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penvisions · 21 days

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by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress.

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time.

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain, you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided. “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

Text

Father Figure (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer discusses daddy issues. His boss, who is also his girlfriend’s father, has a question. Request: Reader is hotch's daughter and after hotch learns that they are dating their interactions are kind of weird in a funny way Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Mild awkwardness Word Count: 900

MASTERLIST

The jet ride to a crime scene is rarely a pleasant experience. Each team member holds their folders filled with horrors, and they display an abject apathy. After all, they are quite familiar with the worst side of humanity. Some days, though, when the worst crimes are still hypothetical and the victims are alive, the team can maintain some semblance of their usual personality.

Spencer is usually the first one to share something interesting about the theoretical or identified unsub. This is because he has a broad knowledge on, well, most things, and he also manages to read through the stack of papers much quicker and with a greater detail than the others.

This day, however, Spencer is silent. And everyone knows why.

Because just one measly week ago, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner found out that Spencer Reid was dating his daughter.

Beyond the initial, incredibly uncomfortable conversation, Hotch had barely spoken a word about it. A fool might think that meant he has no qualms with it, but Spencer knows him better than that.

No, it is infinitely more likely that Hotch is stewing in his rage about his daughter’s Freudian taste in men. Hotch is just too smart to strike without the possibility of maximal damage.

So, Spencer knows to keep his guard up.

But he never could keep a thought to himself, could he?

Derek lets out a deep breath with a soft whistle before he tosses his folder onto the desk beside him. As the others peek up at him, he shakes his head with an enthused but horrified expression.

“Talk about ‘daddy issues,’” Derek mutters.

The others smirk in response, but they say nothing else.

Until, inevitably, Spencer does.

“The correct term would be ‘father complex,’” he says with an attempt to sound disinterested in one of his favorite philosophers, “It was a shared theory between Freud and Jung, and it’s actually very interesting.”

No one says a word. Spencer does not notice the warnings flashing in their eyes because he is too afraid to accidentally look at Hotch.

They all know what’s coming.

He continues, anyway.

“While Freud was more interested in how men might become distrusting or intimidated by older male authorities, Jung extended his analysis to women with emotionally or physically absent fathers.”

Despite the roaring engines and the full cabin, the jet is silent. If Spencer had looked up then, he would have seen how everyone immediately glances over at Hotch.

Hotch, however, maintains his stoic stare. He is looking directly at Spencer, who is still staring at the document in the folder he has already read several times over.

“There’s a more contemporary term for the phenomenon that would probably be more fitting,” Spencer announces.

“Really?” Emily asks. The rhetorical question is dripping with sarcasm in a final attempt to stop him.

Spencer is so lost in thought at this point that he does not even notice. Instead, he marches on to his downfall.

“It’s called ‘Father hunger,’” he explains coolly, “and it explains the over-trust in authority figures and the search for an older man that reminds them of the father they never had.”

“Are you talking about yourself or my daughter?”

Every muscle in Spencer’s body seizes at the question. Quickly, he raises his head to find himself trapped in the paralyzing, disapproving stare of Aaron Hotchner.

“What?” he squeaks.

The man does not answer.

“N-No! No, I was just explaining the origins of the term,” he insists.

He tries—but fails—not to think about you. Just one remark, one casual reminder of your existence makes his skin ripple with goosebumps. Overcome with guilt—but never regret—his mind tugs forward every memory shared between the two of you.

The smell of your perfume, the softness of your lips, the comfort he finds in your arms.

His life is flashing before his eyes and every part of it looks like you.

He raises his hands in surrender before he sputters, “I would never—!”

“Reid,” your father commands.

Your boyfriend flinches.

“It’s a joke,” Hotch says just before he smiles.

Immediately, Spencer is surrounded by familiar smiles. He feels the visceral pain of a joke made at his expense while at the same time, he is cloaked with relief.

“Funny joke,” he says under his breath.

Hotch detects the sarcasm but decides to let it go.

He had won the exchange, after all.

Spencer also tries to let it go. Because if this was the height of Hotch’s rage over the ultimate violation of his home life, he’d basically gotten away with murder.

Still, he can’t shake the burning red blush. That and the trembling from the adrenaline felt almost permanent.

Just as the thought occurs to him, Derek takes a seat beside him.

He leans closer even as Spencer leans away.

Then, in the quietest whisper, he asks, “Which one of you does she call daddy?”

Yes, Spencer realizes. The blush is going to be permanent.

“Stop talking,” he orders with a startlingly amount of finality.

From across the table, Emily provides Derek with the audience he wanted. Her giggles alone assuage his desire to make Spencer’s day just a little bit more chaotic.

The two relent. Spencer is alone with his thoughts again, and he wonders whether he will ever feel at home in his new position.

But then he thinks of you, and he knows that he is exactly where he is meant to be.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

If you're looking for more to read, check out my full-length smut story "My Boss's Daughter," where Reader is Hotch's daughter that is in love with Spencer!

Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction

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dollfacefantasy · 23 days

Text

Beginning to Slip

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: after watching one of the scream movies, you have some fun with toji and a ghostface mask

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cnc, size kink, knife play, face slapping, degradation, dacryphilia, mentions of murder and death and ghostface stuff

word count: 3k

a/n: um i had to repost cause if issues with tags. but yes i did write one like this for leon a few months ago but idgaf 🤪 i hope everyone enjoys <3

It had started normal enough. A regular night shared between you and your boyfriend, watching movies in bed as you often would do when you both had the spare time and lack of energy for anything else. After scrolling through the tv for a while, you came across one of the new Scream movies.

“Ooh, I haven’t seen this one yet. Wanna watch with me?” you’d asked him casually, sparing a little glance in his direction.

Toji looked at the screen, scanning the description with mild interest. He shrugged. He’d never shared your affinity for horror, never really saw the appeal of slasher movies, but if it put you in a good mood, why would he say no?

You pressed play and tossed the remote to the side. Your head rests on his chest, splitting your hearing between the actors talking and the steady beat of his heat. He absentmindedly strokes your head. You’re quiet for the first couple scenes. That is until you hear the iconic voice crackling through the opening girl’s phone.

“Why does the killer voice get less hot every movie?” you ask.

A simple, innocuous question. One you had posed to other people when you had watched the film before this one. But to Toji, it isn’t just a passing remark. He raises an eyebrow and looks down at you.

“Hot?”

A smile grows on your lips as you meet his eyes. “Yeah, hot,” you laugh.

“Isn’t it supposed to be scary?” he teases.

“Yeah… but that’s what makes it hot,” you respond, your smile widening, “The voice, the knife, the stuff he says. I don’t know. It’s just kinda…” You squirm a bit, trying to communicate your desires through motions rather than figure out the proper wording.

“Kinda what?” he continues affectionately mocking, “You got a thing for masks too? Want me to rough you up a bit?”

You laugh a little more. “Maybe I do.”

His eyes widen with slight curiosity, but he plays it off in the moment, making a joke of how he didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. But the comment stayed with him. It replayed in his head even after the credits rolled and you fell asleep in his arms. It was still with him the next morning when he woke up.

Toji was by no means innocent. He was familiar with all this kinda stuff. He understood the appeal. That wasn’t what had his mind lingering on the idea as he showered and got ready for the day. He just never expected you, his girlfriend who’d always been so gentle, to want to get rough.

He wasn’t against the concept though. Not at all. Visions of you flooded his mind. You completely ruined beneath him, face wet with tears and drool, hips bruised from his fingers. He was so not against it he had to jerk off in the shower. Thanks to his overactive imagination though, it didn’t take too long. As soon as he got out and dried off, he ordered one of those masks.

He felt silly in the days after, painfully aware of how eager he was for it to arrive. When it finally arrived, he knew it was worth it though. He pulled it out of the bag, letting the black cloth fall into place. The ghoulish face stared back at him as if it knew what it was about to be used for.

That very night he intended to use it. He waited till the evening when you were sprawled across the couch relaxing. Then he snuck off to the bedroom and got dressed up. Donned in his normal black shirt with gray pants, he peered into the eyes of his reflection as he pulled the mask over his head. It sat flawlessly, the fabric pooling around his neck perfectly.

The last item he needs sits inside a drawer on his side of the bed. The knife. He’d had this part handled long before he knew you’d be into it. He takes out his favorite one, the one he knows will look prettiest pressed against your flesh. As he watches it glimmer in the dim light of the bedroom, he knows he’s ready to go.

He struts into the living room, pausing several feet away from you and allowing you to just take it in. He feels a pulse within the confines of his jeans as your eyes sparkle. You sit up slowly, looking him up and down.

“Toji?” you ask, “What… what are you doing?”

“You said you had a thing for masks and knives, yeah? Well I know you got a thing for me too,” he says as he begins to approach you.

He sees how your pupils lock onto the reflective blade. Holding the handle, he points it at you. The flat of the cool metal rests beneath your chin. He applies pressure and directs you to look up at him.

“Do you wanna try this out?” he breathes.

Timidly, you nod.

“I wanna hear you say it,” he says.

“I wanna try it out,” you answer.

“You want me to be rough?”

Another nod.

“How rough?”

“As much as you want,” you say so quietly it sounds close to a whisper.

He stares down at you for a moment, thinking over your answers. His thoughts smash into a mental wall when he hears your next sentence.

“Want you to make me cry,” you say. You’re looking up at him with doe eyes too. How could he resist this offer?

After a few moments of contemplation, he swipes the blade away from your jaw. “Should I give you a head start?” he asks simply.

A chill fizzles down your spine. He didn’t even need a voice mod. He already had the voice of an apex predator. You shake your head at his question, causing him to smile beneath the mask.

“Make the first move then, bunny,” he says.

As quick as you can, you scramble off the couch, ducking under his large arm. He chuckles while making a grab for you. You nearly trip but manage to make it to your feet and bolt down the hallway.

He spins around and follows, hot on your tail. He doesn’t have to run, his long legs carry him fast enough with a simple stride. The thrill of adrenaline pumps from your heart and out through your veins. You dash around different pieces of furniture, trying to prevent the heavy footsteps behind you from getting too close.

You come to a crossroads when the path ahead splits between another hall and the staircase. Without a second thought, you sprint up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom. It was pure instinct, but you know this game is about to reach the main part when you see his body fill the doorway. His chest rises and falls with his breaths. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can’t see them. Like a gazelle caged in with a tiger, you know there’s only one way this will end.

“Up the stairs instead of out the front door,” he tuts with a shake of his head, “An amateur mistake. One that dumb little girls like you always make.”

He stalks closer to you, and in-turn, you back away. Your steps continue until your back bumps the wall. He’s closing in, nearly close enough to pin you to the wall. As a last ditch effort, you dart to your left in the direction of the bed. In your mind, you were going to hop over the mattress and manage to speed past him back out the door.

You don’t get that far because he grabs one wrist and then the next and slams you face down on the bed. With your arms pinned to your back, all you can do is wriggle to try and find a way to slip out. He puts a stop to your squirming quickly though, jerking your wrists upwards and causing you to yelp in discomfort.

“Calm down, angel face. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Not until I have my fun at least,” he purrs.

He runs the tip of the blade along your skin peeking out from where your shirt had risen. There’s not enough pressure to draw blood, only leave you with a sting of anticipation. A shaky sigh leaves you, but you're careful not to move and send the knife piercing through your flesh.

“That’s better,” he hums before pulling the knife away and placing it to the side.

He releases your wrists as well, planning on removing your top next. You don’t make it that simple though. Your arms stretch forward and claw at the blankets to try and drag yourself to the other side of the mattress.

It takes him no effort to wrangle you back into position. His frame is so much larger than yours, it’s like he’s covering every inch of you. Anywhere you try to move, he’s already there. His fingers wrap around your limbs and encapsulate them completely.

He wrestles you still and whips you around onto your back. One of his hands comes up to your throat and sharply jerks your head, bouncing it off the cushioned surface below you.

“That’s a fight you won’t win, little brat,” he breathes as the eyes of the ghostface mask watch your figure.

You resign to be still for a few moments, only minorly fidgeting as he peels your shirt off you. He takes his time. Each second another inch of your body is exposed to him. He drinks in the revelation of your form. He’s so focused, so calculated with his movements that he doesn’t see your arm swinging at him until it collides with the side of the mask, almost knocking it loose.

To him, it was absolutely nothing. He doesn’t even falter. It registers in his mind in the same way a kitten batting its paw would. He stares down at you with a wild grin on his face underneath the white plastic.

His hand leaves your throat and grips your jaw, straightening you out before landing a firm slap on your cheek. He almost breaks and lets out a laugh at the way your hips jump from the contact. He gives you one more on the same cheek before lowering himself closer to you. You feel the cool smoothness of the knife dragging up your stomach and between your breasts as he speaks.

“Count yourself lucky it’s only my hand I’m using,” he taunts before using his free hand to tap your face once more.

The combination of the hits with the low thrum of his voice had you dizzy. Your head feels foggy in the best way as your heart beats faster and your chest rises and falls quicker with your increased breaths. The knife trails along your collarbone. You can feel a light scratch as he presses slightly harder than before. Still not enough to have you spilling crimson, but the right amount to have your panties sticking to your cunt from arousal.

“You gonna be good for me now, or do I need to give you a better reason to be?” he asks, voice right next to your ear. Your blood was running hot as you could hear him breathing under the mask, feel him hard and pressed against your thigh.

“I’ll be good,” you agree. Your voice comes out soft and hazy. He smirks at the state you're in from just a few smacks.

He backs off, rising to his feet again at the side of the bed. He tugs his own shirt over his head and tosses it to the side before dropping his pants. You can nearly feel your eyes dilate as they take in his appearance. No matter how many times you saw it, it never got old. Each ridge and dip in his muscular abdomen and chest looked so familiar but thrillingly new. His cock was a whole other story. The sight of it hanging between his legs had you drooling in more ways than one.

Reaching forward, he yanks you closer to his body by your hips and then tugs your pants off. The forming pile of clothing on the floor grows as he discards them there.

You’re now splayed out on the bed, left only in your panties. He can see the slick that’s soaked the middle of them. Slowly, he grabs the knife again and brings it between your legs. You whimper as you feel the edge of the blade slide up against your clothed center. Your jaw drops and your legs tremble. You stay perfectly still, your eyes trained on the veins on his forearm as he maneuvers the weapon.

“You’d look beautiful covered in red, babydoll,” he

It glides up the thin cloth between your legs and over your pelvis. The tip catches on the elastic waistband. You bite your lip. Your pulse becomes audible to you as the fabric lifts from your body, hooked on the shiny metal.

“Toji,” you whimper. You see the mask tilt up a bit as he glances at your face, but he says nothing. Until the garment snaps, tearing on the sharp point as the pull becomes too taut.

“You’d be the prettiest one yet,” he murmurs, “All marked up. No mistake about who you belong to.”

His fingers come up to the split in your underwear. He rips it in half like it’s nothing, drawing a gasp from you. The shreds of fabric hang from your legs, and he doesn’t bother removing it any further. Enough of you is accessible for his purposes.

Cupping his hands behind your knees, he pushes your legs up beside your stomach. He can’t get enough of how your pussy glistens and drips for him. He drags two fingers through your folds before gripping his cock and stroking it a few times. He lines up at your entrance and looks down at you for a moment.

“You ready for me, doll?” he asks.

But before you can answer, he shoves himself all the way inside, filling you completely with one stroke. The motion tears a loud cry from your lungs while a cruel laugh comes from him. You try to muffle it by covering your mouth, your own palm flying to your lips. He rips it away though and pins it back on the mattress as he starts thrusting.

“Don’t try to keep that shit from me. The sounds might be the best part,” he grunts, “I’d bet you’d sound the same if I was slicing you up instead of just fucking you stupid.”

Your eyes roll back as another moan springs free. Constant whimpers come next, intermingling with the creak of the bed. He’s not giving you time to adjust like normal, he’s getting right into it, hard and fast.

His skin slaps against yours, and you grip at his biceps, nails digging into the skin. His head tilts back as he sighs at the small stings. One set of fingers dig into your leg with a bruising hold while the other hand returns to your throat. He holds it, using it for leverage to continue drilling into you with no mercy.

It’s ruthless. You’re left gasping for air as your body bobs with the force of his movements. Your walls tighten up and release, struggling to accept the size of him still. Only the cusps of words can breach your lips. Nothing coherent makes it through.

Tears prick at your eyes as everything else in the world fades to the background. Your lashes flutter as you try to keep them in. They finally spill as his hand connects with your cheek again in a small tap.

“I asked you a question,” he growls into your ear.

“What?” you whimper as warm beads roll from the corners of your eyes, down your temples.

The sight of your glossy eyes looking up at him is almost enough to push him over the edge but he refrains and keeps slamming into your wanting hole.

“I asked if you were crying yet, but I think you have that answered,” he says.

“Oh,” you whine simply.

Your cries become more audible while your lips remain permanently parted, an endless cycle of mewls and whimpers seeping out between sobs.

You’re trembling and sucking him in more than before. His head has dropped to the crook of your neck as his breaths have morphed into harsh puffs. You’re both close and each of you knows this.

Your shaky hand rises to the back of his head, pushing the mask up over his head and letting his smooth black locks fall free. The mask falls off him onto the bed as he brings his head up to look into your eyes.

“Wanna see you when you finish me off,” you choke out.

He grins when hears that and presses his sweaty forehead to yours. “Any last words?” he asks.

One final shake of your head, and you explode from him. You scream as the pleasure courses through you. He locks his digits around you and presses his face harder against yours. The only time it was ok for your sounds to be hushed was when it was caused by his lips on yours.

He keeps fucking you hard and fast, only cumming himself as the overstimulation begins to set in for you. His cum floods your insides as he groans into your mouth. His body continues to roll rhythmically through the whole thing.

When he is done, he practically passes out on top of you. You push on him a little bit but not too hard. Being pinned beneath him was far from the worst thing in the world. He doesn’t move though. You’re kinda shocked he even pulls out with how unresponsive he was to you at the moment. You only know he’s still conscious from the tender way he holds your waist and the kisses he’s lavishing on your neck where his fingers had once been.

You decide this position is as good as any and lazily grab the tv remote which laid in its usual spot next to your pillow. With a few clicks of a button, you’ve got the first Scream turned on. You wrap your arms around Toji and nuzzle his head in return, content to drift off tangled together to the sounds of Drew Barrymore being slaughtered.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro imagine #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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itsmealaiah · 1 month

Text

Risque

johnnie guilbert x stripper! reader

TW: strip club, mentions of a sex room, some bondage, reader is a stripper, p in v sex, paying for sex, use of toys, mild profanity, AFAB reader, degrading/ dirty talk, drinking, unprotected sex (y/n and johnnie are in their 20's but please be careful 🖤)

Request: could you make a smut where y/n is a stripper and johnnie sees her and they go back stage together and get it on

Rating: 18+, mdni

WC: 1.6k

Got some people over today so this is my one and only fic im releasing, hope you enjoy 🖤

It was a night like any other at the club you worked at, the neon lights and the thumping bass filling your senses as you gyrated on stage, hands grasping the metal pole above you. You felt a familiar pair of eyes on you as you danced, and when you glanced over you saw him sitting in his usual spot in the VIP section. His name was Johnnie, and he'd been a regular for months now. As you finished your routine, he flashed you a wad of cash, signaling that he wanted you to come backstage with him.

You smiled to yourself and finished up your routine, making your way through the crowd to the back. Johnnie was already there, leaning against the wall, one foot propped up casually. He nodded at you as you approached, his eyes never leaving your body. "Hey," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Mind if I buy you a drink?"You shrugged, feeling a thrill run through you at his attention. "Sure, why not?" You replied, trying to sound nonchalant. He motioned for you to follow him to the makeshift bar that was set up backstage. It was nothing fancy, just a few folding tables and some ice-filled coolers, but it did the trick. Johnnie ordered two drinks, handing one to you before taking a sip of his own. The liquid burned its way down your throat, and you couldn't help but cough. He chuckled, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"You okay there?" he asked, concern etched into his features. You nodded, catching your breath. "Yeah, I'm fine," you managed to say between coughs. "Just a little intense." He gave you a knowing smile and took another sip of his drink. The ice cubes clinked together in the glass, a soothing sound in the otherwise loud backstage area.

You glanced around, taking in the familiar scene. The other dancers milled about, some chatting with each other, others slipping away to the side to have a quick smoke or a quickie. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, and the low hum of conversation was almost deafening. You felt a pang of envy as you watched some of the other girls being fawned over by their regulars, but you tried not to let it show.

"So," Johnnie said finally, setting his empty glass down on the makeshift bar. "What do you say we find someplace a little more private to talk?" He took your hand and led you deeper into the backstage area, down a dimly lit hallway that you'd never noticed before. You followed him, heart racing, wondering where he was taking you. The air grew warmer and the lighting grew dimmer as you walked, the sounds of the club fading away behind you. Finally, he pushed open a door and gestured for you to enter.

The room beyond was unlike anything you'd ever seen backstage. It was a sex room, with walls adorned with leather and steel bondage furniture, and an array of sex toys and vibrators spread out across the bed. There was even a rack of ropes hanging from the ceiling, waiting to be used for tying someone up. Johnnie closed the door behind you and turned to face you, his expression unreadable.

You stood there, taking it all in, feeling a mixture of shock and arousal coursing through your veins. He stepped closer, his hand trailing down your arm, sending shivers up and down your spine. "You like it?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, finding your voice. "Yeah," you breathed. "It's… quite the setup you have here." He smiled at your comment, and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the wall, his body pressed against yours. His lips found your neck, and he began to nibble and suck gently. You moaned, arching your back into him. "Do you want to see more?" he whispered into your ear. "Do you want to play with all these toys?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of desire wash over you. He stepped back, giving you some space, and gestured to the bed. "Why don't you have a seat?" he invited, motioning to a leather-bound chair in the corner. You did as he said, feeling the softness of the bed beneath you as you sat down. He walked over to the bed and kneeled in front of you, his eyes traveling the length of your body. "Take off your clothes," he said, his voice commanding but gentle.

You reached up and began to unbutton your top, revealing your lace-covered breasts to him. He groaned, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. You cried out, arching your back again, and he smiled, moving to the other breast. As you kicked off your heels and peeled off your remaining clothes, you could feel the air against your bare skin, making your nipples harden even more. He glanced up at you, eyes hungry as he watched you undress.

When you were completely naked, he gestured for you to lie down on the bed. You did as he said, feeling the cool leather against your skin. He crawled onto the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours. His hands traveled over your body, exploring every inch of your skin, and he paused to roll your nipple between his fingers.

"Tell me," he whispered, "have you ever tried bondage before?" You hesitated for a moment, feeling a thrill run through you at the thought of being tied up. "No," you admitted, "but I've always wondered what it would be like." He smiled, his eyes glinting with excitement.

He reached over to the rack of ropes hanging from the ceiling and selected a long, silky length of black satin. He knelt between your spread legs, wrapping one end around your ankle and securing it to the bedpost. You felt a thrill of anticipation course through you as he began to bind you, pulling the rope taut and knotting it expertly. He moved up your body, wrapping another length of rope around your waist and attaching it to the headboard. You felt restricted and helpless, but in the best possible way.

Finally, he stood back and surveyed his handiwork, admiring the way your body was held open for him, completely at his mercy. "There," he said, running his hands down your bound arms. "Now you're all mine." You felt a shiver of anticipation race through you at his words.

He leaned forward, kissing your neck before trailing his tongue down towards your nipple. His teeth scraped gently against the hard peak as he sucked, and you arched your back, moaning softly. "Do you like that?" he whispered, and you nodded, unable to form words as he continued to tease you.

His hand found the small vibrator you'd spotted earlier, and he pressed it against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "Is this what you were looking for?" he asked, and you could feel the vibrations building inside you, making it harder and harder to think.

As your breath came faster and shallower, he reached for the control panel on the side of the bed, and the vibrator grew even stronger. You cried out, your hips bucking against his hand as the sensation overtook you. He smiled, watching you lose control, and then eased the vibrator away, leaving you aching for more.

But he had other plans. He stood up and stripped out of his clothes, revealing his hard, muscular body. Then he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. "Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. You nodded, your heart racing as he guided his erection towards your entrance. He thrust into you, hard and deep, and you cried out at the intense sensation.

He began to move, his body sliding against yours in a rhythmic motion that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You arched your back, pressing your bound wrists against the mattress as he took you harder and faster. The ropes holding you in place seemed to amplify the sensation, making you feel completely at his mercy.

With each thrust, the vibrator against your clit sent another jolt of pleasure through you, and you could feel your orgasm building, growing closer with each passing second. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape, but it was no use. As he reached around to stroke your swollen nipple, your body tensed and you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of bliss.

He slowed his pace, letting you catch your breath as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. He leaned in, kissing you deeply, their tongues tangling as he began to move inside you once again. You could feel your body responding to his touch, growing wet and aching for more.

As he thrust harder, he reached down to press the vibrator against your clit again, sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through you. You gasped, arching your back as the sensation overtook you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the tension building inside you as you neared the brink.

Just as you were sure you couldn't take another moment of this exquisite torture, your body gave in, and you cried out in release, your muscles tensing around him as your orgasm crashed over you in a powerful wave. He continued to move inside you, his eyes locked on yours as he watched you lose control, and then he followed you over the edge, his body tense as he came deep inside you.

Finally, he collapsed on top of you, sweaty bodies sticking together. You could feel the aftermath of your orgasm pulsing between your legs, and the vibrator still pressed against your clit, sending a gentle hum through you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both caught your breath.

"That was well worth it"

Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers @tomkaulitzloverr @xoxogossipmal @kqulitzlvr

Comment on masterlist to be tagged 🖤

Also if you guys have any suggestions for dialogue or more detail, please lmk, it would be so appreciated 🖤

#johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie guilbert x reader #emo #scene #emo boy #itsmealaiah #smut

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ayyyez · 11 months

Note

Can you mayhap do more goshiki and Tsuki headcanons? Maybe first date, first time, first kiss etc

A/N: oh yes more of the side haikyuu boys! sure thing!

TAGS: first kiss, making out, first date, first time mentions and descriptions but not explicit, mentions of foreplay but not explicit, headcanons, Tsukki being a little shit but also a secret simp, Goshiki being a loveable dork who sometimes gets a big head lol, undercut for length

CHARACTERS: Tsukishima Kei, Goshiki Tsutomu

TSUKISHIMA KEI

First and foremost, to date this guy you gotta be able to call him out on his shit because he NEEDS that.

Doesn't matter about personality in regards to being either shy/reserved and preferring to do it in private or being confident/ outspoken and doing it right there when its needed (or any combination of them) AS LONG AS IT HAPPENS! CALL HIM OUT!

It makes Tsukki respect you, listen to you (depends on the situation on whether he follows through on the change lol) and also is what makes him attracted to you in the first place.

See the thing is he wants to be seen so you calling him out leads to banter and banter leads to a familiar rapport and eventually one of you cracking (yes cracking because its a game of how long either of you can last without spilling your feelings!) and confessing.

Definitely a confess -> date -> kiss kinda guy but in saying that these things can totally all happen in the span of a week with him.

Once the balls rolling he moves FAST

Likes chill, casual dates and your first date is no different.

Something like a cafe, a lowkey restaurant to eat or even just going over each others houses for a study date.

Prefers being out of the eyes of the public.

Will also leave the control of the date (in general), including the venue, up to you (with those previous preferences as his contribution).

When it comes to telling you this though he's kind of jerky about it (to a strangers eye anyway) as Tch-ishima makes an appearence.

'Tch, we're just hanging out like usual.' and then will add 'Shouldn't a date be just us two and away from everyone else.' While internally he's just gunning for the date to be at home lol.

It also gives him ample opportunity to go in for that first kiss. Tsukki you sly guy!

Will never admit in a million years.

Feel free to try teasing and asking him about it though!

'So did just bring me back here to try and pull this huh?' Right after a kiss.

He'll just give you one of those smirks and poke your forehead.

'I don't know did I?'

Tries to act indifferent but you see that smirk soften ever so slightly into to a the hint of a real smile.

Psh what a dork. Forever the internal simp.

While he moves fast in terms of the from first date to first kiss scene the first time comes with a bit more time.

He's ever so patient with that kind of thing and doesn't really see the whole point of rushing in unprepared that leads to everyone having an awkward ehem unpleasant time.

Okay so maybe thats a bit of a mild—not fear exactly—it's definitely a bit of a concern though. So he keeps those kisses wanting and makeouts steamy but cuts them off Jussssst~ when they're about to get good.

It's not on purpose he's just got to stay in control ya'know?

He's not letting those floodgates open until you bring it up. Maybe a part of him wants you to beg a little. It's not a must of course! He's just not opposed to it.

This is the part where you can comply or give him a little smack upside the head to reground himself. It gets a smirk either way.

Either way the first time with Tsukki comes when you ask for more and you both agree to finally (your words not his) move forward. Tsukki is the kind of guy who has the patience to wait a lifetime. No qualms.

Once you've got him going though. He's like oh damn. This is something else. Even better than those makeout sessions!

A first time with Tsukki is a more drawn out first time. It's exploratory and sensory with lots of touching and not lots of talking (unless it's from you, it's okay to be a nervous talker - he's just only going to talk when necessary or to respond).

There's definitely communication for needs from him he's just not the type to have a chat during (at least in the first time and early days).

He also has a concentration frown and sometimes he's biting his lip so hard your afraid it's going to break and bleed. It's cute honestly.

Lots of foreplay before the main act. Lots of exploratory touching. There's no jumping in even though it's the first time. He takes his time and his patience can be frustrating at this point if you wanna just GO.

He can get a little teasing here. It's where he probably talks the most. 'Oh raring to go huh? Well lets just take our time.' Little shit lol.

Once you're doing it though he's actually pretty sweet. Making sure you're okay. You're comfortable. Expects the same from you too. It's an act of trust after all.

May confess a sweet thing or two during. Depends on how he's vibing. Feels a bit awkward about it afterwards but won't take it back. Just will tell you to shut up if you tease him about it.

Perfect time to make him blush. Yes he will get you water and help clean each other up and spoon you after if you are into that. It's good manners afterall.

GOSHIKI TSUTOMOU

Goshiki is a little sweetie okay and deserves someone who appreciates and respects him.

However much like Tsukki it's kind of the same where you have to be real with him and tell him when he's getting a too big head sometimes.

Definitely a friendship to lovers vibe or even a you respected me to call me out as an acquaintance then I fell in love with you and chased after you vibe (Goshiki being the chaser lol)

Goshiki is definitely a 'fall in love at first sight' kind of vibe. Like he doesn't actually but he thinks he does. He just gets swept up very easily by people who make a strong impact on him and runs with it.

Him chasing you can go two ways depending on the type of person you are and how you want this sweetie to react.

You could be the type to catch on to his very obvious crush on you. He's not stealthy about it to the point it's likely his whole team knows lmao and whats worse is he THINKS he's so clever, calm and collected about it but he's...the opposite lol.

Using this information you could do you both a favour and just confess to him first. Goshiki will become the most flustered mess you've ever seen.

He'll be bright red, shocked silent until he barely recovers, saying 'Haha of course you wanna date me!' while also internally is like Omg you want to date me!?

But you know him. You've learnt to read the doubt behind his eyes whenever such words leave his lips.

'Yeah I want to date you, so whats your answer?' You reiterate.

This throws him of balance again and he's spluttering because oh yeah this isn't one of his daydreams he has about being the best ace and getting his crush. This actually is his crush asking him out.

'Yes please.' He manages to get out. Ever so polite just as his parents taught him. It takes everything in you to keep your smile composed and not laugh at him. Adorable.

The OTHER WAY this could go if you're not one to ask someone out or if you just want to see what he'll do, is wait. He'll sit on his crush until he just sort of explodes.

It'll take awhile of him running over to you at every opportunity he gets, you can always count on it like clockwork.

Then one day he's not there? Nor the next or the next. You kind of get worried. You see a friend of his wave them over and begin to ask when you FINALLY see Goshiki come over.

he's redder than usual, frown on his face like he'd been....sulking? huh.

Wraps his hand around your wrist. 'Can we go?'

'okay?'

Tugs! Tugs you away somewhere a bit more secluded. Away from prying eyes.

You stand there and scan his expression. Still stuck in a sulky frown. Almost pouting? huh cute.

'Do you-' He stops looking down. 'Will you-' He stops again groaning. 'I'm the ace right?'

'Huh?' Okay major confusion. 'Yeah?'

'So that makes me pretty cool right?'

You frowned, scanning him up and down. Was Goshiki asking if you thought he was cool? With a sulky expression? Something had to be going on.

'Naturally.' You cleared your throat watching him smile. 'Whats going on?'

'Well since I'm the coolest guy you know it's your lucky day since I've got a question for you!'

And with that Goshiki went bright red and stumbled into asking you out in his own awkward, self concious way.

Very sweet when the two of you start dating. Always trying to show off for you and share volleyball with you but also shows that he makes you one of his priorities.

Heckin loves food so loves food dates especially to lowkey restaurants, loves showing off in this regard by showing you nice places but likes to be spoiled too so show him cool places.

A sucker for hand holding. Thinks its peak affection along with cheek kissing.

Takes him awhile to move up with physical affection because he combusts and gets anxious about it and his feelings. He's self concious from various complexes he's developed over time.

You probably have to initiate the first kiss or have to make do with being VERY patient. He's so shy. If you do intiate it be prepared for him being flustered. It's cute.

Making out is a very big deal to transition to as well. You gotta talk him through it. He's all stiff, clattering teeth and noses and forehead bumping at first. Whoops. Its sweet though.

Once he gets though he REALLY gets it! Really gets into it too like this boy is a quick study after all and he just gets the kissing bug. It'll be you who will be like OKAY BABY WE GOTTA COME UP FOR AIR YOU'RE ALL RED AND ABOUT TO PASS OUT.

But he looks~ well if looks could kill~ he's a hot mess you could devour right then and there. All red, flustered, panting? Lips all slick? Love bites on the neck? Hair disheveled? Hello Goshiki where have you been hiding?

First time is much like the first kiss in terms off nerves. He's all stiff and jumpy.

Again, you'll have to talk him through it but it doesn't mean he won't attempt to take initiative. It's a team effort on both fronts. It won't be drawn out though, he's too worked up and nervous.

A lot of bumping into each other and awkward moments but there's also a lot of sweet moments and feeling good.

Lots of communication and awkward mess talking. Lots of kissing and touching. Grab his hair for good moans hehe.

Things are loud with Goshiki. He's vocal, he can't help it. Don't make fun of him though he's sensitive.

He needs aftercare in form of cuddles and pillowtalk. Very clingy after and he's also VERY warm so if you run cold then good news for you! You've now got your own personal heater.

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misshoneyimhome · 4 months

Note

Hey for intern! x Willy maybe a guy asks intern out infront of everyone and she can't really say no cause she doesn't want people to catch on to her seeing anyone and William is fucking pissed. Bonus points if the girls make her go out on this date and Willy is following them. Just shows up after the date and fucks her silly saying she is his

Oh yes, bb! 😉 So I chose to combine this ask with this one, as I thought it might go well together... hopefully you get my idea 🙈🤍 cause yes, that scarf is for multiple purposes 🙌🏼🙃

Warnings; 18+ smut; fingering; unprotected sex (p in v), mild bondage?

Word count: 3.2K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Everything that kills me makes me feel alive I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️ [intern x willy]

"Hey, the boys are on their way," your manager announced just before you positioned yourself with your phone ready to capture the Toronto Maple Leafs players arriving for tonight's home game.

"Great, I'm all set," you simply replied, smiling as you then awaited their entrance.

This was easily one of your favourite tasks as an intern, even if it wasn't officially part of your job, you were always happy to step in when needed. Watching the guys stroll into the arena in their best attire was nothing more than a visual treat.

First up was John Tavares, looking sharp in his classic outfit with grey dress trousers, a light blue shirt, a matching tie, and a beige blazer.

Then next came Max Domi, opting for a slightly less formal look without a tie and sporting a slightly unbuttoned shirt with a relaxed vibe.

"You're looking good, Maxi," you said, flashing him a sweet smile, which earned you a cheeky wink in return.

Following him was William Lagasson, sporting a more casual look with a beanie, shooting you a quick smile.

And finally, your secret crush, William Nylander, entered the scene. He wore a dark blue suit with white stripes, giving off an almost Italian mafia-esque style, complemented by a pair of trainers and a sleek grey turtleneck shirt. His long blonde hair was slicked back, AirPods in his ears, while casually holding his phone. You had to mentally remind yourself not to stare too obviously – but that was easier said than done.

Shit, he was gorgeous.

However, what caught your eye about his outfit tonight was the small silky scarf elegantly wrapped around his neck.

And as he neared, William noticed you behind the camera and couldn't resist glancing up from his phone, flashing you a confident smirk.

You were aware that when players entered with headphones, they usually preferred not to be disturbed, staying focused on the upcoming game. Yet, as William approached and seemed to be heading your way, you simply couldn't resist.

"Looking quite good, Don Juan," you chuckled lightly, playfully winking at him.

"Seems like you're a fan?" he quipped, lightly tucking on the fabric around his neck.

"Well, they didn’t nickname you 'Willy Styles' for nothing," you teased, gesturing towards his scarf and then back at him.

"Happy you like it..." he spoke softly, ensuring no one else was nearby before whispering, "I always want to look good for you, just like you always look so damn good for me, baby."

In that moment, a tender connection passed between you, causing a rush of sensation that forced you to discreetly clench your thighs together, as you felt your beating vagina almost cream your knickers.

William's smile always had that effect on you. And especially since you'd become more intimately involved, he knew precisely how to push your buttons.

God, you hated him for it. Just as much as you loved him for it.

However, you had to brush off his playful remark. It wasn't suitable given the situation – you were at work, and your "situationship" had to remain casual and at distance.

"Come on, lover boy, keep it moving," Calle Jarnkrok then chimed in from behind as he too entered, prompting William to offer you another wink before sauntering away towards the locker room.

It was one of those moments where you wished you and William could openly flirt. He looked incredibly handsome tonight, and you couldn't help but feel an intense desire for him. But you simply couldn't act on it.

And neither could William.

Despite his habit for pushing the limits, he also knew where the line was drawn. And every passing day made it harder for both of you to maintain composure and professionalism, especially given the increased numbers of time you’d slept together by now.

However, tonight wasn't about either of you.

It was about Captain John Tavares and his 1000 points ceremony, which swiftly diverted your attention from your feelings for William.

And the night turned out to be fantastic. Despite the busy atmosphere for you and the rest of the staff, it was an incredible experience. Even with the loss against the Rangers, the arena buzzed with energy, and the crowd cheering loudly for the players.

Then following the match, the cheers gradually died down as the players headed back to the locker room, and you and your co-worker Melanie found yourselves engrossed in lively conversations with the team's family and friends.

Which wasn’t unusual for you to do. Over the past few months, you’d grown rather close with many of the partners, just like most of the staff members had done as well over time. It was simply a result of spending so many hours, days, and weeks together as a team and a crew.

And this closeness also led you to get to know one of Stephanie and Mitch’s friends, Jared. He'd been around the rink for a while now, and you'd had a few conversations while he’d waited for Mitch to finish training.

Tonight, however, Jared decided to take things a step further. Finding you both attractive and intriguing, he boldly asked you out on a casual coffee date - in front of everyone.

To say you were surprised by his sudden interest would be an understatement. And what made matters slightly worse was recalling that just last week, you had told Steph you weren't seeing anyone at the moment, as you hadn't wanted anyone to know about your forbidden relationship with player in number 88 on the team.

So, standing there, in the hallway with all eyes on you and the handsome man before you, you felt trapped and uncertain how to respond. Yet, naturally, Steph nudged your side, offering an encouraging expression.

"Come on, y/n…" she whispered with a light chuckle, and you knew you had to give in.

"Sure, why not," you flashed a bright smile at Jared, prompting excitement from Stephanie and a few other girls.

However, not everyone shared the enthusiasm about your answer.

Across the room, William's intense gaze bore into you. His eyes aflame with emotion, jaw clenched, his hand formed into a fist as he processed your acceptance of Jared's invitation.

It was the first time he had truly considered that your secret relationship wasn't just something hidden; it also meant the potential for you to openly date someone else. Someone with whom you wouldn't have to sneak around, keeping things casual and under wraps.

He felt jealous.

No, he felt more than just jealousy. He was frustrated, envious, and almost angry at the thought of you being with someone else. The mere idea of another person touching or kissing you turned his stomach.

But despite his attempts to come off as calm and composed, his reaction didn't escape the notice of his close friend and teammate.

"Hey, take it easy, Willy," Calle said softly in Swedish, making sure no one else would understand. "We all know you care for her, but she's not yours to date."

William knew his friend's words were meant to be sensible. Yet, he couldn't shake off the irritating feelings he had about you and Jared.

And the irritation persisted into the following day, where William was aware you had plans to meet Jared for a coffee date. Yet, despite his efforts to distract himself during morning skates and weightlifting workouts, thoughts of you with another man still lingered.

So, instead of heading home, although he knew it might seem immature and a bit of a douche bag move, William decided to go to the coffee place where he expected to find you with Jared. And as he queued up, hearing your beautiful laughter resonate through the room, he tried his best to remain hidden form your view. However, he did purposefully eavesdrop while waiting for his coffee, overhearing your conversation. He listened intensely as you shared your aspirations about your career in marketing and public relations, your upcoming completion of education, and your desire to travel to Europe.

William's heart sank as he almost froze upon hearing Jared mention his wish for a family and how you, too, had thought about a future with children. It was something William had dreamt about as well – having a family of his own.

It was a moment where his worlds collided as the barista called out his name, jolting him back to reality – he was a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey player who wasn't allowed to share his dreams with the one he desired the most: you.

Gathering his thoughts, he then took his coffee and quietly left the shop just before he stole a glance in your direction, but you were too engrossed in conversation with Jared, oblivious to his presence.

And as the evening passed without any word from you, William grew increasingly anxious. Had you developed feelings for Jared? Was his chance with you slipping away?

The uncertainty ate away at him.

And not receiving a response to his texts heightened William's urge to remind you of something.

Meanwhile, across the city, you had just finished a shower, contemplating your day as you blow-dried your hair.

The date with Jared had been pleasant, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. He was nice, shared your interests, and had a great sense of humour, but there was no spark.

It was nothing in comparison to what you felt with William. And it made you realise that perhaps you'd never experience the same emotions for anyone else.

This revelation saddened you a bit, especially considering you still had six more months of your internship. And what if the MLSE offered you a position afterward that you couldn't refuse, limiting your options? Or what if William ended up moving to another team? It would of course solve the forbidden aspect of your relationship, but it could also mean that he’d have to move far away from you.

The thought of various potential outcomes in your future, none of which involved being with William, made you feel queasy. And you knew you had to remind yourself that despite the enjoyment, it was temporary. Nothing more could ever happen.

That was until your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a knock on your front door, and without much consideration, you went to check who it was, wearing nothing but a towel.

And as you cautiously opened the door, you were greeted by the sight of your handsome Swedish lover standing in the hallway.

“Willy,” you said softly, slightly surprised, as you opened the door fully. “What are you doing here?”

His expression appeared serious as he confidently stepped forward, invading your personal space.

“I've come to remind you of who you belong to,” he said in a dark and husky voice, entering your studio apartment and closing the door behind him.

You were taken aback. You had never seen such a serious and smug expression on his usually cheerful and flirtatious face. Yet, it intrigued you, and a small gasp escaped you as he drew closer, wrapping his arms around your slender body.

"This we don’t need," he murmured seductively, his fingers deftly undoing the knot of your towel before resting firmly on your hips.

Your arms instinctively reached for his chest, then slid up to encircle his neck as his hands found your bare ass, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace, where you wrapped your legs around his hips in response.

This had almost become routine by now. Your mouths met in a fiery, passionate kiss, tongues intertwining as you both lost yourselves in the moment, while he carried you towards the bed, your lungs emptying for air.

And as he laid you down, a large smirk spread across his lips as he admired your curvaceous figure before him.

Your eyes locked intensely with his, conveying nothing but pure desire. Thoughts of Jared were long gone from your mind, completely consumed by the man standing before you. Anticipation coursed through you, your body tingling in sheer eagerness for what he had in store for you.

And with a mischievous grin still playing on his lips, William retrieved a small piece of fabric from his pocket - the scarf you had commented on during his arrival yesterday. He had been thinking about something since your brief shared moment the previous night, and tonight felt like the perfect opportunity to bring it to fruition.

"Hands above your head," he commanded firmly, and you complied without hesitation.

You were aware of William's penchant for asserting dominance, but tonight, it seemed to intensify a notch. As he leaned over your exposed body, he skilfully used the scarf to bind your wrists together securely.

“Willy,” you moaned softly, your eyes fixed intensely on him.

“Shh, baby, I promise I’ll do you good,” he whispered darkly into your ear. “Far better than he ever could.”

Another soft gasp escaped you as he left you lying on the bed, your senses heightened as his fingers tenderly caressed your skin. Standing by the foot of the bed, he then undressed himself to his boxers, his gaze never leaving you, making the atmosphere charged with intensity even though he had barely touched you.

“You look fucking incredible like this... completely naked and ready for me,” he spoke roughly as he knelt on the bed, spreading your legs further with his body.

"Yes, Willy... I'm ready for you," you cried out softly, trying to maintain your hands where he had commanded.

But William noticed your desire to move your arms. So, while positioning himself over you, he held your wrists down with one hand, teasing the inside of your thighs with the other.

The anticipation was almost torturous, something William was well aware of. Your restrained whimpers escaped your lips as your breathing grew incoherent.

His gentle touch left you yearning, until you felt his fingers teasing you through your folds.

"Oh, yes, baby, so wet for me..."

And more soft cries escaped you as you felt him painfully slowly slide two fingers inside your entrance, gradually stretching your walls.

"Yes, Willy... Please, more," you pleaded, and with a smirk on his lips, he granted your request.

Thrusting deep into your core, he worked his fingers, slightly curling them to heighten your pleasure before withdrawing, leaving you feeling void and empty.

"What?" you cried out in disappointment.

"Not fun to be teased, huh? How do you think I felt when I saw you on a date with someone else..." William's voice carried a tinge of frustration as he pushed his fingers inside you once more, pumping a few times before pulling them out completely.

"Willy... please," you gasped, feeling thoroughly teased. "I only want you..."

The fusion of your words and cries seemed to captivate his thoughts, prompting him to release your wrists. And then he stood up, shedding his boxers to unleash his pulsating cock, already dripping with pre-cum from being aroused all day, consumed with the desire to fuck you senseless.

Then returning to the bed, he knelt down, seized your legs, and forcefully drew your hips closer to him. Placing your feet on his shoulders, he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance before pushing forcefully inside you.

"Fuck!" You let out a loud moan as he thrust deeply and vigorously into you, finding a steady rhythm.

"Yeah, that's it baby! You belong to me," he uttered with a deep breath, continuing his relentless pounding, causing your cries to intensify, as he maintained a strong and unyielding pace, not even allowing you a moment to adjust. However, your juices provided him easy penetration.

It was all so overwhelmingly stimulating; your mind struggled to focus as William's body connected with yours, his hands securing your ankles against his chest.

"You're mine, understand?"

The room echoed with moans as sweat glistened on your skin. And though you desired to move your hands, your body had surrendered entirely to the man driving into you, and you sensed the impending rush of a powerful orgasm about to peak.

However, just as William felt your walls tightening around him, indicating your imminent climax, he decided it wasn't how he wanted you to reach that peak.

Abruptly, he then halted his motions, swiftly withdrawing and releasing your legs. Leaning over you, he untied the scarf, before swiftly turning you around onto your hands and knees and entering you from behind.

"Fuck, yes!" You moaned as he pounded deeply once more, feeling the entirety of his cock filling you.

But for William, this still wasn't enough. With his right hand seizing your hair and his left arm enveloping your torso, he pulled you onto your knees, your back against his chest.

The tug on your hair was gentle, not forceful, and soon his hand shifted, wrapping softly around your neck to steady you against him while he continued his passionate thrusts.

And instinctively, your free hand sought to grip him while the other held onto the hand supporting you around your body.

In this intimate position, your bodies pressed together, exchanging warmth and sweat as William's member glided in and out of your wetness. His lips and teeth found the sensitive curve of your neck, prompting you to lean back, resting against his muscular chest.

"Willy, I'm about to come," you exhaled heavily.

"Me too, baby… come with me," he moaned against the sensitive skin of your neck.

And in just a few more thrusts, both of you surrendered to the sensations, closing your eyes in sheer pleasure as orgasms rippled through your bodies. Minds went blank, and the room filled with loud, ecstatic moans, as he shot his cum into you, your legs trembling, on the verge of collapsing were it not for William's firm grasp keeping you upright.

And instead of letting go, he held you close to him.

Not ready to part from your embrace, he kept himself buried inside of you, ensuring his release covered your walls completely. Then with a deep grunt, he slowly pulled out. You could almost sense the mixture of fluids trickling down your thigh as he gradually separated from your body.

A comfortable silence filled the room as you both, still breathless, disentangled from the position, and William gently guided you to recline with him on your backs, pulling you in for a tender cuddle.

And while resting in his arms, your head nestled on his shoulder, a thought suddenly struck you, prompting you to gaze up at him.

"Willy?" you softly inquired, meeting his eyes.

"Uh-huh?"

"Did you follow me on the date?"

William paused for a moment, acknowledging how it might seem a bit stalker ish. But he couldn't really deny the truth; he had indeed followed you.

"Yeah..." he admitted tentatively, locking eyes with you. "I'm sorry, y/n/n… I know it's not right for me to ask this, especially since we can't be public about our… you know, relationship. But I just can't stand the thought of you being with someone else..."

His breaths were heavy as he poured out his heartfelt confession, and you couldn't help but smile lightly, taking in his words.

"Willy, I don't want to date anyone else… I meant it when I said I only wanted you," you reassured him.

"So, does that mean... we're, like, together?" he asked with a soft smirk.

"I suppose it does," you replied, flashing him a wide smile. “But still in secret of course…”

“Of course,” he whispered softly, before sealing your announced relationship with a soft kiss.

#my asks #intern x willy #18+#william nylander imagine #wn88 imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl smut

125 notes · View notes

vibrantbirdy · 11 months

Note

You are so incredibly talented! I love reading all of your works! : )

Could I request a Cal Kestis x female reader (or OC, no preference really). I’ve been super into the game recently and just love his character. Maybe a really strong female character, but she gets flustered by Cal’s confidence, and how much she has grown to like him more than friends. I totally see him being a complete flirt (but still sweet). Haha. I’ve always had this idea that it would be cool for a force user to show someone what it’s like by holding their hand and pulling something to them (like aiding them in using the force). Stupid maybe I don’t know lol, basically Cal being suave and laying it on thick. Fluff, crack, little spice, I’m here for whatever creative piece you get going ❤️

Firstly, thank you for your lovely words! Secondly, yay, Cal! Thank you, I'm glad someone's asked for Cal, this is a cute prompt.

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Proximity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor Games Setting: Prior to events of Jedi Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Fluff - This is tooth-rotting fluff with a little added spice as requested ;) Warnings: This fic is 18+ so please heed and respect the adult rating. Descriptions of sexual longing/arousal; one scene of strong consensual sex - nothing too descriptive but probably on the borderline of (hopefully still sweet) mild smut. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 5.5k (Because I have no self control) Summary: You are an accomplished Coruscanti thief who has been recruited by the Rebel Jedi, Cal Kestis. As you join him and his crew on their adventures aboard the Mantis, you and Cal have to navigate your growing feelings for each other.

You are standing in some Imperial-worshipping Senator's private vault in a bank nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant's palatial financial district. You've just located your prize - a data stick containing the names of high standing political and military figures within the Empire who have Republic, perhaps even Rebel leaning sympathies.

It's the Senator's insurance policy, his get out of jail free card - something he can produce at the eleventh hour in case his unwavering loyalty to the Empire turns out not to be enough to save him from the pull and push of the Imperial tide of oppression swelling across the Galaxy.

You'll sell the data stick to one Rebel faction or another, whoever is willing to pay most for your service in getting information out of Imperial hands and aiding the Rebel's recruitment drive in the process.

You're in the middle of internally congratulating yourself on successfully extracting the data stick from its complex security casing when a male voice, almost conversational in tone, rings out behind you.

"I can't let you leave with that."

Startled, you whirl around to see a man standing no more than a meter away from you. You wonder how long he's been there, watching you.

He has bright ginger hair which is swept back from his face, short at the back and sides, but longer on top and slightly ruffled. His matching red stubble sits on his cheeks, chin, upper-lip and travels up his well-defined jawline to his ears. He is dressed simply in a fawn shirt, dark grey pants, and sturdy brown boots.

A small red and white droid, bipedal, with a flat rectangular head and two photoreceptors, one slightly larger and beadier than the other, hangs almost casually off his shoulder like a pet. It's a BD unit, you think.

Both the man and the droid are rather dirty, but then, so are you after squeezing your way through a maze of dusty ventilation shafts. It makes sense the only possible way they could have gotten in here is the same way you did.

The stranger is holding something metal in his right hand that glints occasionally in the vault's dim security lighting, but you can't quite work out what it is. A weapon?

You raise your blaster.

"Don't!" he shouts, holding out a palm towards you, "The vault is magnetically sealed, if you miss, that bolt's going to cause us both a world of problems."

You raise an eyebrow because one, you already know that, and two...

"Bold of you to assume I'll miss at point blank range," you say levelly.

You keep your weapon trained steadily at the young man's chest.

He adjusts his grip on whatever it is he is holding and a green beam of light extends from the hilt of what you now realise is a lightsaber. A deep thrumming sound resonates around the small chamber.

A Jedi. Great.

You thought they were all extinct after the Emperor's purge. Briefly, childhood memories of evening strolls with your parents past the monumental ziggurat of the Jedi temple glowing golden in the low Coruscanti sun flash through your mind. You remember the thrill of excitement at seeing the Jedi, elegant and regal in their grand robes, lightsabers clinking at their belts as they swept by on important Republic business.

Right now? Here? This is the last place you want to see one.

The light from the blade illuminates the young man's face which, you have to admit, is a rather attractive combination of youthful and rugged. His nose and cheeks are peppered with freckles and his eyes contain green irises so deep in colour that they almost match his blade. A thin, red scar runs almost horizontally across the bridge of his nose, dipping down onto his right cheek. The ghost of a smirk is now playing on his lips and it has the irritating effect of making him more handsome.

You don't know why, but for some reason, you trust him instinctively not to try and cut you in half with that humming beam of hot, vibrating energy. At a stalemate, you lower your blaster. He follows your lead by deactivating the blade of his saber immediately.

"If you make me a good offer, you can have this right now," you say, one hand on your hip, the other waving the data stick in front of him impatiently.

You never like staying on the scene of a job too long and you are starting to feel on edge.

"I've got ... uhhh ... one hundred credits?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he speaks. He knows it's a stupidly lowball offer and you scoff loudly to let him know you think so too.

"Look, I know the ISB would pay a lot for information like this but..."

"I don't sell to the Empire," you snarl, cutting him off.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology which seems genuine enough. He tries again.

"I really need to get this to a contact in the Mid Rim..."

"The Mid Rim?" you interrupt abruptly, "that's off-world."

"Yeah..." his brow furrows and a slow, quizzical smile spreads across his face at the obviousness of your statement.

You curse yourself for being as predictable as a cheap holo novel. All your life you've lived on Coruscant. You've never been anywhere else. These days, the endless maze of unnatural, lifeless spires and struts and blocks of artificial construction seem to press in and in and in on you so that, despite the sprawling size of the metropolis, it feels like you are living in a tiny metal cage.

Still, this stranger didn't need to know that, and you realise you've given him his angle - a bargaining chip.

"I can't buy it off you," he reasons, "I don't have the credits, but I do have a proposal. Work with me and my crew. It's regular and we're rarely on one world for too long..."

There it is...

You got in here," he continues, gesturing around the vault, "we could use someone with your skill set. And, you get to piss off the Empire in the process."

You consider his offer. You are used to working alone and you don't like the complications that come with relying on others. Trusting anyone is difficult after fending for yourself, all alone, so successfully and for so long....

But with the Empire continuing to close their fist around all aspects of daily life, work was difficult to come by on Coruscant these days. Thieving in the city from Imperial targets in particular was becoming more and more fraught with danger.

While it riled you that he was able to read you so easily, really, what did you have to lose? Because by the Force did you not want to get off Coruscant? Isn't this what you'd been waiting for your whole life? An adventure?

"One job," you counter pragmatically, extending your hand to shake his, "And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Cal Kestis," he introduces himself with a disarmingly friendly smile, "And deal."

*************************************************

One job turns into another then another and another. Weeks turn into months and soon you've been on Cal's ship - well, borrowed ship you had come to learn - the Mantis for nearly half a year.

You've grown close with the crew of the Mantis. Cal, Gabs, Bravo and the two hulking Klatooinine twins, Lizz and Koob. This type of camaraderie is new to you. You really thought you'd struggle with it, that your independent nature would rail against the confines of living in close quarters with ship mates and fitting your own whims and desires and wants around others. In reality, you've never felt more at home. You didn't realise how lonely you had become before.

And the missions you run with the crew are exhilarating. This new life is so much more than just pilfering here and there from the Empire. You feel like you are really making a difference, like you're spitting directly in the face of the Imperial machine with every job. You feel like a Rebel.

It's not all sabotage and espionage and fighting Stormtroopers though. Off duty, life on the Mantis is mainly based around friendly joshing and winding each other up. And the dull minutiae of life still goes on.

Like now.

You and Cal are patching up the Mantis while the others are out on a supply run. You are currently crouched on your haunches so that the service hatch you are examining on one of the walls inside the ship is at eye level.

Cal is stood behind you, arms folded across his chest. You've been arguing good naturedly about what the problem is with the engine cooling system for an hour and you are now impatiently waiting for BD-1 to finish his scan to find out which one of you is right.

The little droid crawls out from the tangle of wires and gives you little nod and a boop of approval. You pat BD on his rectangular head and he scurries up your arm and on to your shoulder.

"I told you that was the problem," you say, craning your neck to look up at Cal with a triumphant grin.

You gesture to the wiring tool in his hand.

"Give that to me, I'll do it."

The Jedi looks down at the small instrument in his hand then tosses it up in the air and catches it again. He has that mischievous look on his face, the one you've learned to recognise as a sign that he's about to do something really annoying.

"Kestis..." you warn standing up, unable to stop your lips curling into a smile.

You make a lunge for the tool in his hand, but he's too quick. In a flash, he's holding it up above his head. Cal is almost a head taller than you and there's no way you can reach that high, even when you stretch up onto your tiptoes.

Instead, you decide to play dirty. You jab him hard in both his sides with your fingers where you know he's ticklish. He makes a funny sort of snorting noise in surprise and his hand drops for long enough that you manage to snatch the tool from him and make off with it at great speed.

Cal darts after you, both of you careering in to the kitchen of the Mantis, the thud and scrape of your boots on the ship's durasteel grated floor ringing throughout the ship in chorus with your laughter.

BD-1 takes this opportunity to leap of your shoulder and onto the kitchen table with an indignant whirr, determined not to get involved in this organic tomfoolery.

Cal is on you in seconds. He grabs you around the middle and lifts you off the ground with ease, spinning you around and deliberately tickling you in between making grabs for the wiring tool.

You squeal and let out perhaps the most ridiculous giggle to ever escape your mouth. You can't let him get away with forcing you to make a noise like that so you elbow him in the stomach. It's only a gentle prod really, but it's enough to make him grunt and let go of you.

As Cal doubles over, winded, you sprint back around to the opposite side of kitchen table holding the instrument aloft and performing a little victory dance.

Across the table, Cal straightens and, with a cocky look on his face, he stretches his arm out towards you. You stumble forwards slightly as if pulled forwards by an invisible rope tied around your wrist as he uses the Force to tear the tool easily out of your hand and bring it flying through the air to rest in his own outstretched palm.

"That's cheating!" you say, breathlessly.

Despite your half-hearted admonishment, in reality, you're delighted. And you're certain Cal knows it. The more time you spend with him, the more that old fascination you held as a child with the strange powers of the Jedi has returned. You are always enchanted by Cal's displays of Force ability.

"Alright kids, we almost ready to go?" Gabs' voice echoing through from the Mantis' doorway signals the return of the others.

Cal shrugs at you and you both grin, panting from your exertions. Keeping his green eyes locked on yours, he backs casually towards the door to help Gabs and the others load up the supply crates. Just before he exits the ship, he tosses the wiring tool to you underarm and you catch it with an elaborate flourish and twirl that makes him laugh.

You return to your work fixing the Mantis's cooling system with BD-1. You try to concentrate, but you feel slightly giddy. You can still feel Cal's strong arms against your body as if they remain wrapped around you. His masculine scent, pleasant and earthy and fresh like petrichor, seems to linger in your proximity and on your skin.

BD-1 tries his best to keep you right. He trills or nudges you every so often either to correct your wiring or to encourage you to stop staring into space with that inane, absent-minded smile.

When you lie in your cot bed that night, the hum of the Mantis' hyperdrive lulls you into a comfortable drowsiness and your thoughts return, unbidden, to Cal.

Over the past few months, it's like the very idea of him nestled deep into your brain and now refuses to budge. Every morning when you wake, you look forward to the sight of his honest, open, expressive face. The warmth of his slightly crooked smile. The way his red brows arch when he finds something funny before he squeezes his eyes shut so tight that they crinkle at the corners as he throws back his head, letting out peels of joyful, open-mouthed laughter.

Even when he has those strange moments of quiet introspection which you don't quite understand yet, you find it hard not to watch him. You can't help it, even although you sometimes feel like you are intruding on a private, sacred moment of reflection. It's always the same. His eyes glaze over as he stares out into the distance at nothing, a muscle works in his chiselled jaw, and then his head drops as if in dignified, melancholic prayer. These periods never last too long - not when he has a crew to lead.

There's no point in denying it anymore, at least not to yourself anyway. Your feelings for Cal go beyond comradeship; beyond friendship. And a hopeful notion has formed in your head that he might actually feel the same way about you.

It's both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

A sudden heat blooms deep within your very core and rises in your cheeks as your mind conjures the image, no, the feeling of Cal's solid, toned body, pressed against yours in a feverish, impassioned embrace, your limbs entwined, fingers woven tightly through the flames of his red hair

Force, you want him.

You place a palm against the cool durasteel wall above your head that separates your room from the Jedi's. You wonder what he's thinking of on the other side of the thin sheet of metal.

****************************************

Cal Kestis can't sleep. Like most Jedi, he can't actually read the thoughts of others, but his connection to the Force allows him to feel the emotions and state of mind of those around him.

Over the past few months, the Jedi has noticed your feelings for him blossoming into something more than friendship, mirroring the growth of his own affections for you.

But tonight, Cal can sense that something in your emotional frequency has changed. Evolved. A clarity, a new and vigorous and glorious certainty in your desire for him radiates incandescent through the Force. It's like the smouldering embers of a fire have ignited into a ferocious blaze.

As the feeling permeates through the thin sheet-metal wall dividing you, the intensity of it, the heat of it, drives him crazy. He wants to rip through the flimsy partition separating you and give you everything you want from him and more. His whole body is aflame with almost painful arousal and he is aching to bring himself release.

Cal resists, teetering on the very edge of giving himself over to his desire. Is this voyeuristic? Is he trespassing? Crossing some unspoken line? Should he be trying to block you out? He doesn't know.

The Jedi hisses through his teeth in frustration. Reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and, sinking to his knees on the floor, surrenders himself to the Force in search of whatever temporary solace he can find in meditation.

Even as he does so, he knows that the only real relief he'll be able to get now is if he can find it with you.

***************************************

The crew of the Mantis are taking some time to rest after a run of particularly eventful jobs. You've landed on the quiet world of Brax at the edge of the Mid Rim. It's a beautiful, lush planet adorned with meadows of wildflowers, glassy lakes and sprawling coniferous forests.

Everyone is making the most of their down time.

Gabs and Bravo have gone off for a hike in the nearby woods.

BD-1 is having a well earned oil bath on the Mantis.

The twins are snoozing in the meadow amongst the flowers. When you'd crept past them earlier, you'd smiled fondly - the peaceful serenity on their faces was such an odd juxtaposition to their usual chaotic enthusiasm for life.

Having successfully sneaked past Lizz and Koob without waking them, you are now sitting atop a large slab of rock which juts up and out of the meadow. You alternate between admiring the view of the lake and cleaning your blaster.

It is a warm day, but a gentle cooling breeze keeps the heat at bay. A gust suddenly whips up the heady, sweet smell of wildflowers all around you. For some reason the scent triggers something inside you, your heart suddenly full to bursting with a strange concoction of melancholy and joy.

To think that all this beauty, all this Galaxy was just out here, waiting, your whole life. And if you'd never met Cal, you might still be crawling through filthy ventilation shafts smelling of metal and damp and darkness just to get by on Coruscant.

You are just about ready to reassemble your weapon when you look up from your task towards where the Jedi is meditating with his back to you. He's kneeling a few meters in front of you on the sandy shore by the still water. You always think it's strange how he chooses to sit on his knees, rather than cross-legged. It looks uncomfortable to you, but he seems to be able to sit like that for anywhere up to an hour. Maybe you'll ask him about it one day.

Cal is shirtless. Even from here, you can see the freckles littered like celestial constellations across his strong back and down his broad shoulders and muscled arms. You take the opportunity to admire the outlines and angles of his taut, athletic body.

You start as the Jedi begins to stand. You'd rather not get caught staring at him quite so openly and you quickly shift your gaze back to your blaster which is still in its various component parts.

Cal turns and advances towards you up the beach and onto the grassy meadow. You pretend not to have noticed him at all, but you keep catching glimpses of him in your peripheral vision. He walks a few paces, then stops and looks around as if he's searching for something on the ground. Then he crouches down. He does this several times.

What is he up to?

"Hey," Cal says casually as he finally wanders over to you.

He has to crane his neck to speak to you, perched as you are on top of your rock, and use a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He's hiding something behind his back you realise.

"Oh, hey," you reply, as if you're surprised to see him there.

He pulls his hand from behind his back and reaches up to you. In his grasp is a bunch of wildflowers, beautiful pastel blues and pinks and purples.

You exclaim softly in surprise, a rather giddy sound that makes Cal beam up at you. As you take the blooms from him, his fingertips, calloused and tough from years of wielding a weapon in combat, brush gently against your hand. Even that small touch feels like a spark of electricity arching between you.

"See you at dinner," he says, and he's clearly pleased with himself as he retreats towards the Mantis, head held high, a jaunt in his step.

As you twist in your seated position to watch him disappear into the ship, you realise you were so enchanted by the gesture that you forgot to say thank you.

That's the thing about Cal Kestis. He's completely disarming. He has a rare, effortless charisma and an easy, flirtatious way about him that is somehow both sweet and suave at the same time. Few men you've met have ever managed to render you so flustered.

You look down at the delicate blooms in your hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling their fresh scent. Smiling to yourself, you shake loose the functional way you usually wear your hair to keep it out of your face and retie it, carefully weaving the wildflowers that Cal has picked for you through your locks.

When you come in for dinner - Bravo's turn to cook - Cal is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up and inclines his head to the side as he takes you in, his eyes widening. You blush furiously to see the genuine pleasure at the sight of you and your decorated hair written so openly on his face.

Amid the usual convivial hubbub and chaos of dinner in the Mantis' kitchen, you and Cal steal glances at each other across the table.

**********************************************

That evening, the moon is low and yellow in Brax's dark sky, hanging like a ball of golden light above the lake. You have an hour or so before you all depart for a rendezvous with a contact on Naboo. It's the twins' turn to do pre-flight checks and you find yourself on the shores of the water, skimming stones with Cal to kill time.

Before joining the crew of the Mantis you'd never skimmed a stone in your life. Not many places to do that on Coruscant. But Gabs in particular is an ace at it and she's taught you well.

Cal spots a likely candidate for his next projectile and he brings it flying casually into his hand using his Jedi abilities.

"What does it feel like like?" You ask, suddenly.

Cal smiles at you, seemingly understanding that you are talking about the Force. He hesitates for a second, looking down at the stone in his open palm. Then he places it back on the ground in an obvious position, nestled in the sand a few feet in front of you, and moves round to stand behind you.

He's so close you can feel his heart beating against his chest. Instinctively, you lean back into him, enjoying the safe feeling that his nearness gives you, and the warmth of his body against yours in the chill night air.

"It's time for instruction," he says softly.

He's said that phrase before when he's showing anyone how to do something new. You've come to understand that it's a fond impression of his late Master's dignified voice - a touching habit you've always thought.

Tonight it sounds different. His tone is light and teasing, but the smirk you can hear as he speaks makes the words sound almost seductive in a way that causes something to flip then tighten in the pit of your abdomen.

"Hold out your hand."

You extend your right arm, holding your palm outwards as you've seen Cal do many times. He places his own palm against the back of your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

His other hand comes to rest at your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer into him. He doesn't need to put it there and you both know it. Nor does he need to rest his chin on your left shoulder, so close to your cheek that his stubble almost tickles your skin.

Yet you can tell that you are both revelling in this rare, private opportunity for proximity between the two of you, and it is as thrilling as it is maddening.

"Focus. Breathe."

You realise you've been holding your breath. You feel Cal's chest rising and falling against your back and you match your own breathing in time with his. You can't help but notice it's at a slightly elevated pace.

"See the stone in your hand."

You nod and exhale, your eyes boring into the rock as if you really are going to levitate it yourself. You try and fail to stifle a sudden giggle at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

"Concentrate," Cal scolds quietly in your ear but you can hear the smile in his voice as the hand round your waist tightens its grip ever so slightly.

"I am," you mutter, but it's only half true.

You wonder if it's just your imagination, but in the seconds that follow, you think you can feel an deep, vibration flowing through Cal and passing through his body and into yours, binding your lifeforces together.

The rock flies so suddenly into your palm that you jump. You just about remember to close your fingers around the stone's cool, smooth surface as you shout out in surprise and delight. Cal lets out a good-natured laugh at your reaction and you glow as it rumbles through his whole body and yours.

You've just made up your mind to twist around in his arms kiss him when BD-1 comes running through the grass at great speed on his little legs, beeping and chirping urgently.

"Ok buddy, ok, we're coming," Cal says kindly to the little droid, but you can hear the exasperation at the untimely interruption in his voice.

*******************************************

Course set, the Mantis is travelling at lightspeed and, nestled safely in the cradle of the hyperlane, you will probably make it to Naboo in about six hours.

You suspect the rest of the crew are all sleeping soundly. The Mantis takes care of herself for the most part when travelling through hyperspace. With the life you lead, the importance of catching rest when you can cannot be underestimated.

You, however, cannot sleep. Thoughts of Cal and your interrupted moment by the lake race through your mind. The wildflowers he gave you are still in your hair and every so often you catch the ghost of their aroma, reminding you of your almost idyllic day on Brax.

You sigh and drag yourself out of bed, deciding to go and sit in the empty cockpit of the Mantis for a while and watch the stars race by as you hurtle through the hyperlane. Although it should really be frightening, you love to watch great swathes of the Galaxy disappear in a flash before your eyes as the Mantis catapults through space. It's a novel experience for you still - being off Coruscant, light speed travel, new worlds.

You wave your hand over the control and the door to your room hisses open. You jump to see a figure already standing there in the corridor. With a jolt of excitement, and with a strange feeling that you've summoned him somehow, you realise that it's Cal.

"Uh, hi.."

You don't let him get more than two words into his sentence. You grab him roughly by the front of his loose night shirt - which is slung low, revealing tufts of ginger hair on his chest and the elegant lines of his collarbone - and pull him into a deep kiss.

Not breaking away from your lips, and hardly hesitating, he picks you with almost alarming ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and curl your fingers in his red hair as he carries you back into your quarters. He places you up onto your workbench situated against the opposite wall as the door slides closed behind you.

"You look so pretty with those flowers in your hair," he mumbles into your neck you shiver with pleasure as his mouth brushes against your skin as he talks.

"Yes, it's a shame you're about to make such a mess of me," you whisper into his ear.

He pulls back to stare at you for a moment, green eyes wide as if dumbfounded by your forwardness. His delighted, slack-jawed expression forces a loud giggle from deep within you.

"Shhh," Cal warns emphatically, keenly aware of the proximity of the rest of the crew and how thin the walls of the Mantis are. He presses a kiss to your mouth in an attempt to silence your outburst, but you can feel his body shake with his own barely contained laughter as he grins against your lips.

Once your stifled mirth subsides, you hastily start to undress each other. You barely have time to appreciate the now naked, muscular form of the Jedi before you, when, in his enthusiasm to remove it, Cal accidentally rips your flimsy night dress away from your body. As it comes apart in his hands, the fabric makes a loud tearing sound, louder even perhaps than that of your previous bouts of laughter. You both freeze, as if anticipating someone will burst through the door and catch you in this compromising position, before dissolving into poorly restrained giggles again.

As he drinks in the sight of your body, Cal's expression changes into something primal. His brows knit together as if he is trying to understand how you could possibly be sitting in front of him like this. Then, his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare before he crashes his mouth back down on to yours into a deliciously rough kiss.

You don't move from your position on your workbench, and you coil your legs around Cal as tight as you can as he starts to move in you. The pace is urgent. You don't mind. There'll be opportunities for languid and gentle love-making in the future. Right now, this is a matter of need for both of you. The cord of tension that has been tightening between you for months finally snapping in a glorious, frenzied, explosion of mutual lust.

As his pace increases and his movements start to become uncoordinated, Cal moves a hand down between your bodies, splaying his palm against you, and settling the pad of his thumb between your legs at the very place you most need it to be.

At this, your hand which was tangled in his flaming hair flies down to join the other at his back and he growls as you claw your fingers in to his flesh between his shoulder blades.

You press your lips hard into his shoulder to muffle your cries as you approach your peak and then, suddenly, you are crashing over the edge and seeing stars. You gasp out his name, over and over, open mouthed and breathy against his ear.

This, combined with the sensation of your body in rapture, sends Cal hurtling towards his own oblivion. You cling to him while the great, strong muscles all over his body tense and release, and he lets out a long, shuddering groan into your neck that is almost a whimper.

The sight of him, the sound of him falling apart in front of you is beautiful.

Once you've both caught your breath, Cal lifts you gently off the table, and carries you to your tiny, single cot bed. You manage to position yourselves fairly comfortably in the snug space by lying on your sides. The Jedi has one arm laced underneath you with the other slung over your waist, hand resting on your stomach and holding you close to his warm chest.

As you are lulled almost into a doze by the sound and feel of his slow and steady heartbeat, you take in the rather sorry sight of the flowers which once bejewelled your hair, now scattered in ruin across the functional durasteel floor.

"I told you those flowers wouldn't last," you muse drowsily.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Cal removes his hand from your waist and reaches out his arm, palm splayed open. A blue bell flower, stem and petals astonishingly still intact- a brave survivor of the onslaught of urgent hands through your hair - floats lazily up from the floor and towards you on the bed.

Cal plucks it out of the air and gently weaves the bloom into your locks just above your ear. Then, he kisses you gently on the cheek and then on your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin, before sinking back down on to his side and resuming his previous position curled comfortingly around you.

For some reason, despite the eroticism of what you've just done together, this sweet gesture makes you flush disproportionately and you feel your cheeks turning pink.

You're starting to realise, perhaps hope, that the heady feeling of being slightly flustered in Cal Kestis' proximity might never go away.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis fanfiction #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x female reader

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lostonmyroad · 12 days

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Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 30-50

BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

things are starting to get going. and by get going i mean starting to get unhinged but its still nothing compared to the shit going on by the 300s

chapter 30-40

lmfao yoojin forgetting he blocked yoohyun’s number...king shit

yoojin daring yoohyun to call him out on his suspicious behavior...also king shit

chapters 40-50

let’s go sung hyunjae makes his debut!!!!

YOOHYUN ACTING INNOCENT IN FRONT OF YOOJIN AS HE MEETS THE GUILD LEADERS AKFJEIDIDOODSOOS highkey one of my favorite scenes ever. “my brother is more mild mannered than me” “yoohyun is an angel” everyone else in the room: press X to doubt

moon hyuna woman that you are. my beloved. you’re too good for this world

i live for yoohyun generally being a freak about yoojin

i need to know what blackmail he has on moon hyuna. what happened at the convenience store????? moon hyuna what did you do???

thank u yerim and moon hyuna friendship. we love to see it. Now s ranks also passes the bechdel test!!

ah yes potion addict yoojin has arrived. rip buddy at least you get better flavors later down the line

it’s only chapter 44 and yoojin is already being overworked. true cale henituse moment. rip your slacker life!!!

everyone ganging up on him to start enforcing self care. oh honey it only gets worse from here!!!

so far yoojin is: a monster tamer, social media account manager, recruiter for hayeon, owns a building with a research lab…my guy was speedy with it

yoojin going "i just need to complete one (1) more task and then I can live like a slacker" in the early chapters is. oh wow. famous last words. truly need to learn from cale

even peace is a borderline freak when it comes to yoojin. doesn’t give a shit about anyone else

YOOJIN ANSWERING SPAM CALLS JUST TO MESS WITH PEOPLE SKDJEIODO…he enjoys it…this explains so much about him…he’s bragging about how much experience he has answering them…

yoojin guessing who the kidnappers were because they didn’t call Peace cute is so valid. Anyone who doesn’t like Peace is an enemy

we’re starting to get into “oh wow fear resistance is kind of fucked territory”!!! yoojin is a little freak!!! he’s committing war crimes but sometimes it just be like that

rip blackie chapter 46-47 :(

yoojin treating the s ranks like normal people and them not knowing how to handle it ;((

GIVE YOOJIN HIS OSCAR NOW “uwu i’m a poor kidnapping victim” like sir. you dissolved your kidnappers in acid. sir.

all the details about yoojin’s life as a low ranked hunter pre-regression :(((

like not yoojin casually mentioning he used to be an alcoholic and yoohyun sent him to rehab pre regression. ok king. we don’t have time to unpack all that

kang soyoung intro!!! i so desperately need to know what her deal was with yoohyun pre regression. why does yoojin think of her as his sister in law. why did everyone believe they were dating.

next chapter brings us a real introduction to sung hyunjae character of all time

#losttalks #han yoojin #s class #s classes that i raised #sctir #the s classes that i raised #the s ranks that i raised

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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Jungkook:Sugar & Spice (Intro)

In which Jungkook really wants people to love you just as much as he does - or maybe not.

Tags/Warnings: Raccoon Hybrid!Reader x Idol!Jungkook, established relationship, opposites attract because I love that concept, are you tired of my hybrid stories yet because I'm not, fluff, romance, smut, jealous koo, slice of life, mild ddlg themes

Chapter length: short