time we had arrived inside Salma was lying on one of the physio beds fast asleep. "Sal are you alright?" She groaned, covering her face. "Lucy said she'd drive you home, but I really need to get to class." I gave her a quick hug before I headed for the showers and prepared myself before class.

It's hard being a student-athlete, or an athlete-student depending on how you look at it. As I left the building I saw Gavi standing outside.

"Hey Pablo." He turned around, immediately hugging me. Gavi was my first friend here in Barca when I joined the academy, and although we haven't kept in contact as much, I still consider him one of my best friends.

"Looking good Y/N. You off to school?" I nodded, signalling to my laptop bag clutched in my hand. "You're seriously the hardest worker I know." After a short conversation a car pulled up to the kerb. A short honk alerted us.

"Get in Gavi. Y/N." Hey, at least he didn't dismiss me. "Can Y/N come, we just need to drop her off at the uni. It's down the road." Before I could reject Gavi's idea, Pedri spoke up. "Yeah no. Come Pablo." Gavi didn't get in the car.

"Seriously Pepi, let her come with us. It'll be a short trip." Soon enough, Pedri agreed, unlocking the back door for me.

Pedri didn't speak the entire ride, and even though it was short, I felt completely unwelcomed. By the time we had arrived on campus, Pedri drove right to the communications building. I thanked him, and stepped out of the car.

As I began to walk away from the car a familiar voice called out to me. "Y/N wait up!" Alex ran up to me, and immediately pulled me in for a hug. I could feel Pedri and Gavi's eyes on me, the car hadn't moved.

"Thanks for the help last night." We walked into the building together and found our seats.

After a boring three hour lecture, I quickly made my way down to the exit. "Y/N wait up." I spun around, facing Alex. "Is now an alright time to ask you to lunch?" I could help but blush. Now normally I would've politely declined, but I am so unbelievably hungry, so I agreed.

"As long as you're driving I'm up." He smiled and brought me to his car.

"I told you that class boy was your guy!" Sal yelled at me after being dropped home by Alex. "When you aren't preoccupied by the dick-"

"Yuck don't say that Sal!"

"It's true, see he's a good guy. Hot too."

I pushed a pillow to her face. She was really too much sometimes. We were sat on the couch, relaxing until it was time to sleep. She was telling me about this incredible girl from last night when I heard a knock on the door. I got up and answered it. To my surprise Pedri was standing there.

"Uh, um you left this in my car." He handed me over an unfamiliar plastic bag, but after a quick look inside, I could tell that it was my sports bra and socks from training.

"Oh yeah, um thanks." We stood there awkwardly in the frame of the door until Salma came up. "Left them in his car huh?"

Pedri immediately tried to speak but his mumbles were cut off by Salma. "Leaving your clothes in one guys car and then going out with a different guy the same day is truly boss energy." Pedri looked at me concerned.

"He and Gavi drove me to class ok, so let's get inside. Thank you Pedri, I really appre-" "Come in Pepi! Take a seat." Salma cut me off and ushered him in. Looking down at me, he made his way to my seat on the couch.

"You know what guys, I'm actually gonna head to bed." Salma pouted at me. "Come on, it's only for a few minutes." I shook my head and went into my room, grabbing my clothes so I could take a quick shower.

By the time I finished my shower, I could still hear Pedri and Salma talking. I wrapped a towel around myself and made my way to my room. That was of course, until I bumped into him.

"Maybe look where you're going next time." He said to me, a look of disgust plastered on his face. "Get the fuck out of my house." He laughed.

"Yeah cause this two room apartment is a house. You seriously need to get a life." I pushed past him, opening my door. "Oh and maybe you should try and be welcoming for once. God knows it'll do you a world of good." I slammed the door after hearing his comment. I have no idea why I even gave him the time of day.

He's such a piece of shit. I'm literally a university student who also happens to be a footballer - a women's one at that. I have no choice but to live in a shitty apartment with my teammate. I don't have the type of money he has.

pls let me know if you like this! i'll update as often as possible and pls give me some requests! i'll write about anyone (m+f)!! thank you!

part two!

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 months

Text

Seong Taehoon x Reader: Military Service

Final chapter spoiler! G/N. Fluff.

Your presence slips into stories with other troops. Places you visited together, things you both experienced, time spent side by side.

"Did you used to hang out at the arcade on your own?" A fellow soldier asks Taehoon.

Taehoon thinks of your face lit up in the artificial glow, his battle victories and KO reflected in your eyes. He responds to the question with a shrug.

It used to be true, after Do Woon, then it wasn't true at all once he met you.

"Are you stupid? Of course Haeundae beach is the best!" A voice pipes up amidst the mess hall chatter.

"Boring." Someone else dismisses, "Everyone always goes there. Overcrowded."

Overcrowded.

That's one way to put Taehoon's time with you and the Yoo Hobin Company at Daecheon beach, another well known tourist spot.

He spent most of the time annoyed on the train journey, irritated on the sand, shoulder barging people on the pier, and growling at men ogling you for too long.

But then you two ended up drinking on the pier alone that night; you swaying from drinking too much and Taehoon stone cold sober-

"You're really bad tempered you know," you narrow your eyes at Taehoon, who whips his head round at your slurred speech and scowls, "and your personality is definitely something. You're abrasive and mean and hotheaded."

Taehoon’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline at this unprovoked attack.

"How you have any friends I don't even know. It's like people are attracted to you being an asshole. I suppose I can't talk." You tap your chin, deep in thought and oblivious to how much he looks on the brink of storming off, "Though... I guess you're sweet in your own way. You're cute too. Especially when you pout. I don't pout!" You taunt, in a tone eerily similar to his and you cackle at your own hilarious impression.

Taehoon subtly stops his bottom lip jutting out.

"And you look after me. Even if you also deny that." You direct a drunken grin his way, and don't notice that he doesn't look mad anymore. You didn't even realise he was mad in the first place. "Your disrespect for my personal space is sometimes infuriating too but often hot." You take a swig of your beer muttering, "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Taehoon smirks, leaning into your space, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilting you up to face him.

"Hot, huh?"

"Asshole," you breathe. You don't know whether the rush of blood to your cheeks is a result of the alcohol or something else.

Taehoon arches an eyebrow, incredulous at your audacity. "I'm the asshole? After everything you just said? You want me to beat you up?"

You huff, looking anywhere but him. "I don't really think you're an asshole. Most of the time. I think I just... I really like you."

You had your first kiss that night.

You always tell everyone you don't know who kissed who, and Taehoon is surprisingly gentlemanly enough not to say.

But you remember leaning in first, feeling his gasp-turned-chuckle-turned-sigh on your lips.

His lungs are on fire, heart thumping in his ears, sweat dripping down his face

Put through his paces with an 80lb pack on his back, paying for his cocky attitude in the first month to his superiors.

He feels their eyes, impressed though lips curled, as he finishes the 6am drills first yet again.

"Shit!" Taehoon turns to see a private finishing behind him, a good minute slower, before dropping to all fours and dry heaving.

"H-How the fuck are you so fast? Who did you train with?"

Technically his dad. Taehoon gives his answer, clipped and curt.

What he doesn't mention is you sitting in the dojo all those evenings and nights and early mornings too. In the corner on your laptop, surrounded by books, half falling asleep. Or simply - watching.

What he also doesn't mention, nor has he ever confessed, is that your presence spurs him on to work harder, kick harder, punch harder.

If just for the way your face lights up, mouth forming an 'o', the occasional applause when he's been particularly impressive.

He calls you cringe every time.

Yet he has never mentioned how his chest puffs with pride at your praise, but he thinks it may have been obvious anyway.

Taehoon spots you, back to him, gently swaying to the music on your own. No doubt eyes on Rumi and Wangguk’s first dance as husband and wife, like everyone else.

Your hair looks longer, though of course it is. It's been months.

Self consciousness creeps in. Taehoon wonders if you mind that he hasn't had time to change, his bomber jackets untouched for so long. He wonders if you will like his hair, short and natural, military standard.

Most of all-

If you will still feel the same. After all, young love is fickle, flighty, fleeting.

He swallows down his nervousness and ignores the fluttering in his stomach.

You feel an arm curling round your waist. The weight of the hand and the heat of the embrace you've dreamt about for nights on end.

"I've been waiting for you," you whisper.

Taehoon kisses you. It feels like the first time, on the sun bleached pier, all those years ago.

Except, he leans in first.

The softness of your lips just as he remembers, and tonight, he feels your pleased sigh ghosting his skin.

#taehoon seong #seong taehun #taehoon seong x reader #seong taehun x reader #how to fight #seong taehoon x reader #seong taehoon #taehun x reader #taehoon x reader #how to fight x reader #how to fight headcanons #how to fight manhwa #viral hit headcanons #viral hit manhwa #viral hit x reader #viral hit taehoon #viral hit #wannaeatramyeon

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honeypiehotchner · 1 year

Text

gold star (Hotch x Teacher!Reader) -- one shot

Been working on this one for a hot minute oops. Just wanted to say thank y’all for being patient with me always (and we literally hit 5.7k followers even while I’ve been so inactive???? what????). Here’s a longgg dose of fluffy angst <33

Edit: I’m a dumbass and queued this for the wrong day

Summary: You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not. (Kinda enemies to lovers?)

Warnings: angst! talks of parent death, therapy, bad parenting/emotional neglect, y’know the works. Lots of fluff tho to make up for it. And a happy ending!

WC: ...5.7k-ish

I love my job. I love my job. If you say it enough, you’ll believe it. I love my job. You glance at the clock and see your next parent is late. I love my job.

You do love your job, you really do. What you hate are parent-teacher conferences that you’re required to do. Especially when the parent is late. After having to reschedule at the last minute. Twice.

If you didn’t have a genuine concern to discuss with Jack’s father, then you wouldn’t be here still. But alas, you care for Jack more than your annoyance at his father.

Jack Hotchner is a sweet kid. Genuinely wonderful. After his mom’s sudden death a few years ago, everyone worried about him. You’re friends with Julia, who was his kindergarten teacher just a few months after it occurred. Despite being a teacher for almost a decade that year, Julia had never encountered this situation, so she looked to you for help. You lost your mom when you were in first grade, so you were able to give her more helpful tips that actually work.

Now, you have the pleasure of having Jack in your second grade classroom and he truly is an amazing student. You only wish you could share this information with his father who seems to be on another plane of existence every goddamn--

A knock on your classroom door frame makes you jump.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron Hotchner rushes out, quickly dropping his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, standing up from your desk chair, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, and please, it’s Aaron,” he smiles sheepishly, walking over. He towers over the tiny desks as he maneuvers past them to yours. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. He has a firm grip, but his hands are soft. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I got caught up at work--”

“I figured,” you reply, sitting back down. You pull up your laptop and begin typing in your password. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make this quick. I should’ve left an hour ago.”

“Oh, sorry, am I that late?” he flicks his arm to look at his watch. He sighs. “I apologize.”

You hum. “Our conference was scheduled for 4:15.” You glance down at the clock on your screen. “It’s almost six.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Would it be better to reschedule?”

“Nope,” you shake your head. “You’re already here.” And if you reschedule, then this might happen again, so you’d rather do this now while you’ve got him here. “Fortunately, Jack is doing really well. He’s struggling a little with math, but he’s not the only one, and we’re working on it. He’s made a few friends, I know we discussed that last time. He’s breaking out of his shell, I think.”

“That’s good,” Aaron says, smiling a little. “That’s really good to hear.”

“Is he doing any extracurriculars?” you ask. Last time, when you voiced your concerns to Aaron about his son being a little too quiet and shy, you suggested asking if he’d like to do a sport, or play an instrument.

“He’s doing soccer,” Aaron says.

Your eyes widen. “Oh!”

“You look surprised,” he presses.

“I guess I didn’t expect Jack to…want to do a sport,” you shrug, checking your notes for the conference to stall.

What you really wanted to say is that you didn’t expect Aaron to listen to you. Given his track record, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d follow through and actually ask his son about trying a sport, let alone go through with signing him up for one.

“Do you have any questions for me?” you ask, closing your laptop lid. Aaron has been studying your face in this lull of silence, and it’s unnerving.

“I don’t think so,” he finally says.

“Okay,” you nod, not surprised. “I did have one more thing. I know I said Jack is breaking out of his shell, and he is, but he seems…down. Is something going on at home?”

Aaron sighs. “It’s getting closer to the anniversary of his mom’s death.”

That tugs on your heart. “Oh, I see. Alright.” You pause. “Uh-- If you don’t mind me asking, is he seeing a counselor or a therapist or anything?”

“He’s not, not currently,” Aaron says.

You blink. You shouldn’t really be surprised, but you are. “Has he at all since his mom’s death?”

“Briefly, right after she died.”

“Okay.” You clear your throat. You cannot yell at a parent. That’s unprofessional. “I know it’s not my place, but I’d highly suggest finding him someone. Especially right now as the anniversary is getting closer, and as Jack gets older. I would suggest our school counselor, but I think Jack would do better with someone better equipped for his situation.”

Aaron stares at you, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

You lean over and open a drawer, grabbing the handout specifically for times like these. Given the area the school is in, parents are typically able to pay for services like these, and are more willing. You know it’s because they don’t have the time to deal with their children’s emotions, so they pawn them off on someone else, and claim it as a good deed.

In a way, you’re grateful the children are able to receive help that you didn’t because your dad couldn’t afford it. You just wish the kids also received support from their family, not just from doctors.

“Here’s a list of great pediatric psychiatrists and therapists in the area.” You hand Aaron the packet and he takes it gently, his expression unreadable. Parents are always so weirdly defensive about this. “Many of our students see someone from that list, so I trust that one will be a good fit for Jack. If you want some help narrowing it down, I can help.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll look into this.”

I hope so, you want to say, but he doesn’t sound too sincere. “Okay,” you smile softly instead. “That’s all I have, unless you have any other questions?”

He shakes his head. “No, I think-- I think this is good.”

“Alright, well,” you pause, opening Jack’s folder. “I just need you to sign here, so the school knows we met.” You slide the form and a pen across the table.

Aaron signs swiftly, a signature born from frequent piles of paperwork. You know he does something in the government, you’re just not sure what. Nearly every parent here works in the government, though, so that’s not a remarkable conclusion to have made.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the signed form and sliding it back into Jack’s folder. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” Aaron says, standing up to shake your hand again. He’s so formal, you almost forget. He clutches the packet in his free hand, and you wonder if it’ll end up in the recycling bin at the end of the hall.

After shaking your hand, Aaron apologizes again for his tardiness, and then leaves your classroom. The clock on the wall says it’s just past six. A record for one of the latest nights you’ve been here.

Gathering your things, you do some last minute checks around the classroom before heading out, locking the door behind you.

As you reach the exit doors at the end of the hall, you peer into the trash and recycling bins. Both are empty, no signs of your pediatric psychiatrists packet.

At least that’s a win.

+++

A month or so later, you’re waking up early to go to a soccer game. If it weren’t for your kids asking you (loudly and enthusiastically) to come to their game, then you wouldn’t be awake right now on a Saturday.

Julia, at least, is coming with you, and so is Kate, a fellow second grade teacher whose classroom is across from yours. Julia is coming to see Jack, and Kate also has a few students who asked her to come.

The three of you stop for coffee before going to the park where the soccer games are held. Walking across the field, you find an empty space on the bleachers and sit down, looking around for your kiddos.

To your complete and utter surprise, you spot Aaron Hotchner -- of all parents.

You quickly avert your eyes, looking around some more. You haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron since the parent-teacher conference as Jack is usually picked up and dropped off by his Aunt Jessica. Jack has seemed a little more present and happy, but you have no idea if that means that Aaron actually sought help for his son.

Even more embarrassing, you’ve worried about your job since that conference. It’s always a gamble, offering parents advice. You never know what will cross a line and equal an angry phone call to the principal followed by a swift withdrawal of their child from your class. Not every parent has always been so keen on your attention to your students’ emotional wellbeing.

“Don’t look, but one of the dads cannot keep his eyes off of you,” Julia whispers.

“Which one?” Kate asks, then she spots him. “Oh, him-- He’s tall. Wait, is he…?”

You glance over and sure enough, the one in question is Aaron. He can’t tell that you’ve looked at him, though, thanks to your sunglasses. “That’s Jack’s dad,” you say, looking away again.

“I knew he looked familiar,” Julia murmurs. “I’m not used to him out of the suit. His hair is longer too, isn’t it?”

“Why would I know?” you counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Is he the one you mouthed off to?” Kate asks, nudging your arm.

You scoff defensively, “I didn’t mouth off--”

“She told him to put his son in therapy,” Julia explains with a prideful smirk. “Rightfully so, too. I would’ve done the same if I ever saw him.”

“Damn,” Kate chuckles. “Let’s hope that he took your advice.”

“And that he isn’t pissed at me for it,” you mutter. “I haven’t heard anything since.”

Kate and Julia share a look before Julia says, “He’s definitely not mad.”

Finally, you give yourself the chance to look over at him, and to let him see you looking.

You’ll admit, it is weird seeing him out of the suit, let alone in short sleeves. You’ve never seen his arms. They’re…nice. Muscular, more than you expected. Not that you’ve wondered about his arms, though. Or any part of him. Because he’s Jack’s dad, so you should not be thinking about him this way.

Still, you indulge, just for this moment. He keeps your eyes only for a minute before his attention is drawn elsewhere to the screaming kids practicing their warmups (if that’s what those can be called). He’s smiling from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen. The tiny smiles you managed out of him during conferences hardly ever looked genuine. This, though, this one is.

“You should talk to him,” Julia whispers, nearly scaring you shitless. You completely forgot where you were for a minute.

“No,” you shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “That’s practically asking for him to yell at me.”

“He won’t do that,” Julia chides.

“Well, I don’t know,” Kate grimaces. “Parents are finicky. I got yelled at last year by one who I thought was the sweetest ever. Until her kid didn’t pass a science test.”

“See?” you say, gesturing to Kate. “We have no idea what he’ll be like.”

“Besides that he’s looking at you again,” Julia says. “So he’s clearly interested in talking to you.”

“Then he can walk over here himself.”

Julia raises her eyebrows, shrugging. “Be careful what you wish for.”

You roll your eyes. Aaron is too busy with the kids and their game is about to start, so there’s no way he’ll walk over. Even if you speak after, Jack will be with him, so nothing will be said. It’s fine.

+++

Aaron’s mouth is dry. He feels like he forgot how to breathe properly.

He didn’t know you’d be here, and here you are. Beautiful. Except he shouldn’t think that, because you’re his son’s teacher. It’s inappropriate. But the way the sun hits your skin…beautiful. You’re beautiful.

He needs to focus. He’s supposed to be coaching the kids, not gawking at a teacher like some idiot.

To make matters worse, Rossi notices, and only silently raises his eyebrows.

Aaron told Rossi about your parent-teacher conference, and how he should’ve put Jack in therapy sooner -- along with himself. Rossi asked him if he thanked you for your advice, but Aaron never found the right time. He half-heartedly thanked you at the conference, but it wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been.

He meant to call you, or send an email, but he never did. Truthfully, he’s been terrified. He feels incredibly stupid to have not gotten Jack help sooner, and even more stupid that he finds you as attractive as he does. Can he be any worse of a person, seriously?

And now, you’re here. At Jack’s soccer game. Which, he guesses he should’ve realized sooner that a lot of Jack’s classmates are on this team, too. And others from different classes, but still in his grade. It was only a matter of time before one of the kids asked a teacher to come. It would only take one, and clearly it did, and he’s unprepared.

Wildly unprepared. And wishing he put on a better shirt.

+++

The soccer game is a disaster, but a wonderful one.

The kids are too young for points to be counted, so it’s just a game of fun chaos. Teams are blurred and never really followed. But they looked like they had a blast out there, so that’s all that mattered.

You, Julia, and Kate split up to see your kids and give out as many high-fives as you possibly can. You listen to their rambles and congratulate them on playing so well. The parents stand by with smiles, occasionally one piping up to thank you for coming.

Aaron is there, too, surprisingly. He’s still smiling bigger than ever.

There’s a man with him, too, who Jack calls Uncle Dave. Jack has mentioned him in class before, and he’s actually Aaron’s coworker. He’s smiling, too, just not as wide, and he keeps glancing between you and Aaron.

Just when you think you’re in the clear, Aaron tells Jack to go with Uncle Dave because he needs to talk to you about something.

You catch Julia and Kate’s eyes when Aaron is left alone with you, and your stomach turns. He doesn’t look angry, but then again, the parents never look angry at first.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Aaron begins, turning so the sun isn’t in his eyes as much. He’s still squinting, and it’s adorable. You wonder why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “I picked a therapist from the list you gave me for Jack, and it’s really been helping him. A lot, so, I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me.”

You blink, stunned. “You’re welcome,” you say slowly before you gain your composure. “I’m very glad that it’s been helping. And to see him playing soccer,” you gesture to the field with a smile. “He seems to really enjoy it.”

“Oh, he does,” Aaron chuckles. “He can’t get enough of it. He talks about it all the time.”

All the time. So maybe he’s spending more time with Jack, then. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”

You pause, waiting for him to say something else. The awkward silence lingers for a little too long, and you know what’s coming next.

“I was wondering,” he starts, and lowers his voice a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime.”

As much as you’d love to say yes, you can’t let yourself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, that would just be inappropriate.”

“No, no, not as a date,” he backtracks, confusing you. “Just to thank you for-- For helping me get Jack in to see a therapist.”

You raise an eyebrow. “To thank me…for telling you what you should’ve done in the first place?”

He sputters for a moment, clearly losing his bearings. “No, I mean--”

“Listen, Mr. Hotchner,” you smile sweetly, trying to contain yourself. “What would you like? A gold star? For getting your son a therapist after he went through an incredibly traumatic event?”

He doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes your anger and annoyance worse.

“Listen. The fact of the matter is that you should’ve kept your son in therapy since he lost his mother. And continue to keep him in therapy until he’s old enough to decide if he wants to continue seeing one or not. Because when my mom died, I didn’t get to have a therapist. We couldn’t afford it, and my dad was too out of his mind to even care. It nearly killed me, and my siblings. So don’t tell me that you want to thank me for something that I never should’ve had to do in the first place. You should’ve paid more attention to your son’s needs. Especially since you can afford services to genuinely help him.”

Your voice stayed quiet, thankfully, because you didn’t need everyone to hear you mouthing off to Aaron once again. You realize only halfway through that maybe you shouldn’t be saying these things in a setting such as this, but you’re too into it to stop.

Julia and Kate heard all of it, though. You can see their jaws open, eyes wide. Did you go too far? You don’t know and part of you doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and it hits far too close to home for you to say nothing at all.

Still, to cover your bases, you add one last thing. “I apologize if that was harsh, but it needed to be said. I want what’s best for my kids. And sometimes, that means getting their parents to see that they need to do better.”

You pause, and he nods, and says another quiet “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur. And to keep things from stinging any more, you walk away.

Julia and Kate catch up with you on the way back to your car, both too stunned to say a word until you’re inside.

“Damn,” Julia whispers. “Damn.”

“Holy shit,” Kate says with a small laugh. “Tell ‘em.”

“Yeah,” you exhale loudly. “Let’s just hope I still have a job by Monday.”

+++

You do still have a job come Monday, with surprisingly no meeting with the principal, either. Or a phone call.

You’re suspicious, but trying not to be. Maybe it’s all fine.

You convince yourself that it’s completely fine until it really is. Until you start seeing Aaron occasionally, picking Jack up from school. You aren’t sure how often he’s been doing it, because the only reason you saw him is that you were forced into car rider duty. You’ve always been on the bus lane, but they needed another teacher out front, and that’s where you saw him first.

It caught you off guard the first time, honestly. It had been three weeks since the soccer game, since you told him off in front of everyone. And what did he do this time when he saw you?

He waved. He smiled. And then he scooped Jack up into his arms.

She won’t own up to it, but you’re positive Julia saw the interaction because you haven’t worked the bus lane since. Because Julia suddenly volunteered for it, taking your place.

Now, it’s a bit of a routine. Aaron picks Jack up almost every day, although sometimes there are a few stretches of three to four days where he isn’t present. Those days, you see Jessica, and she smiles at you as well, but it’s different. You got so used to seeing Aaron those days, that when you see Jessica, it feels strange. It begins to feel the way it used to feel when you saw Aaron picking Jack up.

It makes you smile. You’re glad to see Aaron taking the time to see Jack, to put in the time — finally — knowing he has the means to be able to do this.

+++

For the rest of the school year, this is how you see Aaron Hotchner.

Neither of you say a word to each other, except for the final parent-teacher conference — which he arrives early for. The conference is entirely professional, and he doesn’t mention the past. Neither do you.

The final week of school fast approaches, and you’re looking for decorations to put up in the classroom. You try to make the last week special because you know they’re just as ready for summer break as you are.

Part of your “decorations” consists of candy that you’ll put on their desk every morning, which means you’re in the grocery store, in desperate need of candy to entertain your kids. Five different kinds. Something extra special on the last day, though. They’ll get out two hours earlier, but they don’t know that yet (the parents do).

Right as you turn down the candy aisle, you stop dead in your tracks, your cart nearly smacking into someone else’s. When you look up, you realize who it is.

“Mr. Hotchner!” you blurt.

He smiles that soft smile. “Please, call me Aaron.”

You’re not used to calling parents by their first name. You know he’s tried to get you to call him Aaron a few times, but you can’t ever bring yourself to. Instead, you change subjects, peering into his cart.

“Grocery shopping? For…” You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t even have a good joke. Why do you have so many marshmallows?” He has like…six big bags. Of varying sizes, too.

“Long story,” he says, sheepish. “Jack wants to build something out of marshmallows.”

“Does he want to build a whole country?” you chuckle.

“Sort of, yeah,” Aaron laughs. “He said he wants to build a whole city, then eat it. His words.”

“Wonderful,” you grin. “Sounds like a blast.” And a good idea. You might steal that for next year.

“What are you here for?” Aaron asks, nodding toward your empty cart.

“Candy, for the kids,” you reply. “I want to give them a different kind every day for the last week, just to make it more fun.”

Aaron smiles wider this time. “They’ll love that.”

“Thanks,” you say, mirroring his smile.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Or him, quite frankly. Building marshmallow sculptures with Jack? Unheard of. But you leave it alone, just glad he’s spending more time with his son.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping,” Aaron says, gesturing down the aisle. “See you on Monday.”

Baffled, you blink, then nod. “Yeah. See you Monday.”

You see Aaron every day of next week to pick Jack up, and you get to see Jack’s smile grow every day.

On Friday, you head back inside to your classroom, ready to pack things up. Thankfully, you’re returning to this room next year, so you don’t need to pack everything up.

As a tradition, you, Julia, and Kate go out to celebrate the end of the year, so you have to go home and get ready for the night ahead.

+++

Aaron doesn’t know why he let Rossi convince him to come out tonight. Jack’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house, so Aaron has nothing to do — theoretically. Until Rossi decided to drag him out.

Now, he’s sitting in a booth at a bar with a jazz band playing, and he’s wondering how many people Rossi can possibly know. Four people have already stopped to say hi, and they’ve barely been here for half an hour.

As Rossi talks with another friend, Aaron lets his eyes wander around the place, spotting the door when it opens. And you walk in.

He quickly averts his eyes, shifting in his seat. It’s enough to catch Rossi’s attention, and he gives Aaron a strange look, until he sees you at the bar with your two friends from Jack’s soccer game.

Aaron keeps his eyes trained on his whiskey, nodding absently when Rossi says he’s heading to the restroom.

What Rossi is actually doing is heading to the bar to intercept you and your friends, putting all three of your drinks on his tab.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, never one to argue with a free drink.

“You look familiar,” Julia blurts out.

“Dave,” Rossi introduces himself. “I’m a friend of Aaron Hotchner’s. I went with him to a few of Jack’s soccer games last season.”

“That’s where I’ve seen you,” you say.

Dave smiles. His back is turned to Aaron, so he can’t see Aaron glaring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing up there talking to you.

“Aaron’s here with me, actually,” Dave says casually. “He’s at the booth just behind us if you’d like to see him.”

Kate nudges your arm harshly. “She would.”

“Actually, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Go,” Julia urges. “Why not?”

You give them both a look. “Fine,” you cave. “I’ll be right back.”

Kicking yourself for caving so easily (because you really would like to see him), you walk over to the booth where Aaron sits. Thankfully, his back is toward you, so he doesn’t see you coming.

He beams a smile when he sees you though, standing up to greet you. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”

“Kate and Julia drug me out,” you confess, idling for a moment as you both try to decide if you should shake hands, hug, or just stand here. “You?”

“Dave,” Aaron nods, chuckling. Just standing here it is. “Did he send you?”

“They all did,” you nod toward the bar, where they’re all watching like hawks, no doubt. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” he gestures to the empty space. “How are you?”

“Good, we’re out celebrating the end of the year,” you reply, walking around the table and sitting down on the plush booth cushion. This place is fancier than you would’ve chosen, but Julia heard good things about it from a friend, so you ended up here anyway. “How are you doing?”

“Good, although Dave drug me out for drinks because apparently,” he lifts his drink, “I don’t get out enough.”

“Y’know, that’s funny, my friends tell me the exact same thing,” you laugh. “Dave bought our drinks.”

“I knew he was doing something suspicious,” Aaron jokes, glancing back toward the bar. Dave and your friends have taken over three stools, clearly set on giving you and Aaron some time alone. “Sorry again if he forced you over here.”

“No, he definitely didn’t. My friends did,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I have to ask, how did Jack’s marshmallow city building go?”

Immediately, Aaron digs his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lot of pictures, I’ll just show you.” He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll, already smiling at the thought of them. “He had a blast. We went through so many toothpicks. We both had stomachaches by the end of it from eating so many marshmallows.”

He turns his phone to show you the pictures, and without thinking, you scoot closer to him. To get a better look at the pictures, you tell yourself, but you know that isn’t the full truth.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “This so huge!”

“It covered our entire kitchen!” Aaron laughs with you, a sweet sound you wish you heard more often. “I didn’t tell Jessica about it, so she had a heart attack when she came over the next day.”

“I bet,” you nod seriously, swiping on his phone as he holds it toward you. “Goodness.” You look up at Aaron. “Did you guys eat all of them?”

“We’ve had a lot of hot chocolate.”

“It’s May.”

“I know,” he deadpans, feigning annoyance, but then he breaks into a smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been snacking on them maybe a little more than I should every time I go into the kitchen.”

“I would do the same,” you chuckle. “No judgment here.”

He smiles at you and tucks his phone away back in his pocket, and neither of you move from how close you’ve gotten.

“How are you planning to spend your summer break?” he asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. You try not to stare at him too much.

“Lots of getting ready for next year,” you reply, rotating your glass in your hand, focusing on it instead. “Mostly reading for fun, I don’t get to do that a lot during the school year when I’m reading for my kids and grading and such. I plan to do a lot of nothing, basically,” you laugh. “What about you?”

“The same, hopefully,” he says, which surprises you. And he can tell, because he elaborates. “I took a lot of time off from work. I work from home now, essentially. If I absolutely need to go in, then I do, but so far, Dave’s been able to handle it.”

You knew a big change had been made, especially since he’s been picking Jack up from school everyday. But hearing the confirmation makes your heart warm. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“Me too,” he says. “I know we’ve been over this, but I wanted to thank you for what you said, at Jack’s game—”

Mortified, you interrupt him. “Oh god, I hoped you had forgotten about that.”

“I didn’t forget—”

“I was rude.”

“What you said needed to be said and I’m glad you did,” he protests sincerely. “You shouldn’t have had to say anything, but you did, and I appreciate that.”

His sincerity stuns you. You blink, no words able to come out.

“We can move on from it now,” he says, noticing your hesitation. “I just wanted to be clear that I’m not angry with you for what you said, I’ve actually been the complete opposite.”

“Well,” you chuckle, trying to make light of this. “You didn’t call the school demanding I be suspended, so I knew you couldn’t be that upset with me.”

He stares at you, eyes widening. “Do parents do that?”

“Some, yeah,” you nod. “They don’t exactly like being told by a single teacher with no kids of her own that their parenting skills are shit.”

He laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey. You watch him raise the glass to his lips, but look away before he can catch you. You smile down at your own drink. This is embarrassing.

You thought this little crush -- or whatever it is -- had gone away since you hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game. Sure, you started to look specifically for him in the pickup area, but that was for Jack. That wasn’t for you. Or, at least, that’s the story you spun for yourself.

“What’s on your list to read this summer?” Aaron asks, bringing your eyes back to his. He’s smiling. “I’ve been meaning to read more -- outside of the books Jack and I read.”

You remember Jack telling you about The Magic Treehouse series that Uncle Dave got him for Christmas, and how his dad was reading them with him.

“What, The Magic Treehouse isn’t enough for you?” you tease Aaron, and he laughs, that sweet sound you can’t get enough of.

You tell him about the books on your shelf at home, the ones you got years ago and have yet to read, and the others that you got this year because you couldn’t resist. He listens to each one, never once taking his eyes off of you.

“I am not going to remember all of these names,” he chuckles.

“I can text them to you,” you offer, a grin creeping up your cheeks.

He mirrors your expression. “You stole my line.”

“Oh, that was your line?” you ask, laughing as you pull out your phone. “Fine, fine, you can have it back.”

“No, you said it first,” he says, still grinning. He hands you his phone as you give him yours. “I’m bad at this anyway.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, typing in your contact information before handing his phone back. “I’ve had a pretty good time.”

He waits a moment, just basking in your smile, the feel of your fingertips brushing against his when he returns your phone. “Me too.”

The night doesn’t end there, as the two of you continue talking. Another round of drinks is sent to your table by Dave and your friends who wave enthusiastically when you and Aaron look over at them.

“Free drinks, at least,” you shrug. “How much money does Dave have?”

“Don’t ask,” Aaron shakes his head. “He’ll never tell.”

As you both finish your first drink and head into the second, you scoot even closer. You bring your legs underneath you on the booth, getting comfortable as you and Aaron start to talk about your favorite movies. He tries to be sneaky and put his arm around you, but you notice and can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I told you I’m bad at this.”

“No, it’s sweet!” you protest, leaning into his chest. “It’s very nice, I don’t mind.”

He moves his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulders then, his hand resting on your arm. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you smile softly, turning your head to look up at him. “What movie were we on?”

He stares so intently, searching your face. You watch as his eyes gaze over every inch, dropping to your lips, then back to your pupils. “I have no idea.”

“Me either,” you murmur, silently hoping for a kiss. Silently hoping that he’s hoping, too.

And he is. “I know our friends are watching us,” he whispers. “But can I kiss you right now?”

“Yeah,” you grin. “I was about to ask.”

“Well now we’re even,” he says, leaning closer as he smiles. You tilt your head, meeting his lips halfway, not wanting to wait any longer. You’ve quieted these feelings for far too long.

He kisses you long and sweet, his free hand coming to cup your face as yours search for stability in his shoulders. He knocks the breath out of your lungs, literally, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aaron pulls back for just a moment, just far enough to say, “Was that worth a gold star?”

You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. “Yeah, Aaron,” you say, looking up at him. “It was.”

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x teacher!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch angst #hotch fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot

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absolutebl · 10 months

Note

Genuine Question: Given how much people hate problematic topics in BL eg: kp, mame, love syndrome, etc. why is everyone so damn excited about Only Friends? Like we know nothing about the show. It's GMMTV so how sexy is it going to get? you know, like it's GMMTV. I like the cast as much as anyone and particularly FirstKhao but I don't see this 'sexiness' everyone is going so crazy over? Is it some bts thing like I know the director is jojo and he's gay. Is that why everyone so excited? Is it because we just haven't gotten anything really brilliant this year that gets the whole BL fandom together and that's why people are hoping this will, is that what's going on? I like everyone involved well enough but 'sexy', 'crazy', 'problematic', 'high heat'... I don't get it.

Only Friends & Jojo

Genuine answer.

Okay so this question got me invested enough to get off the phone, over to the laptop, and onto hotel wifi, which means typos rather than dictation homophones, but there it is.

I guess what I am saying it...

mistakes will be made

From the tenor of your question methinks you have not watched Friend Zone? It's a 2 part series. Mostly messy hets but...

Also a TON of broad spectrum queer rep (lesbian, bi, ace, demi). Real queers, not sanitized for straight consumption.

Because yeah, GMMTV will get messy and go into higher heat levels in a late night way (not in a KP way).

But actually what has most people excited about Only Friends is it being sourced in this man:

Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

Jojo is a screenwriter (originals) and director, openly gay, multifaceted and a little experimental, naturally talented (on the job trained - he's an archaeologist originally), and he is behind:

The Warp Effect, Friend Zone and MOST importantly (IMHO)...

3 Will Be Free

There are others too, but for the purposes of this post, those are the 3 that count. I think of him a little as the GMMTV director version of Ohm's acting.

Jojo specializes in:

ensemble pieces,

good chemistry (NOT necessarily high heat, so by this I mean actor chemistry with each other all around - couples, cast, team, production)

working with and finding actors within GMMTV's stable who work well together (even if that means busting up a pair),

a queer lens,

queer rep,

and often very messy story (as in he is not invested in the traditional beats of a romance, let alone a BL).

AND he can shoot action (this is a specific skill set for directors and it's NOT easy),

thus he will shoot his sex/intimacy & COMEDY scenes as if they WERE action sequences.

This makes his stuff particularly exciting to watch. It's dynamic, there's a lot of movement, the eye is caught and dragged places. He doesn't use dirty/peekaboo framing or central aperture or manga style (not with INTENT the way trained directors do). In fact he does none of those things I harp on about because I like the romance stuff.

He's not being clever with us. He's being honest, but still applying skill. His stuff not quite raw, but also not really directed. You can tell he gives his actors a script, throws them together and then instructs them to just BE THOSE CHARACTERS. He has a light touch, he trusts them. He's not fussy or nit-picky. He's not doing a million takes to get that sene exactly how he envisions it. His ensemble pieces are just that, group projects.

His eye is wide, even for intimacy, by which I mean: he controls and watches for multiple actors at once when there are a lot of them on screen together, without them feeling stiff.

His style is quite organic but not too gritty.

Struggling to understand what I mean?

For example, watch a Jojo "group of friends chatting" scene where everyone is just standing around then watch the same thing in, say, SCOY. You'll see what I mean. SCOY is also a very queer ensemble piece, but it will feel quite stiff, unnatural, and "planned" (staged) by comparison.

For the giffers out there you might notice that Jojo's stuff is particularly difficult to gif cleanly? This is why.

I find him an exciting director. I didn't cover him in my directors overview because at the time he hadn't done much BL (and frankly, he still hasn't). It's not his focus.

I think Only Friends is actually not likely to be very BL. Queer = yes, BL = NO. He won't hit the tropes and there is no reason to assume it will end happily for all couples (if any). That's not Jojo's point of view.

He doesn't play our game. As a result, some of those excited by the idea of this show (or excited the general enthusiasm & anticipation around it), may be doomed to disappointment.

It's one of the reasons you don't see me getting excited about it.

I'm a fan of specifically the fluffy side of BL, this will NOT be that. And I can appreciate a director without necessarily liking the stories he tells.

I am industry enough to acknowledge Jojo's skill (and I LOVE 3 Will Be Free - just not as a BL), but I don't always like his narratives. No matter how good he is, his stuff is not why I personally watch Thai BL.

It's GMMTV, so how sexy is it going to get?

Again, see Friend Zone. GMMTV has a late night pantheon, mostly for het, but they will get salacious. Lots of cheating and terrible decisions. There will be no archetypes. Characters will exist in grey areas, even the "good" characters. There will be no paladins in this show. No seme/uke.

To answer this frankly?

Only Friends will get soap opera or telenovella sexy but no more. So we will be in Midnight Chicken territory, not Bed Friends.

I think the words being bandied about:

'sexy', 'crazy', 'problematic', 'high heat'

are used here on tumblr (and in fandom) as an attempt to articulate expectations set up by Jojo's style.

Most viewers only react emotionally to the tenor of a director with this set of skills. That's fine, that's what the production company wants: A visceral emotional reaction.

But I hope I've managed to clarify from a film-critic perspective what's bringing this sensation about?

But ALSO seeing a bunch of, essentially, lower heat pure BL pairs, have to push themselves into messy queer spaces? (Notice GMMTV only let the more established actors into this one? No JoongDunk, no GeminiFourth)

This is probably really what everyone is excited about.

They are gonna see their favorites cheat, sleep around, be gay (not BL gay, but actual gay). Some are legitimately excited about this, some are shipper excited, and the BL-stans who don't know Jojo are doomed to disappointment.

I'm mostly excited by how messy this is gonna make the fandom.

Su su na.

(source)

#only friends the series #forthcoming bl #watch ABL eat crow #bl director #bl film ciritc #bl analysis #industry insider #messy gay #bl fandom #upcoming bl #2023 bl #khaotung thanawat #firstkhao #GMMTV #friend zone 2 #3 Will Be Free #The Warp Effect #Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

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thebearer · 9 months

Note

hi e! back again with more carmy shit because i love the way you did my little blurb justice 🥰. i literally just envisioned sydney minding her own business and just recklessly placing carmy in the hot seat cause she knew his ass was gon get it 😂. i’m all in for more dom!carmy so i’d love to keep the idea going that his s/o works for/with/alongside him at the bear with a touch of her giving him her two cents? a little bit of sass to just remind who he’s dealing with 😩. maybe this time around he slipped up on something major (a birthday, anniversary, or something that overall was important to the reader and he put it off because in his mind the bear comes first). she’s been slowly driving him crazy with that silent treatment she’s been doing for the last few days and her less than a few syllabled words when he doesn’t remind her how irked he made her 😂; she’s not mad anymore just disappointed. and anyway basically in a prep for preordered to go’s on lunch rush he’s reading back orders to her and she completely writes him off. i can see him being like exactly how he when he’s not getting when he needs from his staff during a frenzy and flipping tf out. like you know when he repeats himself a second time as if you didn’t hear him the first he means it 😂. tysm in advance! please feel free to do whatever you’d like. i’m writing this at 6 in the morning so many ideas are coming into the fold. i hope you have a great day - 🥣.

ok i did sorta a different-ish take. same idea but i don't write the reader as a chef bc quite honestly i can't relate lmao i'm a horrendous cook lol. but silent treatment yes!! reader works at the bear but not a chef.

"Does anyone know where the extra napkins are? Mindy needs to be settin' tables." Carmen huffed, slamming the empty crate back in the back stock.

"That would be your missus' domain." Richie snickers, elbowing Fak lightly. "Guess you better go ask her, Cousin."

"Yeah? Fuck off. Thought it was your fuckin' job." Carmen grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Me? Fuck no, Cousin. You know who's job it is, c'mon." Richie grinned. "It's your wife, Carm. What? Scared to talk to your wife?"

Carmen sneered, huffing in annoyance, but the truth was... yes, he was a little scared. Especially with how furious you were at him. Carmen was a chronic over worker, barely taking time for himself. It was a constant fight between the two of you, one he'd gotten better at, but still struggled finding that balance. Which normally, you'd be more forgiving about.

Except it was your anniversary.

Carmen left you waiting at home, dressed up with a new lingerie set that he painfully didn't get to enjoy. By the time he got off, taking his time to clean the kitchen, prep for tomorrow's crowd, he looked at his phone and saw your texts and calls, his heart dropping.

You'd been giving him the cold shoulder since then, furious and hurt- or so he assumed, you wouldn't say anything.

Richie found the entire thing hilarious when Carmen told him. "You forgot your fuckin' anniversary? You jagoff, holy shit."

Carmen found it less than amusing. The tension in the restaurant was thick because of the two of you. Everyone teetering around you, but especially Carmen, he was more on edge now.

Pushing the door open to the office, Carmen ducked his head in, seeing you at his desk- your desk, technically, you used it more. "Hey, honey," Carmen's voice was soft, a sweet hum that had your spine straightening. He flinched lightly, stepping towards you. "D'you know where the extra napkins are?"

You didn't reply, simply typing on your laptop, editing a video for the social media page about the upcoming summer specials.

Carmen blinked, barking out your name in a much harsher than he meant to, but it seemed to work. Kinda. Your head whipped around, eyes in a burning glare when they met his, but your lips were still pressed together.

Carmen through his hands out in exasperation. "Are you bein' fuckin' serious with me?"

Richie made his way towards the table where Tina was doing prep, craning his neck to watch. Your lips twisted, glaring harshly at Carmen. Carmen huffed, a hand running over his forehead. "What do you want from me, huh? What? You're just never gonna speak to me again? I forgot, ok? I didn't mean to, I just fuckin' forgot! I was at work!"

You glared at him, feeling Richie's amused gaze from over Carmen's shoulder, the rest of the staff pretending to be busy to hear. "Shut the door." You snapped.

Carmen flinched, shocked. "What-"

"Shut the fuckin' door, now." You snapped, slamming your laptop, turning to face him. Carmen pressed the door shut, ignoring Richie's whines of "c'mon, Cousin, it was just gettin' good!".

The two of you stared, neither being the first to talk, not wanting to break. You huffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "You wanted to talk, talk, Carmen. I've got shit to do."

"Hey," Carmen's eyes flashed at you, his tone hard with an edge of warning. "You better watch your-"

"-No, you better watch your mouth with me. Watch what you say to me, Berzatto." You snapped, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't a fuckin' game, alright? I'm mad at you. Actually fuckin' mad at you."

Carmen's stomach turned, swallowing the guilt rising with the bile in his throat. "I... I'm sorry-"

"-Sorry isn't going to work this time, Carmen. It's always sorry. Always I didn't fuckin' mean to, I got busy." You snapped, arms wrapping over your torso. "You always do this, but our anniversary? You forgot our anniversary?"

"No, I didn't forget." Carmen ran a hand down his face. "I got you flowers and-and the bracelet-"

"-And that was very nice, Carmen, but you weren't there." You snapped, the finality in his tone making his rebuttal dissolve in his mouth. The hurt in your eyes, rounding and pitiful, soft and pleading with him. You were angry, but you were hurt, too.

His shoulders deflated, breath leaving his lungs. "You're right," Carmen nodded slowly. "No, you're-you're right, and-and-and I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby." Carmen said sincerely, eyes shining with sincerity. "I... I got caught up and I-I shouldn't have even been working that day, I just..."

"I know." You muttered, looking down at the desk, a framed picture of the two of you in Copenhagen at your wedding ceremony. Carmen in his suit, you in your dress, happy and smiling with the breathtaking scenery behind you.

Carmen could feel the guilt growing in his chest, palms sweating and heart racing, the panic to fix it- to do something. "How much longer do you have?" Carmen asked, nodding towards your laptop.

"Just a few more things to edit." You looked at your paused work. "Why?"

"Let me... Let me make it right." Carmen sighed, shaking hands fumbling towards his apron.

"Carmen, you can't leave-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I can." Carmen nodded, pulling the door out and calling for Sydney. "Can you cover tonight, Chef?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can." Sydney nodded.

"I got it too, Cousin-" Carmen shut the door before he could hear Richie's full comment, sure something smart ass would be included.

"Let's go out." Carmen looked at you. "A make up. Please?"

You folded your arms, pouting lightly. "'m not dressed for going out."

"What're you talkin' about? You look beautiful, c'mon." Carmen shook his head lightly at you, shoving his clothes into his bag, pulling out his spare.

You tried not to drool at the sight of his chest. You'd missed him, you really had. It was a shame the lingerie went to waste.

Carmen pulled you out of the restaurant, hand on your waist, holding you close to his side. It wasn't the fancy reservations you'd planned, no Michelin star restaurants with expensive wine. No, instead, he took you to some a rooftop restaurant, one with the vibey aesthetic you always cooed at on Instagram. Sitting and sharing pretzels and greasy food, snuggled into Carmen's side while he ordered dessert. Giggling when he fed you the brownie sundae, tilting your head back with his fingers cradling your jaw lightly. It was simple, romantic, and fun. Made your heart swell, clinging to him the whole way home.

And when you got home? Carmen was in heaven. Letting you show him what he missed a few days earlier.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #richie jerimovich #sydney amadu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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luveline · 8 months

Note

first of all CONGRATS ON YOUR AMAZING MILESTONE!!! Wowwwwwww I’m so happy for u 🥺💘💘💘 you deserve all the love and praise in the world!

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 + 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞

plsss I beg 🥺 either for tasm!peter or miguel o’hara or even joel miller 😭😭😭 I’d think about idiots in love… both pinning for each other but too oblivious to the others feelings. everyone can see it but them. if you can make it super fluffy I’d dieeeeee. I’m obsessed with all 3 of them but tasm!peter will always have my heart <3

hope u have the loveliest of days sweet ! 💘💘💘

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much baby!! have a good day too ♡ shy fat fem!reader

"I look weird," Peter says.

You bite your lip in surprise. Peter reaches for you like he might take your face into his hand, but you bow out of his touch. "No," you say, hissing at the sudden pain, "you look nice, you don't look weird."

"A haircut was a bad idea. Now you're injured," he says with a laugh.

You bring your hand away from your lip and find it unsullied. Peter wants to look anyhow, fighting you for a hand on your cheek. A couple of months ago you would've squirmed away from him, worried he'd feel the soft line of your jaw and drop his hand in disgust, but these days you let him do whatever he wants.

"Pout at me," he demands.

You, reluctant, poke your lip out. Peter has the gall to touch it with his thumb, seemingly unaware of the shiver it prompts. He smells like cherry gum today, a little wedge of it between his molars as he strokes your face and pushes you gently back into your chair. He's a sick individual, he doesn't even know what he's doing. Peter's joking and doting is done as your friend.

"What inspired the haircut?" you ask. He hasn't gone too short with it since his first year of college, but the cute little flicks under his ears have been chopped.

"Kept getting stuck in my hat."

"What hat?" you ask.

"My baseball cap."

"Since when do you wear a baseball cap?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Peter croons, to the outrage of the women sitting across from you. They shush simultaneously, two pit vipers.

You put your head down, sheepish. Peter rolls his desk chair closer to yours as he chuckles under his breath, to copy your notes no doubt, which is ridiculous. He's the smarter of the two of you. He speaks in mathematics like it's English, chemistry something innate.

You knock your pencil into his hand, "Do your own work."

"But you've already done it for me." Peter moves your hand aside, his naked arm rubbing up against yours, rigid cord against softer fat. "Thanks, beautiful."

You roll your eyes at him but let him copy your work. After a few minutes you swear you can feel eyes on you, glancing up to find the pit vipers talking behind a laptop screen. They look at you at the same time and then quickly look away, spelling out for you what it is that's so interesting. People do this all the time, puzzling at you and Pete like it's insanity. The majority of people aren't as judgemental, but you can guess exactly what it is that they're thinking. Why is he spending his time with her? Handsome, muscled Peter and meek, chubby you.

It's not the most important thing in your life, but it is a constant. Some people think fat is unlovable, and the rest love without qualm. Peter hasn't ever once been mean to you since he met you; your weight can't bother him. If anything, you'd think he quite likes the way you look. Peter's always calling you beautiful, pretty girl, telling you to get changed before you put other girls out.

It's a shame he doesn't like you as anything more than a friend.

"I think those girls are looking at us," Peter whispers, pulling you toward him by the shoulder. It's not unlike him to touch you suddenly. "Is the haircut that bad?"

"It looks nice, Pete!" you insist.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against yours quickly. You choke through a laugh. "Daww," he says, "you're just saying that."

He giggles as you push him away, "Get off me, you loon," you say.

"You're the loon, loon," he says back. His cheeks are pinking. His sweater must be hotter than it looks.

"Can you just accept it, Peter? Your hair looks nice, you look great, stop worrying about what people think." You look away as you say it, startled by your own brazenness.

He gasps at you. "Hypocrite! You're the worst hypocrite ever, you're always worrying about what people think, and it's stupid because you're so pretty." He shakes his from side to side, eyes dramatically downcast. "Breaks my heart. A babe in denial."

"Stop kidding around, we have too many assignments for this," you beg, tapping your pencil under the remaining questions you've yet to answer.

"A babe in denial and distress."

You give up. He's overwhelmingly affectionate, homework sucks, and you're ashamed to know that if you flop down in defeat, he'll hug your arm. He always does. Diving into your space, Peter breathes cool cherry at your cheek as he says, "You know I'm gonna explain them to you until you get them, sweetheart. Don't stress."

You put yourself in this position, but his closeness has your heart skipping. "I'm not stressed."

"You're too cute to stress."

"Pete…"

"Sorry, I'll stop, I'm stopping. Pass your notebook, I'll fix your equation."

You pass him your notebook without looking up. You need a few seconds to collect yourself. "Thank you, Peter."

He sounds dangerously fond, the kind of tone that feeds your delusion, as though he could like you as you like him, "You're welcome."

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preservationofnormalcy · 2 months

Text

[As I climb the multiple levels of stairs to the ranger tower, I take a moment to stop and reflect. I’m exhausted - after the hike to get here, the relief that I felt upon seeing the tower was tempered by the realization I had several flights of stairs ahead of me. I was in Washington State, flown here by my handlers to talk to seemingly the only Esoteric Ranger that would be available for the next month. Not for the first time, I wondered what it meant that they heavily suggested my interview subjects. The best person for the job, or the best PR face in the department?

I reach the top and stop again, and take a drink of water. A figure sitting inside the room at the top turns and sees me, and gets up to open the door. He is young, in his mid to late twenties, long brown hair done up in a bun, a large scraggly beard over the top of his ranger uniform. He has a look of amusement on his face, a sort of polite smile doing its best to cover up a smirk. His accent is thick, Appalachian, and his demeanor still manages to convey a sort of genial calm.]

S] Meghan, right?

M] Yeah. Hold on, let me…catch my breath.

S] Aint no worry. Take the time you need. I’ll just leave the door propped open. And if it helps, there’s iced tea in here waiting for you.

M] That does help. I’ll just….be a second.

[After a moment, I joined the man in the observation room. A cot, a shelf of supplies, a desk with a radio setup, a laptop on a table. A simple room for an apparently complex job. The tree-eye logo of the Rangers is plastered on many surfaces, well worn.]

M] Sheamus Doyle, right?

S] Yes ma’am.

M] I’m Meghan.

S] Pleasure to meet you. Lemme just….

[He takes a jug of iced tea from a minifridge and pours some into two mismatched cups, sitting at the small table and glancing at his laptop for a moment as I sit across from him.]

S] Pardon me, just watchin’ the ‘squatches.

M] Watching?

[He turns the screen around - a topographic map of the area is displayed, black with white lines, with about a dozen white dots congregating in two places.]

S] We’ve been watching the cryptid migrations. They been odd since….well, since. Ain’t been following their normal routes.

M] Is that what the Rangers do? I’m sure you know I’m here to ask questions, so….I guess that’ll be my first one.

S] A large part of it, yes ma’am. Cryptid watch.

M] I guess that’s the “catch and release” part of the poster I saw.

S] Mhmm. It’s hard work, y’know. Better here’n in the Everglades taggin’ skunk apes though.

M] Let me look at my notes…kind of scrambled after the hike here.

S] Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Everyone’s gotta do a stint in the firewatch, and we pull double duty takin’ notes on the ‘squatches while we’re here.

M] Tell me a little about the Esoteric Rangers.

S] We’re older than the Office is. Bet they ain’t told you that.

M] How so?

S] Office was founded in ‘27, right? E-Rangers were a secret division of the National Park Service, founded –

M] 1916, eleven years earlier.

S] That’s right. Even then they knew weird stuff happens in the forests, so they had a little bit earmarked for people to investigate or protect people from the weird stuff, and the weird stuff from people. When the Office came around later, we got folded into them instead. But by that time, y’know. Eleven years. That’s enough time for a place to develop a sort of….culture.

M] How do you mean?

S] We’re under the jurisdiction of the Office for the Preservation of Normalcy, ma’am, but between you an’ me, the Rangers have our own ways of doing things, our own rules. Was a requirement of the merger.

M] I see. So forested areas are your jurisdiction?

S] Anything that takes place on ‘r around a national park or a nature preserve usually has at least one of us onsite. We have our checklists, our methods for findin’ out what’s going on. Weird shit happens far from civilization.

M] Like what?

S] Reality sorta…gets weak, out here. I heard y’talked to Wren.

M] I did.

S] They’re always on about that noosphere stuff. Out here, with no people, noosphere kinda gets a little…wobbly. It’s like…if enough human minds are the bungee cords holdin’ down a tarp. It’s fine most of the time, but sometimes there’s a wind, you know? The noosphere don’t have the guidance to tell it what to do, so you get…

[He trailed off.]

M] What?

S] I seen weird shit, ma’am. Woodpeckers that move backwards, sealing up holes in trees. Hikers from twenty years ago, missing their faces. Places where the sun never shines, like that old song. Areas that looked like Lucifer’s vacation home, all burned and sulphur-smoke. Deer speakin’ in the voices of dead relatives, antlers shining blue. Gunshots where there shouldn’t be people. Realspace is weak out here. Veil gets thin when there ain’t no one to see it.

M] Is all that true?

S] As true as Mama’s promises.

M] Mmh. Tell me about the….cryptids. What is a cryptid? I know it’s like…unknown creatures, but for you they’re clearly….known, right?

[He sat back after a drink of his tea, giving a wince and a so-so gesture of his hand.]

S] That’s the mundane definition, yeah. The Office’s definition of a cryptid is….a creature whose existence ain’t really evolutionarily plausible, that would raise a lot a’ questions were it known. Jackalopes, you know, no other bunny has antlers, sort of thing. They probably didn’t evolve, per se, so…

M] What about the sasquatch? Wouldn’t it just be seen as a missing link?

[He nods, thinks for a second, looks at his computer, and then jerks his head to the door.]

S] Lemme show you something.

[On the platform outside, bolted onto the railing, is a telescope - or I assume it is. Attached to the long barrel of the device are a lot of wires, a plastic casing that looked like it housed a small electronic assembly, and a revolving series of lenses that look like they can be rotated into the eye ports like an optometrist’s testing machine. He looks into the scope, adjusting the lenses and a few knobs on the side of the device, and locks it into place.]

S] Here, take a look.

[I look into the scope - for a moment, I think there’s something wrong with it. I can see a clearing in the forest, and three….shapes. Smudges on the lenses? No, he’d have seen that. The shapes are blurry blobs from this distance, out of sync from their sharper surroundings. I’m about to take my eyes away from the scope and ask what I’m looking at when I feel him reach over and adjust the lenses again, rotating a new set into place. It’s accompanied by an electric click and a soft whine from the device, and now I can see them clearly. The three blobs were large, humanoid figures, covered head to toe in rusty brown fur. One stands guard in the clearing, while another sits on a stone, grooming the fur of a third, possibly a juvenile. They are...impossible. Majestic creatures, even from this distance.]

S] We call it an Obfuscation Field. They’re sort of always….blurry. In the 30’s we developed techniques to see through it, y’know, but it’s one of those things people can’t find out about.

M] Unbelievable.

S] Somethin’ wrong?

M] It’s just…this whole time, you know?

[He leaned on the railing, taking a vape pen out of his shirt pocket.]

S] Yeah, I heard they kind of threw you into all this. Sink ‘r swim. I wager most people get a slower introduction.

M] Did you?

[He took a hit of his vape pen.]

M] Should you be doing that on the job?

[He gave me an amused look, gesturing around to the forest. I could almost imagine a hypothetical camera comically zooming out to show the remoteness of the tower.]

S] Nah, I grew up in all this. My family’s been practicing “The Work”, so to speak, since they came here four or five generations ago. I never got the hang of witchcraft, myself. You get a dud every other generation, so they say. My sister’s a natural though, she’s interning with the Office in Archival.

M] Some people are sort of…born into knowing this stuff.

S] We call it being “in the community”. At a certain point it all blends together. Your family does folk magic at a certain level, you grow up with your best friend bein’ a lycan, that kinda thing.

M] I feel like I’ve missed out.

S] Ma’am, sometimes it’s more trouble’n it’s worth.

M] Yeah?

S] I love my friends, my family, but….you think I wouldn’t flick a switch, give all this up? Be Sheamus the hipster and not Sheamus the cryptid hunter? Be a hell of a lot more simple. Weird shit attracts more weird shit.

[He took another hit, exhaling a thick cloud. For a moment, shapes in the cloud coalesce - the prominent brow of an ape, a rabbit with antlers. I wonder if he was being modest about his lack of magic.]

M] I’m not really sure.

S] You’re letting it get to you, all of this. So quick, so extreme. I think you need an industrial grade chill pill, ma’am.

M] Maybe I do.

S] I got a guy coming in to bring me supplies tonight. Stay here, watch the sunset, you drive back with him.

M] Are you sure?

S] Hundred percent. Take the evenin’, ma’am. You need it.

(Buy the poster here!)

#office for the preservation of normalcy #interview #esoteric rangers #cryptids #Bigfoot #sasquatch #jackalope #cryptidcore #in the pines in the pines #ooc: sorry I’ve been so quiet. hopefully back on the horse <3 #urban fantasy

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minminyoonjii · 3 months

Note

Hiii I have a request for a smut, something like ot8 X f!reader ,like Chan is her boyfriend and he wants to show his friends how good can his girlfriend be

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: You always found your boyfriend's members charming but it didn't occur in your mind that said boyfriend would have other plans to do with your body.

💛AN

This will be a mini-series 💛💛

🌹CW

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.5K

You cracked the joints in your sore neck, rubbing the base. "Welcome home, princess," Chan hummed, turning his head towards the door while his thighs stayed comfortably spread. You grumbled, setting your work bag aside before unceremoniously plopping yourself on his lap. Chan chuckled, "Rough day, hm?" he asked, holding you close, chin hooked over your head.

"The worst," you mumbled, shifting to bury your face into the crook of his neck. "Aww, sweet girl. At least, you're back in my arms, yeah?" he teased, flexing his biceps slightly. You nodded, taking a deep breath, "Yeah," you responded, feeling the stress slowly lift off your shoulders. A smile made its way on Chan's lips, "That's good, princess," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"What were you up to?" you asked, noticing his laptop resting on the coffee table. Blood rushed up Chan's ears, "Research," he blurted out, pursing his lips. You raised an eyebrow, "Oh, yeah? On what?" you smirked, amused by his out-of-pocket answer. Chan hummed, lips mimicking your smirk, "Why don't you guess, angel?" he grinned, playing with the building tension.

You moved your head off his shoulder, "If I'm judging by that stupid ass look you have on your face. I place my bets on something frisky," you said, blunting, knowing your lover like the back of your palm. He gasped, a smirk growing wider, "I would never," he said, unable to hold back the stray chuckles that rumbled from his chest.

You licked your lips, placing a soft peck on his plump lips, "Ahm. Did I guess right, Bang?" you asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. Chan sighed dramatically, "Unfortunately," he said, smug evident in his features. You rolled your eyes, scoffing lightly, "Thought so. What did you have in mind? Knives, Shibari, Watersports. Oh! A Mafia Rp?" you listed, tapping your fingers as you did.

Chan laughed at your enthusiasm, "You're painting a beautiful picture, princess but it's nothing like that," he said, stroking your hair. Your shoulders slumped low, disappointment written all over your expression, "Damn," you said, sighing. Giggles escaped Chan's throat, "What made you think of a Mafia Rp?" he asked, curious as to how you came to that thought.

You swiped your lips, gesturing a zip, "That's another story for another day," you said, playing coy. Chan nodded, "Fine, keep your secrets, missy. To get back on topic, what I had in mind requires more of your consent than usual," he explained, kissing the top of your hands. "How so?" you whispered, tilting your head.

He straightened his back, trailing his up your plush thighs, "Do you know how stunning you are, princess? Normally, I would love to keep this sigh exclusively to myself," he praised, gripping a handful of your flesh. You bit your bottom lip, "Of course, 'Mister Stay Away from My Girl," you teased, pressing your thighs together.

Chan gruffed, "Didn't have to call me out like that, princess. But, yes. The things I would do to keep you out of sight from everyone, is more than toxic," he said, slipping his hand under your jaw. You gulped, "That's hot," you breathed out, making him chuckle. "If you think that's hot, princess.

What about the idea of me showing you off, hm? Don't you want everyone to know how much of a good girl you are for me?" he whispered, leaning next to your ear, nipping the outer rim. A raw shudder, ran down your spine, "Fuck," you whimpered, pupils blown from the thought. Chan smiled, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek, "Such a dirty little girl," he rasped, stroking your cheek.

You parted your lips, biting on the tip of his thumb, "Yours," you preened, licking right after. "Mine," he growled, feeling your soft hands trail down his Adam's apple as it bobbed. "Who did you have in mind for this?" you asked, lifting yourself to straddle his thigh properly. Chan held your wrists, lazily bouncing his leg, "The boys, all seven of them," he said, eyeing the way your breath hitched.

A breathy moan parted from your lips, "I thought they were off limits?" you questioned, whining at the vibrations from Chan's leg. "It was a precaution so that anyone we dated wouldn't hook up with the rest like a groupie," he grunted, feeling his cock swell up from beneath his shorts. "S-smart," you slurred, spreading your legs further, pressing your aching clit against the slick fabric of his shorts.

Chan hummed, placing his palm on your clothed cunt, "You're sopping, princess," he groaned, teasing his fingers on the material. "Your friends are hot, Daddy," you babbled, rutting your hips from the melting arousal. Chan moaned, "Is that right, princess? Bet you're thinking about Changbin's swollen biceps or perhaps Hyunjin's thick long fingers curling further than you ever could," he rasped, cock throbbing hot from your reaction alone.

A broken sob spilt down your cheeks, embarrassment burning under your skin, "Both. All. Everything, Daddy," you babbled, riding Chan's fingers that made their way past your panties. "Shh, shh, princess. Close your eyes and imagine them playing with your soft, gorgeous cunt, yeah?" he whispered, circling your aching clit.

"Please, please, please," you keened, head filled with fantasies of the boys having their way with you. Jisung's rough warm tongue, traced the folds of your pussy, lips wrapping perfectly around your lip. The thought itself made your skin burn hot. "That's a good girl, just give in," he encouraged, stretching his fingers apart.

Changbin's thick hands gripping your thighs wide, making you unable to hide your pulsating cunt. Moans and whimpers dripped like honey, heavy and supple on your tongue. Minho's half-lidded eyes as he stared down at you before thrusting his long curved cock down your throat. Chan groaned, lust coursing through his nerves as you sucked his fingers sloppily. Your tummy swirled, heat pooling in your lower back. Felix's soft lips wrapped tight around your nipple, his other hand groping and twisting to his heart's content. The eye contact the boys make with you is ingrained in your mind like a photographic memory. Chan spiked his voice, impersonating Jeongin's voice, "Cum for me, noona," he moaned, licking down your neck.

You felt yourself lose composure, gripping Chan's wrist harshly as you rode, "Ah, ah, fuck!" you squeaked, arching your back as your orgasm broke. Chan growled, clenching his jaw, trying his hardest not to lose his mind at the sheer grip of your walls spasm and contracting around his fingers. Mewls escaped your lips.

He cooed gravelly, "Good princess, take your time," Chan rasped, throwing his head back as his chest rose and fell. You blinked away the fog, "That was hotter than I thought," you slurred, hearing your heart pound within your ears. Chan chuckled, "Now imagine them playing with you," he teased, stretching his numb wrist. "I don't think I'll survive," you mumbled, sinking to your knees.

Chan gulped, watching your hands brush against his v-line before briefly rubbing his dripping cockhead through his shorts. "Was I that attractive, Daddy?" you preened, pulling down his waistband. Chan hissed at the chill air, "More than attractive, princess," he grunted, man spreading his thighs for your pretty self to get comfortable.

"So hard," you sighed, wrapping both of your hands around his length. Shockwaves sparked at the touch, "Holy fuck," he groaned, abs tensing with each full stroke you gave. You whimpered, tapping his precum throbbing cockhead on the tip of your tongue, kitten licking the musk of your lover.

Chan growled low, grabbing a fistful of your hair, "Open, princess. Daddy let you have your fun long enough, obey before I accidentally use your throat like a sleeve," he threatened, forcing your head down his cock. Your throat tensed, eyes watering from the initial breach. Chan gritted his teeth, making eye contact with your ruined expression "Stroke what you can't take, princess," he groaned, easing his cock as far down your body could physically take.

Loud squelch and chokes echoed within the room. You swirl your tongue, closing your eyes tight. Chan groaned, bliss at the wet heat of your mouth engulfing his cock. Saliva dripped down your chin, hitting your thigh below. You weakly played with his balls, head blank from the sheer girth of his cock spread your lips apart.

Chan's hips jerked, getting close to his high, "Take it, princess. Mine. My good girl," he growled, letting out a shaking breath. You moaned around his length, relaxing your throat until an audible pop of his cockhead breaching your throat could be heard. "Fuck, fuck," Chan grunted, his eyebrows furrowed hard, hair matted against his forehead.

With one last thrust, cum painted the sides of your throat. Chan felt his vision blur from the intensity of his orgasm, broken groans fell from his lips. You hummed, milking as much as you could before pulling off to cough. Heavy panting came from the both of you, Chan sank next to you, pulling him onto his lap.

You nuzzled his heated-up skin, "Fuck, we're freaks," you rasped, throat sore and abused from Chan's ministrations. Chan laughed, pampering kisses all over your face, "And I wouldn't want to have it any other way, princess," he said, rocking your spent bodies, savouring the moment.

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