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#i just hope this energy is kept up though the whole show
skipper1331 · 5 months
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For the better // Esme Morgan
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a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it.
Esme was the love of your life.
She was sweet, loving and the most caring person you knew. She supported and loved you unconditionally - or so you thought.
The last few weeks, Esme‘s love felt distant, she kept her distance.
She did cuddle you at night and she did kiss you every time she could but each time it felt like it would be the last time you would feel her lips against your own. There was a certain sadness in the air, but you didn’t know why nor did you push her to talk to you. She would talk to you when she’s ready.
-
You sat in the living room, watching some random tv show as you heard the door open. Shortly after, the tall blonde entered the door you were sat in, "hi" you smiled, puckering your lips.
Something was wrong. Esme‘s eyes were red and puffy, did she cry?
"Hey, what‘s wrong?" you asked, leaving your seat from the couch as you took the few steps towards the defender. Your hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing it softly, "you can talk to me" you whispered. She inhaled sharply, eyes closing as she leaned down, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you close.
She kissed you like you were her forever.
She kissed you like you were the love of her life.
She kissed you good bye.
Tears streamed down her face as she tried to contain herself, it‘s for the better. I‘m doing this for you.
You felt it, this wasn‘t a kiss because she was sad. She was about to do something, wasn‘t she?
"Esme…" you whispered as you took a step back, eyes wide.
You felt your heart break even though she didn‘t say anything yet, you could tell what was about to come - you‘d watched enough of romance-sad movies.
"I‘m so sorry" she apologized, "I want to break up" her own heart broke into thousand of pieces while saying those horrible words.
Shock was written over your face as hurt flashed through your whole body, "why?" you rasped, eyes getting blurry, tears about to fall.
She avoided eye contact, staring at the ground as her head hung low - in shame.
After a few broken seconds of silence, she spoke again, "I should go"
It only made you angrier, storming over, you grabbed her wrist, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t love me anymore"
Both of your faces held so much emotions but one was the same: the world had just crashed down on you.
Never in a million years, you would‘ve thought that Esme would break up with you - not after 5 years.
Never in a million years, Esme would‘ve thought that she would break up with you.
You loved her.
She loved you.
Easy - yet she couldn‘t be with you anymore. It‘s for the better.
"I can‘t" she stated firmly. Your shoulders sagged, you had lost hope. If that‘s what she really wanted, you would support her - even if it broke your heart. If it‘s for the better.
Taking your chin between her thumb and index finger, she pressed one final kiss to your forehead.
I am sorry.
And I do love you.
-
Your once shared flat felt no longer like home. It felt weird to lay in bed without Esme, to know that she wouldn‘t come back - that she wouldn‘t join you. You were wide awake, wondering what the was blonde was doing at the moment. If she missed you the way you missed her? You had no energy to cry as you already cried the whole evening. What did you do wrong?
-
With dark circles under the eyes you went to training, your eyes looked swollen, noticeable for everyone. It was clear that something had happened because Esme looked the same. Both of you looked tired and exhausted, like neither of you had a minute of sleep which was the case.
So while Esme stayed at Hempo’s and Chloe’s side, you never left the Aussies sides, Mary and Alanna cheering you up. Well, at least they tried to.
At the end of training, you had lost all your patience, motivation and passion.
City did no longer feel like home. Manchester did no longer feel like home.
Esme was your home.
-
"Tommy?" you whispered into the phone, your manager answering with "yeah?"
The past week was horrible. To see Esme every day broke your heart in more and more pieces. You stopped leaving of your flat if not necessary, you ditched plans with friends - most of the time you sat in the living room crying while you ate ice cream and watched Glee. You didn‘t know what Esme was up to or where she lived, all you knew was that you didn‘t want to be in Manchester anymore, let alone the same country.
"I’ll do it" you told him, not much thought behind it.
You wanted to leave and you did.
As the season came to an end and the transfer window opened, you were the first to sign somewhere you always wanted to sign.
FC Barcelona.
It took you one week to get to leave Manchester.
You didn‘t say good bye to your friends and team mates, you just left the City and country.
It was your way of escaping the pain, your heartbreak.
It‘s for the better.
-
Barcelona as the club and as the City was amazing. Your new team mates greeted you with open arms and made you feel more than welcome. You settled in quite well, you stuck to your national team mates, Keira and Lucy, though. They helped you to furnish your new flat - not a picture with Esme anywhere.
It was Lucy who brought her up one day as the two of you sat in a little café. The og lioness had always been like a sister to you, she had taken you under wig the moment you joined City and the senior lionesses squad. She knew something was off, Keira had noticed it too, the way your smile never reached the top, your eyes not shining the way they used to. The sparkle was missing - the sparkle Esme was responsible for.
"So you alright, kid?" the defender asked as she sat across from you, sipping her coffee.
"No" you answered straightforward, munching on your panini.
"Esme?-"
"Broke up with me" you took a large sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact at every cost. If you looked at Lucy, you would’ve broke down in the middle of the day. Which did already happen a lot more often than you would‘ve liked, you just couldn‘t help it. Everything remind you of Esme: sometimes it was a song, the pictures on your phone or you just missed in her in general. It didn‘t make any sense. Why did she break up with you? It was the question that kept you awake at night.
"Did she tell you why?"
"No, she said fucking nothing" you spat, getting angrier by each second that went by. "I left the second I could. I couldn‘t stand seeing her" you admitted in a low voice, some tears streaming down your face, "It‘s like I can’t breathe anymore and I don‘t know what do to"
Wordlessly, the lioness stood up and took the a seat next to you, her arms going around your shoulders as she pulled you close.
"I‘m sorry"
Nothing more was said as she held you, tears wetting her shirt.
-
Being in the starting line up made you nervous - debut time.
With the Barca crest on your chest you felt so much pride. You did it. You made your childhood dream come true.
The game went amazing, you played phenomenal, the way you could link up with the girls, create chances and even score a debut goal was pure class. You celebrated like you usually would, a celebration Esme requested ages ago for you to do one time - you did it every time since then.
And maybe it was wrong to do so, she wasn‘t your girlfriend anymore, she wasn‘t even a friend, she was- well, nobody. Somebody you used to know.
Fuck that.
She was everything.
She was still the love of your life.
She would forever be the girl of your dreams.
She was fucking everything.
Unknown to you, the tall blonde stood in the stands of the stadium. She watched you shine while she wore your lionesses jersey. Everything you did, she watched with heart eyes, a proud smile displayed on her face as she cheered for you proudly. You did it. She couldn’t be prouder.
Barcelona made you glow and grow.
It was indeed for the better.
-
International break.
Something you hadn‘t thought about. When Sarina called, you didn’t say no. Of course not. You loved to represent England and the lionesses were a big family - your family.
As the days went the by and camp got closer, your heart went crazy. Your thoughts were consumed by Esme. Like always.
Esme.
You would lie, if you said you didn’t look at old pictures of the two of you.
You would lie, if you said you didn‘t cry yourself to sleep.
You would lie, if you said you didn‘t love her.
She used to be your best friend, soulmate and girlfriend, you were miserable without her.
Don‘t get me wrong, you went out with the Barca girls, they were a bunch of goofballs which you loved but your other half was missing. There was no one you could tell about your day, whether it was good, bad or just boring.
The thoughts just stayed inside of you.
Your bubbly side was missing. The transfer was a great decision for your career, you became the best version of yourself as a football player but as a human, you were the worst version of yourself. In no way, you were rude or mean towards anyone - it was just, the sparkle that was missing.
Lucy could sense your shut down. The way you gripped the seat in the plane, your eyes drained on the seat in front of you, burning holes into it as your jaw was clenched, veins popping up.
Esme.
-
Arriving at St. George’s Park was interesting. Lucy was engaging you in a conversation, talking about Barcelona as you stepped into the facility. What you failed to notice, thanks to Lucy, was that just minutes earlier the City girls had arrived. Esme was standing next to the much smaller Lauren Hemp as they turned around.
The tall blondes breath hitched, you looked breathtaking. Everything Chloe said fell to deaf ears, her only remaining focus: you.
Feeling eyes on you, you turned your head away from Lucy to see the City girl.
"Esme" you breathed out, suitcase dropping out of your hand as it clattered to the ground. Inaudible, you gulped, breathing quickening. She looked beautiful. Mixed feelings rushed through your body: relief, anger and anxiety.
You felt relieved to see her after what felt like ages - finally able to breathe again.
It made you angry to see her, standing there like that and looking pretty.
And then you felt anxious. Should you say hello? No, right? She broke up with you - not the other way around. The City girls, did they hate you? You left without another word, they were your friends too. Nobody knew you left, not until City announced your leaving and Barcelona announced your signing.
You wanted to cry, to be honest. Your whole world crashed down again. She was only a few meters away from you and yet it felt like she was on the other side of the world.
From strangers to friends, friends in to lovers and strangers again.
Lucy cleared her throat to bring you out of your trance, the blonde still having you wrapped around her finger even without doing anything. But what did you expect? You loved her and some months were definitely not enough to get over her, nor would be a year. It was Esme, your sweet girl.
Caught off guard, you grabbed your suitcase, mumbling something before you walked away. The facility, a place you knew well enough.
"Wait up" Lucy called, pulling her suitcase with her as she jogged in your direction.
"Do you still think it was for the better?" Lauren asked, "she looks so heartbroken."
Esme ignored her as she fought against her own tears.
You weren‘t the only one who had to deal with a heartbreak. Just because Esme was the person who actually ended it didn‘t mean she enjoyed it. She loved you. She loved you the same as before and she‘ll forever do so.
She did for you. It‘s for the better.
-
You didn‘t interact much with Esme and if you did, only on the pitch. It already hurt enough knowing she was there, but not yours.
She was your colleague now.
-
It seemed like Sarina hated you, pairing you up with Esme all the time. Of course that wasn‘t the case, the blonde defender and you had just so much chemistry on the pitch. You work together like an oiled machine which you hated.
You hated that you were still the same old duo.
You hated that she crossed passes to you like nobody else could.
You hated that you still loved her.
Though, both of you stayed silent while doing the drills.
colleague nothing more.
-
Back in your room, you fell on the bed, your roommate somewhere in facility. You felt physically and mentally exhausted.
As a soft knock was heard, you sat up, did she forget her key card?
Opening the door, you were met with a sight you didn‘t expect, "hi…" the tall girl said.
Anger floated through your body as you wanted to slam the door. You didn‘t. Instead you asked monotonously, "what do you want?"
She winced at your tone, so foreign.
"I‘m sorry- I didn‘t know why I came" she muttered, turning on her heels.
"You broke up with me" you stated, stepping in the hall. The defender stopped, "I did" she answered.
"Why?"
"Because it‘s for the better. Have a good night, y/n" with that she left, yourself feeling angrier than before.
It’s for the better, really? What kind of answer was that?!
-
You did not cry that night, your clenched jaw prevented it - your anger prevented it.
As soon as you woke up the next day, your anger was back and higher than before. You just wanted one reason why she broke up with you, so you could start healing.
It angered you to see her at breakfast - smiling.
It angered you to see her on the pitch - on the same team as you.
Everything she did angered you.
And suddenly you snapped.
It was just the two of you left in the changing room, the other girls already heading to dinner. As Esme was about to walk out, you marched over, blocking the door.
"No"
The blonde looked confused, what was going on? "No. Tell me why you broke up with me" your index finger poked her chest angrily as you took some steps forwards, the defender walking backwards. "After 5 years, Esme" a tear rolled out of your eye as she wanted so desperately to wipe it away. "You threw me away like I was nothing, like we were nothing."
"Don‘t say that" she whispered, closing her eyes to hold back the tears.
"But you did!" you shouted, angrily wiping away the tears that streamed down your face. Grabbing your wrists gently, she pulled your hands away, "you‘ll hurt yourself" and it broke you.
In the middle of the changing room, you started crying like you did the nights before you left Manchester and like you did the nights in Barcelona.
"Don‘t fucking touch me" immediately she dropped your hands, mumbling an apology.
Taking a deep breath, "I heard you talking" she said while sitting down at a random cubby.
"with whom?"
"Tommy"
-
Tommy and you sat at the dinner table, notes splayed across the table as his laptop was there as well.
"These are the offers" he told you as he leafed through the folder, "and that‘s the best" opening something on his screen, your eyes stopped at the club logo.
Barcelona.
"They want you"
Your eyes went wide, Barcelona wow. They‘re amazing, big fan ever since you‘re little. "They want you now"
He started talking about the contract, your salary, game appearances and more.
He simply talked you through every stage of the contract, their thoughts about signing you, every detail they stated in their document.
Two hours later, he leaned back in his chair, "it‘s now up to you if you want to do it"
"It would be amazing, wouldn‘t it?" you mumbled, biting on your lower lip. That‘s what you always wanted.
Barcelona. The best.
But that was before you met Esme, the girl of your dreams. "It would be perfect for your career"
"Do I have time to think about it?"
"They want an answer at the end of next week. Do you have doubts?" he asked kindly.
Over the years, Tommy became much more than just being a manager - a friend.
"I don‘t know. I‘d love to play there but City is my home. Esme is my home" you told him, fingers massaging your temples.
"You’d give up this of an opportunity for her?"
You looked at him - answering without hesitation, "yes"
"Okay" nothing more was said, he respected your answer and he understood that you had to think about such a decision, "call me when you have an answer."
-
"You would‘ve said no" she told you, her hand wiping over her face, "and I couldn’t let that happen"
"so you broke up with me because- " you connected the dots, realization hitting you like a truck.
"Well, I thought if I broke up with you, you would sign that contract. The thing you always wanted" she shrugged her shoulders, her only ever intention was for you to follow your dream - the dream you had since you were a little girl. Who was she to stop you from living it?
"You’re an asshole!" you yelled, marching the locker room up and down, "do you know what you put me through?!"
The defender stood up, your rapid movement stressing her out and her own anger slowly bubbling up, "i did what was the best for you!"
"Fuck you" you spat.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you would‘ve said yes"
you couldn’t.
"Thought so"
"You had no right to break my heart like that!"
"I had no other choice! I didn‘t want to be the reason you didn‘t fulfill your dream!"
Grumbling, you stood up with new anger, hurt and confusion.
"I did it because I love you! I love you more than anything and to think that you would miss the opportunity to- to play alongside Alexia Putellas, Aitana Bonmatí and so on, for me, frustrated me. You have to think about yourself first-"
"You love me?" you cut her off, heart feeling so many emotions as your body felt so confused and mind was spinning.
"I never stopped"
"Esme…"
"You don‘t need to say it back- well, um actually, it would be okay if you don‘t love me anymore. I get it-"
You couldn’t stand it anymore - to think that you didn’t love her. After everything, there wasn‘t a day where you didn‘t love her. Your body, soul and mind was consumed by Esme. She was the love of your life. So you just kissed her. Your lips pressed desperately against the blondes, hands cupping her cheeks as her hands found your waist. She gasped into your mouth, caught off guard. There was nothing sweet about this kiss - Esme and you mostly shared the most sweetest kisses but not now. Not after everything. The kiss was rough, anger and frustration purred into one another, yet the both of you happy to feel each others touch again.
"I love you, you idiot" you muttered between more kisses.
With the need of oxygen, she pulled away, resting her forehead against your own, "do you?" big wide eyes looked at you, so much hope behind the orbs - the orbs you hadn‘t seen in so long.
"I do" you purred, playing with her baby hair, "you hurt me though"
She nodded slowly, her hands still around your waist, afraid you would disappear, "I need time"
She hummed, mumbling apology after apology. She never meant to hurt you, she just wanted you to be happy.
-
"I love you so much" Esme mumbled, pressing featherlight kisses along your jaw, stopping an inch above your lips, "you‘re so beautiful" gently, interlocking your lips, she kissed you good morning, the Spanish sun shining in your bedroom.
The last two weeks of the off-season Esme was in Spain visiting you and before that, the both of you visited Greece as you enjoyed your holidays together.
After a year, things were thankfully back normal. Neither of you could stay away from each other and after the day in the changing room, many conversations followed and your trust was slowly built up again.
This was Esme we were talking about, the sweetest girl in the world who no bad cell in her body and was always thinking about you.
Like before your break up, she took you out on dates - it didn‘t matter that she was in Manchester and you in Barcelona, she called you every day to ask how your day was and when she visited you or the other way around, you spent the day in the best ways possible: going out, playing mini-golf and so on. Esme had many cute little date ideas.
And after that year, where trust was earned back, love got stronger and missed kisses were shared, she asked you to be her girlfriend. To which you obviously answered with yes.
You loved Esme.
Esme loved you.
The way she handled things was wrong but you understood her - she wanted you to be happy and to be honest, she was right: it was for the better.
Your prime time was, is and will be at Barca, till the end of the line.
You would‘ve regretted it if you had said no.
So maybe your break up wasn���t the worst thing. For sure, you never felt that much pain in the time of your break up ever before and you never want to experience something like that again but after all, Esme tried to push you in the right direction - to help you. She had no bad thought in mind, just what was the best for you.
And back strong again, one day not your surname will be at the back of your Barca jersey but Morgan.
It was indeed for the better.
————————
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mikachacha · 3 months
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𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜 (𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛! 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)
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Synopsis: Bada has a reputation for sleeping with her students that she likes. So when she asked you to stay back after class, you knew what that meant and you wouldn't say no to her offer.
Warnings: smut, totally nsfw, riding, choking, a bit of hair pulling. MDNI. R18+ only
(A/N: so this is from a req from my good friend @jhopes-whoopee-cushion who's unfortunately on leave or idk if they've got another account but yeah, this request is from last year 😅)
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╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗
One of the Girls
╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝
✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛
"I heard she slept with Nika a week ago.."
"Really? I also heard she slept with Hana.."
Hushed whispers from students gossiping inside the studio greeted you as you entered. It's your first day being in this class and you're already hearing wild gossips about the instructor. Now, you haven't personally met your instructor, Bada Lee but if the rumors are true, she might be really good looking or good at what she does basing from the things you're hearing.
"I'd gladly have her ruin me.. She's so hot!" you heard a girl squeal out and some laughed. Since you didn't know anyone, you mostly kept to yourself until the instructor walked in. You looked at her, she's tall, she exudes both masculine and feminine energy at the same time that seems to drive most people wild. Well you could definitely see why so many people are going crazy over her. She's absolutely gorgeous and that gorgeous being just looked at you, gave you a smile and even winked at you. You could pass away happy right there and then if you were being honest.
"Good morning everyone! I see that everyone's here, especially our Y/N, the latest addition to our little group here. Why don't you stand up, Y/N and show us some moves?" Bada's voice rang through the spacious studio and you got up from where you were seated, bowing to everyone and saying thanks to the others who wished you luck.
Of course you didn't come unprepared so you asked Bada for a bit of help so you can connect your phone to the speakers to which she gladly helped. She's also curious about you. You looked quite confident as you stood there in front of everyone, ready to perform. To say that Bada was only mildly impressed is a huge lie. As soon as you began dancing Water, she knew she wanted you. She would stop at nothing to get a taste of you even just for a night. The way you moved hypnotized her, just watching you dance made a fire inside her burn.
After you were finished, the room erupted with cheers and applause and you were glad, smiling and thanking them. When Bada personally praised you, you couldn't help yourself but blush though you knew that you'll just end up like one of her girls. The others could also sense it and they kind of felt bad for you considering you're just a newbie and Bada has already set her eyes on you. On the other hand, they're also a bit jealous since they've been trying hard to get Bada's attention for so long but a newbie took her attention instead.
It went on for weeks, Bada blatantly flirting with you when she's not teaching. Of course, she still needs to keep it a bit professional but she just couldn't resist you. She thought you were easy but she didn't expect you to give her a run for her money when you played this little cat and mouse game with her. You'd lead her on and shoot her down, you'd give her hope that she might get a taste of you but then tell her you're just playing. If she's gonna make you like one of the girls she slept with, might as well play with her was your mindset the whole time. Of course you wouldn't deny the one and only Bada Lee if she wants to get a taste but only if you want.
"You're quite good at keeping me coming, Y/N.. So alluring, and so playful.." Bada whispers as it was only you and her left at the studio. Everyone has left already after the class considering that it's Friday and a very nice night to go and have a drink with friends. You would've done the same but you had other plans.
You turned to Bada, a sly smirk on your lips as you played with her hair. You're shorter than her though some would comment that you got her so wrapped around your finger and that you're the boss now. You wanted to test out that theory tonight.
"Oh? But I was barely doing anything.." you looked up at her, feigning innocence but both of you know that you're far from being one.
"You know my reputation, don't you? I'm curious as to why you're playing this game with me, Y/N.." Bada had pinned you against the wall, her lips just hovering above yours and waiting for you to tell her to stop and say that you're just messing with her but you didn't. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes and even initiated a kiss with her that stunned her a bit.
It was slow, sweet yet it also mixed the lust and desire that you have for each other. Today, you have decided to finally give in and be one of Bada's girls even just for a night. You don't care if she pursues someone else right after. You just want to have a taste and the feel of Bada fucking you like how she fucked those other girls before you.
"I'm completely aware and Bada, I could hardly give a shit if I'm just a game to you. Someone you could toy with until you get what you want and discard right after. I don't give a fuck about all those things. What I care about right now is you, fucking me and making me one of your girls.." your bold statement shocked Bada but she'd be a fool to deny you. You're literally telling her that you want her the same way she wants you.
"Yeah? You want to be fucked, Y/N? So pretty yet so filthy.." Bada chuckles and pulled on your hair, tilting your head back so she can have easier access to your neck. She placed kisses there before giving you a small nip which stung a bit but also turned you on so much. You couldn't wait to feel more.
It didn't take long for Bada to take you home. Both of you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves as the anticipation is becoming too much. You just wanted her to take you right there and then in the living room but Bada managed to usher you inside her bedroom, where the real fun started.
Her kisses felt like tiny bolts of electricity coursing through you while her long fingers pumped in and out of you, playing and preparing you for what's about to come. Her mouth trailed south, kissing and suckling on your breasts that got you gasping for air and arching your back for more. It was so good. It felt too good to stop and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm. Just as you were about to reach your peak, Bada stopped and pulled her fingers out, placing them in your mouth and letting you have a taste of your own juices.
When she was done lapping up each and every drop, she lets you recover and grab the strap on from her drawer. You looked at the size of it, it was fairly big and when Bada asked you to ride her, you could've sworn you got wetter. You climbed on Bada's lap, straddling her while she slowly guided you down to the strap on waiting below. It went in smoothly as Bada did add enough lube so you wouldn't hurt yourself and you appreciate the care she's put into this intimate moment.
"Look at you, pretty girl.. So good taking it all down like a champ.." Bada praises that got you blushing madly as you started to bounce up and down, riding her with the best that you can. It was pretty hard keeping your rhythm as the pleasure began to take over your senses as every time you came down, the tip would hit all the right places that makes you see stars and your knees to quiver.
"Fuck.. Bada.. Feels so good!" you moaned out as she held you by the waist and began to control your speed. And the way she would thrust her hips to meet yours just made your moans louder and more pleasure build up until you couldn't hold in your orgasm much longer. You came while Bada continued to fuck into you, prolonging your pleasure.
"That's right, baby.. Moan for me.. You're so pretty when you moan my name as you cum. Makes me want to do it more and more.." Bada says as she lightly choked you while you continued to bounce up and down. You couldn't form a coherent thought or could even remember when Bada has flipped you on to your hands and knees and began fucking you from behind. Every thrust made you see stars, your knees are weak from all the sensation you're feeling but Bada's holding you by the waist. The position made her go even deeper and reach places that you never knew felt good and Bada's making sure to let you know that only she touched those areas and basically ruining you for other men and women alike.
"Bada! Bada.. Fuck.. I'm gonna cum!" you moaned out, your knuckles going white from how hard you were gripping the sheets beneath you and Bada only responded by pulling on your hair, forcing you to rise until your back was against her chest. She placed kisses along your neck and even placed some bites along the way. You could hardly care especially when your third orgasm rolled it. It was the third and strongest one of all three that it knocked the air out of your lungs and you could swear that you passed out for a few seconds from how good that was.
Bada lets you calm down and regain your breath before she pulls out and sets you down gently. She leaned against the headboard of her bed, playing with herself as she watches how fucked you currently looked. It was a proud moment for her seeing you looking to dazed, seeing those marks she made on you and how your legs quivered from all the orgasm she gave you.
Seeing that she was playing with herself, you crawled between her legs and began to help her reach her own orgasm. You suckled on her breasts while your thumb fiddled with her clit. You matched the pace of her fingers and soon, Bada was reaching her own climax. She flashes you a smile before pulling you in for a sweet kiss, a complete opposite of her kisses from earlier.
"You're so great, Y/N.. I hope this isn't just a one time thing for us." Bada says as you were snuggled against each other. You turned to her, kissing her cheek.
"From how many times you've made me cum, I sure hope this isn't a one time thing. You fucked my brains out and I would love to experience that again.." You said and Bada could only chuckle, nodding her head. You may be one of her girls now but you sure are her favorite among them.
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“ cuddle–bugs. „
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(( REQUEST PART THREE ))
mcu!peter parker x reader.
!!! read part one | part two | part four | part five here !!!
IN WHICH — you fell asleep on your best friend during movie night and the avengers won’t let you live it down. meanwhile, peter plans to ask you out, but an old friend of yours gets in the way :0
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It felt good for you to finally get some sleep. It seemed like sleeping cuddled next to Peter was the perfect remedy for your sudden insomnia. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Waking up in his arms, his biceps snug around you; his quiet snores that still sang through your thoughts. Their melody, and the leftover fumes of his cologne, kept you in a peppy mood. That, and Harley’s holiday visit.
You hadn’t seen Harley in what felt like a year, despite how it had only been a few months. Still, as much as seeing your friend got you excited, the whole Peter–debacle kept you in a tizzy.
Tony had asked you to help circuit a drone prototype in his lab, which gave you a great opportunity to dwell on the fact that Peter definitely saw the framed photo Sam took of the two of you. And read the sticky note. The thought still made your heart rate spike a little, but you couldn’t decipher what it was stemming from.
Part of this made you feel giddy. It gave you a chance to open the bottled up feelings you’ve been rejecting for Peter, and really, truly, encourage them. The other part, however, made you incredibly nervous. Anxious, even. He could react in a way that would completely redefine the long–term friendship that you two had.
His response could either be something equally as smitten, or something that’d haunt you for the rest of your life. It was conflicting, but also you knew that at a certain point, you wouldn’t be able to hide from your feelings anymore. Peter would inevitably find out. You just hoped that it wouldn’t ruin the way he looked at you.
While re–wiring the drone’s hardware, you began to spiral down the dark abyss of how badly this could end. He wouldn’t necessarily get angry with you. Peter Parker didn’t have an angered bone in his body; but this could very well, quite possibly, most definitely, create an incredibly uncomfortable atmosphere in your dynamic.
Fuck.
You wished he’d react the same way he did when you both found out you were superheroes, or when you’d both been recruited to be part of the Avengers. Peter had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. Would these feelings really change that much of it?
“There you are!” Peter’s voice from the doorframe disrupted your thoughts. You immediately felt the way your heart leapt in your chest.
You did hope that things wouldn’t change because of a dumb crush. However, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like things with the two of you were changing already.
Quickly, you glanced over your shoulder, careful not to distract your work. The way Peter walked over to you seemed radiant; he was glowing, and it wasn’t just because he looked fresh out of the shower. He smiled at you, toothy and spritely. The way it suited his energy was contagious, and spread a small grin right to your lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He added, prancing up beside you.
Your focus went back to the drone, mostly because you wanted to hide from the inevitable blush that coated your complexion. “Oh yeah?” You mused, cheeky. “How come?”
Peter leaned his back against the desk you were working at. He kept a comfortable distance from you, but a bit less than usual. You only noticed because his body heat nearly overloaded your system. You cleared the invisible tickle from your throat, feeling the urge to try and hide what felt like vulnerability.
“I wanted to show you my new lockscreen.” His tone outlined his smile audibly. Peter excitedly showed you the addition to his phone, as though he’d been rehearsing it. You felt the way your eyes widened and your face flush at the photo. The same photo that was framed at your bedside. “Sam sent it to me.” He added the detail once you saw it.
Your eyes met. You could feel the playful demeanor that Peter had been camouflaging. He knew exactly what he was doing, and by the dorky expression on his face, you knew that your reaction was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
Dropping the hardware tools beside the drone, you used slow movements. You needed to get his phone. The power he had with that photo was too much for him, and it was already getting to his head. Your hand plunged towards the device, but Peter dodged your reach like he was one step ahead of you. He was always one step ahead of you.
“Peter Benjamin Parker.” You fought back your smile by trying to use a disciplinary tone, but your laughter won the battle. He took paces backwards, and you followed his movement. “Give me your cell phone!”
He laughed, raising a brow. “You want my phone?” He was playing coy, teasingly. “You’re just jealous of my lockscreen.” You two traveled around the large laboratory, him still walking backwards like it was nothing. “I could just AirDrop it to you, if you want it so bad–”
Leaping forward, he dodged you again. He was having too much fun with this, waving his phone in front of your face like a chew toy. “You’re so evil.” Your playful glare was one of Peter’s favorite looks of yours. He took it in like he was taking a picture of it.
His brow arched again, mocking you. “Am I really?” He bantered. You had to admit: as stubborn as you could be, Peter’s playful spirit was something you always enjoyed. And the banter was absolutely riveting to partake in.
Peter’s laughter filled the room as you started to chase him. He was skilled walking backwards, but running was an entirely different story. The two of you practically chased your tails around each other; Peter holding his phone high above you, and you eagerly sprinting and jumping up to try and grasp it.
In the thick of the moment, you’d finally caught up to him. Body to body. Chest to chest. His arm was still extended to the ceiling, phone held to the sky, but his focus was completely captured by you. Your eye contact was thick, and your little fits of giggles halted to a stop at the rousing tension.
Damp strands of curls fell in front of his face as he studied you, eyes tracing features of your face that he’d already memorized. The scent of his shower would’ve sent your head in a pother, if not for the feeling of your bodies melding together. You could feel his heart racing through the mere fabrics of your shirts; you were certain he felt the speedy rhythm of yours, too.
His arm slowly lowered back to his side, but you both could care less about his lockscreen right now. You kept your eyes tied to his, keeping up with the silent conversation you were having. Peter’s mouth opened, dry as he scrambled to find his words. “Y/N..” His voice was soft, gentle. “I need to ask you something.”
Curious and confused, you tilted your head a little. “Ask me what–?”
“Y/N!” You heard your name called from the doorframe. Both you and Peter shifted your focus to meet the interruption, finding Harley waiting impatiently. “C’mon! I’ve got something to show you.” How inconvenient.
A look of apology shadowed your face when you looked back up at Peter. “Can you ask me later?” It was the last thing you wanted to ask, but you couldn’t keep Harley waiting; the subtle tapping of his foot caused guilt to nag at your focus.
Both you and Peter peeled away from each other, slowly. It felt unnatural, especially considering that neither of you had the strength to break eye contact.
Peter forced a smile, though you could tell there was disappointment behind it. “Yeah! Yeah. Go.” He waved at Harley, noticing the small glare that accompanied the mirrored action back. “I’ll catch you later.”
He watched you smile at him before running off with Harley. That was how things had been since he’d returned from school.
Harley was always the first to bid for your attention, or drag you out of a room when you and Peter found yourselves alone in it. He was the ultimate cockblock, and a jealous one at that.
Peter had enough trust in you and your friendship to know that there was no competition for his spot as your best friend. However, now his hat was in the ring for a new title: your boyfriend.
Harley could one–up him there.
Peter still had hope after his talk with Sam in the kitchen yesterday morning. He finally felt the courage he needed to ask you out. To ask if you felt the same way. But Harley didn’t make his conquest any easier. In fact, he’d done nothing but get in his way. It was almost like Harley knew what Peter was trying to do.
Last night was Sam’s pick for team movie night. Of course, Sam chose a festive rom–com; he chose The Holiday, and sent Peter a little wink as he cued up the movie. This was an opportunity, and Peter wasn’t going to take it for granted. However, Harley wasn’t going to let Peter have it that easy, either.
As Peter sat beside you, Harley sat on the other side of you, arm draped over the back of the couch. Right where Peter wanted his to be. He noticed how stiff you were, and the way you awkwardly kicked your feet as the movie played.
The memory played through Peter’s head all day, especially while this question burned in his throat. He’d never been so eager to ask you something; so compelled to know the response you’d give him.
Part of him was scared. Just a small part of him. He knew it was a gamble to try and enhance your relationship. You’d either reciprocate the emotions he had for you, or the friendship would go through a little awkward fit. Either way, Peter knew it was a growing experience. He was willing to risk it if it meant getting to spend time with you romantically.
Harley just seemed to anticipate every chance you and Peter caught a moment alone.
Peter wasn’t planning to give up just yet.
And neither were you.
You did enjoy your time with Harley, but it felt like he was pushing it a little. Occasionally, you had the habit of cluelessness, but even now, the inkling that Harley was getting at something felt stronger than ever.
“C’mon, Keener.” You pressed him, trying to get the boy to crack. “It’s like you’re holding me hostage here.” For the past hour, you’d been trying to leave to go find Peter. Your hands went up in defense when Harley shot a look of surprise at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve missed you too, but I’ve–”
That’s when it hit you. Harley was getting at something. Something big. The look he shot at you was overwhelming. You couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to express to you, but you could tell that he was about to tell you.
He took a breath, slicing through the deafening quiet. “Y/N, I need to ask you something.” His tone was stern, precise. He’d been practicing this, you were sure of it.
Your posture straightened out. From how it sounded, this seemed really serious. Your whole demeanor shifted, stilled. “Yeah, anything.” The last thing you wanted was for Harley to feel like he couldn’t tell you something.
Harley stared into your eyes, grounding you for a moment. You could feel just how much you were anticipating the question, and just how slowly the world spun before he spat out the words. It reminded you of how Peter had something to ask you, too. You wondered just how serious of a question Peter’s was–
“Would you go out with me? Li–like on a date?”
You froze. A date? A date with Harley?
It felt wrong for your thoughts to be consumed by anybody else in this moment, yet they were. Shoulders slumping, you gave him a sympathetic smile. “Harley, I’m flattered, but I—”
He interrupted you. “You have feelings for someone else?” His question came out like a scoff, almost like he was trying to beat you at answering him. “Parker, right?”
And in that moment, when your heart swelled and your cheeks flushed, you finally accepted it. Your posture settled a little, and the breath you’d been holding for the past few days finally released itself. “Yeah.. Yeah, I do.” Your lips curved sympathetically, not wanting to put salt in Harley’s wound. “Y’know, I still appreciate you though, right?”
Harley smiled at you, “Yeah, yeah, whatever..” He laughed quietly. “Now, go find your love–bug boyfriend. I’m sure he’s dying to see you.”
With a grin on your face, and a bittersweet farewell to Harley, you went on your way to find Peter. You knew that rejecting Harley shouldn’t have been as inspiring to you as it ended up being. Now more that ever, you felt determined to ask Peter out. Whether he was planning to ask you or you ask him, you weren’t going to give up until you had a date set on the calendar.
Turning the hallway corner, you found yourself rounding to the kitchen, following the faint sound of Peter’s voice. Waltzing with his words was the sound of Sam’s too, conversing with your best friend. You paused in your tracks, listening in on their conversation til you had a good time to intervene.
Tiny klanks and clinks of spoon on mug came from further away, muffled under Sam as he spoke, “You going to the holiday party tomorrow night?” He asked, “I heard there’s gonna be mistletoe.” You could hear the way his voice shaped into his mug as he took a loud sip of his drink, “You should take Y/N and go find it.”
Heat flooded your face at how forward Sam was, and at the idea of kissing Peter. It was thrilling to think that in just twenty–four hours, you could be kissing Peter Parker. You wouldn’t have to avoid him anymore, you could freely sit with him and express your feelings–
A sigh could be heard from closer than anticipated. A sigh that sounded dejected, conflicted. Rejecting. Ouch. You slowly crept around the corner, eying Peter’s back as he replied to Sam.
“I’m not gonna do that. I can’t.” Peter seemed to hesitate, but that didn’t take away from how much it hurt. “I just don’t want..”
“You don’t want to kiss me?” You found your place to interject, now standing in view of Sam and Peter’s back.
As Peter turned to look at you, it didn’t take much to notice the way his heart was in his throat. His whole body was stiff with regret, and his hands held the air in front of him like there was something to fix. But there wasn’t; you had your answer.
Peter Parker didn’t love you like that.
“Y/N, I–” Even as he took steps towards you, it felt like he only got further away from you. You put space between the two of you, a hand coming out to emphasize the physical boundary you needed.
You shut your eyes for a second, taking a breather. Keeping your composure was your main focus. “No, no. It’s fine.” You tried to keep earnesty and understanding in your tone. “But you don’t have to make kissing your best friend seem like such a chore.” You snapped a bit more intensely than you’d intended, but you needed to. You had to leave.
One more breath and you left, unable to look Peter in the eye again before you made your way to your room. You hated how the look on his face stuck in your brain like some traumatic flashback. The look in his eyes when he saw you was almost as hurt as you were. It didn’t make sense.
Making your way into your room, a knock interrupted your peace of mind. Holding off on processing your rejection, you turned and met eyes with Sam. You didn’t know whether it was a welcomed company or something you wanted to turn away.
Before you could open your mouth, Sam spoke up.
“I know what happened back there wasn’t.. The best, but I swear it was–”
“Sam.” The words came out shorter than you were used to. “If you’re here to talk to me about that, I don’t want to hear it.”
It sucked. You hated the feeling of being rejected. It also felt so much heavier because you’d already been avoiding Peter, you’d already been missing his company; now, you felt like you had more reason to steer clear of him. You hated it. You hated how much it hurt you.
Shaking his head, Sam got on task. “Right, okay.” His tone became less sympathetic, but his expression still said everything that his words didn’t. “Buck and I were assigned to stakeout tomorrow, but our backup fell through. What Parker and I were talking about in the kitchen was if you and him could stakeout and then Buck and I could back–up for you two.”
You blinked a few times. He was really asking you to do that? To sit in a car with Peter after he’d just ripped your heart out?
After thinking about it like that, you fully realized that Peter was oblivious to your heartbreak. He didn’t know he’d rejected you, and he was still your best friend. Maybe this was a sign, and something the two of you needed to do.
Sighing, you held back an eye roll. “Fine. I could do that.” You placed your hands on your hips, raising a brow at Sam. “Did Peter agree to it?”
“Cuddle–bug said that as long as you were okay with it, he’d be more than happy to.”
Hearing the nickname lodged a dagger in a spot you didn’t think was reachable. God, it hurt. It might get worse with this mission, but you also knew that you’d never forgive yourself if you’d fully pushed Peter away.
“Okay. Then tell him to meet me in the garage tomorrow morning.”
Sam seemed to respect the boundary, and let you be after you’d given him the request. You didn’t have the stomach to see Peter before the stakeout, and you knew you’d have to prepare yourself quite a bit before you’d have to spend god knows how long with him tomorrow. Alone.
God knows how long you’d have to spend with him alone, in a car, doing nothing.
You were planning to kill Sam when you got back, especially if this was some kind of ruse to set up you and your best friend.
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tag–list : @helen-on-earth @ellebutnotwoods @luvherfairy @agaybandgeek @lazy4teen @hufflepuff-n-fluff @petersparkerss @tommysfrog @zelzablues @mavex @thatmarvelchick19 @parkersmaterialgirl @justtuesdays @coralineyouareinterribledanger
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jaeminvore · 8 months
Text
Volleyball for Dummies (In Love Edition)
CHAPTER 26: Mark and Y/N? Mark and Y/N.
previous | masterlist | next
word count: 4.7K
content warning: a dog having as much screen time as our main cast/pair, fluff fluff fluff, humor, crack treated seriously, mildly suggestive content, vague implications of sex towards the end.
playlist: The Beginning — Alina Baraz // Gimme the Wheel — Alina Baraz (feat. Smino) // Natural — Sabrina Claudio // Get You — Daniel Ceaser (feat. Kali Uchis) // Honesty — Pink Sweat$
notes: maybe Mark was onto something when he said Daegal was weirdly smart for a dog 🤔 technically it is still Markus’ birthday when I post this so HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONE AND ONLY MARK LEE you deserve all the love you get on the daily 🥳🎉 This is a long one so I recommend having a drink or snack with you! and this is a rather sweet and humorous piece, which is a common theme in my works haha enjoy !!
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“Well, this is definitely a problem,” Mark laughed as both he and Y/N watched Daegal put on a show of snarling her little heart out after they attempted to move past the growling, small ball of fluff guarding the doorway of Mark’s bedroom. “She doesn’t want us to leave.”
“She’s so cute though,” Y/N cooed. “She was fine the whole day and now she’s become this little demon. What’s up with our Daegal-ie, huh?” She dropped to a squat, holding out a hand and oddly enough, the bichon reverted into her usual sweet disposition, pink tongue lolling out as her tail wagged from the attention. “Are you asking for a treat?”
Daegal turned up her nose with a snuffle. That’s a no then.
Y/N peered up at Mark, “you took her out, right?”
“Like an hour after dinner, yep.”
She let out a thoughtful hum. “We gave her a bath.”
“Played with her a lot,” Mark nodded, listing everything down with each lift of his fingers. “Gave her lots of treats too—well,” he gave the setter a bemused look. “you did.”
“What Chenle doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Y/N giggled as her hands went to cup Daegal’s tiny face, then both gracing Mark—who was already wound up so tight from being around her the whole day, Christ—with the puppy eyes, Y/N blinking exaggeratedly with a sweet pout. “And you can’t say no to that face, now can you?”
He sighed through his nose. Fuck.
Mark was aware that Y/N was talking about Chenle’s darling ‘daughter’. That much was obvious already, but Y/N’s question (statement?) wasn’t exactly far from the truth. She was right to some degree. Mark had a hard time turning away anyone who’d purposefully make themselves look even more pathetic in that regard. When he was younger, his own mother told him that he had a heart too big for his body, and would often joke that it was a relief it hadn’t burst from his chest yet.
It’s not a bad thing, my love. Mom would reassure him the moment he started sulking. There will come a day where you’ll find someone you’d want to give your love to. It might take some time, but you will and I know they’d be the luckiest person in the world. I can only hope that you’d feel the same, because you deserve as much love as you are willing to give.
(Too late. Mark thought, wistful. Each and every piece of his heart was Y/N's begin with, leaving nothing behind but a space big enough for her to crawl in. She belonged there. Just like how Mark's heart belonged to her).
And Mark was lucky!
… sort of—Look, he felt lucky regardless even if Y/N didn’t return the feelings threatening to spill from the huge, metaphorical jug Mark’s been carrying around once he realized that this was more than just a crush on the brazen girl Donghyuck trained with at the local volleyball workshop back in middle school.
Lucky that the setter kept him around. Lucky that she even gave him the time of the day. Lucky that Kim Y/N went out of her way to actively be with him. Whether it was just to be in each other’s presence with the silence weighing on them like a blanket would; warm and comforting, or if Y/N wanted to burn the remaining energy she had by roping Mark into practicing with her. 
The Mark then would have settled with just that. The Mark who was content with being on the sidelines, watching out for Y/N and only running towards her when it’s only absolutely necessary. Which, in the first place, wasn’t. Not really. Managers were only there as a precaution. Extra eyes and hands, if you will.
Y/N was strong. Stronger than Mark could ever be since she was the one who braved the world with knee and arm pads to soften the blow of wooden floors, and the harsh criticisms hurled towards her. The setter had no qualms with the independence granted by her cocksure nature, long before Mark could even sort out just why his heart pumped faster than normal when Donghyuck dragged him along to watch Y/N play.
However, she wasn’t exactly one-dimensional as the articles wanted to claim. Y/N was more than the vicious words that was forcefully pushed onto her person despite the countless achievements she had received throughout the years. She’s a phenomenal athlete through and through, and she never let here-say shaped her identity.
Mark learnt that reputation meant nothing if you managed to see past it. After all, he got to unravel each and every layer that made Y/N who she was behind the curated image the volleyball community painted her as.
And if the world refused to see beyond that, then Mark wouldn’t entirely mind if it meant that the Y/N he’d come to know from being their manager was only for him to see.
Greed was a funny thing.
Greed rarely reared its ugly head. Mark had always thought he was somewhat generous. He didn’t mind sharing; he gave as much as he could when the time called for it, but he supposed it couldn’t hurt to be greedy—selfish even. Perhaps just this once to understand what it meant to want, to crave, to desire so much to the point of losing one's mind.
Because the sight of Y/N staring up at him with those eyes that could very well hold the entire galaxy—even if it was at the expense of imitating Daegal—had something greedy and possessive rise up his throat that he had to physically press his lips together to prevent it from spilling out.
Mark didn’t want to leave her hanging though and he managed to keep all that at bay with a wry smile, a fond look given to Daegal before settling his gaze onto an expectant Y/N.
“Susceptible to manipulation by anything cute, huh?” He came down to squat beside her too, reaching out to scratch Daegal behind her ear.
Y/N shrugged, “you tell me.” she said, following it up with a snort and a knowing smile. “Did you try it on me before, Manager Lee?”
Mark blinked. “are you—are you flirting with me?” and he was immediately rewarded with a soft string of laughter.
“It took you this long to realize?”
What the fuck.
Y/N didn’t let him answer though, not when she turned her full attention onto the small dog. “What is it, you little gremlin?” She asked, playfully giving the bichon the stink-eye as she booped her damp nose. “Did you wanna play some more?”
Daegal huffed, licking her nose as she sat back, all prim and proper as much as a dog could be.
“Not that either, huh?” She mused. “I’m not a mind-reader, Daegal. I really don’t know what you want.” With a sigh, the setter smacked her knees, standing to her full height.
And she seemed rather distressed by this too, at least it’s what it looked like to Mark as he soon followed her actions.
“I’m gonna check on the cats.”
Right. They should be in Jaemin’s room. Mark recalled that they’ll do just fine on their own, seeing that in spite of their clingy and affectionate nature, there was still some type of independence Jaemin’s cats harbored. Pets are very much like their owners. Very fascinating stuff. Nevertheless, Mark understood the setter’s sentiments. It didn’t hurt to be cautious.
Daegal didn’t though. Not that they expected her to, but it still was a surprise to both temporary fur parents when the bichon properly barked at Y/N’s attempt of taking a step forward.
It was a sharp kind of bark—high and sounding like a warning which had Y/N jumping back in pure shock and disbelief, both her and Mark’s jaws dropping at the small act of rebellion.
“Daegal!”
Mark’s tone was authoritative. He didn’t like yelling at any of the house pets if he could help it, but her sudden turn to stubbornness was very uncalled for. Especially when there was no reason to be. Earlier on, Daegal looked like she was faring well with Chenle’s absence. They encountered no problems aside from the fact that she had so much energy to burn, so this—whatever  this is—is a little concerning.
Though it looked that the stricter route Mark took on worked, judging by how the bichon shrunk in on herself from his outburst. Small as Daegal was to many, that didn’t stop her. If anything, it spurred her on even further as she trotted towards Y/N with purpose and nosed at her calf.
This continued on for a handful of times with Mark and Y/N watching on with silent confusion, until Daegal realized that a simple series of nudges won’t be enough to knock-down a full-grown woman who takes hits from balls as a living (kind of). So she started pushing at Y/N with her front paws, doing an absurdly amazing job at balancing on her hind legs.
Y/N was so surprised in fact that it caused her to stumble on her own two feet, which was kind of  funny since she was sturdy on court, yet it took only a small lap-dog for her to lose her footing. It would have been a hilarious sight, if Mark cared less about Y/N, but everyone knew he’d walk to hell and back to ensure her safety and it wasn’t much of a surprise when his fast reflexes kicked in.
(Not being privy to the incredible reflexes, Y/N was rightfully floored, letting out a squeak at his firm grip).
“Careful,” Mark grunted, bearing the weight of Y/N by holding her up with his hands on her waist.
“I’m not the one you should be saying that to.” She huffed, squirming in his hold so she’d be able to stand properly. “Seriously, girl, what’s up with you?”
Daegal barked, jumping up to push at Mark’s leg.
Y/N raised an eyebrow at this, “Mark?” Bark. “You want Mark to do what?”
The bichon turned towards the doorway and back at the pair at breakneck speed.
“Uh… I think she’s saying she wants me to go with you.”
Bark bark!
Both of their eyes comically widened at the immediate response, giving each other a brief glance and then staring down at the small pup in disbelief.
“I can’t believe we just argued with a dog, oh my goodness,” Y/N let out a laugh that sounded a little crazed, patting the hands that were still warming up her sides. “You can let go of me now.”
Never had Mark retracted his hands so fast.
“Sorry!”
It didn’t even register to Mark that he was essentially feeling her up, though it didn’t look like it bothered her. If Y/N could make out the embarrassed flush starting to bloom on his cheeks, she didn’t comment on it and instead tugged on Mark’s wrist, smiling sweetly at him.
“C’mon, before Daegal goes feral.”
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Daegal went feral.
Well, no. That’s a bit of a stretch, but if the shoe—kind of—fits, then sure. The eight pound or so bichon has been compromised or whatever.
Checking on Jaemin’s cats wasn’t a difficult task. It went rather quickly since all they needed to do was take a peek into the man’s room and assess whether something needed to be done or not. Luna and Lucy made themselves comfortable in the very middle of Jaemin’s bed, eyes closed and already purring with content, while Luke took it upon himself to perch himself up on the highest point of the expensive cat tower he got for his ‘children’, acting as if he were scouting the room for any enemies.
It was when they left Jaemin’s room did Daegal start acting out again, simultaneously snapping and herding Mark and Y/N back into the former’s bedroom with newfound determination a small dog could exhibit.
“This is insane,” Mark started. Voicing it out wasn’t enough. He was already feeling like he was insane, letting Daegal dictate everything they should and should not do. Just what has Chenle been teaching her? “Are you seriously not gonna let us leave my bed?” He already had an inkling of what the answer was, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to poke the bear—er, dog.
Oh how wrong he was.
Daegal snapped again and Mark choked back a scream, pulling his hand back in disbelief.
“Why are you being such a demon,” Mark hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “What are you trying to do, huh? If it’s pissing me off, then it’s working, you brat.” His ears burned at hearing Y/N snicker.
Wow, he’s absolutely lost it. 
Daegal doesn’t even look the least bit guilty and it’s beyond Mark how it was possible for him to discern the possible thoughts she had in this situation. One of them could very well be murder if he dared to plant his foot on the carpeted floor.
Though Mark still had some self-preservation left and he would not risk having Daegal’s teeth leaving a permanent mark on his skin.
“I don’t think Y/N would like being stuck here either.”
“Oh, I don’t really mind.”
It’s a miracle Mark hadn’t got whiplash from how quick his head turned to give Y/N a similar look of incredulity and nothing could have prepared him from what he was currently looking at. 
Y/N wasn’t kidding when she said she didn’t mind being forced to stay with Mark. She looked rather comfortable; already tucked in underneath the sheets with the pillows cushioning her back. Crazy as it sounded, this was like a direct manifestation from his daydreams.
“You sure? She’ll probably tire herself out and I can like, sleep somewhere else.”
Having the real thing right in front of him was disconcerting, to say the least. Here he was, being presented an opportunity served on a silver platter, yet all he could think of was doing the opposite of what he actually wanted.
Give Mark a hand, and he’d only hold onto one or two fingers. He never was the type to get more than what he deserved. Mark never thought he was deserving of them at all. Sometimes, he’d appreciate it if he was given that extra push just to get a firm grasp on what was handed to him. No matter that it was his for the taking.
“I’m sure,” Y/N said and all Mark did was blink when she patted the space beside her. “C’mere.”
This was that extra push, and just like the soft duvet underneath his palms, he caves in.
(Mark has never seen a dog look so smug ever in his life. It was kind of scary, actually. And a little annoying).
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Perhaps Mark bit off more than he could chew.
He was given a hand, accidentally took an entire arm, and now he didn't know what to do with the extra flesh and bones attached.
He’s been staring at the same crack on his ceiling for what felt like hours now. As much as he tried his hardest, he couldn’t really get himself to doze off. Not when he was hyper aware of the warm body right next to him that one wrong move, he’d end up touching Y/N by accident. There wasn’t a pillow separating them and Mark’s double bed didn’t exactly provide the luxury of space he desperately needed to keep himself grounded either.
They did say beggars can’t be choosers, and a niggling thought at the back of his mind told him he definitely begged (manifested) too hard that he now has to deal with the consequences (manifestation of his delusions). Go figure.
Mark wasn’t sure if Y/N had drifted off. She had been quiet for the most part after dimming the lights. He didn’t want the risk of turning his head for a quick peek, only to see the freaked out expression once she was hit with the fact that this was probably a bad idea—sharing a bed with the team’s manager.
Y/N would have spoken up if it was a problem though, yet she never complained. Never said anything passive-aggressive either and if anything, she looked completely in her element. She looked very cozy in her small bubble of the shared duvet and pile of pillows behind her, petting Daegal who had calmed down and eagerly climbed onto her lap for extra snuggles. Y/N was content.
Aside from the low humming of the air-conditioning unit and Daegal’s occasional shifting a sighing in her sleep from the carpeted floor, it was silent. Mark might as well try and get some sleep. He had one dog and three cats to mind after all. Mark didn’t want Y/N to take the brunt of being a temporary, stressed fur-parent tomorrow.
So he tried. Tried evening out his breathing, counted sheep that oddly resembled each of his housemates/friends and a new addition, Y/N—that sort of thing, and just as he was about to count off the twenty-third Chenle-sheep, Y/N spoke.
“Has anyone told you that you think really loud?”
Mark’s eyes snapped open, rightfully startled and when he craned his neck, he found Y/N lying on her side, duvet pulled up right underneath her armpit, eyes twinkling even in the warm, dim lights of the bedside lamps.
“Sorry,” Mark mumbled. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
The setter giggled softly, lips tipping up into a coy smile, “wasn’t asleep in the first place. Can’t really sleep in these conditions.” 
Then, Mark panicked.
“Seriously, I can like, sleep in Hyuck’s room for the night, if you want.” He probably stuttered through all that, but he’s done way worse things to embarrass himself. This is nothing. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”
He was just about to get up to give her more space when the setter’s hand shot out to grab onto his arm and gently tugged him back in place, pulling him closer too.
“And I’m serious too. I don’t mind. Stay.”
Just like that, he gets swept away by her. Like always.
Now both of them laid on their sides, facing each other. The setter had no problems looking Mark straight in the eyes, but him? He stared at anything but her eyes, which proved to be a difficult task when there was about a five-inch distance between their faces.
Thankfully, Y/N had this inborn skill of getting rid of the awkward atmosphere. She was someone who never let the awkwardness fester if she could help it.
“What are you thinking about, Mark?” She stage-whispered.
“Oh, y’know…” You. The team. Whether being a manager was worth it. You again. My future. Which has you in it. Hopefully. Lots of things. “Stuff.”
“Am I included in ‘stuff’?”
“If you meant the team, then yes..?”
Y/N clicked her tongue, “that’s not what I meant and you know it, Manager Lee.” She stared him down with narrowed eyes for a moment or two, and honest to God, Mark didn’t know what to feel. Scared? Excited? God forbid, turned on? Being in love with someone who fits the word ‘unconventional’ in more ways than one could make significant changes to your brain chemistry, he guessed.
Or Maybe it’s just the effect Y/N had on him, which was definitely the case.
“You do know I like you, right?”
What.
“What?”
What do you even say to that? Holy shit! Should Mark consider that as confession? It’s some kind of confession, right? A very odd one if it depended on whether or not Mark knew. Which he didn’t… explicitly. He saw hints, but he wasn’t one to assume things right off the bat. 
Y/N wasn’t even fazed by Mark lacking an answer to that. It’s like she expected it, so she kept talking.
“Dude, I made it so obvious that I did,” she laughed. Laughed and if there was a way for a black hole to materialize, Mark wished it could do so right this very second. “Why do you think I fought hard to keep you on the team?”
“Because you were being nice..?”
“Partly, sure, but you gotta think beyond that,” Y/N still found this entire situation funny and Mark was still stuck on her liking him. “Why do you think I stuck around you?”
“‘Cause—because I’m your manager? It’s kinda my job to—“
The setter was quick to rebut that, “oh but I also have Ten and Dejun. I could have asked them too, but if you noticed—which I doubt you did—I kept asking for you.”
“I—I thought you were just being… polite.” That was probably the least appropriate synonym for this context. Damn. “Keeping me employed and shit like that.”
“Employed,” Y/N snorted in a way that should be unattractive, but it only made her impossibly cuter in his eyes. Oh he is so fucked. “I’ve said I wanted to kiss you like, twice? No three—point is, I want to kiss you. Period. How’s that being nice?”
“Maybe you pitied me or something,” he mumbled, gazing at her hand still holding onto his forearm with a self-deprecating smile. It wouldn’t be the first time, really. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t… don’t say that.”
Warmth settled on his chin. Grabbed made much more sense as he was slowly lifted up so Y/N could get a proper look at him and oh, that’s definitely new.
Being bold meant that Y/N was also shameless when it came to the staring. And she did it. A lot. Perhaps it came with being alert on court. Your sense of sight was an important factor and it was constantly tested too.
Y/N liked to stare at Mark, specifically, and he would be lying if he said her stares didn’t burn him or anything, because Mark knew when he was being looked at. It was terrifying at first, definitely. He didn’t know what it all meant, but he got used to it and had gotten good at deciphering what went on behind those watchful eyes of hers.
And this… this—what he’s looking at; swimming behind the brightness of her hues was decidedly new. Her gaze was softer for sure, yet stern at the same time, with a third unnamed emotion binding them together that made Mark feel so seen.
“You’re anything but pitiful. Believe me when I say that,” and he wanted to. The way she spoke was enough for him to hang onto every syllable her lips curled around with so much reverence. Mark wanted to believe her.
But before that—before he lets himself be fully consumed by Y/N, he had to come clean.
“I became manager because of you, Y/N.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t know shit about Volleyball, but I joined anyway because back then, I thought that was the only way for me to get close to you. It was a spur of the moment decision. I was walking aimlessly around campus and for some reason, I ended up standing in front of the bulletin board just outside of the coaches’ office. Saw that the team was looking for an extra manager and it… pretty much went unplanned from there.”
“I admit, It was selfish on my part to join with that reason. Like, who does that? But the longer I stayed, the more I started to see just why you and the girls loved the sport so much and I—I wanted to make sure all of you get to play without any complications or any injuries.” Mark smiled at the look of absolute bewilderment on Y/N’s face. “And hey, I did learn a thing or two about Volleyball, so all of this is kind of a learning experience, too.”
“I’m not an athlete. I will never know what you guys feel whenever you’re out there on the court, fighting to take a win home. But I know what it feels like to want something—want someone so much that I’m willing to do the stupidest shit for them and face the consequences later.”
This is the most vulnerable Mark has ever been in front of anyone in his life. Confessing didn’t come often to him. Before Y/N, he only had fleeting crushes that didn’t even last a week before he refocused on Y/N. It’s always been her no matter how hard he tried to get his stupid heart to listen to him and the seconds the silence went on for longer, he wondered if it was worth letting all that out, in his bed of all places.
Oh well, at least he was still able to have Y/N this close to him. It could be the very last before both of them pretend this never happened and they could create a normal manager-athlete bond—
“Oh my God, I need to kiss you right now, or I will die.”
“Huh—“
Y/N grabbed Mark by the cheeks and kissed him.
There were only two people Mark had kissed in his life. 
One of them being Donghyuck which didn’t count as it was all, but an unfortunate accident that resulted from Mark tripping on air (how the fuck that happened, no one knows) and the other being a girl he kissed on a dare at some random frat party Jaemin dragged him to against his will—yeah, you see the pattern?
Both had one thing in common, and that was not giving him the necessary experience he may need when it came to kissing the girl of his dreams.
But Y/N was patient. As she has always been with him. Y/N let him take his time to learn and adjust throughout the tender push and pull the setter subjected his trembling lips to. Y/N kissed him so gently, full of the tender purpose of pouring every bit of her unspoken response into Mark’s very being that he honestly didn’t know what to do with himself. Y/N was always one step ahead of him and before he knew it, she had him sit up and resting against the pillows while she straddled his lap, mouthing silent promises against his lips, with Mark sealing them with as much vigor.
It was a relief that they weren’t doing this standing, or else his knees would have buckled and that would have been a possible injury too mortifying to imagine explaining it to the team.
They pulled away at the same time for much needed oxygen intake because knowing himself, he’d keep going until either of them passed out. 
Y/N huffed out a short laugh, probably thinking of the same thing. “You are absolutely precious, Mark Lee.”
Mark shuddered at the feeling of her nails scratching at his undercut. “You don’t think I’m… weird?”
“I think you’re determined, and I really really like that.” she leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. “I liked you the moment I saw you.”
Huh. Well there you have it.
Mark was properly blushing at this point. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you too. Especially after that confession.” She looked lovely like this, all happy and giggly where it looked like it hurt to smile so bright. Knowing that Mark was the reason for her current elation just added to that, and as Y/N said, he was determined to keep that from waning. “You really do know what to say to make me fall for you even more.”
“Wanna know a little secret?”
Y/N hummed.
He gathered as much courage as he could to pull her even closer to him. “I’ve been in love with you since middle school.”
“Why chase me now?”
“The opportunity was there,” Mark mumbled, nudging her nose with his, “and hell if I’m letting you slip through my fingers.”
Y/N pressed her lips at the corner of his mouth. “How about you prove it to me?”
She didn't need to ask. Mark had a hard time saying no after all. More so when it came to Y/N and so he kissed her.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until she started asking for more. Until he’s reaching under what was once his crew neck Y/N wore to memorize every dip and curve. Until she’s arching under him, gasping you’re doing so good, Mark. So good for me wetly into the hot, damp skin of Mark’s neck.
Until Y/N’s lips pressed hotly against Mark’s for one final kiss of the night, whispering the words I love you.
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a/n: I'm running on little to no sleep just to get this done so pardon me for any errors! Anyways, everybody say thank you Daegal! (praying that she was deep in her sleep to not hear... all that) and I love Mark very much 🫶🏼💗 it’s an experience writing in his eyes omg 10/10 will do it again with anyone else
taglist [CLOSED]: @maiverie @jaylaxies @cherriegyu @criceofpain @justalildumpling @makiswrld @liumoonlight @stopeatread @vantxx95 @saythenameseventeen178 @heeliopheelia @suhnnyskiess @w3bqrl @13isacoolnumber @dokiyeom @suneonu @jishyucks @glamourizz @neozon3nha @soonyoungblr @anothershorthuman @markonthemoon @hibernatinghamster @pleasetellmenow @sukistrawberry @kikookii @ohdudehesflirting @tddyhyck @luvenshiti @minluvly @scintillasofbeomgyu @sxndmemes @kuic0re @ddazed-lhs @the-poetic-side-of-me @chaerybae @ohwonzz @haechology @dammit-jjk @mowchiie @meltinghershey @m-arkmywords @ckline35 @ferxanda @sungookie @kissesfrmwonwoo @manooffline @svtglitch @en-dream (can’t tag: @shwizhies)
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Text
Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)
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Soap/Reader
TW: sex
MDNI/18+
AO3 LINK
I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!
CHRISTMAS EVE
The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.
You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91. 
The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him. 
He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable. 
But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon. 
He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it. 
You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji. 
It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task. 
So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely. 
You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:  
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow. 
There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt. 
He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam. 
If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,
“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”
You pointed up to the sprawling slide,
“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”
You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.
It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,
“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”
“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”
The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.
“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential. 
It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk. 
“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”
He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:
“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”
You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide: 
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.
“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”
Johnny shrugged,
“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”
You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,
“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”
You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge. 
Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,
“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”
Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way, 
“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”
“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”
There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas. 
Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator. 
You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture. 
His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue. 
Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands. 
He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,
“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”
You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,
“You were right.”
Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,
“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”
“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”
“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”
He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.
Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.
“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.
A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.
“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”
You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.
Then, it was the big one.
“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release. 
“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”
“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded. 
“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.
“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”
“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”
You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride. 
Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,
“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”
Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,
“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”
You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold. 
Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,
“Especially that one. What number?”
“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.
Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying, 
“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”
Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,
“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”
“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes. 
You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,
“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”
Gaz scoffed, 
“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”
Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.
“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.
As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,
“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”
Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke, 
“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”
The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer. 
He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet. 
You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed. 
“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her. 
“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”
“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”
He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff. 
“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit. 
Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”
“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.
You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you. 
“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”
“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him. 
The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes. 
“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting. 
He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right. 
“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”
Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind. 
You sighed,
“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”
“But, you think they willnae last?”
“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”
He furrowed his brow,
“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”
You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated. 
Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,
“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”
You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive. 
“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it. 
“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”
“Then don’t.”
The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving. 
You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none. 
He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose. 
Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other. 
All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed. 
He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks. 
You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you. 
“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”
“Not yet, hen.”
You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture. 
“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.
“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”
His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit. 
You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor. 
Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat. 
“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”
Suck, lick, kiss…
“How many nights…”
Suck.
“...in the sand…”
Lick.
“...in the bloody dark…”
Kiss.
“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”
Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…
“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”
“And when Gaz told me…”
Suck.
“...I didnae believe him.”
Lick.
“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”
Kiss.
“...that you were really mine…” 
Suuuuckkkk.
“...mo mèirleach…” 
Liiickkkk.
“...mo ghràdh.” 
You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm. 
Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward. 
“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.
He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,
“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”
You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous. 
You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,
“Too much for you, thief?”
You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,
“Not yet.”
“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”
“No, do you?”
“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple. 
Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”
His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager. 
“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…” 
“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”
You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws. 
“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.
Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly, 
“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”
“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”
You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure. 
He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction. 
Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours, 
“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…” 
He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again. 
“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”
Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality. 
“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”
As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it. 
20 MINUTES LATER
You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure. 
The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.
“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat. 
Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.
“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you. 
“Sounds like it,” you agreed. 
Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger. 
When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well. 
The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,
“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”
The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you, 
“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”
Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,
“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”
 Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while. 
By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines. 
“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”
He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post. 
Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:
Mo Chridhe: miss you 
You: i miss you too
Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock
You: why
Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine
You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.
Mo Chridhe: promise
You: promise
CHRISTMAS MORNING
Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings. 
All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday. 
Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly. 
“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge. 
“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box. 
Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away. 
“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”
You shrugged,
“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”
Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing, 
“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”
You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,
“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”
For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you. 
“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”
“I love you too, Pidge.”
“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”
You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it. 
“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”
You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight, 
“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”
Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,
“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”
You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike. 
“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.
“Open them,” you urged him. 
They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price, 
“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”
You laughed, 
“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”
“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it. 
Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could, 
“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”
You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,
“Don’t be naughty.”
Johnny laughed, 
“No, no. I’m serious.”
“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”
CHRISTMAS NIGHT
You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home. 
You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.
“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”
“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him. 
“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”
Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours. 
You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:
O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC
“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”
It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label. 
“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”
“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”
He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape. 
“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”
You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given. 
“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy. 
You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow. 
“Mo mèirleach…”
“Mo chridhe.”
As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight. 
BEFORE DAWN
That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.
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slayfics · 3 months
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Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fanfic about the reader developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.
Chapter ten: Pixiebob catches you looking at Katsuki.
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Mandelei and Pixiebob had said the forest was only going to take your class over two hours, but it ended up taking the whole day. The whole class including yourself was exhausted.
The Pussycats cooked for everyone today but made it clear for the rest of the trip your class would have to cook for itself. Dinner and washing up felt like a blur with how tired you were from making it through the forest.
The next morning started way too early with training beginning at 5:30 am. You didn't think you'd ever felt so tired in your whole life. Aizawa and The Pussycats had set up special training for everyone to push their quirks past their limits including you.
You couldn't remember a time you had used your quirk so intensely and it was beginning to make you dizzy. Using your quirk to your limits, making your own food, and staying up exceptionally late for your extra classes were beginning to take a toll on you by the third day.
You pressed on doing your best to continue using your quirk even though you felt lightheaded and ready to pass out.
"Damn it!" You heard followed by a loud explosion.
Katsuki was as noisy as ever in training today.  He repeatedly placed his hands in boiling water and then released a strong blast into the sky for his training. You started to block it out but every now and then his blasts gave you a startle. You turned to watch him for a moment when Ragdoll jumped in front of you blocking your view of him.
"Hi there! Not getting distracted from your training are you?" She said with a giggle.
"What? No, of course not." You said and began to pick up your training again. What the hell, you thought. This was some of the strictest training you had done yet. You only paused for a mere second. Couldn't she at least give you a break?
"You know my quirk is the ability to look at someone and know everything about them right?" She said with another giggle.
"Yeah, I know. What are you trying to say?" You asked defensively, trying to keep focused on training in hopes she'd leave.
"Oh, just making sure that you stay focused," Ragdoll said, eyeing you and then looking over at Katsuki with another giggle.
You rolled your eyes, "I am, I don't know what you're being so weird about."
"Sure you don't. I'll be keeping an eye on you," She said playfully, giving you a wink and walking away.
You kept yourself focused, refusing to look anywhere else in fear of Ragdoll coming back around to bother you. You shivered thinking of her quirk. Some quirks were really invasive.
Finally, it was time for the class to cook dinner. Tonight they had all the ingredients to make stew. You were beside yourself at how much energy some of your classmates still had. Didn't they ever just want to complete tasks in peace and quiet?
"Hey, need some help with those?" You asked, walking over to Katsuki.
"Nah," He said, not looking up from cutting carrots.
"Ugh- come on don't make me go ask someone else. They have too much energy right now." You complained. Katsuki looked up and noticed how exhausted you looked.
"Fine here," He pushed half the pile of carrots over to you. "Those extra classes taking it out of you?" He asked.
"Yeah," You answered as you started to chop the carrots.
"You're doing that wrong," He said.
"There's no wrong way to cut carrots," You said annoyed.
"Yes there is, you're doing it," He stated simply. "Here, it's like this," He said, grabbing your hand and guiding it to cut evenly. You felt yourself tense up and your face heated up just a bit. Katsuki, noticing your reaction, pulled away, misunderstanding your response.
"Tch- I know it's not ideal but- you don't have to make that face about it," he grumbled.
"What?" You asked but refused to look at him and continued cutting the way he showed you.
"My hands, because of my quirk- they are always sweaty," He clarified.
"Oh! That," you exclaimed understanding. You were thankful that he didn't understand your reaction was actually from being flustered at his touch. "It's fine. you shouldn't be embarrassed about it."
"I'm not embarrassed!" He yelled. "I just- I know it's not... pleasant" He responded.
"I honestly didn't even notice. You uh... did you have a girlfriend that gave you a hard time about it or something?" You asked, still refusing to look up at him and remaining focused on the carrots.
"HA- no," he chuckled at your question. "Trying to sit next to me on the bus and now asking about my personal life hu?" He teased you.
"Shut up- I was just trying to start a conversation."
"What about you?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
Katsuki let out an annoyed huff. "You with somebody dumb ass?"
"Oh, no...not anymore." You responded.
"Sounds like it was a good time," He said sarcastically.
You shrugged, "It's whatever, you know how it is."
"Nah," he grumbled as he almost finished cutting through his pile of carrots.
"Nah? You mean you've like never been uh- in a relationship?" You asked surprised.
"Don't sound so damn surprised..." He said and paused a bit as he placed the cut carrots into a bowl. "I'm not fucking dumb you know. I know I'm not a pretty boy like Icy Hot and... I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with," he said, grabbing some of the carrots from your pile to help cut. "Besides, I don't waste my time with that crap anyway. Being the future number-one hero is all that's important to me."
You stayed silent for a moment thinking over what Katsuki said. It surprised you to hear him not be so arrogant for once. When it came to his quirk or anything to do with being a hero Katsuki had no problem boasting that he was the best, but he seemed to have a much more humble view about his relationship appeal.
"I uh- I don't think that you are unattrac-" You began to say but looked up to see Ragdoll staring at you from across the yard causing you to freeze. She shot you another wink and you dropped your knife.
"You good?' Katsuki looked at you confused.
"Yeah, I uh- I just think you got the rest from here." You said and hurried off. You ran and hid next to Mina who was setting the plates out.
"Need some help? Here-" You said hurriedly and began to set the table with her.
Mina eyed you suspiciously, "What were you talking to Bakugo about?" she asked.
"Nothing important," You said not making eye contact with her and placing down plates.
"Oh yeah?" She said and looked around to make sure no one was around before saying, "Then why are your cheeks so bright red?"
"They aren't! It's just warm out here with all the boiling water," You said, rubbing your cheeks.
"Ok fine I won't keep pushing you, but when you're ready to admit it you better tell me!"
Shortly after, Aizawa had come to fetch those of you who had failed the exams to do more training and remedial classes.
Groaning the five of you followed him back leaving behind any hopes of relaxation.
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Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle
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behindthesoul · 4 months
Note
Your MK men as parents headcanons are very interesting. Would you write other MK men as parents? Especially I want to read Rain and Havik!
MK Men as Parents pt2
Masterlist || Part One
Characters: Rain, Havik, Quan Chi, Kenshi
Note: Combined a couple of requests into one. Also, sorry this one took forever to come out!
Rain
Probably one of the more normal parents.
He’s a lot more chill compared to himself in other timelines. I can see him being a proud parent to one or two children. Maybe twins?
Teaches his kids to be a better mage than he is. He tries to make his lessons as fun as he possibly can.
Though, he can become frustrated if they aren't taking their teachings seriously. If something were to happen, they need to learn how to defend themselves.
In some MK1 intros you can tell Mileena (understandably) has a lot of distaste for Rain. So much that she wants his mother banished.
I can imagine his children are involved in this banishment which irritates him. His family, especially his innocent children, do not deserve to be punished for his actions.
The main driving force behind Rain’s mission to atone for his actions is his children. He wants to show that if you make a mistake, you should try to make things right. He also wants to be a man his children can be proud of.
Havik
A pretty hands off parent.
I can’t imagine him ever having a complete grasp on this parenting thing.
Just has one kid and refuses to have more.
His kid just kind of does whatever and Havik doesn’t care. Just as long as they don’t make a mess he has to clean up.
Has the “world’s your oyster” mentality.
This behavior is boosted to 100% after his burns. He embraces the chaos, and what’s more chaotic than having a kid?
Havik and his kid are public menaces, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He’s less of a parent and more of a cool older friend.
Don’t come to him for emotional support or other things like that. Having to actually parent his kid makes him feel tied down.
If his kid wants too much from him he’ll somewhat drift away.
You’ll have to hope their other parent is in the picture.
Quan Chi
Totally the parent who somehow knows their kid’s every move.
He knows when their kid has done something they shouldn’t so there’s never any use in lying to him. He just has this look on his face and his kid knows they’re in trouble.
Excuse my only child self for HCing every character as being a single parent but Quan Chi definitely only has enough energy for one kid.
He feels guilty for bringing a child into the world when he can barely take care of himself. Spending hours and hours in the mines, Quan Chi is exhausted by the time he sees his kid.
All his child knows is a dad who always looks tired and dejected.
That is, until he gets an opportunity to live a better life. A place to sleep, clothes that aren’t tattered, and fresh food - all necessities that his child now gets to experience.
Whenever his child asks how he was able to provide their new life, he just smiles and gives a cryptic answer.
Kenshi
His child was kept hidden. Kenshi thought it best to keep his child away from the whole Earthrealm-Outworld war.
None of his allies knew he was a father til the day they were all thrown in jail with Baraka. Thinking it was his last day on earth, he let the secret spill. Kenshi told everyone all about his child.
He mourned the fact he’d probably never see his child again. Of course, he did; after he helped defeat Titan Shang Tsung.
Kenshi was very nervous to meet his child again. What if they don’t react well to his blindness? Johnny pulls him out of his negative thinking. If your kid is as kind as they say you are, then why would they have a bad reaction?
It eases him a bit, but he’s still a little nervous. He feels like a fool for having those thoughts when his child runs to him, screaming his name. The last few weeks of fighting for Earthrealm was all worth it for them.
His child is a bit confused when they see the mask over his eyes.
“You can’t see me!” They say with a frown.
Sento glows, and Kenshi suddenly sees all the details of his child’s face. He smiles, assuring them.
“Yes I can.”
@mortal-kombat-shitposts
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prettyboypistol · 6 months
Text
TF2 Mercs x M!Reader || Walking in On You Changing!
You're in your quarters, fresh out of the shower. As you laid your clothes out on your bed, the door opens. Fortunately, you still had a towel wrapped around your waist- but unbeknownst to you, the merc that walked in on you had been harboring feelings for you for quite some time!
Scout
Paralyzed in fear, brain lags HARD
"Oh hey! Miss Pailing said-" *internet start up noise*
Two seconds later, he puts his arm over his eyes with a shout. "Oh my god! Sorry!"
Slams the door shut, can't look you in the eye for about a week.
The door slammed open, which made your heart leap out of your chest.
"Hey! We need-" Scout shouted, but then his eyes found you. His throat made a funny noise as he tried to understand the situation.
You looked mortified as Scout kept staring.
"What... do you need?" You asked slowly, confused.
Scout's brain was simutaneously worked into overdrive and completely stopped. The way you blushed and hid your chest away from him, only to expose your back-
"Nevermind!"
Scout shut the door loudly, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. God, this did not help his crush on you!
Soldier
Doesn't really mind that you're naked, to be honest.
Not too weird about you being undressed, but doesn't leave until he says what he needed to say??? Like bro my DICK IS OUT
Thinks about the situation later and sorta feels bad about walking in on you when you were clearly embarrassed.
Makes it up to you somehow after.
"Private! I need to know the location of the industrial-grade cleaner!" Soldier announced as he swung the door open. The hinges thankfully did not slam on themselves and break your door... again.
"Uh, janitors closet?" You responded as you hid yourself slightly from Soldier's gaze. You couldn't actually tell where Soldier was looking, but you didn't want to take any chances.
"I already looked there!"
"Well- okay, why do you need the cleaner?"
"Medic and Engineer made a chemical that eats metal!"
Your eyes snapped open wode as you quickly threw on your shirt and underwear. "Oh my god- yep! On my way!"
Pyro
Looks away from you out of respect, waves, and shuts the door with a friendly demeanor
They don't really see an issue, but they know you're massively uncomfortable so they are understanding about the situation.
Shuts the door and waits for you to open it again to talk
There was a knocking at your door, but before you could speak, Pyro had opened your door and interrupted you changing. You yelped as you adjusted the towel to hide more, clearly embarassed.
"hud- mmfay." Pyro nodded as they gestured to the door. The whole situation lasted less than a minute, but it felt like hours for you. As much as you and Pyro were close, you weren't 'oh yeah, i'm totally fine being exposed in front of you' close! You could only hope that the eyes that looked through the gas mask were either averted or closed.
"Thanks Pyro, I'll be out in just a minute."
Pyro put a hand over their goggles as a courtesy as they shut the door, unbeknownst to you though, their skin felt like fire. Your embarassment, your exposed skin- it made a feeling of bubbling lava churn in their gut.
Once you're fully dressed and open the door to Pyro, they are apologetic, but then tell you what they needed to say.
Demoman
Really casual about it
like, really casual about it
shuts the door and leaves, lets you get changed before he continues to talk to you
teases you through the door fr. total funny asshole friend energy
"Aye lad I gotta ask- oop." Demoman stumbled as he realized the situation he walked in on. When you squeaked and turned away in embarassment, a smile crept onto his face. "Aww, what's wrong? Embarassed about something? A bit too shortcomin' in some bits?"
"I'm busy! Just give me a minute!" You defended.
"Alright, alright!" Demoman teased as he showed his hands in mock-surrender. "I guess that answers my question?"
"Out!"
Demoman shut the door, but was not done yet.
"It cannae be that small, is it?"
"SHUT UP!" You shouted, your voice muffled through the door, only to be met with laughter.
Heavy
A bit shy about it since he has feelings for you, but still straightforward.
Respectful and kind, super embarassed about it. He shuts the door and waits for you to get dressed.
Heavy is so so awkward internally and prays to god that you don't notice that he can't think straight, let alone look you in the eyes.
"Supervisor, Heavy needs to ask you..." Heavy stopped speaking, his words trailed off as he realized that he caught you in a more intimate state. The mutual flushing of both you and Mikhail's cheeks only made the tension thicker as Heavy slowly shut the door. "Heavy will wait outside."
As he waited, the thoughts started running rampant. He didn't know the body type you had, since the baggy shirt and slacks hid your body well. Heavy loved the curves of your body, the gentle dips of your hips and how you perfectly fit into your skin. To Heavy, there was no more attractive man in the world.
Once you opened the door, Heavy cleared his throat and apologized.
"So uh- what did you need?"
"It is nothing."
Engineer
Oh god this man short circuits.
I headcanon that when Engie is startled, his mechanical hand jolts, causing flexing/spasms
Gentlemanly about it, but also wants to treat you like a man. He'd probably want to talk to you still, but he refused to look you in the eyes or look at you at all.
Engie knocked on your door, but the radio you had on drowned out the noise. It was obvious that you were in there, so he decided to open the door.
"Hey there, we've got a bit of a situation, Pyro up an- and uh..."
His face heated up, his body locked up, his hand twitched as the fingers flexed oddly.
"Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't hear you knocking-"
"No worries!" Dell nodded as he turned his head away and covered his eyes with his hand. "It's just that Pyro up and started another fire in the rec room, the sprinklers ain't workin' and the extinguisher was used up last night."
"FUCK."
Medic
This man has seen you naked so many times that it doesn't really bother him to be honest. The operations on you when you were accidentally hit by a wayward rocket made him both immune to and severely weak to your body.
He thinks you are gorgeous, but his desire to seem like a trustable medic overpowered his outright affection for you.
Medic opened the door casually as he looked over his clipboard as he ignored your squeak of indignance.
"So I was looking through your medical file and I noticed that you are an organ donor, yes?"
You quickly tried to cover yourself, red faced and flustered at the brazen act of indifference. Despite this, your shyness was what made Medic find you so handsome.
"I am... why?"
"Could I have a few? Specifically your pancreas and lungs."
"Er- no?"
Medic shrugged. "What about if you flatline and are pronounced dead?"
"Medic, do not take my lungs."
"Fine, fine." He said, slightly disappointed as he left.
Sniper
Not too awkward, but also not very comfortable seeing you so exposed.
shuts the door with a quick apology, but doesn't avoid you. If you ask him what he needed afterwards, he'll apologize again for walking in on you, saying it was nothing important.
It definitely keeps him awake at night and it's the first thing he sees when you talk to him for the next few days.
The quiet knocking was barely enough to hear. It wasn't loud enough to hear over your muttering to yourself as you went over your schedule in your head. "Let's see... Filed the reports, washed the blood off the road, I haven't questioned those government employees yet- oh shit! Sniper! What the hell are you-?"
"Sorry! Sorry." Sniper mumbled as he shut the door. You had no idea how long he was there, let alone what he saw! It comforted you slightly that Sniper was a rather quiet one, since you knew nobody would be talking about you like this. You chuckled to yourself, since Sniper was rather brazen about his own nudity.
On the other hand, Sniper only caught a glance, but he was unable to make his hands work to shut the door again. God, he felt like a creep.
Spy
Casual as well, a lot like Medic in a way.
If you protest he is huffy and rolls his eyes. Seriously, you've seen him blown to bits as Medic rushed him to the lab. A little nudity never killed anyone.
Spy is a little flirty and teasing, if not a little demeaning as well. He still is more interested in getting his problem solved however.
"Jesus Christ! I'm busy!" You protest as Spy strolled into your room as if he owned the place. He inspected the decor with a glare of importance.
"You're clearly not." Spy shot back. "Now, I need the documents on my mission, thank you."
"Well, I clearly don't have them! Get out!"
Spy sighed. "Really now, being naked shouldn't be an issue. I'm a spy, I've seen more people more exposed than you. You're a worker for Mann Co. I know that you can kill a man easier than you make coffee."
"This- this is different!"
"How so? Is it because you don't have a weapon?" Spy teased as he unlocked the safe in your room that held the documents he needed. "Is it because you're the one exposed?"
"Hurry up and get out." You huffed.
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azureseacloud · 2 months
Text
Hidden Messages
Ghost (band)
Part 4
Dewdrop x Reader
Words: 2,727
Warnings: swearing
I’m back! Sorry about the delay, it’s been like almost two months 🫣
Anyway I hope you all enjoy, and as always my askbox is open so if you want to request or even just chat please do! :)
If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know <3
Tags: @gummy-dummy
@ghoulettess
@viylikescats
You hummed absentmindedly, tapping a pen against your cheek. You were sitting at your desk, working your way through the last changes Sister Imperator had wanted you to make. You’d already sent off the plans for accomodation and venue bookings, choosing to forgo skimming over them to save time. You’d finished them last night anyway.
Cirrus was on your bed, her beautiful form lounging as she idly looked through her phone. She was stretched out, leaning her back against the headboard with one leg crossed over the other.
Another notification popped through on your phone and you looked down to see it was from Cirrus again. You sighed, throwing the phone onto the foot of the bed, away from your reach before it distracted you.
“Really, Cirrus?” You were pretty sure the ghoulette chuckled. She held up her hands in mock surrender.
“You don’t have to check it now. Just think of it as a little reward after you’ve finished your work.” By her wicked smile you knew it was going to be more videos of Dewdrop. Satan below, why had you ever told Cirrus about him?
“You are almost done, right honey?” Cirrus asked hopefully. When she’d first come in you’d been laying on your bed typing. She’d joined you, cuddling into you and rubbing calming circles into your back to the point you had almost fallen asleep. After that you had rolled away, choosing to sit at your desk to finish the last of the documents.
It was almost 10pm now and you had almost finished all of the work that you were going to do tomorrow. Which meant you would have a clear schedule to stay at practice for the whole day, if you wanted to.
“I’ve got a few more things left, then I’ll be done.” Cirrus looked pleased at that. You knew she was waiting for you to join her. It wasn’t unusual for the ghoulette to sleep with you on the nights you didn’t spend in the ghoul quarters. You also had a feeling this had something to do with Dewdrop stealing you from her arms last night.
Cirrus had already filled you in on what had happened during the second half of the rehearsal. Dew had apparently been even more hyper after his interaction with you, to the point that Copia had needed to tell him off numerous times, apparently more than he usually did.
You still couldn’t believe it, and you could already feel yourself starting to hope. What if he did like you—what if Cirrus was right?
Even though you knew you should probably kill that hope until you had solid evidence, you didn’t have the heart to. It had been so long since you’d felt this way about someone.
Your mind kept wandering to how his hands had felt on your body, the warmth that radiated from him, the way he’d called you dearest in that honey-smooth tone. You were going to see him again tomorrow—and if Cirrus was right then he would be showing off for you.
You were well aware of the types of moves that Dew normally employed—having seen more than enough videos. But that was completely different to seeing it in person, let alone as his targeted audience.
You’d been to rituals hosted at the abbey, but only a few. You’d ended up at the very back for both of them, not wanting to fight the sisters for a closer space. Even with the limited view, you’d still been able to watch and admire the ghouls as they performed. Papa had been excellent as well—but your eyes had been elsewhere.
Namely on the lead guitarist. Dew’s energy had been breathtaking, the way he threw himself into each song, drawing the attention of the crowd and feeding off it. He knew exactly what to do to make the siblings scream. You’d wanted to be apart of that front row so badly—wanted to have his full attention on you as he played.
It seemed you were going to get the wish, if Cirrus was to be believed. It left a small flutter of nerves every time you thought of it.
Cirrus sat up, her head turning toward the door. You watched carefully—you’d picked up on some of the ghoul’s behaviours, Cirrus’s especially. By the way she tilted her head, you could tell that she heard something or someone nearby.
An amused smile slipped onto her lips as she watched the door.
You waved a hand and her masked face turned to you. “Who?” You mouthed, guessing that it was a ghoul that she had heard. Surely it wasn’t him…
Dew, she mouthed back, blowing you a teasing kiss.
Of course it was.
Your head snapped over to the door as it opened, revealing the fire ghoul, who hadn’t even bothered to knock. That was typical Dew though.
His gaze landed on you first—giving you a little nod in greeting—then flicked to Cirrus.
“Hey Dew, is everything okay?” You asked as you watched the ghoul. His hand gripped the door and he stared at the ghoulette behind you as she sent a delicate wave back at him.
“Copia needs to speak with Cirrus,” he answered, leaning on the doorway in a way that had you staring.
“What does Papa need to speak to me about?” Cirrus sounded uninterested.
Dewdrop shrugged. “Go find out.”
“Tell him I’m busy. It can wait until tomorrow.” Cirrus nodded over at you as you tore your eyes off the fire ghoul.
“He said it’s urgent, Cirrus.” Dew’s gaze flipped to you, his voice taking on a smoother tone. “Don’t worry, I can keep them company.”
“You should probably go Cirrus,” you added, trying to ignore the excited trepidation at the thought of spending more time alone with Dewdrop. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
Cirrus sighed, standing gracefully. She let her fingers brush lightly over the back of your neck as she walked past.
“It’s not that I’m worried about,” she said as she passed the fire ghoul, giving him a warning look.
“Is it because my company is better than yours?” Dew sounded amused, still leaning against the door.
Cirrus laughed. “Oh please. I’m the favourite, aren’t I sweetheart?” She nodded her head behind Dew as they both awaited your answer.
“I don’t have favourites,” you said hesitantly, watching Cirrus point at herself. “But if I had to choose, Cirrus is better,” you added, slyly looking at Dew. Cirrus made a heart with her hands at your response, while the fire ghoul crossed his arms, scoffing.
“Don’t have too much fun,” Cirrus said with a teasing wink to you. “And you better be finished all that work when I get back.”
You gave her a little wave as she left. Dewdrop took a step into the room, closing the door softly.
It was his first time in your room—only Cirrus and the ghoulettes had been in here, as well as Rain on one occasion. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them here—rather that you spent most of your time in the ghoul quarters that it was practically home now. This room was more of a storage place where you kept all your belongings and work-related items. You only really stayed in it when you needed a break from the chaos—which was very rarely.
Dew seemed to be taking in your room, walking around as he scanned through your items, though there weren’t that many. He lingered at the small shelf housing your favourite books, running a finger delicately across their spines.
After ensuring he wasn’t up to anything that couldn’t be classed as strangely typical ghoul behaviour, you forced your attention back to the screen.
There was one more document left and then you could call it a night, and you’d have an entirely free day tomorrow to admire the fire ghoul. It was harder than it should have been to ignore him though. It was like your eyes were drawn to him, and you had to keep fighting the urge to look back at him.
You were typing the last part of the document when you suddenly became aware of his presence behind you. You stilled, catching his reflection on the screen.
Dew placed his hands on the desk at either side of you, his arms caging you in as he leant over you. His breath touched your right shoulder as he took in the screen.
“Someone’s eager to watch me play tomorrow,” he whispered smugly. You huffed, unlocking your fingers and typing again, furiously telling yourself to calm down.
“From what Cirrus told me, you’re the one who can’t wait to show off. How many times did you get told off by Copia today?”
Dew laughed lowly, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder.
“You’ve been talking about me, dearest sibling?” he muttered, a teasing tone in his voice. “Seems you just can’t get me out of your head.”
“I’m surprised you fit through the door with that ego. Then again, you are pretty short,” you teased back, hearing a quiet hiss in response.
Dew burrowed his face against your shoulder, his hands running along your arms. The movement jostled your hands as you were typing, turning the next word into a jumble of random letters. You quickly pressed the back button, acutely aware of the way his hands glided smoothly over your skin and the weight on your shoulder.
“Do you mind?”
“You don’t smell like me anymore,” he murmured, sounding disappointed.
Ah. So that’s why Cirrus had given you a whole heap of hugs, and why she had been so eager to cuddle tonight, especially after you’d showered earlier. You wondered if it was to reinforce her claim on you, or an attempt to piss Dew off.
“Well I’m trying to type here.”
“Don’t care. This is what you get for calling me fucking short.”
You sighed dramatically, reaching a hand up to push his head away. He grabbed at your arm, pinning it to the desk with a sound of amusement.
You raised an eyebrow at his reflection on the screen.
“Really?” You flexed your trapped hand, trying to loosen his grip. “Let me go little gremlin, I’m trying to finish this work so I can go watch you practise. You know, like you so desperately want me to.”
Dew lifted his head, watching you through the reflection. He was silent for a moment as you held his gaze.
“How much longer until you’re finished?”
“About five minutes. And don’t tell me that’s too long to wait,” you added, well aware that the fire ghoul was known to be exceptionally impatient.
He huffed.
“Fine,” Dew said as he withdrew, trailing his fingers across your shoulders then your neck the way Cirrus had earlier. He lowered his mouth to your ear. “Five minutes.”
You relaxed as he threw himself on your bed, the phantom tingle of his breath on your ear lingering. Five minutes—then what? Was he wanting to sleep here tonight as well? How long was Cirrus going to take?
You mentally cursed the air ghoulette for leaving you in this situation. You hoped she would be back soon—although you were definitely enjoying Dew’s attention. Maybe he really did...
You would think about that later.
It was silent for a few minutes, the tapping of your keys the only sound. You resisted the urge to check what the ghoul was up to—once you did you knew he would try to distract you again, and you only had two more minutes.
“Has Cirrus been sending you more porn?” You startled, twisting your head to see he was holding your phone. Fuck.
“No she has not.” You tensed—you knew he shouldn’t be able to get into your phone, but you still felt a small fear curling in your stomach at the thought of him somehow seeing your conversations with Cirrus. The ones that were mostly about him.
“Then what has she been sending you?” He mocked a gasp. “Not her own videos?”
You stood, closing your laptop. It’s not like you were going to get anything else done anyway.
“Give me my phone back Dewdrop.”
He twisted around so he could see you, the balaclava under his mask slipping enough to give you a glimpse of a toothy smile.
“Make me.”
You narrowed your eyes, taking in the ghoul on your bed. He stared back at you, lifting his chin slightly in a challenge.
At that moment, the door opened, Cirrus returning from her meeting with Papa.
She glanced between the two of you, bracing her hands on her hips. You shot her a look of relief, gesturing towards Dewdrop.
“Can you help me with this?”
Dew snorted, rolling onto his stomach to face you, the phone still in his hands as he propped himself up on his elbows.
“Told you my company was better,” he said to Cirrus.
“I can see that.” The ghoulette sounded amused. “Now get out of my spot or I’ll tell Mountain it was you who broke his drums last week.”
Dew scowled back. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Cirrus tilted her head, a knowing smile breaking across her lips.
“It would be very unfortunate if Sister Imperator was to also somehow find out about what you did to that shelf of rare books in the library—“
“Fucking okay!” Dew sighed, languidly stretching before rolling reluctantly off the bed.
You watched as he stepped around the bed, wondering just how much blackmail Cirrus had on each of the ghouls. Maybe she was on to something—you made a mental note to hold on to any future information.
Dew stopped in front of you, holding out your phone. You hesitantly reached out for it, expecting a trick of some sort.
Instead, he let you take it, although he made sure to brush his fingers against yours.
“See you at rehearsals tomorrow.” He leaned in, whispering cockily. “I know you won’t be able to take your eyes off me.”
You gave him a small smirk, though your heart was racing. “We’ll see.”
He hummed in response, before Cirrus grabbed him by the arm and pushed him out of the room. She shut the door, cutting him off mid-curse.
You raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
“Don’t tell me you wanted him to stay,” she said, mocking disbelief with a hand to her chest. You rolled your eyes playfully.
“And if I did?” A smile ghosted your lips at the thought of Dew staying—but you also needed to actually sleep, and that wasn’t going to happen with him around.
Cirrus sighed, shaking her head. “Do you believe me now? You definitely have a chance with him.”
You felt red creeping across your cheeks. You really were starting to think that it was possible, but a part of you still held back a little. Before your thoughts could begin to drown you, Cirrus grabbed your hand and pulled you down towards the bed. You flipped your phone onto the bedside table—those videos could wait until the morning.
Cirrus pulled you in close, nuzzling into your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her. She flicked off the light with her tail, plunging the room into darkness.
“What did Copia want?” You asked quietly as the two of you settled into a comfortable position.
“He wanted to check everything still fit for the upcoming performances, and that there weren’t any adjustments that needed to be made last minute.”
You nodded against her shoulder. That sounded like Copia—he was always remembering something he had forgotten right at the last minute. You thought fittings would have been sorted a few weeks ago.
“Annnd,” Cirrus dragged out the word, a hint of excitement in her voice, “we’re all getting capes.”
Capes? “No way. That’s going to be awesome!”
She hummed in agreement. “They look fabulous too.” You chuckled.
“I’m sure you’ll look ravishing.”
“I always do,” she purred. “Everyone else will have one too, even your little fire ghoul.”
Dewdrop with a cape? Fuck, you couldn’t wait to see that. Wait—
“He’s not my little fire ghoul.” You rolled over a little, peering at her through the darkness.
Cirrus laughed quietly, and you scowled.“He’s not.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
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gahyeonszn · 8 months
Note
Helloo, can you write a lsfm ot5 x reader where the reader is born only 7 days after eunchae? so theyre basically twins lol
catching z's
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genre: fluff
warning(s): none
note: didn't know how you wanted this written so i just made it into a fic, hope you like it!!
you and eunchae were the very obvious babies of le sserafim which everyone loved. sakura loved treating you two like her daughters, chaewon loved playing around, yunjin loved teasing until one of you ran to sakura to tell yunjin off, and kazuha loved feeling like an older sister towards you two when one of you needed help with something.
you and eunchae were the closest out of everyone since you were insanely close in age and shared most of the same interests. you were like sisters who didn’t want to spend a second apart from each other which the others found endearing and adorable. there was one day where the other girls had found you and eunchae way cuter than normal though and that was when you two were getting ready for school only to fall asleep in each other's arms because you were both tired.
sakura had walked into you and eunchae’s shared room, waking you both up for school with a shake on the shoulder. you groaned while sitting up, rubbing your eyes while calling out for eunchae. eunchae didn’t stir, turning around so her back was faced towards sakura who shook eunchae’s entire body, waking her up instantly. you got out of bed, walking towards the closet to pull out your uniforms. you handed eunchae her uniform to which she tiredly thanked you, yawning after.
after the two of you got dressed, you both went to the vanity to put on light makeup before going into the kitchen to eat breakfast. eunchae grabbed the face roller to deal with puffiness while you started to apply mascara, scared that you might mess up with how your eyes kept fighting to close. eunchae put the face roller down and scooted over a bit so you could sit down at the vanity with her, leaning her head on your shoulder once you had sat down. you put the lid back on the mascara tube before putting it down and resting your head on top of eunchae. you both yawned in sync, causing you two to giggle before letting both your eyes shut.
what you two didn’t hear was chaewon and yunjin calling your names for breakfast since you two were about to be late. sakura sent kazuha to check on you two since she knew that if she were to check on you two, it would be a whole lot of scolding. kazuha got up from her comfortable spot on the couch without making a fuss, making her way towards you and eunchae’s room, pressing her ear to the door before opening it. silence, not a single sound which was unusual for you two since eunchae was always so full of energy in the mornings that it would spread to you, making you full of energy in the mornings as a result too. 
upon opening the door, kazuha melted at the sight, quickly but quietly running over to the older girls to tell them. they all quietly followed kazuha who held out her arms to show the way you two had been sleeping. yunjin was quick to pull out her phone to snap pictures, taking in the moment before sakura woke you two up. chaewon pleaded quietly for sakura not to wake you two up since you were just too cute, but sakura shook her head, crossing her arms.
“they’re going to be late, school is important.” sakura said, walking towards you two, but stopping when she saw you snuggle closer to eunchae. sakura walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her, hanging her head low in defeat.
“couldn’t do it, i’ll write an absence note for them to take tomorrow.” 
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cherrypandora · 5 months
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Never Should Have Let Them Dance (part 1)
inspired by the song Learn to do it (Waltz Reprise) from Disney’s Anastasia I’ve included it at the end.
synopsis: Mingi falls in love with Hongjoong’s highschool sweetheart
Genre: YA, Drama, Angst, Idol!Ateez, Rated R(not this part)
Warnings: Cursing
Pairings: Hongjoongxreader mingixreader
-Flashback-
“Joongie! Look what I brought you!” Hongjoong looked up, a smile spreading across his face as you ran to him. You wore your first-grade school uniform, hair up in two small buns, typical for a six-year-old. Being squeezed to death in your hand there was a small pack of hi-chew fruit candies. His favorite. You always had so much energy this early in the morning. He felt it in the strength of the hugs you’d give him.
“Hongjoong, make sure she waits until snack to eat that, please.” He nodded at your mother, signaling that she didn’t have to worry and could return to talking to her best friend, his mother. He would’ve made you wait even without the order. Hongjoong felt it was his duty to look after you, being a full year older and all. Your mothers kissed you both goodbye and Hongjoong’s stomach filled with butterflies as you grabbed his hand in yours, pulling him off to school.
He didn’t know how you could touch his hand so nonchalantly. When he held yours his whole body felt weird and his cheeks turned pink. You weren’t awkward like he was. So you continued pulling him into the building just like you had every morning before and every morning after.
-End Of Flashback-
The bright flash of cameras snapped Hongjoong back into reality. He hadn’t seen you since he graduated high school, seven years ago. Though he caught himself thinking of you in random moments like these. Reminiscing and hoping you were okay. He didn’t know where you were but he was Captain Hongjoong of Ateez now. He had responsibilities and priorities. Those didn’t stop him from subtly wishing to bump into you at the grocery store one day. He could drown in his curiosity. What were you doing after school? What did you look like now? Are you seeing someone?
He turned to a new angle, allowing the photographers to catch more poses of him on the red carpet. Hongjoong kept very busy so it wasn’t often these thoughts would plague him. But once they started it was difficult to stop them.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a new car pull up to the event. It was immediately swarmed by paparazzi and fans so he couldn’t see who occupied the vehicle. Deciding to focus Hongjoong turned his attention back to his photos only to whip his head back around after hearing a very familiar giggle. Hongjoong could feel his heart inside of his throat as his jaw clenched. It couldn’t be you.
Could it?
“Producer of the Year nominees here!”
The captain’s attention was turned when they called for a picture of all the nominees. The Producer of the Year award. That included Hongjoong. To his surprise, you lined up too, at the opposite end of the line as him. Distracted wasn’t the word for what he was right now. You were stunning. He pinched himself a few times to make sure he hadn’t imagined you being here. You had been on his mind mere seconds before you entered the room, how could you be here right now? And competing against him for an award. Why didn’t he know anything about that?
Click.
They snapped photo after photo. Hongjoong tried his best to keep his head forward instead of turning to stare at you. He lost that battle of willpower. Deciding a glance wouldn’t hurt he turned his head slightly, stomach sinking as he immediately locked eyes with you.
You smile.
Fuck.
Eventually, it’s time to take your seats and Hongjoong is both grateful and annoyed that you aren’t sitting next to him. The show’s hosts announce the winners and the producer of the year is presented to you, earning shouts of approval and congratulations. Hongjoong watches intently as you move to accept your award and make your speech.
“Thank you all so much,” You start “I’m so grateful you all did this for me. But I think I still have way too much to learn and there is someone else more deserving of this tonight.” Hearing you ask him to come up onto the stage takes Captain by surprise. He reluctantly meets you on stage where you hand him the award and assure him that he does deserve it. After the show, everyone says goodbye and you are asked a few questions by many journalists. They expected the moment between you and the leader of Ateez to go extremely viral and they wanted a head start on the exclusive scoop of why you’d ever give up your award.
The cameras continued to click as you excused yourself. Calling out Hongjoong’s name and quickly making your way over to him once you spotted him in the crowd. you had been waiting to talk to him all night.
“Hi, Joongie!”
“(Y/n)! Wow, it’s been so long.” You two exchanged smiles, small talking your way through the thick awkward tension.
“Is it my imagination or are you not shocked to see me? I mean I’m stunned to see you.” Joong pressed.
“I’m glad to see you! I knew you’d be here though so I was looking forward to it. You didn’t know I was coming, Joongie?” Before he could answer, a journalist pushed their way up to you.
“Hongjoong, (Y/n)! You two look amazing together! I know your fans are dying to know! What is the nature of your relationship?” You laughed nervously, not sure what to say but positive sharing that Hongjoong was your ex-boyfriend was the wrong answer.
He spoke up for you. “We are friends. We’ve been friends for many years. (Y/n) is very dear to me.”
After the event was over you had gone home to get some rest. Captain had returned to the dorms. His members were asleep, he was glad he had until morning at least to avoid Wooyoung’s pesky questions. He wondered if your PR team had given you the same lecture. Coaxing you to message him and ask to meet for lunch this week. He stared at your contact, which he didn’t have until a few minutes ago thanks to the snooping of his team. He began typing “Hey…”
Captain didn’t send it right away. He sat and contemplated if this was the best idea for his sanity. Anxiety was a good enough reason to tell them no. Still, he swallowed the lump in his throat and hit send. He stared at the message conversation for a few seconds before three dots appeared, indicating that you were typing. Hongjoong immediately locked his phone, tossing it across the room and burying his head in his pillow. He squeezed the ends of it against his ears tight.
He didn’t know why he was reacting this way. It wasn’t like you guys had ended on bad terms after you dated in high school. You both always told each other not to be afraid to reach out. Of course, neither of you did and eventually, Hongjoong graduated leaving you with one more year to complete. Distance has a funny way of pulling people apart.
Soon he heard the familiar ping of a new text message. Reluctantly, he retrieved his phone to read what you had sent.
“Haha! I see they got to you too! I was about to message. Does Thursday at 1 pm work for you?” Relief washed over him. He ignored the sour feeling in his gut that told him you only agreed for work purposes. When Thursday rolled around he was still nervous. Palms clammed as he smoothed the coat of his blue suede suit.
“Are you ready for your date?”
“I told you, Hwa. It’s just lunch with a friend.”
“I know what you say. Your demeanor gives you away. I’ve never seen you so wrought up over ‘lunch with a friend’.”
“This friend is” he faltered “different. But still, just a friend. I’ll be home in an hour or so.” when he arrived you were already seated, clad in a bright yellow dress. a Captain took note of your choice to accessorize with a red-orange belt as your statement piece. The entire outfit complimented his blue suit beautifully. Of course, your stylist had coordinated colors beforehand for picture purposes, but he admired your fashion and sense of style.
He approached you gently. “Sorry, am I late?” You smiled brightly, rising to hug and greet your long-time friend and high school sweetheart.
“Not at all! I got here early.” He sat down with you and as you two talked, catching up and telling each other about all you’ve done over the years Hongjoon’s fears melted away. Talking with you was just as easy as it’s always been. It came naturally and felt genuine. He wished he had reached out to you sooner. You told him how you were part of a girl group and were their lead vocalist and main producer. He winced, being so wrapped up in Ateez he hadn’t even heard of your debut. He wished he was there to help you through what must have been a super difficult time. Shortly it was time for you to get going. As you gathered your things and your courage you mentioned to Hongjoong that you had been invited to Milan for a fashion show. You were aware that he was big on fashion and designing so you wondered if he’d be your plus one.
“I’d love to, you can send me all the details when you get a chance!” After parting ways with you Ateez’s captain made his way to the schedules he shared with the members.
“Well, how long have you known her?” The group members were all curious about the girl who had made such a big gesture to their captain.
“You never mentioned her to us but you’re meeting her for lunches now!” Wooyoung was particularly offended.
“Will you all lay off? She’s an old classmate. I had no idea she debuted recently.”
“Well, why did you go to lunch together?” San raised an eyebrow making Captain roll his eyes.
“PR said it’d look good. Really, can we practice now?”
There was silence as Ateez moved into their positions for the dance choreography.
Mingi had been listening without much input. He had watched the clip of you giving away your award a few times himself and while he didn’t understand why he had to say; you sure were pretty. And the gesture gave him an idea of your character. To put it plainly, you had peeked his interest so he figured he’d shoot his shot.
“Can we meet her?”
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lady-ashfade · 1 year
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Sweets surprise
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George Karim x Reader. (+The whole crew)
Plot: This is a small drabble that I had in mind, so i apologize for it not being long. But like the theme it’s short and sweet, and makes me warm.
Notes: I am on episode six so if there is someone wrong tell me and I apologize.
Warnings: Um..I guess a small hint at suggestive themes. And not even between characters- spelling mistakes.
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It was the first time in days the door has had a knock, so Lockwood assumed it was a new costumer with a case. So jumping up from his seat upon hearing the tapping at the door very happily and a glimpse of hope. Lucy follow behind him ready to greet the person and see who was at the door, curiosity always getting the better of her.
Though when he opened the door it was not a new costumer, and though he was hoping for one he was not disappointed. “Hello, stranger.” The smile and cheerful giggle in your voice made them both feel warm.
Lucy had no idea who you were but something about the smile and your energy made her feel comfortable. “I brought some treats, I know the whole ghost fighting can be tough. So I thought I would drop by.” You lifted up a box full of slightly smaller boxes. The wave of the sweet smell hit their noses and they eagerly let you inside.
You followed them down into the kitchen and set everything on the table, you pulled out four boxes and set them out but kept one close to you. “I have cinnamon rolls, little cakes with little ghosts, and then my family’s famous lemon tarts.”
“They smell amazing.” The girl who you presumed was their new partner, Lucy. “Thank you, I work hard on them. But it’s a small payment for what you do to help the city. Are you Lucy?” She look taken aback almost nervously but quickly smiled and nodded.
“I’m Y/n. Anything you need you can give me a call. Nice to meet you Lucy.” You looked at Lockwood and he was putting a lemon tart into his mouth, not caring if it fit or if he could handle it all. “Oh my god, it’s so good.” He moans out loud and it sounded like it was something else. But you had no time to laugh when another voice spoke behind you.
“Not in the kitchen, I just cleaned. If your going to do it might as well-” you turned around and saw George walk in. His eyes met yours and his words stop, he looked shocked to see you. “What are you doing here?” His voice sounded a little harsher then you knew it was meant to be.
But when it comes to him your sensitive. “I brought you biscuits, just the way you like them.” You happily rushed him the box you saved, “Saving the world must be hard, need some food to keep you going.” From behind you the two glanced at each other. Lucy being new to you but she saw what was happening.
“Thank you..” he slowly took the box from your hands and for a moment it was silence. It was a little awkward, especially since you two were looking right at each other. But, your friend came to the rescue.
“George, why don’t you show them the new artifact from the last case.” You saw how quickly the gears shifted behind his eyes and a smile quickly went to his lips. “Yes. I must show you, come with me.” He put the small box into one hand and took your hand with the other and pulled you down the stairs into the basement.
The kitchen was quiet for a moment but then Lucy turned to her boss and friend. “Does that happen a lot? Is that his partner? I have so many questions.” The boy chuckle and rolled his eyes at his friends that just disappeared.
“They are a mystery even I can’t salve, but it doesn’t take a master to know those two like each other. But, if you’d like I can tell you every detail while we enjoy these delicious pastries.” And she gladly accepted his offer. 
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As promised, here is an in-depth brief overview of the circumstances surrounding Melady becoming Lalum's legal guardian
Got it out technically before the year end, and it goes under a read more so I don't fill your dash with a whole lotta words (1240 words to be precise) because I have some sense of courtesy. Hope you enjoy it!
It had, at least initially, been purely a matter of logistics. A child required housing, of those with space and time available, one said the other was the much better option. Echidna made very clear that her house full of weapons was not suitable for a kid, so said kid became Melady’s problem. The situation was even more awkward than is typical, due to its atypical circumstances. The child in question was, in one way or another, related to Sigune. So of course, information about her was impossible to find or never existed. They knew her name was Lalum, that her parents were dead, and that she was related to Sigune. They couldn’t even be certain she was a child. They were considering her as one, and Sigune said she was ‘underage’.
And Sigune never lies.
The child was both inoffensive and offensive. She took up little space, made little noise, occupied little time. She kept to the basement that had been made her room, emerged to eat, barely spoke and when she did it was quietly. Except when she started fires. And broke windows. And made graffiti. And started more fires. And ruined things. And threw knives. Every time, Melady would either reign her in mid-crime or haul her back home post-crime. Every time, Melady would ask the child why she had done this, and be told she didn’t know why, and she was sorry, and she wouldn’t do it again. Every time, she sounded honest, regretful, sad and scared and weak. Every time, she would do it again. What frustrated Melady wasn’t the behavior in and of itself, it was how inexplicable it was, how it came from nothing and vanished before it could be seen. Melady was told that the child was loud, insulting, dismissive, chaotic and insufferable. She only saw a quiet, fragile, empty person. A child seemingly too afraid of the consequences to ever make a noise or express a want.
It bothered Melady, that the child she was in charge of, that she cared for, was lying to her. Not by saying  she wouldn’t do this again, but by trying to hide whatever part of her it was that longed for chaos and relished in humor derived from starting fires and annoying people. That hiding, that refusal to show the wholeness of herself, was a lie, as offensive as any. And it wasn’t one she could make the child stop telling. She couldn’t force her to expose that side of her. Her only option was to make the child willing to be honest with herself and with Melady. She had to make herself into someone who could accept that honesty. And she set herself to that goal.
It was not an easy thing to do, offering acceptance to someone who offers nothing to accept. She did all in her power to be kind and understanding every time she had to question the child after one of her outbursts, despite Melady’s longstanding opinions on the value of militarily instilled discipline. But she valued honesty more. She mentally noted every bit of information about the child she could get from their brief conversations during meals, and followed those scant leads as best she could. Regardless of if it involved watching over 200 episodes of Dragon Ball Z or playing through Earthbound.
It was a delicate thing though. She couldn’t treat this like she was pursuing a quarry. She was researching an artwork, reading information about the artist to derive more from the work. She couldn’t just open conversation at dinner with “I watched DBZ so I could know you better”, that was an incredibly bizarre thing to do. She mirrored the child, making the occasional remark regarding the works.
She could see the results, as the remarks became more frequent, blossomed into brief discussions. She saw life and energy in the child that she never saw elsewhere, passion and opinions and humanity. It was often fleeting, something the child reigned in. But it was there, she was drawing it out. It took over a year for the approach to truly work, for it to create a real relationship that was not purely a matter of logistics. Melady saw that it took great effort, great courage on the part of the child to make her move, to acknowledge the bridge Melady had been building between them. To be honest with herself and her guardian.
“I’m going to play Radiant Silvergun. You can come watch if you want.”, said quickly, dismissively, by someone who left before she could receive the no she expected. Melady waited a minute before walking down to the basement. The child was visibly surprised, having already accepted that connection with her wasn’t wanted.
“So, tell me about Radiant Silvergun.” stated simply. It made the child pause, stunned. Then, for a brief moment, Lalum showed an incredibly earnest, honest smile. It was then quickly replaced by an expression of dismissive confidence.
“So it’s an old shmup that’s mad weird in a fascinating way. The gameplay kicks ass of course, but what really keeps me coming back is the way the story works. The stages are numbered chronologically but not played chronologically, so you start on stage 3 and then go to 2, then 4. It rules. Then there’s the story itself, which was sort of added in the saturn port, since the game didn’t have cutscenes in the original arcade version. So a bunch of kids took home a copy of their favourite shmup and then like 3 minutes after booting it up on their saturn they’re told all life on earth got killed by a tetrahedron.” 
Lalum continued rambling, going on about weapon types and The Stone-Like and BE ATTITUDE FOR GAINS. It was, at best, mildly interesting to a layperson, which Melady was. But the happiness and confidence expressed by someone she’d barely heard speak, let alone emote, was truly engaging. It had been worth the effort, she decided. It was worth further effort, she decided. She asked about what scenarios the ‘thunder beam’ was useful in just to hear Lalum keep speaking.
After that event, Lalum became significantly worse as far as most were concerned. She had been quiet before now, but suddenly she was overconfident, more annoying and her crimes increased in severity. As far as Melady was concerned, Lalum was finally alive and it was as beautiful as it was infuriating. Disagreements between child and legal guardian increased in frequency, but now it wasn’t a series of questions answered with quiet platitudes. Lalum would push back, would explain what vague whims and arbitrary standards drove her to act, and would make a very obviously false apology. This was a marked improvement in Melady’s eyes.
As far as Lalum was concerned, this adult that had been forced to take care of her had met her emotionless, people-pleasing facade head on, and as such now had to deal with the ‘real’ Lalum. If pressed, she’d admit Melady could be fun to talk to and the way she expressed actual interest in whatever weird garbage Lalum rambled about made her feel weird and vulnerable and something better than tolerated. But she figured Melady would crack eventually and get sick of her, like everyone else did. It was just taking a REALLY long time. Hopefully it’d take forever and things could stay like this, just don’t quote her on that because it sounds lame.
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foreverisntenough · 9 days
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-YOU’RE MINE -
Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.
Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestions, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!
Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)
INDEX
Chapter 17 - ‘You’re Mine’
Trent slowly opened his eyes, waking up, he grabbed for his phone and winced at the bright light in the dark room. He had heard it vibrating on the bedside table but hadn’t had the energy or interest to look until now. You were still passed out nestled on his chest. He smiled, inspecting the little details of your face before turning his attention back to his phone. His brows furrowed at a group chat with his manager and brother blowing up. He had 50+ text messages. Since early hours they had been talking and sending links. He scrolled in momentary ignorance up to where the conversation started this morning, clicking the first link sent curious seeing his name included in the headline’s blurb.
“What the ..” he spoke at a normal voice that trailed into a whisper... “fuck” as you stirred.
“T?” You cooed, picking your head slightly, wiggling a little on top of him.
“Shhhh... Baby, go back to sleep, yeah?” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You couldn’t fight the sleep plaguing you, a headache hit you almost immediately so you rested your cheek back against his bare chest.
The Daily Mail headlines felt almost fake…. Trent squinted wondering if this was an elaborate joke. He couldn’t believe it.
‘Not So Secret? Alexander-Arnold confirms long term relationship with mystery woman’
‘Packing on the PDA; Liverpool fullback gets handsy with woman on a night out in Manchester’
‘Meet Mrs. Merseyside; Liverpool’s Trent Alexander- Arnold shows off his missus on a night out.’
That one seemed to stick. People ran with the Mrs. Merseyside headline. Photos of you last night were plastered across the internet; holding hands into the restaurant, a blurry photo of you kissing at the dinner table, hooking up in the car, god so fucking many of that kiss in the car, you pouring tequila down his throat, your whole night was chronicled. Why the fuck is this being published? You two went out all the time before this, but multiple articles, major news outlets, social media a buzz, it seemed like a lot. Trent’s head started to hurt now. He picked up his arm off you to rub over his eyes trying to calm down. His movement caused you to wake. You slowly began pressing kisses all over his chest. You moved deliberately, hands running over his skin. Humming. Trent got a little sidetracked for the moment, his hand coming to stroke your face but when your hand slid over his abs and down into the waistband of his boxers he shut his eyes tight at the amount of stuff going on and he didn’t think messing around right now would be a good idea.
“Nah, nah. Please baby, not right now” He cooed trying to be nice, mind racing thinking of trying to explain the news to you when he couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.
“Wait, what?” Your head sprung up looking at him confused. It was rare for Trent to refuse you. You weren’t even trying to have sex. You just wanted to be closer to him.
“I’m sorry..sorry..” he shook his head overwhelmed. “Just not right this second pretty girl, okay?” He felt bad he could see you were confused but your head hurt too much to think right now so you laid back down in a huff and cuddled him a little before starting to draw over his chest with your nail. Trent kept reading on his phone frivolously, one article breaking down when you first appeared in Liverpool, another saying you were a one night stand, an instagram post found the price of the clothing items you were wearing, it was all doing his head in. He put his phone down leaning his head further back into his pillow. His arms squeezed you a little tighter before releasing and dozing off holding you trying to escape this morning.
Trent had fallen asleep when you heard the doorbell ring. You were confused and ignored it, continuing on with your important task of spelling your name, little hearts, and I love yous over his chest with your nail still. The bell rang again so you slipped off of Trent and the bed. You sleepily fumbled around the room looking for your panties. You pulled one of Trent’s shirts over your head as you made your way downstairs. You yawned, squinting at the bright sun coming into the house, you went to grab at the handle of the front door when it began to unlock and open. You pulled as they pushed it open.
“Where’s Trent?” Tyler pushed past you in the doorway. He had a key and he didn’t feel like waiting for your hungover ass to let him in any longer.
“What?” Running your hands over your eyes. He turned back towards you giving you a quick hug like he had forgotten walking in before he proceeded to let himself further inside, going to the kitchen.
“You just woke up I’m assuming?” He turned back to you, opening your fridge.
“Ty… I definitely didn't purposely come down looking like this.” You giggled half asleep pulling at Trent’s t-shirt from last night. “By all means, have what you want!” You joked as he poked around.
“You haven’t talked to him today?” He asked, head still in the refrigerator.
“Erm… no?” You were utterly confused and his panicked state had your head hurting again.
“Can you go get him, he has to get up. It’s… it’s time sensitive, yeah?” He asked nicely, finally turning around to face you. You said okay and left the room but you always worried when Trent and Tyler needed to have impromptu meetings. Usually, something was wrong or Trent had forgotten about something else. It all stressed you out. A part of you always selfishly feared that the ‘something’ would shake up your life with Trent. Unbeknownst to you, this one just might.
Tyler didn’t want to be the one to show you the news. He figured Trent should. You were a little sensitive about what other people said online and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He’d leave the hard task to his brother.
When you pulled Trent downstairs, it was a little awkward because he didn’t want to tell you either. You more than likely had to be included in some part of the discussion but the thought of stressing you out over something so ridiculous upset him.
“What’s happening?” You cooed, pressing a kiss into his neck as he wrapped his arms from behind around your shoulders in front of you.
“It’s fine, yeah? Just have to do this with Tyler. Sort some things out.” He cooed whispering in your ear, placing a kiss over it when he stopped.
Tyler had moved to the couch, Trent sat down on the other side, you stood awkwardly unable to move paralyzed by the possibilities. You suddenly felt sick and not from the alcohol that was seeping out of your pores now from last night. God, you needed to shower.
The boys explained the media frenzy occurring and you stood there in front of them. Shocked. Trent played with your limp fingers hanging at your side when you finally started coming back from the sudden drop in blood flow in your body. They showed you what had come out, scrolling quickly sparring you in the finer details, the comments you would inevitably read. Tyler called Trent’s manager and put it on speaker. He laughed when he greeted the boys so it lightened the heavy weight pulling on your heart at the moment that they were able to feel so relaxed with this going on.
“Well, there’s nothing… What am I meant to say? I don’t have to say shit to them…” Trent stumbled over his thoughts still tired, a little annoyed this was happening.
“It’s a ‘no comment’ situation, we knew this would happen. We just have to kill the more cynical narratives being put out there.” He paused, blowing some air out of his mouth. “The ‘Trent is a piece of shit, he’s a womanizer, drunk, throwing his career away,’ the whole lot and then obviously the Y/N specific stuff.” Tyler spoke more composed, seeming to have some sort of plan in place, prepared for this which didn’t surprise you but the ‘Y/N specific stuff’ comment caught you off guard. Trent hummed at it with some sort of agreement or remembrance like this was done before. You were out of the loop.
“It’s great you have to do press before the fixture this weekend.” Trent’s manager laughed sarcastically.
“Oh fuck” Trent said dropping his head in his hands. “Nah, honestly. Why do they even carreee” he groaned, falling back into the couch. The boys kept discussing more logistical things; statements, image rights, contacting the club.
“Can I go shower or do you need me?” You whispered pulling at Trent’s arm.
“You’re fine, baby. Come back down when you're done.” He kissed your temple. You got up and Trent mouthed where you were going to Tyler not to interrupt his sentence but to still fill him in. When you went to turn the water on in the bathroom you felt like you had been slapped in the face with the memory of your and Trent’s words in bed last night.
“Holy fuck” you expressed out loud. You turned the water a little colder to try to forget it, reset, there was too much going on, your head was pounding. You stood under the shower head and felt really naked. Obviously. But you felt naked that so many people had seen you in compromising positions, had opinions about you, a million questions blooming. The water droplets raced down your chest as you looked down, each one running over your skin with a thought.
‘He’s such a fuck boy and no one calls him out… the tequila photo, what a slag!’
‘What’s this girls name? Need to stalk immediately.’
‘How did this all go on and we had no idea. So confused.’
‘So obvious she’s in it for the money’
‘Where do these players even find girls like this?’
When you eventually got yourself pulled together you came downstairs going to the kitchen to get water first while you tried to listen to where the conversation had progressed to. You needed to overhear what was being said before you went back not wanting to get involved.
It was all fine. A little invasive? Definitely, but it was the life he chose and you in turn were now choosing. Nothing you could do. You figured it was okay to go back at this stage so you quietly crept back into the living room, not saying a word. You tucked yourself on the couch in between Trent’s legs leaning back on his chest. He engulfed you feeling your warm skin against his. It wasn’t a big deal. People could say what they wanted. It wasn’t going to change the way you felt about each other. It didn’t affect his performance capabilities. It bothered you for sure when people made incorrect or negative assumptions but that’s what was going to happen. Tyler gave you a smile as he continued speaking, reassuring your thoughts that this was ultimately fine, just a little uncomfortable as you began to zone out, the boys voices fading to murmurs.
“Baby?” Trent cooed his cheek coming to press against yours. “Hmm?” He questioned you but you had no idea what he was talking about.
“Sorry?” You shook your head trying to catch up.
“Did you want to release anything?” Tyler asked, leaning towards you a little.
“Release what?” This was all foreign for you to begin with so being asked to do things like this was over your head. Trent’s manager laughed a little.
“Like… Do you want to come out and say something, correct anyone, come out I guess to the public, information maybe, whatever you want?” Trent translated softly as his hands ran up and down your thighs.
“Oh… do you want that?” you turned to ask him but his face was so close to yours already you couldn’t really see him.
“Baby, that’s for you to decide this time. It’s your decision.” He pressed his lips to your cheek trying to be gentle but also explain that you, specifically, had to answer.
“Erm.. no.” You placed your hand over Trent’s. “I don’t think so, they can talk. It’s not like I want to ‘hide’ necessarily” you air quoted the word leaning forward to create space between you and Trent to look back and see his reaction. “but… it’s not really for strangers is it? I don’t have to, right?”
“No, you're fine not saying anything.” Tyler understood your reasoning, so did Trent. They assumed that’d be your response but wanted to give you the space to choose otherwise.
“Can I keep my instagram?” You interrupted the conversation that had carried on.
“Yeah, course. It’s fine.” Trent kissed one cheek again. It was sweet but you looked at Tyler for his answer. Trent said yes to everything you asked, it didn’t carry the same weight right now. Tyler nodded. “Told you so” Trent kissed you again. You had your same Instagram still. You had about 5,000 followers. It was small. It was harmless. There were no feed posts with Trent too obviously in them. You’d post stories with him, your friends and family, people you actually knew followed you, you could easily deduce that you were seeing him but there wasn’t really an easy paper trail to find or get to the account. You didn’t care anyhow, it was public. You wanted to ask though because it felt relevant and it was also your way of keeping some sliver of your normal life but you guess things changed slightly when the comments under your posts had verified blue check marks but other than that it was the same.
You leaned back again to cuddle into Trent’s chest and mentally checked out of the conversation now that your decision was made and your question answered. You would probably barade Trent with more questions later but right now… this was fine. You scrolled aimlessly on Trent’s phone looking at a folder of images from a gossip agency that sold photos from the night out.
“This one’s kind of cute.” You beamed nuzzling your head into his neck grabbing his attention.
“Yeah, baby.” He just yessed you. Tyler was less agreeable.
“Okay, no. We’re not pushing this.” He glared at you to basically shut up but the look still had a little love in it, relieved you weren't on the couch balling your eyes out right now.
You had zoned out again once you got bored of inspecting the photos. This was all a little nuts. It was the first time that people were writing full length articles about you. They didn’t even have your name and they had pulled all this crazy information out of thin air. It made you a little sick being so vulnerable.
The harsh slap of your thoughts you felt before your shower came crashing back. Trent’s hands were on your stomach and it had your brain going fuzzy and not in the way you thought it would. Your chest was warm. You could only imagine the onslaught of articles that would appear when you got pregnant. Jesus, did you want that? ‘When’ you get pregnant like it was set in stone. You rolled your eyes at the self inflicted chaos ensuing in your head.
The call was slowing down. They had kind of pieced together this idea that the England international team was released for the fast approaching Euros. When news sources were gathering images to use in the coverage the latest uploads from paparazzi cameras last night appeared. It was how the site you had been browsing worked. You could search for images taken by the agency and news outlets able to pay for them after the fact. There was a lot of debate about who made the team though, Trent, ever the hot topic, so there was growing interest and searches of his name and in turn that had all shifted to you.
‘This isn’t news… catch up. She’s been around the team for ages’
‘This woman is at every game of his, obviously a long term thing’
‘Can’t wait to see is she goes the the Euros’
‘100% a one night stand, she’s holding on to him for dear life’
‘How do we know nothing about this girl like TAA lets us in brother’
You saw one comment and laughed… showing the phone screen to Trent. It was a lyric from the ‘Brum Boy or Scouser’ song that seemed to ever haunt you.
‘Got there girls acting naughty, one night stand and she still tryna call me lol’
You giggled so Trent did too, more at your little laugh than the actual comment. He still wasn’t sold on the song but the memory of New York years ago made him happy.
“Alright that’s enough. You two are fine?” Tyler asked, standing up. He didn’t need to be annoyed with you two cuddling on the couch while he tried to iron out remaining bits of the situation you didn’t have a say in.
“All good bro. Thank you.” Trent said fist bumping his brother, he was also genuinely thankful for how Tyler handled these things.
The Euro’s were rapidly approaching, Trent having to leave for England training soon, his days busy with workouts and media. Your days blurred directly after the articles came out and him not being around as much didn’t help. There was a lot of focus and attention on you and it caused you to disconnect. You were being papped so often around the city. Articles continued to come out. You had gone to get food with Marcel one day and it resulted in another media onslaught. You wore a pair of shorts and a t-shirt of Trent’s. The actual media coverage was pointless, the frenzy really ensued in the comments when people noticed bruises and love bites on the side of your neck and once to your delight now your embarrassment, on your inner thighs. People had a field day dissecting your sex life. You didn’t want to be on your phone anymore. It had become too much, you weren’t used to this. Sure, some people's interest was sweet and thought more positively of you but an overwhelming amount was just criticism and hate. You hadn’t even responded to any of your friends or families texts in days. To be honest, you didn’t even know where your phone was.
“Ignoring me, huh?” Trent said, waking into the kitchen one late morning. He had a day off and given the recent fixation on you, you two opted to just stay home.
“What?” You looked up from the now cold cup of tea you were swirling a spoon in. You didn’t realize you had been doing that since it was hot.
“I texted you asking for water, baby” he kissed your temple walking past you to grab one.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry T, I would've gotten you one. I don't have my phone.” Your eyes pooled like a puppy looking at him actually feeling bad.
“I know, I found it” Holding it up in front of you before he pressed another kiss to your temple standing behind you caging your body against the counter, his chest pressed to your back. “Okay?” He rested his chin on your shoulder worried after seeing you isolate. He didn’t want to bother you, understanding this had been a lot to process, but he had been busy and he missed you. He didn’t accept your dismissal and definitely didn’t fall for your lies so he made you come with him back to the cinema room to spend some time together.
You laid in the dark room on his chest in a little bra top and biker shorts. Your one leg draped over his hips, Trent was just in a pair of sweats, his hands caressing your exposed skin on your back and shoulders. Your hands traced shapes mindlessly over him as you both stared at a football game, quiet. Your heart hurt a little missing him even though he was under you. You wanted him to pay attention to you. You slid your hand down his face and pulled his pouty bottom lip out with your thumb, exposing his pretty teeth, he was unphased, letting you manipulate him. You let his lip go and nuzzled your face into his neck. You left nothing but soft kisses and nibbles on his neck, working up to his jaw and back down his neck. Trent sighed in contentment with your lips on him, shutting his eyes disinterested in the match now.
“What’s on your mind, baby?” He asked, unable to ignore your touches knowing you wanted attention. He didn’t open his eyes though. He just slipped his hands from your lower back to knead your disappointedly currently covered ass.
“I have a question” you cooed with a little giggle. Trent’s heart started beating faster, well aware that neither of you had addressed the ‘pregnancy’ comments, avoiding it every time you had had sex since. The glow from the tv lit your face and he softened seeing more of you. He wasn't sure though if he should play it off or be honest if you asked about it right now.
“Hmm?” He hummed, waiting to see what you were going to ask.
“When you’re playing someone you know, like a friend, do you pretend you don’t know them, is it awkward?” You continued giggling.
“What are you on about?” He started laughing at your out of the blue question. For now, he guessed you were ignoring the comments so he would too. Your innocent question warmed his heart though. You were adorable. He just wanted to ignore all the shit going on and be with you. You were waiting for him to answer the original question so you sat up placing your hands in your lap, waiting patiently. His eyes lit up at how beautiful you looked.
“Hmm?” He hummed again squeezing your exposed waist pressing gross wet kisses against your skin. He missed you lately, you felt distant and he didn’t know if it was the baby topic or the news but he wanted to cheer you up.
“Ew!! You know what I mean!” You squealed attempting to wiggle out of his hold and get an answer but he was much stronger than you. He kept pressing dramatic kisses on you. You felt like a weight lifted as both your giggles filled the room.
“C’mere” he was trying to grab you but you were trying to get away from him jokingly but really, him, his kisses, his hands back on you right now was everything. It didn’t take long for him to catch you so he picked you up and placed you back where you were before. He quickly came to lay completely on top of you, crushing you with his weight. You loved this Trent. He was so childish, manhandling you ignoring how strong he was in comparison, he didn’t care about anything but the present, he wasn’t Trent Alexander-Arnold number 66 in Liverpool’s starting eleven, he was just yours for the moment. He was being ridiculous and it made you happy to see that big goofy smile come across his face as he giggled close to your face.
“Baby!” You breathed out heavily but your moan next to his ear had Trent brain shift gears almost immediately. He went from teasing you to becoming very aware he was on top of you, in control.
“No, tell me what you mean” he hovered over you, his arms pinning yours down against the couch above your head. Your chest rising and falling was more apparent on full display now. You felt small underneath him.
“No, T…” you said slow and sensual. Your brain transitioned too in your new position.
“No?” He cooed, leaning his face closer towards yours. The energy had shifted in the room
“No” you practically moaned, lifting your head a little to move towards his lips for a kiss, he met you half way and you gasped at the contact.
“Okay… gonna tell me what you want then?” He said pulling away from your lips for a moment resisting to kiss you till you answered him.
“No, don’t want anything from you” You giggled a little trying to play coy but he wasn’t having it.
“So you’re not the one drooling, staring at my dick right now?” He laughed. You hadn’t noticed that your gaze had dropped greedily to his hard length. You couldn’t even get a response out. You just smiled shyly.
“Why you going shy now baby? Hmm?” He said nuzzling into your neck as you tried to hide from him, turning your head. He used the arm not holding yours back to grab your chin and turn your face to him before his lips crashed into your again. His body pressed into yours, you could feel the hard cock you’d been staring at against your core.
“I’m not” you moaned, wanting to touch him but your hands struggled to break free under his hold.
“Baby” he paused, pressing his hips flush against yours. “So hard just for you, fuck, just for you.” He groaned
“I love you, T, fuck.. so much” you were desperate for him. He laid into you, his weight was heavy on top of you and love loved the pressure.
“Say it again” he whispered in your ear. His free hand ghosting over your body. It was an excruciating tease. His movement slowed when he pushed into you once more before he whispered again. “Say it again for me, baby.” He let go of your hands and you scrambled to grab at him, pulling his face to yours, kissing him hopelessly, tugging his clothes off frantically.
“I love you, forever, T.” You did. You were obsessed with him. Sometimes in moments like this it hit you how fucking crazy it was suddenly naked with him, your boyfriend, in the house you shared, in another country, it was absolutely mad. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him fucking you the other night. You could hear him say it, it had been playing on a loop in your head for over a week.
“Make me a daddy, be a good girl and take it all of it f’me”
It made you practically orgaasm just thinking about it, his body on top of yours. His big hard cock brushed over you. You felt like you could scream. He was so hot on top of you, sometimes you forgot until it was happening. He looked down at you. His eyes glimmered, his full lips parted, you nodded to let him now you just wanted him inside you as soon as possible. His lips pulled into that cheeky beautiful grin that had you swooning when his cock brushed over your clit moving through your folds to push into your soaking wet pussy. Your back arched your hip’s instinctively coming forward to meet his. He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in falling into a hard and rough pace, silently telling you he was in charge. The air around you became increasingly thicker at how hot it was getting. He felt so good you couldn’t hold back a moan. The way the noise hit his ears made his stroke falter.. You had him on a leash you didn’t know you were holding. You controlled him with every move of your hips. Your whines had him folding. He was ready to give into anything you wanted. He took a deep breath pulling out for a moment to reset, trying to prolong this.
“T, baby, please, please I need you.” You were begging for him. He took a deep breath trying to gather himself before he gripped the fat of your ass so tight you let out uncontrollable whine.
“Tell me you’re mine.” He teased above you, that smile reappearing.
“I’m yours,” you whimpered, squeezing around nothing desperate for him. Trent pushed his finger in your mouth and you moaned around them. He took his now wet fingers from your mouth and dragged them down your body before his thumb rubbed your clit in harsh circles. .
“Be a good girl and tell me your mine.” He cooed as you were falling apart under him. You couldn’t get any words out only whines, you felt his thumb into your clit harder.
“Fuck! Fu-fuck T, I can’t.” Tears started to form on your lash line. Your eyes locked onto him in desperation to let you cum. He held your gaze before he slammed his length back inside you all at once. He started up a brutal pace, so much rougher than his previous one. You could feel every hard vein and ridge of it fucking into you. He consistently hit a spot so deep inside you that only he knew. You both moaned at the sensation. You couldn’t hold it together anymore.
“I know it feels good, baby, but you can do it. Tell me your mine.” He grunted through the words. You could tell in his voice he wasn’t far behind you.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah fuck. T…Oh my god I’m yours. I’m yours.” You were crying. Tears rolling down your cheeks as your orgasm washed over you. You came all over his cock, Your slick covered his length as it dripped down your thighs. He continued to fuck into you relentlessly. “I’m yours, T.” You whined.
“Shit, shit, shit, gonna cum. Be a good girl and take all of it f’me.” It was a line similar to the one replaying in your head when you practically begged him to cum inside you to get you pregnant. A second orgasm came flooding in with the memory. All you could do is cry and moan his name while he fucked his cum into you, filling you up completely till it was leaking out of you. As he felt his cum seep out he couldn’t help but think about you asking for him to get you pregnant too. You were on birth control, you two definitely were not being the most careful but Trent didn’t mind if you actually ended up pregnant. In all honesty, that would be a dream for him. It was the ultimate way of marking you as his, and only his. You both were thinking about it and not saying a word but pretty happy with the idea.
You clung to his body breathing heavily whispering how much you loved him in his ear while your hand raked up his spine after his movements stilled and he collapsed on top of you. You stayed like that for ages until you heard an awfully familiar sound. Trent was softly snoring as he breathed on top of you. He rested his heavy head on your chest with his arms wrapped completely around your naked frame. His hair tickled your skin as he dozed off between your boobs. You let him stay like that a little longer, just happy to have him with you because he was going to be leaving for the tournament so soon. It was nearing dinner time and you wanted to make sure he didn’t fuck up his sleep schedule so you tried to wake him.
“T… baby” you cooed
“Hey…” you tried again, speaking softly.
“Pretty boy…” stroking your hand over his prominent cheek bone.
“Mmm” he groaned, moving a little on top of you. You thought he was going to get up but he just squeezed you tighter.
“No?” You giggled at how tired he was. “Okay.” You kissed him
“I love you Y/N so much” he said quietly, closing his eyes and humming in appreciation as you continued rubbing your thumb over his cheek.
Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍
Next part - Chapter 18 xx
48 notes · View notes
nashusglasses · 7 months
Text
2. i'll work it physical (m)
+ based off nsfw prompts: 28.  “I’ll make it worth your time.” & 15.  “Wanna bet?”
read: part one
note: I am a glutton for horny idiot stories. Even better when they feed off each other’s energy so bad it’s just like…. Constant enabling. GOADING. That’s the word!!!! I listened to loveeeeeee song by rihanna the whole time writing this if ur into that :3
note 2: This fic is just pure indulgence of oc and gojo's party sexcapades before all those *feelings* get involved heheheheh
PAIRING. gojo/reader SETTING. college au WARNINGS. stupid ex girlfriends, good ol' fashioned fingerbang in a bathroom SUMMARY. He’ll make you forget about her.
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You didn’t cry when Emi broke up with you. She was always taciturn, and it’s not as if you were completely blindsided, either. You’ve always had a nose for disinterest. She’d stopped responding to your good night texts those last few weeks you were together, kept canceling Wednesday cafe dates where you’d play footsies to distract her from doing homework. Maybe you’d reached a threshold. Footsied her to annoyed oblivion, but she always laughed whenever you did it. 
Throwing away an almost-one year relationship, though. You couldn’t lie through the sting in your eyes when you got back to your dorm that night. Not when Natsume’s a nosy bitch who has to know every minute detail of your life. You collapsed into a fit of half-sobs because you refused to be too distraught over someone who couldn’t find the time for you anymore. That’s lazy, Natsume said into your hair. You always liked when she petted your head for comfort. She let you sleep next to her while you wallowed in post-break up misery. I’ll punch her the next time I see her.
That was two months ago. Two months since you’ve seen Emi’s dyed-blonde head, the pretty dimples that came with her smile. It changes tonight.
Sigma Phi is never cheap with their ragers. Neither you or Natsume are in a sorority but you’d be dumb to miss out on sponsored alcohol and free cool ranch Doritos. The house is the tallest on Greek row, all high ceilings and shiny wooden banisters. The kitchen is where you keep comfortable. Away from the strawberry smoke, sticky floors everywhere you take a step. You’re waiting for Satoru to get you your soju when you see Emi walk through the front door.
Her roots are growing out. She’s got glitter on her eyelids, a shiny neck with the scented oil she uses because she’s always hated using perfume. If you step close enough you know she’ll smell like rose petals. Like the sailor’s bewitched limbs twitching with every sweet note of that siren’s song, you’re almost taking a step forward to follow her further into this stupid loud party.
As if he’s cued, Satoru gets in the way with two red cups in hand. “No yogurt soju so I got orange instead. Mixed it with orange soda so it’s ultra mega orange shit. Why the hell are you tiptoeing? You’re like two feet tall.”
“Shut up.” You make a grab for the cup he offers you, tipping back a generous gulp for a show of thanks. “It’s—I saw someone. I think.”
He swivels around. “Who?”
“My ex.” You almost flinch at the term. Moreso at the thought of Satoru calling you bitchless than having lost someone you genuinely cared for.
“Didn’t know you had one.” His eyebrows are furrowed with confusion, leaning back against the counter. He flicks an annoyed hand at the stale chips scattered everywhere. 
“It’s. Yeah. She wasn’t really around to show face towards the end, so.”
“What’s her name?” 
You could think of a million but you don’t feel like spitting venom. You’ve got your distraction for the night. You hope Satoru notices you’re wearing your shortest skirt. “Emi.”
“Emi? Utada Emi or Hirano Emi?”
“The first one.” How he knows more than one is beyond you. Satoru hums at your confirmation.
“She’s in my aerodynamics class,” he says. “What happened?”
“I don’t—I don’t really wanna talk about her.” Because if you do, you’ll probably start thinking about how she made your pillows smell good with that fresh linen scent. Or how she left you little origami cranes on your desk. Or the way she sounded in the morning with drool stuck to her chin—
“Oi.” Satoru snaps his fingers in front of your face. “You good? Sorry I asked.”
“It’s fine. Or. Not really. Whatever.” You finish your drink with record speed. Anxiety crawls through your chest, makes you wonder what the hell Emi could be doing here. Or who she could be doing here. Suddenly you think about an empty room, her clumsy feet traipsing up those carpeted stairs. Looking at someone else with doe eyes like she did when she wanted you on top of her. You crush the red plastic in your hand.
“Satoru,” you say blankly. 
He’s not even halfway done his drink. “Uh huh.”
“Do you know how to make a girl come in five minutes?”
“Depends.” He levels you with a curious stare. Like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’ve got for a challenge. “Can I use my hands?”
“Whatever body part you want.”
“Then yes. Who’s asking?”
“Wha–who the hell else?” You hiss. “You finishing that?”
Satoru looks down at his cup, then back up at you. And when he doesn’t immediately respond you just swipe at his hand to guzzle down the ultra mega orange shit. It’s not half-bad. A sweetness easy to swallow, not like the Casamigos he took with Suguru earlier. 
You let the dizziness settle. Satoru stares you down. “I’ll do it in two,” he says. “Wanna bet?”
It’s cryptic. And then you remember what you asked him. You squirm with the heavy suggestion. 
“Bathroom,” you order, and Satoru leads the way first.
Natsume’s sitting pretty at the bottom step of the stairs. She’s got a blunt pinched gently in her mouth, lights up with her inhale when she sees you. She dims into gossip when you come up to her. “Oh my god. Did you see–”
You nod, not that keen on hearing her name when you’re off to forget it. Satoru skips past and up two steps at a time with nothing more than a hey roomie. Natsume’s mouth quirks up in acknowledgment.
“Don’t scream too loud. Or do anyway. I can’t feel my fucking fingers from the music.” 
She slaps your ass when you pass her. “Take a shot with me after,” you call. Natsume winks. Satoru’s got the bathroom door wide open for you to walk through when you catch up.
For a frat, the space is clean. No nasty caulk jobs and the toilet paper holder’s actually full. You’ve got no time for more analysis when Satoru slams you against the door. “Jesus,” you groan.
He swallows what little else you have for complaint. His mouth is sweet on yours, coaxing your tongue for taste. “Nice skirt by the way.”
Satoru’s hands are greedy where they pull. Cupped under your jaw, teasing a touch on either side of your tits, then right down to your ass where he squeezes. Hard. 
“Keep going,” you mumble. Biting down on his lip when he grips you tighter, and you feel the coarse rut of his boner when he presses you harder against the door. “God. Get me wet.”
“I’ll make it worth your time.” He breathes wet kisses on your neck. Sucking deep till you twitch in simmering pleasure. 
“You fuckin’ better.”
He sneers in response. But he kisses you like he’s just as electrified. Needy for whatever high he’s promising to deliver on, and you want it fast. He juts into you, lifts your leg around his hip just to get the angle right. 
“Okay. Fuck–just.” You take his hand, fit it snug where your panties ride up on your pussy. He laughs against your teeth.
“Get me wet,” he mocks, playing with the arousal you just denied. You blush. Desperate measures. You’re glad your body responds to his this quick. Only to your detriment, because he knows you’re terrible at bluffing, and now he’s laughing at you. “You’re funny. Two minutes?”
He circles your clit with a rough finger. Too much, not enough. In the haze of your muddled head, the visual is enough to spark that heat. You’ve always liked his hands. There’s something about seeing it disappear under your skirt, like you’ve got something to hide. You offer a moan when he teases a finger inside.
Satoru leans a hot mouth into your ear. “Your girl ever get you like this?”
Your eyes are wide open. From his provocation, and now he’s got one finger snug up your pussy. “Oh my god.”
“You don’t need to answer,” he teases. “I know she didn’t.”
“You–” He sets a slow rhythm. Deep where it counts, grinding the palm of his hand till you moan from your chest. “You’re evil.”
Again. He knows you’re bluffing. That wet sound every time he moves is proof enough. You’re just talking because you’re not embarrassed anymore. You’ll let him have his way with it if it means you don’t have to think about anything else.
“Don’t be shy,” he prods.
Another finger, this time with less drive. You buzz from the intrusion. Knocking your head back on the door when he bottoms out, absolutely not shy with the sounds you’re making. Satoru kisses you into muted excitement. 
You don’t think he’s timing it. You sure as hell aren’t. As if you were ever scared he wouldn’t deliver. “Go faster,” you urge. This is probably one of the only two bathrooms available for use. You could at least taint it quicker than anyone else can.
“Cute. I like when you’re bossy.” You initiate a kiss this time. Slipping tongue and an indulgent moan down his throat, and that’s what spurs him on. 
His drive is back. Drawing out more wetness with earnest fingering, the guttural noises straight from your gut. Your eyes roll back with the feeling, heat unfurling faster than the blood trying to reach your fucked out brain. 
“Fuck, oh my god.” Your fingers curl into his biceps. “That's–yeah, oh my god I’m. Close–!”
He crowds you in again, forehead on your sweaty one. Nothing to say, letting your panting do all the talking for the both of you. His fingers hook into every wet spot, ramming the edge of his hand on your clit till it’s battered into ultra-sensitivity. You twitch with his every move. 
“You better fuckin’ come over tonight,” Satoru groans. You’ll look down at that hard dick later. You know he’s fostering the pain with quiet lips. How considerate. 
“W-Whatever. Yes I’ll–just–oooh fuck.” He’s jacked the speed to eleven. No more pretense of easing you into it. The sound is enough to get you off, wet thrust for wet thrust. “Satoru,” you whine.
He kisses your nose. “Hmm?”
“If I squirt it’s on you,” you warn.
“You say that like a threat.” He shows no sign of stopping, too. He’s impatient with anticipation, and you’re fading fast. “You’ll give it to me?”
You were kidding. Sort of. It’s not off the table. All you know is the heat is building and you’re about to explode. “Ye-es!”
“So do it,” he presses. 
He curls his fingers with every sharp jut against your core. You hang your head low, letting that high come to you, and you unfurl with the release. Shaking through a tiring orgasm, clawing tight on Satoru while you squeal. “Oh fuck.”
He’s relentless with the come down. Drawing out those waves with taut fingers, focusing deep. You don’t squirt but his wrist is disgustingly wet. 
“You’re hot,” he says when you drop your leg. You slump against him with a groan. “Look. Prune fingers.”
You don’t look but you know he’s wiggling them. Always in awe with what he can do to you when you’re down for it. You’ll let him bask in your orgasmic glory, because you’re just as good as getting him undone.
“Yeah yeah. Let’s get back, I wanna see Natsume before we leave.”
You shift your skirt till it's decently covering your ass again. Satoru washes his hands. You both ignore the bulge in his sweatpants.
Then someone knocks on the door.
You think you’ve always believed in fate. Some cosmic divinity keeping a watchful eye on whatever energy waves you’re spreading out into the universe. Because when Satoru opens the door for you, it’s Emi, and she’s looking disheveled, but not in a good way.
A pang of sympathy echoes in your chest. Your fingers twitch forward, already thinking of how to move her hair behind her ear.
Satoru beats you to a greeting.
“You look like shit,” he jests.
Emi ignores him. Stares right at you, and your breath stutters. You’re not as taken by her beauty, this time. Not when she shot you down, dug her heel into your heart, got it all muddy. You grab Satoru's hand. He doesn’t say anything when you curl your fingers into his.
“Take care of yourself,” is all you croak out. This time, it’s you leaving her behind.
Natsume’s gone from her bottom perch. You don’t feel like finding her anymore. Satoru keeps you close to him when you walk back downstairs.
He stops you when you don’t stop walking towards the front door. For the second time tonight, he asks: “You good?”
You shake your head. “No. But we’re going back to your place. Distract me some more.”
Satoru’s smile is wicked in its suggestion. “I can do that,” he confirms.
He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way back to his dorm.
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parallelplayers · 2 months
Note
1 & 8 glance pleaaaase
Eyes lighting up when your significant other enters the room
&
8. “You’re all I think about"
Lance had never been the center of somebody’s world before.
He thought he had, for sure, with girls, especially his first love. Like, he thought he knew intense.
And then somehow he got mixed up with George of all people and now he understood what it meant, to be the center of someone else's world.
Take, for example, this press conference. He hadn’t seen George for a few days but he knew they’d been thrown together in the presser.
George had gotten there before him - quelle surprise - and was practically bursting with energy when Lance shuffled into the room. Like, he could feel George’s anxiety tapping from all the way over here.
But the the cool, weird, bizarre shit that only happened in his life when he was with George started. George’s eyes tripped over him and it was like everything in George’s world narrowed down to watching Lance walk into this press conference. George was settled, but had kind of embarrassingly - not for Lance, he just knew George was gonna bitch about being seen like this - lit up looking him. Lance wasn’t going to razz him about it because he liked it. George’s undivided care, attention, though they couldn’t sit next to each other. Their first race back, George had thought they could manage it and had accidentally slung an arm behind Lance and then they’d had to sit like that for half an hour.
Everyone had thought George had been trying to play off the whole Lewis thing but it had been just - accidental. After that, they’d been more openly friendly but a lot more cautious.
Luckily for them, Daniel was in this press conference and blew by him, going to sit next to George, entertain him, and he knew it absolutely drove Daniel nuts that George would listen and engage with him, but always kept one eye firmly on Lance while doing so. No one ever got George’s full attention with Lance around.
So he settled into the other end of the couch, knowing fully that things could move on but also that he could probably convince George to come hang out after this if he played his cards right.
---
George: Sorry, dunno if I should come over.
George: I really don’t mean to be so intense.
Lance: ??? babe wdym?
George: (link - The Look of Love - George/Lance - TikTok)
George: I’ve been informed by Mercedes management I need to cool it.
Lance: why u should come over, so we can talk about it in a good way. cuz i like it, y’know?
George: Yes?
Lance: yeah <333
George: Good, because besides work, well, I think it’s fairly obvious.
Lance: ???
George: That you’re really all I think about.
This threw Lance, a bit. It’s not like he didn’t think about it, it wasn’t, but to see it over text, to be confirmed, it was -
Lance: u should really come over <333
Because it was easier to understand George when he could process the body language as well as the words. George admitting that, the power Lance had, if he wasn’t calmed down immediately he’d probably explode. And Lance kinda sorta wanted to hear George say it, maybe suck his dick afterwards.
He also knew George was kinda in the middle of a shit show, and he was hoping this was a forever thing, but to be the center of someone’s universe for a little bit was -
Well it wasn’t enough, he wanted more of it. But mostly, he wanted more of George.
---
When George opened his hotel room door with the key left for him at the desk, he looked like shit. Skin pale, mouth pursed, but then he caught a glance of Lance’s foot hanging off the back and his eyes went bright, his shoulders dropped a bit.
Yeah, Lance definitely wanted more.
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