#i can't be the only one who thought this.....right?
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They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.
Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.
The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.
To Metallica.
And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.
"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.
Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."
"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.
"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"
He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.
"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.
"Well, Dio's pretty okay."
This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.
---
Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.
"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.
Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"
He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.
"You want chips?" He asks.
"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.
"What?"
"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."
And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.
"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"
Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--
"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."
"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."
He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.
---
"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.
"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.
"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.
"Wha--huh?" He blinks.
"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."
"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.
Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.
"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.
"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.
Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.
---
Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.
He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.
Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.
A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.
---
It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.
There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."
He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"
Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"
Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."
"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"
"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."
"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."
Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."
"Of course. It's just--this is just you."
He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."
"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.
He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.
The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"
"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."
He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."
"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.
He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."
"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.
He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.
It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.
"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.
"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.
"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"
Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."
"Yeah?"
"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."
"Well, stick around for a while."
Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#fluff#friends to lovers#domestic fluff#getting together#feelings confession#pre-relationship domesticity#post-canon#love builds in the quiet moments#bed sharing#clothes sharing#songwriter eddie munson#steve and wayne are besties#steve and wayne use baseball lingo
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(yandere! alien x gn! reader)
the human spirit is indomitable. that much was obvious, especially with how you were still fighting against him even though there was clearly no escape. or at least that's what he thought.
"why do you still fight against me..."
the alien mumbles, voice cracking as he tries to move under the rubble you trapped him under. shit, this was not ideal at all. he can't believe you actually manage to drug him and then trapped him under the broken ceiling you shattered when he was chasing after you.
he still didn't know how you did it. he was faster, stronger, smarter... you shouldn't have been able to trick him like this. yet, his overconfidence might've been a reason as to why you got a one-up over him.
"you know there's no escape right? my spaceship has yet to dock at a port and we are light years away from earth."
the otherworldly creature tries reasoning with you, staring at your shaking figure as you tug at the collar he made you wear. it was a pretty thing, made of the finest jewels he got from another planet he visited a few years back.
he thought it would look good on you, and it did. so his heart aches when you destroyed it, allowing the jewels to scatter all over his once pristine floors.
no matter, he can just fix it again.
"darling, you should stop resisting. you will just tire yourself out."
the alien sighs, not finding your actions amusing as he shakes his head.
he doesn't get humans at all. why do you try so hard even when there's clearly no intelligent way to win this? perhaps that's why your civilization is still heaps below others, like his.
that was, until, he saw you dig out the microchip tracker he implanted into your neck with your bare hands.
his eyes widen in horror, jaw going slack as he screams, body shaking as he desperately tries moving under the rubble only for you to step on his face and throw the chip at him.
"fucking alien... don't you know? adrenaline is one hell of a drug."
he hears your laughter resounding through the hallways, your footsteps growing softer and softer as he tries to recover from your painful stomp.
his eyes shake, his features in undeniable pain as he feels his body giving up on him.
no, no, no!
he tries wiggling more, but unfortunately, his species had not adapted to recover from situations like this. so all he could do as he laid in pain under the rubble was to shout at you, desperation in his tone as he sees you touching and entering something into the emergency escape pod he had on his spaceship.
"darling don't you dare leave!"
he screams, looking absolutely pathetic as his eyes widen in both fear and anger. no! you weren't supposed to leave! you were supposed to be just some human who would give up escape and love him! you were supposed to accept him as your mate the second he kidnapped you because of how obsessed he had become after observing you for weeks in his spaceship!
you weren't supposed to leave him under the rubble like this!
you're clearly weaker, more stupid... and definitely an inferior species! why couldn't you just love him?! why couldn't you just give up and accept his affections?!
"darling! i'm warning you! if you leave i will find you and i will be very angry!"
the alien tries threatening, wincing in pain as the effects of your face stomping still lingered. but of course, he knew you wouldn't listen to him. not when you so eagerly pointed your middle finger at him (a sign he came to see as disrespect in human customs) before leaving in the space shuttle.
he lets out a strangled scream, completely still under the rubble as his frustration and anger reaches it's peak. god damn it! now he has to wait for god knows how long until the drug wears off to finally be able to move and try to find you!
maybe he shouldn't have doubted humans so much. perhaps the rumors about the human spirit being indomitable were right. maybe the humans really were meant to conquer the stars.
#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere concept#yandere alien#yandere alien x reader#gn reader#suiana rambling#suiana brainrotting
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⸻ ɞ how they would show their love ﹒﹒wind breaker boys
꒷꒦ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, toma hiragi, choji tomiyama, ren kaji, kyotaro sugishita x gn. reader (separate)
did i wound up going overboard with all the characters i like and proceed to write over 2k words? yes. am i going to stop? never
HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ♬﹒♡
Attempting to flirt with a guy like SAKURA HARUKA, or even show any kind of affection, is already beyond hopeless, for the second you approach him with the intention of initiating affection, regardless of what it is, his entire face goes crimson. The guy's flushed face is redder than a traffic light, you like to say, only to then get a mouthful from Sakura that he isn't blushing, and it's just that the weather feels hot. It’s not him. So stop looking at him like that!
Yeah, right. Hot in the middle of the damn winter.
Haruka loves and shows affection through his actions, most of them somewhat unintentional and subconscious. He might brush a stray hair from your face while you're eating together, make sure you're walking on the inside of the sidewalk, or quietly leave your favourite snacks where you can find them—only to then flush into a deep crimson when you bring up his romantic gestures. Because to him, he really doesn't think before he acts, and yet does so tenderly when with you and you only.
It's these small gestures that speak volumes about his feelings for you. And God help anyone who makes fun of you or dares to comment on a singular "bad" thing about you. Whoever makes fun of you or even dares to comment on what he deems as poorly about you and your delightful character is in for a world of hurt. Sakura's protective side surfaces, and he will immediately start burning up like a wildfire you can't put out, ready to defend your honour at a moment's notice, even if that means firing back against his own gang members and friends.
HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一 ─ ♬﹒♡
The physical manifestation of a lovebug. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, and more—you name it. Did I mention that he loves, loves, loves physical affection? UMEMIYA HAJIME is all over you, to the point where you can hardly move whenever his arms encircle you, just like a little cuddly bear. It certainly gets more than a little awkward when the other Furin members are around, watching your and their leader's affectionate moments and PDA happen in real-time, but Umemiya doesn't care. If anything, he’s all for it! That just means that others will for sure know that you’re taken and you're his.
His love is open, unrestrained, unabashed, and utterly shameless, a stark contrast to his model demeanour as the leader of Furin. How this guy can act like this and also beat people half to death is beyond comprehension in their eyes. And as the leader of Furin, he's also like your protector. You would never need a bodyguard when you have your boyfriend by your side at all times of the day, one way or another. He's there from dawn to dusk, from sunrise to sunset. His presence may be both comforting and overbearing at times, yet you wouldn't trade his ceaseless companionship for the world, knowing he'll always be there, and likewise, you'll always be there for him.
HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛 ─ ♬﹒♡
SUO HAYOTO is calm and calculating, his sharp mind is always a step ahead of others, but most importantly, he's loyal to a fault. His ability to anticipate your needs and understand your emotions without you saying a word is both a blessing and a curse. Suo is intelligent but arguably one of the most mysterious guys in Furin. A complete "stick in the mud," Sakura would say with a peeved expression of distaste. He can read you like a book, which can be irritating at times—the way that he purposely acts like a know-it-all, all with the intention of pissing you off that day—all the while keeping his own thoughts private. While you appreciate his attentiveness, his tendency to withhold his own feelings can be frustrating, especially during the times when you need his emotional support the most.
Despite this, Suo's actions speak volumes about his devotion. There was more in his mind than you originally thought of him. Suo might not verbalize his true feelings often, often masking them from under his aloof facade and honeyed words, but his loyalty ultimately shines through in the little things he does for you. Because when it matters most, Suo is there, all behind that expression of his. His faint, knowing smile and just the air that surrounds him only deepen your curiosity about what was behind that eyepatch of his. But only you could see the vulnerability hidden beneath his composed exterior, his silence often hiding a depth of emotions that not even words could ever fully express.
JO TOGAME | 十亀 条 ─ ♬﹒♡
If Umemiya is considered protective over you, TOGAME JO is even more so fiercely vigilant in his watch over you. At first glance, he appears stern and unapproachable—it certainly was to you—with his glasses covering the hearts in his eyes. However, once you get to know him, you discover a sensitive, caring guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. And that is precisely who Togame was.
His affections are subtle but deeply felt. He remembers the most minor details about you that many would either forget or deem as not important, but not to Togame. From your favourite book to the way you like your tea, he's always there to lend a hand or offer a quiet word of encouragement when you need it most, and his protective nature means he's always looking out for potential threats, ensuring your safety without ever making a fuss about it. All your pretty little head needs to worry about is feeling cherished and loved.
TOMA HIRAGI | 柊登馬 ─ ♬﹒♡
If there's even a slight chance that someone or something even laid hands on you with the intention of hurting you, HIRAGI TOMA would never in his life let that happen, even if it meant using his own body as your shield. He knows that being in a gang attracts a lot of enemies, and through that, increases the possibility of putting you in danger. Because of that, Hiragi is always on high alert. And if he’s not around, he’ll either ask Sugishita, Umemiya or “Othello-kun” to help out and ensure your safety. Why they even bother to accept his request is beyond me, but his concern for you was always evident, and they knew that. Hiragi puts your safety above all. You hate that he puts himself at risk, but you can't deny the comfort his presence brings.
Hiragi’s anxiety manifests as hyper-vigilance, which can sometimes backfire when you become hyper-sensitive and worry about his health. Your love for each other goes deep, as, despite his protectiveness, there are times when Hiragi needs your comfort, too. He's practically a bundle of nerves all, for better or not worse, wound into a singular individual, partly due to Umemiya's constant nonchalance, which only heightens his anxiety. You often find yourself being the one to soothe him, reminding him to breathe and take it one step at a time. His commitment to your safety and peaceful life away from all the chaos he is entrenched in is firm as a rock, even if it means pushing his own limits to ensure that happens.
CHOJI TOMIYAMA | 兎耳山 丁子 ─ ♬﹒♡
His constant mood swings are something that you were well aware of when you started seeing the boy, for sure, but TOMIYAMA CHOJI's love for you is undeniable. No one could ever doubt that. Not even Togame, who witnessed firsthand how devoted Choji was whenever in your presence. It was refreshing, in a way, to see Choji like that. To be truly carefree and unburdened and not compelled by the turmoil in his own mind. He wasn't driven to seek solace in conflicts and fights to find joy and his longing for “happiness.” For whenever he found himself in your company, happiness was not just a possibility but an inevitability.
He's always ensuring, whether you like it or not, that you are aware of his feelings and affection for you, even if it means drilling the same ramblings into your ears for hours on end. Despite his erratic moods, he's a sweet presence to have around. His ramblings often turn into heartfelt confessions and declarations of love, making you smile even on your worst days. Moreover, Choji has a knack for lightening the mood, and his energetic personality is a welcome contrast to the more serious members of your inner circle.
Did I already say that he's energetic? Well, Choji is a ball of exuberance, and he doesn't take no for an answer when it comes to making you feel loved. He's like a burst of sunshine, brightening your day with the infectious enthusiasm that can make anyone smile. No matter how anarchic his emotions get, his love for you, regardless of circumstance, will never change.
REN KAJI | 梶蓮 ─ ♬﹒♡
KAJI REN is the kind of guy who silently stays by your side. It's a comfortable silence that you've grown to love and appreciate, with his quiet presence being a constant source of comfort. He's not one for grand gestures or flowery words of affection, and you're well aware of that, but his advice and insights are invaluable. Whenever you face a problem in your life, Kaji is there, offering a solution with a calm, measured approach, even if he does throw in a couple of swear words and cusses here and there when at times losing his cool. It's the thought that counts.
His silence is not a sign of indifference but of his thoughtful nature. He listens far more than he speaks, and his actions reflect his deep care for you far more than anybody else by a landslide. Even the man-child that is Umemiya notices. Though he may not be as outwardly affectionate as others, his loyalty and his presence alone at your side speak volumes about his love for you, nothing more. Kaji's quiet strength is a pillar you can always lean on, his love expressed through every considerate action, whether big or small.
KYOTARO SUGISHITA | 杉下京太郎 ─ ♬﹒♡
Another one who cannot physically use words to communicate for the life of him. Everyone has seen SUGISHITA KYOTARO's loyalty to Umemiya, but how exactly would that loyalty manifest if it were directed towards you, his significant other, arguably the most important person in his life? He's fiercely protective, and that's putting it lightly. Whoever dares to harm you or speaks to you deplorably, there will be hell to pay. Quite literally.
Sugishita the definition of "actions speak louder than words." He's not a romantic, he's not a flirt, but what he is—more than what everybody else is—dependable to a fault. Any kind of affection will have this boy's brain reloading and scrambling. Sugishita is more similar to Sakura than most people may assume, something that Sakura will never admit to, not even on his deathbed. And the one time he did, using the nickname "baby" all the while saying all that with the unintentional expression of a homicidal maniac had not only Umemiya (the idiot who gave him the "advice" to try being romantic for once) bawling his eyes out in laughter but also made your face flush red in embarrassment, unable to utter a word.
...Was this really your boyfriend?
His gestures, though subtle, are filled with meaning. Whether it's fixing something for you, helping to carry the heavier stuff for you, ensuring you have everything you need, or simply being there when you need him, Sugishita's actions are his way of showing he cares. Not even Umemiya could look and claim that he treated others, including himself, the same way he treated you. Sugishita’s not one for grand displays of affection—if he's even able to comprehend how to present that without having an expression that he's about to snap at any time—but his reliability and steadfastness are a comfort that Furin as a whole, and you, his one and only lover, appreciates greatly.
In a world of so much uncertainty, especially in such a gang-centric environment, Sugishita's consistent presence is a reassuring and refreshing constant. He's your silent guardian, always watching, always protecting his love—what was to you, an unspoken promise, but to him, a forever vow.
©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.
#wind breaker#windbreaker#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker x reader#wind breaker (satoru nii)#satoru nii#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader#wind breaker x y/n#gn reader#wind breaker headcanons#wind breaker fluff#windbreaker fluff#windbreaker drabbles#wind breaker drabbles#hajime umemiya#jo togame x reader#hayato suo x reader#ren kaji x reader#kyotaro sugishita#toma hiragi#choji tomiyama#sakura haruka#hajime umemiya x reader#haruka sakura x reader#choji tomiyama x reader#kyotaro sugishita x reader#toma hiragi x reader
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am i complex to you ~ joost klein fanfic
Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader
Description: From first meeting the blonde musician to sharing headphones and very intense eye contact, this was not how you anticipated your evening at your friend's party panning out.
Word Count: 1.8k
A/N: Just a quick short Joost fic to get into writing again [i feel like its challenging to write for him bc i just can't replicate his wit and charm authentically]. I wanna practice my writing by doing requests! so please send Joost requests [do's: female!reader, smut; don'ts: established relationship, toxic relationships]
Warnings: 18+ only, consumption of cigarettes and alcohol, non proofread
The music blasting through the loudspeakers sounded like they might as well be underwater and a thousand miles away as soon as your eyes crossed the blue eyes of the blonde man entering the room. Your eyes locked for maybe a millisecond too long until the ice-cold drink in your hand reminded you of your surroundings and you averted your gaze trying to appear casual as you turned to your friend Mila again.
"... and that's how you know all the guys on Tinder are for the streets," she concluded her story.
"Your first mistake was going on Tinder expecting to find a guy looking for a serious relationship," you reminded your friend.
"Yeah, what? As if I'm gonna find a guy like that somewhere else like at this party?" she joked.
"Maybe" you shrugged laughing.
"Yeah right, talk to me again if it happens to you," Mila chugged the last of her drink. "Want a new one?" she pointed to your cup and smiled shaking your head before Mila took off for the bar.
You casually glanced across the room to find the handsome boy from earlier as you found him standing by the door with a group of friends. His body language was elated as he was joking with his friends. He was wearing some baggy pants, a shirt, some thick-rimmed glasses and a cap which had some of his hair poking out at the sides and just above the nape of his neck. Scattered across his arms you could make out a few tattoos.
Suddenly, as you were calmly admiring the man across the room, his head turned and he looked at you, making you jump internally. Swiftly you turned your head away as you felt hot flashes come across your cheeks. Shit shit shit - you thought to yourself as you nervously fiddled with the drink in your hand. Well, what's the worst thing that could happen? You turned your head again to see that the man was still looking at you. Who's the weird one now? You smiled amused and cocked your head lightly in question. The blonde man grinned and shrugged innocently. You lifted your brows in return and raised your drink to cheer him across the room. He smiled and did the same and as your eyes were locked you both took a sip from your drinks respectively. But your little moment was interrupted by one of his friends trying to get his attention and quickly he was immersed in the conversation again.
You chugged the last of your drink and decided it was time to find your friend Mila. Your suspicion that you would probably find her on the dance floor was quickly confirmed as you made your way through the crowd.
"Ayyyy!" she cheered as soon as she saw you and reached for your hand to pull you closer.
You threw your head back in laughter as you started to dance along to the music filling the room. For the time being you wanted to forget about the fascinating boy from earlier and just enjoy yourself. But you couldn't help but notice how your thoughts kept wandering off to him. Was he looking at me because he thinks I'm attractive? Does he think I'm odd? Was he flirting or just being nice? Is he watching me right now? I think I look good dancing. I wish he was watching me right now.
"Wait, what's this guy doing staring at you all the time?" Mila laughed irritated as she gestured to the side. You tried to sneak a look discretely and surely you were met with the same pair of blue eyes as before. You grinned and looked back at your friend, maybe swaying your hips just a tad more than before. "(Y/N)?" Mila laughed in shock when she noticed that you weren't phased. "What's going on? That guy obviously wants you," she stopped in her tracks and looked at you intensely.
"You think?" you giggled playfully.
"(Y/N), who is this?" Mila persisted. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders as you continued moving your body to the music. "I can't believe this." Mila laughed as she looked back to the side. "You need to go get him or something."
"We'll see," you said and grabbed Mila's hand to make her do a playful twirl.
~
"You want a smoke?" you heard a smooth voice behind you.
You were leaning over the railing of the balcony as you had stepped outside for a quick break. As you turned your head around you were met with the same guy from earlier, this time up close. A yet unlit cigarette was stuck between his lips and in his hand he was holding out a packet of cigs, offering you one.
"Did you follow me outside?" you jokingly asked as you reached for one of the cigarettes, "Thanks." With him standing so close to you now you realised how tall the man was.
"In a non-creepy way," he retorted jokingly as he lit his cigarette.
"That's yet to be decided," you said and leaned forward as he was offering to light your cigarette as well. His other hand was cupped around the top of the flame to prevent it from blowing out and as you looked down at the tip of your cigarette you took the opportunity to admire his hands. "Thanks," you leaned back against the railing once the cigarette was lit. Your eyes met again and there was a short moment of silence.
"My name is Joost by the way," the guy said and extended his hand for you to shake.
"(Y/N), nice to meet you."
One and a half cigarettes later (the latter was shared between the two of you, passing the cigarette along every few drags, your fingers lightly brushing against Joost's in doing so) you learned from Joost that one of his friends that he came with went to Uni with your friend Mila, that he was a musician and that parties aren't usually his thing. He learned that you had yet to visit the beach even though you already had been in the Netherlands for over a month and that you also tended to avoid parties because you were quite particular about what kind of music you liked when partying.
"What kind of music do you like then?" Joost asked.
"Hmm," you pondered as you took another drag from your shared cigarette. Joost was standing beside you, his back also leaning against the railing. "Well, I could show you," you said and pointed to the wired headphones that were dangling out of Joost's pockets.
"Sure," he replied and quickly reached down.
As Joost offered you one pair of the headphones and put the other one in his ear you moved over and stood in front of him now. You became aware of how close you were standing now. The short wires forced you to take just another step towards him, your feet standing in between Joost's. You studied Joost's face from up close as he unlocked his phone and navigated to Spotify.
"Here you go," he said much softer than before as you were now standing so closely to each other. He turned around his phone and offered it to you. "Don't judge my search history," he joked as you were typing in a title.
"Never," you said. "This song I've been listening to a lot recently," you introduced before you hit play on TEXAS BLUE by Quadeca and Kevin Abstract.
You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the music. By the second chorus, you opened your eyes again to check on Joost's reaction only to see that he had been looking at you. You both grinned and quickly looked away.
I'LL BE HONEST (I'LL BE)
IT HURTS SO MUCH MORE THAN I KNEW
As the song slowly came to a close you looked at Joost again to see that he had his eyes closed, his head moving along the the rhythm. You smiled.
"Shit, that's so dope," he said after the last few notes of the song played and you watched as he quickly added the song to his library.
"Now you have to show me your stuff," you said and Joost laughed.
"Completely different vibe," he assured me.
I don't care, you wanted to say but you were interrupted by a loud "JOOOOOST!" sounding from behind you. You turned around to see presumably one of Joost's friend stepping outside on the balcony. "Where have you been?"
"Heeey," Joost replied and put his phone in his pocket. Quickly he turned to you, his hand touching your arm softly. "I'm sorry," he laughed apologetically.
"It's fine," you assured him, your hand resting on his bicep just for a second too short before his friend came up to the both of you.
~
"There you are," a familiar voice exclaimed beside you as you were standing by the bar, contemplating what kind of drink you should get next.
"Glad you found me again," you said with a smile as you faced Joost who had been dragged away by his friend earlier.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.
"Sure," you smiled and told the person on bar duty your order.
As the bartender put your finished drinks on the counter, the cups were spilling as he put way too much. Joost grabbed both of your drinks and already took a sip from his cup so as to not make a mess.
"Take a sip," he said and held out your cup towards you. Instead of taking the cup yourself, you stepped closer, your eyes locking with Joost's. Your hands crossed behind your back you wrapped your lips around the brim of the overspilling cup and took a sip, looking up at Joost who stared you down sternly.
"Thanks," you said after swallowing and wrapped your hands around the cup and for a moment Joost's fingers were entangled between yours. A short pause ensued and you realised you were done with talking. If there was anything you could do to make Joost touch you again, to have his body closer to yours, to be able to feel his lips on yours and preferably other parts of your body, you would do it in an instant. You and Joost were still staring at each other, not saying anything.
"So," you started and set down your drink on the bar after you took a sip. "Do you come here often, or?" you joked.
"Oh, shut up," Joost laughed and within just a second he stepped towards you and his hands were resting on the sides of your cheeks. Your right hand found the side of his waist before you closed your eyes and your lips finally pressed against Joost's. The kiss was hungry and hot and his lips tasted of beer. His hands were gentle but firm on your face, his thumb carefully caressing your cheek as he moved his other hand down to hold your waist. Your left hand found Joost's neck where you buried your fingers into his hair. As you pressed your body closer to Joost's it still somehow wasn't enough. Joost seemed to read your mind when he reluctantly broke away from the kiss to ask "Should we get out of here?"
"Yes, please."
A/N: Again, pls send in requests! Also do you want a part twooo?
#mine#my inbox is always open for you#joost klein x reader#joost klein#joost#joost klein fic#joost fic#joost klein fanfiction#joost fanfiction#joost x reader#joost x female!reader
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Was having some thoughts about Steve joining Hellfire. They are as follows.
I'm thinking maybe they start him off with smaller weekly oneshots. Unbeknownst to Steve they are also still meeting for their regular other campaign, he figures that out later. That Eddie's been writing one shots for him on top of his other bonkers story he's got going and Steve is like "oh 🥺".
BUTTT! during the one shots, all the kids have their moments of being RUDE to Steve. Mike is the worst (cuz I dislike him and his fucking attitude). But everytime one of them is rude to Steve, and it's like legit mean stuff, like them calling him stupid. Things like that. Steve usually kinda gets quiet. And then, whenever the kids do that, Eddie starts making notes in his notebook. Then whoever said the mean thing, their characters die.
Like, Mike gets the worst of it cuz he's just such an ass. But Eddie's got a SYSTEM in these notes okay!!! There are straight tallys, for actually hurtful mean things, there are wiggly tallys for things he can tell are meant to be teasing but that he can tell definitely still kinda hurt Steve a bit. And then there are stars. People get stars for helping Steve along the way.
Be that helping his characters, or just helping him with his math or helping him understand something about the game when Eddie is busy or "distracted". Cuz he legit always notices when people help Steve. Most of the time it's cuz he hears Steve's genuine thank yous. Lucas, and surprisingly Erica, have the most stars, aside from El. Max gets stars sometimes just for back talking Mike's rudes comments with shit like,
"mike what does it matter? we're all about to die anyway. That sphinx is gonna fucking eat us. Who cares. Leave him alone."
Because her and El have of course been invited too. But they've been playing just a LITTLE bit longer so they know a small amount more. El only has stars because she is legit always helpful. Steve has taken to sitting between El and Erica because they're the nicest to him. Lucas usually sits across from him.
Dustin has lots of wiggly tallys cuz he just can't control his mouth sometimes. But one day Mike gets brutally killed again and starts whining about it and Steve has noticed Eddie making little notes. Has no idea what they are. Cuz he doesn't look through other people's notebooks. Thats rude.
Everyone has noticed the notes. No one has asked. They all have theories. And when Eddie is like,
"I'm trying to teach you a lesson. Not my fault you aren't smart enough to figure out what it is." And his voice has such a BITCHY tone when he says it. Because Mike had JUST been hounding Steve for missing "obvious" clues and not being smart enough to figure it out and walking into a trap.
And steve had gone red from his ears all the way down his neck, he also felt bad cuz he'd gotten El's character hurt. And then Mike had been an ass. Steve was upset. So Eddie killed Mike. And then he's whining and Eddie's about to say something else when El speaks up, looks across the table with a scowl and says,
"just be nicer! It's not hard to be nice. Steve is our friend. Be nice to him." And she rolls her eyes at Mike, puts her hand on Steve's arm and is like,
"I will be fine. Will can heal me." And Will pipes up and is like,
"yeah. I can heal her no problem." But it's El's outburst that makes Steve kind of wonder more about the notes Eddie takes.
He'd never ask, and never look. But he stays behind one day to help Eddie clean up, they have weekly games at the community center.
So Steve's staying after and helping with chairs and tables and getting books and dice and things stored away and Eddie's notebook is RIGHT THERE. Open to the page he's always scribbling on. And Steve just sort of... stops. And looks at it. And it's everyone's names with tallys and marks and stars. Erica has wiggly marks AND stars. But mostly stars. Because she helps him with his math almost every game.
Also she "accidentally" let mike get hit with an attack in the game cuz he was being rude. El's is all stars and scrawled under them in Eddie's chicken scratch is,
"She's a literal angel oh my god."
So Steve's eyes are just wandering over this page and his brow is all creased and he doesn't hear Eddie come back until he says,
"figured out what's missing yet?" In that teasing sweet little voice he uses on Steve that makes him feel a little dizzy sometimes, give him butterflies in his stomach, and his whole body jerks and he looks up and Eddie's leaning casually against the wall near the door. And Steve immediately apologizes and Eddie laughs, shakes his head, walks closer. And is like,
"It's okay Steve. But you didn't answer my question." He licks his lips, steps closer. Steve looks back to the notebook for a second and then back to Eddie.
"My names not on there?" He asks, worrying his finger into the table top next to the notebook. And Eddie is nodding.
"Yup." And Steve's like,
"The tallys are about... me?" And he's frowning. But Eddie steps a bit closer, standing next to the table now. And he smiles, all shy and soft and is like,
"yeah Steve. They're about you. Got kinda tired of all the kids talking shit about you. And to you. So I came up with a system. Anyone says anything about you being stupid, I kill them." He grins, wide like the Cheshire cat and Steve feels kinda pinned down by it. Feels kinda hot all over.
"You didn't- have to do that. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I mean I know I'm not smart." And he just shakes his head and looks at the ground and Eddie kinda slams his hand down on the table, startling him. He looks up and Eddie looks mad. Not at him. Just, mad.
"You're not though. Is the thing. I mean... you're incredibly good at strategy. I know you don't know enough about dnd yet to know this, but you've been a crucial part in winning like, the last three games." Eddie steps closer, his fingertips brushing the back of Steve's hand.
"You're not stupid. You're just smart in different ways." Eddie shrugs. Gives Steve a little lopsided smile.
"You think I'm smart?" He asks, biting his lip to stop the giddy smile that's threatening to spread. Eddie doesn't stop his smile, just lets it go, lets it dimple his cheeks and make Steve's knees weak. And he's like,
"yeah man. Just cuz some jumped up little tweens can't see it doesn't mean I can't. You're kinda hard to miss." He does bite his lip then, fingers playing with his hair, Steve knows he's trying not to hide behind it.
"I just uh-" Eddie clears his throat,
"I'm really petty. And protective. And it's ridiculous cuz you're not even mine but- I just- felt like I had to protect you. Or stick up for you. Or something? I dunno. Feels stupid now that I'm saying it out- oof!" Eddie huffs when Steve slams into him. Arms wrapped around his neck. He may or may not be crying into Eddie's hellfire shirt. But he gives Eddie a squeeze and then pulls back, looks at him, smiles and says,
"I am though." With a little shrug. And Eddie's like,
"you... are?" Confused. And Steve laughs, light and sweet and says,
"Yours. I am yours. If you'll have me. Or want me. Or- mmfph!" Steve's words end in a high pitched hum as Eddie's lips hit his. Just a firm press. His hand on Steve's cheek. He pulls back fast, pink in the cheeks.
"Sorry I just- if you let me have you, Steve. I may never let you go." He chuckles, giddy. Steve snorts, his head falling to Eddie's shoulder for a second before he looks at Eddie, cups his cheek genlty.
"Who says I want you to?" His brows jump, challenging. Eddie goes redder, down to his neck.
"Wanna try that kiss again?" Steve asks.
"God was is bad? I've never- I'm not... good. At that stuff." Eddie cringes. Steve cups both his cheeks until Eddie's wide eyes are staring at him, his cheeks a little squished.
"It wasn't bad. It was kind of perfectly you. But we can get you good at that stuff. You're a fast learner right?" Steve smirks, Eddie's eyes go impossibly wider as he nods aggressively, cheeks squishing even more.
"Yes, sir." Eddie mumbles between his squished lips. Steve nods, once and then moves forward, slowly, determined to show Eddie just how thankful he is for him. How thankful he is that Eddie sees him.
Petty.
And protective.
And Steve's.
#ive never played dnd sorry if stuff sucks#steddie#my writing#mine#my fic#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steddie ficlet#fates endless inkwell#fei
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I, personally, hate the r@pe things you write.
I feel very strongly about SA and I know my feelings aren't your priority. I used to read your stuff a lot then actually ended up blocking you, but I decided to unblock you for this message.
I know a lot of people use this as a coping mechanism if they ARE victims, but hey, to each their own. You can't save everybody.
I just don't fuck with it. It's not my forte, but I know, deep down, you're not a bad person. Your brain just doesn't completely function. I, myself, have weird fantasies about military men and serial killers, but only about one's from shows, movies, or basically anyone fictional. I, myself, am extremely weird and I think I have a few mental disorders but I haven't gotten tested.
The things you write are vial, disgusting, and down right crazy, but hey, I used to fantasize about r@pe and honestly can't even imagine myself fantasizing about being violated now. I guess I've healed in a way or whatever, but I'm still into rough play and knives and such.
What im trying to say is, I feel for you and don't like your stuff at the same time. Nobody with a normal functioning, properly working brain is into what your into. It's just plain wrong. But that doesn't mean you're bad. You're just...mentally unput. Or, that's my assumption from first hand experience.
I just feel like your brain is messed up. Not in a quirky " I'm so twisted⛓️" way, but there's actually something wrong in there. Like, you're actually missin' a few dozen screws.
I have awful intrusive thoughts about hurting, killing, and/or fornicating with them and I hate this because it's a mental battle that honestly makes me wanna commit, which is why I feel so strongly about r@pe, especially as someone who gets catcalled a lot, and I am in dangerous situations often.
R@pe is worse than murder in my opinion because you can't hurt once you're done and dead, but being a survivor is an actual psychological battle that's torture, and torture is ALSO worse than murder.
I'm glad to know you don't actually support real SA and have some actual boundaries unlike the tons of idiots that I've blocked that do. Most of them have never even come close to experiencing SA, or just plain don't care.
I just think you feel this way because an actual issue with your brain. I don't mean this hatefully, even though I hate what you write. But that's just my analysis. But I am curious to know what made you this way.
you're a disgusting piece of shit, you don't know me, and let's keep it that way
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TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER
Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader
Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have?
Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself.
A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.
Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM
Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.
He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.
The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.
The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.
The way you deprive him of eye contact.
What are you hiding?
Why can't you look him in the eye?
The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.
In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.
To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.
"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.
You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.
"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"
Creative.
You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.
Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.
Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.
And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.
His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.
At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.
It's always the same.
He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.
Aaron could've talked more, but...
He despises you.
Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.
He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.
Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.
Then, there's you.
You don't know him enough to trust his lies.
"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.
Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.
Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.
Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.
"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"
"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.
You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.
"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.
Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.
A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.
It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.
This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.
Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.
Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.
He decides then that he hates you with a passion.
You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.
If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.
But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?
"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.
You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.
A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.
"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.
The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.
"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.
His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.
Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.
Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.
You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.
"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.
Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.
When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.
You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.
Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.
During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.
It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.
Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.
Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.
Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM
A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.
Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.
The day has been hostile towards you.
The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.
Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.
"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"
"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.
Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.
You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.
Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.
After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."
He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.
What a sad little man.
You scoff in your mind.
You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.
"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.
But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.
"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.
Silence coats the two of you.
His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.
One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.
He's just troubled.
He's just in denial of his own pain.
You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.
"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.
Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.
The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.
"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.
You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.
And you're neither.
It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.
You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.
Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.
But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.
"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.
You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?
"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.
You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.
Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.
Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.
All Aaron felt was anger.
Antagonized.
A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.
"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.
"Do you really believe that?"
Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.
"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.
You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.
"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."
You pause.
"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."
Silence.
For him to reflect.
For you to breathe.
Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.
Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.
Maybe you've gone too far.
Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.
But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.
His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.
"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.
It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.
Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.
You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.
Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.
Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.
The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.
Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.
As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.
His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.
Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.
Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.
"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.
He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.
"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.
He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.
"You needed a place where you can just be."
The door shuts.
Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM
"I didn't know where to go."
You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.
It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.
A month and no contact.
You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.
Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.
Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.
Oh.
Well...
If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.
Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.
"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.
He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.
Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.
You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.
With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...
What were you doing?
Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.
Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.
Oh, that's what you were doing.
Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.
Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.
Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.
"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.
The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.
Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.
Where did that come from?
He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.
Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.
You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.
The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.
He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.
Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.
"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.
Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.
The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.
You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.
He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.
Why did he go to you?
Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.
The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.
By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.
Aaron slept effortlessly that night.
Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM
Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.
One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.
He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.
You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.
He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.
Hotchner.
Agent.
Mister—
Just Hotchner.
One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.
Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)
"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.
Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.
He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.
You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.
"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"
"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.
Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.
"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"
"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"
Aaron shakes his head.
"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.
"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.
If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.
You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"
Three months.
Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.
A chuckle.
The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.
"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.
You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.
With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.
He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.
Your apartment becomes a haven.
Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.
The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.
You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.
Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."
"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.
"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.
"And that means?.."
Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."
"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.
"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.
Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.
"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.
Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM
Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.
It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.
The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.
At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.
"Are you okay?"
Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.
One sharp sniff breaks it all.
You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.
His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.
"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.
You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.
Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.
When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.
Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.
You cried to the point of dehydration.
"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.
"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.
You didn't.
He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.
"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.
Nothing.
You only mold yourself into a ball.
Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.
But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.
"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."
You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.
"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.
Aaron doesn't know what to say.
But he knows what to feel.
He knows it well.
The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.
Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.
How difficult of a patient was he before?
Has he ever made you cry before?
It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.
Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.
You became the only thing that gave him serenity.
With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.
So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.
And also guilty of developing feelings for you.
Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM
"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.
Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.
You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.
So, you switched to Scrabble.
And Aaron is losing again.
Boy, were you so entertained.
He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.
Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.
Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.
Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.
Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.
A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.
Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.
"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.
"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.
With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.
You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.
Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.
Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.
After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.
Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.
Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.
"I'm still terrified." He blurts.
The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.
You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.
Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.
He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.
The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.
Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?
Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.
With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.
You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.
"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.
And he does.
His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.
"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."
Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."
Silence.
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.
Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.
He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.
"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."
You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.
"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.
But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.
"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.
Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.
"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"
It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.
"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."
You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.
"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"
"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.
"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.
For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.
Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."
You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.
His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.
Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.
Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.
"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.
You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.
After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.
"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.
You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.
One visit left.
Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM
The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.
Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.
You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.
Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.
It's a shitty feeling.
You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.
Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.
"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.
Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.
You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.
No one ever knocked.
Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM
"Aren't you curious?"
You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.
There's none.
Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.
He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.
David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.
"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."
Aaron never knocked that day.
He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.
You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.
It was hell.
The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.
But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.
All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.
Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.
It did.
Of course, it did.
And you loved every second of it.
Even if you realize it too late.
But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.
A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.
If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.
Worried.
Heartbroken.
Hurt.
Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.
"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."
Pause.
You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.
The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.
"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."
You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.
Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."
Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM
It's a nice Spring.
Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.
A year and a half.
You moved to a different place since then.
Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.
You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.
"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.
Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.
She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.
"Did you need anything, Mrs—"
The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.
"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."
You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.
She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.
"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"
You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.
The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.
"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.
Aaron Hotchner.
He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.
He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.
The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.
His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.
It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.
He looks refreshing and well-rested.
"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.
Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.
"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.
He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.
You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.
But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.
Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"
"I told you I'm not mad."
"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"
"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.
He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.
It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.
"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.
"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."
Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.
You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.
It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.
You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.
"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.
"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.
Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.
You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.
"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."
"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"
He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.
A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.
"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.
"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.
Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.
Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.
"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.
Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.
"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.
Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.
It's Aaron Hotchner.
Just Aaron, he said.
Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.
Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.
Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.
It's tempting and nauseating.
And if he doesn't stop, you just might.
"Ten."
Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"
"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.
And he'd be right.
All you want at that moment is to say yes.
But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.
"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.
Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"
"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.
He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.
The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.
You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.
Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.
Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.
"Ten's a good number."
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#ssa aaron hotchner#fem!reader#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner criminal minds#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner fluff#hotch#cm#criminalminds#bau team
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Golden Hour
Jing Yuan | M. Reader
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Reincarnation AU
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There's a particular painting inside the Luofu Museum. It's a painting of the former General, they say that the General never smiles and always has a blank expression. That painting is the most precious and one of a kind in the whole world...
Why?
Because it's the only time...
Where the General finally smiles...
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"Huh... "Wise and Brave; Jing Yuan." Hey, wouldn't it be funny if he's actually you from the past?"
"Nonsense, we just have the same name."
[Name] turn his head towards the white haired man with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah.. Sure.. But you do have the same smile as him." He said as he look back at the painting in front of them.
The General in the painting looks almost identical to the man standing beside him down to the same smile. Then again, [Name] couldn't imagine Jing Yuan being all stoic like, a smile fits him better. "You know... They say that the General had fallen in love with the Strategist in the Xianzhou, some even say that the Strategist was the reason why he started smiling."
"Really?"
"It's just a myth though, don't know if it's true."
Jing Yuan chuckles at that statement, after all myths are just myths, there's no telling if it's real or not. It's probably fake, people usually make up things just to satisfy their own fantasies, but something in him tells him otherwise.
That maybe, just maybe... It's the truth.
.
.
.
.
.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!"
"It's the most optimal solution, General."
"BY SACRIFICING MY MEN!?"
"Losing a handful of soldiers are better than losing civilians, plus—isn't it their duty to give their live for the people and die in battle?"
"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT WITH SUCH A CALM VOICE?!" The General huffs as he glared daggers at the man in front of him, the man who proposed the very strategy that practically sacrifices his men "for the greater good." Jing Yuan always wonder how this man is able to be the Strategist of the Xianzhou...
A man who stood to benefit from betraying others... It's not proven or anything and yet...
Jing Yuan is certain that he'd turn against the Reignbow Arbiter in a heartbeat...
There's isn't a sane bone in his body.
The other man sigh at Jing Yuan's response as he crosses his arms and spoke up with his usual calm yet firm voice. "And here I thought you'd be more reasonable, given that you're the General."
"The leader of an organization is at the pinnacle of it and, at the same time, he is its slave. The leader must be more than willing to commit any atrocity in order to ensure the organisation's survival."
He hates it.... He hates this man so much...
How could he talk about that so casually? As if these men... Were just mere pawns to him... After all sacrificing a few pawns means relatively little if it means your King's safety.
'He's not thinking about the people.. He's thinking about the Xianzhou Loufu's survival instead...'
"They were right about you... You're a wolf in sheep's clothing..." He started as he continues to glare daggers at the man. The man only gave him an unamused look as he asked in a calm voice. "And why would you think that?" Jing Yuan scoffed at the question as he crosses his arms. "Talking to you is impossible."
"But in all honesty, give my strategy some thought, General."
"There's nothing left to think regarding that. I want you to change it this instant."
The man sigh at the order he was given, he uncrossed his arms and took back the papers from the General's desk. "As you wish."
And with that... The man left his office.
Jing Yuan sigh as he put a hand on his forehead and look down at his wooden desk. "I can't believe that man... [Name] was it..?" He mumbled under his breath.
'It's as if a life meant relatively little to him.'
.
.
.
.
.
"I never knew you could be a skilled doctor.."
"I was the Head Physician before becoming your strategist, General."
"..."
The two fall silent as [Name] bandaged the general's wounds. It seems even the "Mighty General of the Loufu" can get hurt. How fascinating. Once he's done, [Name] lets out a sigh and puts back the supplies he had used. "I suggest you shouldn't go to any missions at the moment. Let your wounds heal."
Jing Yuan remains silent as he inspects his carefully treated wounds. The bandages aren't too tight, and his body isn't as sore anymore. [Name] might be a sociopath with the types of strategies he comes up with. But he's a wonderful physician. Maybe he should stay as one.
"Can't have you start bleeding out in the middle of a fight after all. Unless you wanted me to operate on you then go ahead."
Jing Yuan can't help but sigh at those words. Of course the doctor has to open his mouth and end it on that note... even if he's good, [Name]'s still a sociopath though..
"...Understood."
"Good."
.
.
.
.
.
The crowd was silent as they watched the starskiff flies to through the sky. Reaching greater heights. "Another sent of.." The doctor mumbled under his breath.
"Sad, isn't it?"
"Not really."
Oh you sociopath! Jing Yuan snapped his head towards him. He was about to argue until he saw a soft smile on the doctor's face. A soft. Melancholy. Smile.
"It's not sad. It's poetic." [Name] says softly as he watches the starskiff. "In a way, if you're at a loss, you could look up at the sky and.... remember that they're watching over you.. and there's nothing to be afraid of.." Turning his head towards the general, [Name] gave him a closed eye smile as his hair got caught in the wind. "It's almost romantic, is it not?"
Jing Yuan felt a strange and warm feeling on his chest. Without thinking, he returns the smile with his own. "If you put it that way.. it is kinda poetic.."
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"Well... I heard that the Strategist is far more worse than the General." Jing Yuan spoke up, making [Name] turn his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really?" He asked as he crosses his arms, waiting for am explanation. "Yup, they say that the Strategist is a sociopath. I've also heard that the General was the reason the Strategist began to have a "heart". " Jing Yuan concluded with a smirk on his face.
[Name] can't help but chuckle at those words. For some reason.. he had a feeling it was true..
#seme male reader#top male reader#hsr#hsr x male reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x male reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr jing yuan#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x male reader#x male reader#x reader
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A Tale of Crushes and Clumsiness: Yang Jungwon
pairing: crush!Jungwon x clumsy admirer! reader
sypnosis: Jungwon, with his feline eyes and adorable dimples, was the subject of your biggest crush. Who could blame you? So, you frequented the local library, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But one day, in a bold move to get a closer look, you ventured closer, unaware of the chaos your clumsiness was about to unleash.
warnings: Jungwon likes physical affection, a little suggestive, injuries such as a bruise and a broken leg.
note: I decided to make this one inspired by a friend of mine who is very clumsy. As you read, remember that the physical descriptions may not mirror to your own, but the essence of the story remains heartwarming. Happy reading darlings!
caution: Reading may cause a sudden urge to visit your local library and fall in love with the nearest charming bookworm.
Jungwon was the kind of guy everyone in your small town admired. He had a presence that was hard to ignore—loving, handsome, humble, and a gentleman. The kind of guy you’d see at an airport, exchange a fleeting glance with, and then spend the rest of your life wondering about. His kindness and the way he treated everyone with respect only added to his appeal. Together with his popular friends, they were somewhat of local celebrities.
You had more than just a little crush on him. In fact, you harbored the biggest, fattest crush imaginable. You’d never admit it out loud, though. It was easier to admire him from afar, to steal glances when he wasn’t looking, and to dream about what could never be. Confronting him and confessing your feelings? It was out of the question.
You’d convinced yourself that he was way out of your league. Jungwon deserved someone who was as poised and perfect as he seemed to be. And you? You were the embodiment of clumsiness. You had a knack for tripping over your own feet, spilling drinks, and generally making a mess of yourself. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d embarrassed yourself in front of others. How could someone as composed and well-liked as Jungwon ever notice you, let alone like you?
Dude, you don’t even know if he knew you existed.
One particular afternoon, you’ve found your usual spot in the library, a secluded corner where you can quietly admire Jungwon from a distance. He’s at his favorite table, surrounded by a fortress of books, his concentration unbroken. You watch him with a small smile, appreciating the way his brow furrows in thought or how he occasionally scribbles notes with quick, precise movements.
Today, though, your heart races more than usual. You crouch down beside a shelf, peeking through the gaps to get a better view. Just as you’re about to lose yourself watching him, his eyes suddenly meet yours.
Panic surges through you. “MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!! HIDE! ”Your mind screams. In your frantic attempt to duck out of sight, your elbow bumps into a stack of books. They tumble to the floor with a resounding crash that echoes through the library.
Your face flushes crimson as you scramble to pick up the fallen books, mortified by the spectacle you’ve just caused. You silently berate yourself, wishing you could disappear into the floor.
As if things couldn't get any worse, you glance back up to find Jungwon standing right in front of you, a bemused expression on his face.
You freeze; the embarrassment is overwhelming. Your cheeks are probably an incriminating shade of red. The books in your arms seem to mock you with their titles, "The Art of Subtle Obsession: Hidden Emotions."
You want to sink into the floor right now. He's so close now, his eyes fixed on you. Why does he have to be this good-looking, anyway? And what's with that small smile on his lips?
Jungwon can't help but chuckle, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every flustered movement you make. He watches as you pick up the books and arrange them back on the shelf, each move as uncoordinated as the last. Oblivious to his eyes on you, you continue your efforts with a clumsy haste.
It was endearing, he thought. You were a walking contradiction—equal parts cute and awkward in a way that was undeniably endearing. The way you moved, the way you blushed, and the way you tried to hide your awkward, flustered presence.
Without so much as a greeting, Jungwon extends a hand, a silent gesture for you to stand up. His voice is as melodious as it always was.
“Let me help you with those,” he offers, a hint of warmth in his eyes.
You nod, speechless with nerves. As you accept his hand, a rush of sensations floods through you—the warmth of his skin against yours, the gentle pressure of his fingers, the soft yet firm grip that makes your heart skip a beat.
A moment passes, and Jungwon finally breaks the silence with a soft, melodic chuckle. It's not one of mockery. Instead, it's filled with understanding and warmth.
His eyes sparkle as he speaks, and his voice is gentle. "You know, you could have just come up and said hello. No need for the impressive 'book-falling Olympics' exhibition,"
“What? ”You tilt your head, your heart skipping a beat. Does he know that you were staring at him like a creep?
Jungwon smiles with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "You've been staring at me," he says bluntly, the corners of his lips curving into a wider grin. There's no accusation in his voice, just a casual acceptance.
You freeze, your face flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. It's impossible to deny it. He's caught you. The books in your arms can't hide your secret crush on him.
Amusement dances in Jungwon's gaze as he catches your confusion. He carefully takes the books from your arms and puts them back on the shelves accordingly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You must think I'm completely dense, don't you? I've noticed you peeking at me, you know," he teases, his tone light and friendly. "I've seen you trying to steal glances every time I'm here at the library."
The admission makes your cheeks burn. You feel incredibly exposed, as if he'd pulled back the curtain you'd hidden behind. You stammer, trying to find a coherent response that doesn't make you sound like a total stalker.
“Oh, I’m really sorry. You must feel uncomfortable with the way I stare at you,” you mumble, looking down at your feet.
Jungwon's smile only grew as he gently patted your head. "Uncomfortable? Not at all," he reassures you. His laughter is as melodic as ever. "Quite the opposite. I think it's endearing how much you like watching me. It's flattering, really." His voice is like a gentle melody that washes over you, each word a comforting balm to your nerves. He's not creeped out; he isn't upset. He thinks it's cute!
“I don’t mind your staring. Really. It’s harmless admiration, right? Besides, I understand how hard it is to look away when the view’s so captivating,” Jungwon says, giving you a smile, his dimple showing.
“After all, isn’t it normal to appreciate something beautiful? Like you, for example. You’re quite the stunner yourself. Even when you’re trying—and failing miserably—to fly under the radar.”
“Beautiful? Me? ”You blink at him repeatedly, unable to process his words.
Jungwon chuckles, seemingly amused by your surprise. “You don’t think you’re beautiful? ”He questions you, his gaze roaming over your face. “I happen to disagree. Your skin is radiant, your eyes sparkle like precious jewels, and your lips…” He trails off, his eyes lingering on your mouth for a few beats too long.
“Everything about you. Stunning.”
He pauses, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Should I go on? ”
“I don’t know what to say, to be honest,” you manage to stammer, still reeling from his compliments.
Jungwon grins, clearly enjoying the banter. “You don’t need to say anything. The blush on your cheeks speaks volumes,” he teases, his eyes soft and warm. “It’s nice to know I can make you blush, though. Not many people can do that, you know.”
He reaches out a hand, gently fixing your bangs. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, like a kitten, all flustered and fuzzy.”
You muster a bit of courage and respond, “You look like a kitten yourself, and you should know that a lot of people admire you too. Not just me.”
Jungwon shakes his head, his cheeks coloring slightly under your words. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know. Keep it up, and you might just win my heart," he says in a half-joking manner, clearly touched by your compliment. "In all honesty, though, I've gotten more than my fair share of attention. But to have yours? Someone as fascinating as you, quietly watching me from the sidelines? That's a different kind of thrill."
His words make your heart flutter, and you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “Really? ”
“Really, really,” Jungwon confirms, his grin widening and his eyes sparkling with warmth and honesty.
“The way you secretly watch me, it’s adorable. The way you tried to hide from me just now with those books and ended up making a cute mess? I could watch you blushing and fumbling all day,” he admits, a playful glint in his eyes.
You can’t help but chuckle nervously at his words, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his observation.
“Is it weird that I’d love to be the object of your focus? Your ‘fascination’? You’re just different. You see me in a way that makes my heart race,” he continues, his tone sincere and genuine.
He looks directly into your eyes as he smiles, his dimple deepening and his gaze unwavering. “So, how about we get coffee together? I’d love to hear more about you.”
You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you blush, nodding in a fast manner. “Yes, I do,” you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jungwon's smile widens into a cheerful grin, his eyes lighting up at your agreement. “Perfect!'' he exclaims, holding out a hand for you to take, ''There's a quaint café not far from here. The coffee's the best you'll ever have, and they bake the most delicious pastries. Let's go; I'll even pay.” He gently intertwines his fingers with yours, his touch light and warm.
For months, you get to know Jungwon on a deeper level, just as he is getting to know you. You two would spend time together, often finding yourselves back at the library where it all began. Sitting closely together, it became a habit for Jungwon to hold your hand underneath the table while both of you lost yourselves in books or even shared a book, your heads close together as you whispered and laughed over the pages.
Today, it was Jungwon’s birthday. He had a small gathering planned with his family and closest friends, but he also wanted some alone time with you afterward. You were confused by the request, but since it was his special day, you complied. He wanted to visit you at your house to celebrate another birthday on the same day, in your own space. So, you told him to come at 7 p.m.
Your place was a disaster. Specifically, your kitchen resembled a war zone, splattered with flour and batter. You were in the midst of attempting to bake a strawberry shortcake for him. You knew it was a risky move—having no experience in baking—but you were determined to make something special, knowing Jungwon’s fondness for strawberries. Panic set in as the clock ticked closer to 7 p.m., and you were still adding whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top of the barely baked cake. It was a messy affair, and you felt like a complete novice.
Then the doorbell rang.
Your heart sank. The cake looked hideous, and you, yourself, were covered in flour from head to toe. You place the cake on the dinner table, putting candles and lighting each. You had no choice; you didn’t want to keep Jungwon waiting. So, with a guilty face, you hurried to the door and opened it, bracing yourself for his reaction.
There he stood, looking handsome in a casual shirt and jeans. His smile widened as he took in your appearance, the mess of flour on your cheeks, and the guilt on your face. But instead of mockery or disappointment, all you saw was affection and warmth.
“Well, don’t you look like a walking piece of art? ”He teased, his tone light and playful. “The artist at work, I suppose? ”
He stepped inside, his grin never wavering as he took in the state of the kitchen and the messy cake on the table before wrapping you in a tight embrace.
‘’…don’t hug me. I’m a mess. Your clothes will get flour,’’ you said, worried, attempting to push him away gently.
Jungwon laughs, unaffected by your warning. Instead of pulling away, he holds you even tighter, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His laughter vibrates through you, tickling your skin.
“Oh, you sweet, considerate soul,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.
Jungwon chuckles, his hands gently squeezing your waist. “It’s okay; I don’t mind a little flour on my clothes. Besides, you look adorable like this. A tiny little baker with a big heart.”
He pauses, his eyes filled with warmth. “But mostly, I just wanted an excuse to hold you close, kitten.”
‘’Well, happy birthday, Jungwon,’’ you say softly, feeling a warm rush of affection for him.
Jungwon’s smile widens at your words, happiness shining through his eyes. “Thank you, kitten,” he whispers, holding you close with his arms wrapped around your midriff.
“But I should be the one thanking you,” he adds. “You put all of this effort into baking me a cake, and you look so darn cute while doing it. I’m a lucky man.”
He presses a gentle kiss on your neck, relishing the closeness between you.
You look at the cake, feeling a bit sheepish. ‘’Um.. Wanna blow out the candle? ’’
Jungwon follows your gaze, his eyes landing on the messy, lopsided cake with a single candle on top.
“Absolutely,” he grins, his eyes filled with delight.
He gives you a wry smile. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just see you light it a few minutes ago.”
He pulls away from the hug slightly, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he leans forward towards the cake. With practiced ease, he blows out the candle, his breath sending a gust of air that extinguishes the small flame. As he does, he murmurs a silent wish, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft smile.
Jungwon stands back up, his arm still wrapped around your waist. He looks at you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with affection. He rubs his thumb over the small of your back, a gentle gesture, before he speaks again.
“Well done, little baker,” he chuckles, a teasing lilt in his voice. “That cake might be a mess, but let me tell you, it’s the sweetest mess I’ve ever seen.”
He reaches forward, gently swipes some batter off your cheek, and pops his thumb into his mouth with a wink.
“And quite appetizing too.”
You giggle, feeling a rush of warmth at his playful antics. ‘’Now you got flour on your clothes,’’ you point out.
Jungwon shrugs with a mischievous smile, his gaze never leaving your face.
“Who cares about my clothes? They’re just going to end up on the floor anyway,” he says cheekily, raising an eyebrow and giving you a suggestive smirk.
“More importantly, I’ve got you, kitten. I’m happy as long as I’m in your company.”
You blush at his words, feeling a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Unable to meet his gaze, you hide your face in his chest, feeling his warmth and steady heartbeat comfort you.
Jungwon lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. With one arm still wrapped around your waist, he uses his free hand to gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his.
“Don’t hide that adorable blush, kitten. It’s one of my favorite sights,” he murmurs. His thumb strokes your cheek delicately.
“Besides, I’m quite enjoying this hug.”
‘’Well, since I kind of screwed up the cake, is there anything I could do to make up for it? ’’ You said, tilting your head.
Jungwon chuckles, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looks at you with a fond gaze. “Kitten, the cake didn’t turn out the way you hoped, sure. But it’s still a sweet gesture and the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a while. Besides, you did your best, and I love you for it,” he teases, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your hip.
“Honestly, the sight of you in this outfit, covered in flour and looking utterly cute, is more than enough compensation. But if you really want, maybe you could be mine. That would be the best gift ever.”
‘’What? ..’’ you said, feeling a rush of surprise and warmth.
Jungwon laughs softly, realizing you might not have completely grasped the depth of his words. He gently cups your face with one hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek.
“I’m talking about us, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender. “Be mine. Officially. Be my partner, my other half. I know it’s a bit sudden, but I can’t hold the feeling back anymore. I need you to know how much you mean to me.”
‘’Of course…I..I’d love to,’’ you said, your heart racing with joy and love.
Jungwon’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected response; the surprise is soon replaced by a wide, radiant smile. His eyes shine with happiness, and his dimples deepen as he pulls your body closer to his, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He pours all his emotions into the kiss, the love and affection he feels for you overflowing like a river breaking free from its dam.
He pulls away slightly, breathless but elated, a look of adoration in his eyes.
“I love you, kitten. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
‘’I love you too,’’ you said, feeling like the luckiest person in the world to have him by your side.
Jungwon beams at your words, his eyes lighting up with joy and relief. He presses a series of soft, tender kisses all over your face. He whispers the words “I love you” between each kiss, each declaration punctuated with a brush of his lips against your skin.
You two fell deeper in love with each passing day, building a serious and meaningful relationship that brought joy and fulfillment to both of your lives. You reached milestones together, including meeting each other’s parents, a moment that was truly beautiful and heartwarming. Jungwon adored your clumsiness, seeing it as a charming part of who you were, but he also worried about you, especially when you got injured, whether it was a small bruise or a more serious mishap like when you broke your leg after misstepping on the stairs. He was by your side at the hospital, his heart aching with worry and fear, his tears flowing as if he were the one in pain.
Today was like any other day, filled with plans to spend time together. You had decided to bake cookies at your place, but as you prepared to start, you realized you had forgotten the flour. With a sigh, you began to put on your shoes, intending to make a quick trip to the grocery store. Jungwon offered to come with you, his concern evident in his eyes, but you reassured him that you could handle it on your own.
“Don’t worry, baby! I’ll be here in no time. It’s just flour,” you said with a smile, trying to ease his worries as you opened the front door.
As Jungwon watched you open the door, a slight frown creased his forehead. Being protective of you was second nature to him, and he couldn’t shake the worry that something might happen during your quick errand. He tried to suppress his concern, however, not wanting to come off as overbearing.
Giving you a small smile, his eyes still tinged with worry, he spoke softly, his voice laced with concern. “Be careful, kitten. Take it easy and text me if anything happens.”
With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he reluctantly let you go, his heart heavy with worry, until you returned safely home.
Jungwon knew he should trust you, but his worry was overpowering. It had only been five minutes since you left, but he was already getting sick with worry. Glancing anxiously at the front door, he couldn’t shake the images of worst-case scenarios playing out in his mind—what could happen to you on the way to the grocery store, at the store itself, or on the way back home? He doesn’t want his kitten to get more injuries.
After a moment of not-so-careful thought, he immediately put on his shoes and dashed towards the grocery store. His heart raced with each step, the fear of something happening to you driving him forward, determined to find you and ensure your safety.
As Jungwon rushed towards the grocery store, his heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his thoughts positive, hoping that you were doing fine and that he was overthinking the situation. But no matter how much he reassured himself, he couldn’t shake the worry that something was wrong. Reaching the grocery store, Jungwon quickly searched for you in the aisles, his gaze fixated on the shelves and the people passing by. He called your name, scanning the place for any sight of you, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.
“Kitten? Kitten? Where are you? ”He called out, his voice tinged with urgency, his heart racing as he desperately searched for any sign of you amidst the bustling store.
As Jungwon’s voice echoed through the store, you were oblivious to his calls, lost in your own world at the back section, scrutinizing the sacks of flour on the shelves. Your focus was solely on choosing the right one, unaware of the worry creeping into Jungwon’s heart as he searched for you.
As Jungwon walked through the store, his eyes darted from aisle to aisle as he called out your name, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. Frustration and worry grew within him, but he refused to give up. He finally reached the back section of the store, and there you were, standing in front of the shelves, completely engrossed in choosing flour.
A wave of relief washed over Jungwon as he saw you there, unharmed and safe. His heart finally began to settle, and he immediately closed the distance between you.
He approached you slowly, standing just behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing as he rested his chin on your shoulder, making you flinch at the touch.
“Kitten,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. “You scared me. I was so worried. I thought something had happened to you.”
He tightened his grip, his concern evident in his touch. “Kitten, I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I was so worried. Why weren’t you answering my calls? ”
‘’Baby? Why are you here? ’’ You said in shock.
Jungwon tightens his hold, his fingers splaying against your stomach.
“Why do you think, kitten? I was so worried. I couldn’t stay put, knowing you were out there alone. I had to see you safe,” he mumbles, his voice filled with relief and concern.
He presses a series of soft kisses on your cheek, his breath slightly shaky. “Promise me next time you’ll bring me with you. Or text me the whole time.”
‘’Ok.. I promise,’’ you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his caring gesture.
Jungwon nods, his embrace relaxing slightly, but he still keeps you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. His fingers gently rub circles on your stomach, a soothing gesture.
“Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss on your neck. “I’m glad you’re safe. I love you, you know that?”
‘’I love you too,’’ you said, feeling the love and warmth in his words wash over you.
Jungwon turns you around to face him, his gaze soft and loving. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing over the contours of your cheeks.
“I love you with everything I am; you know that? Seeing you safe has eased my worries. Now, let’s get that flour and head back home. You got anything else on the list, kitten? ”
‘’Well, just the flour. Let’s purchase this first,’’ you said, feeling grateful for his presence and love as you both continued with your errand, knowing that you were always there for each other through thick and thin.
Jungwon nods, giving you another heartfelt kiss before taking your hand into his.
“Alright, let’s grab that flour and get out of here. I can’t wait to get you back home.”
He leads you to the checkout counter, carrying the chosen bag of flour, his grip on your hand never loosening. Once you’ve paid, you both leave the supermarket, walking back towards your home.
“I was so worried,” he admits, his grip slightly tighter on your hand as you walk.
‘’You might be overreacting,’’ you tease him, enjoying the playful banter between you.
Jungwon raises an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He bumps his hip into you playfully. “Am I? Maybe. But I can’t help it. You’re just so clumsy, kitten. Can you blame me for being so worried? ”He teases, his tone filled with affection.
As you both walk, Jungwon rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays on his lips. “Hey, you never know! You’re the biggest magnet for trouble I’ve ever seen. I just couldn’t sit there doing nothing while your cute little butt was out there somewhere. I don’t exactly want to see my wife injured again. The hospital traumatized me enough.”
‘’Wife? ’’ You said, surprised by his choice of words.
Jungwon chuckles at your reaction, his smile growing wider. “Of course you’re going to be my wife someday, aren’t you, kitten? ”He murmurs, his fingers tracing soft circles on your cheek.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he continues. “The wedding, the ring, our future. I don’t want anyone else. I’m madly in love with you.” He presses a tender kiss on your cheek.
‘’I’m madly in love with you too, my husband,’’ you said, a playful glint in your eye.
Upon hearing your remark, Jungwon’s cheeks flushed, his heart skipping a beat. “Oh, so I’m your husband now, huh? ”He teases, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Is that so, kitten? ”
He laughs. “Guess I have to live up to the role, huh? I’ll be the best husband ever,” he whispers, his voice soft and tender.
He gently tugs you closer, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, full of promise and affection. He holds you tightly in his arms, knowing that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.
As you walk hand in hand with Jungwon, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as clumsy as you thought—you just needed the right person to catch you.
#enha jungwon#enhypen#enhypen fanfics#enhypen ff#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen jungwon#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x reader#yang jungwon x y/n#yang jungwon x you#yang jungwon x reader#jungwon x reader#jungwon x you#jungwon ff#jungwon imagines#jungwon scenarios#reader x jungwon#jungwon#yang jungwon#jungwon x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enha x reader#jungwon enha#jungwon fluff#yang jungwon fluff
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Fremen Girl
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fremen!reader
Summary: The potential wife of any future Baron must prove herself by surviving in the arena before the current Baron will permit the marriage. In this case, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen wants a wife, and he might have just found a woman capable of meeting that challenge.
Notes/Warnings: this is just the first section of this fic, which I can't decide if I want as one long fic (5k words) or multiple short parts (5 or so). If you like it, feel free to provide an opinion on that. Comments help me out and make me happy, so they're always welcome :) Also, Dune inaccuracies and typos.
Words: 900
Feyd-Rautha Masterlist
The toe of a boot jams into your calf. Your knees are the first to crack on the tiled flooring of Arrakeen Palace’s throne room. You land with a grunt, followed by four more grunts as the knees of your Fremen brothers are forced down beside you.
That’s all that remains of the troop sent to attack one of the Harkonnen patrol groups. Out of twenty-one, only five.
The five of you make a neat line in front of the empty throne with you in the middle. From left to right, one after the other reduced to half height, your heads down, arms bound behind your backs, and blood dripping from various Harkonnen-inflicted wounds.
Your only wound is a swollen, busted lip, which you found curious until you realized their goal was to capture the remaining few of you, not kill. That swift fist to the face had caught you off guard while you were trying to aid a friend who inevitably met their death, and in that moment, you knew you were going to be made an example of; a warning to other Fremen: Be smart. Don’t end up like this girl.
So, here you are, in a Harkonnen-occupied palace awaiting your grim fate, forced to bow to an old baron you thought was too lazy to leave his home planet of Giedi Prime, let alone bother with a handful of Fremen who made a minuscule dent in his massive army.
But then you hear footsteps echoing as they make their way through the vast, hollow room.
“Are these the ones?” is asked in a low, gruff voice. It’s akin to the voices of the men who brought you here, but it contains a unique richness and lacks the worn, overused quality that comes from many decades of aging. Definitely not the Baron.
“Yes, my Lord na-Baron,” one of the brutes answers from behind you, conveniently answering your unasked question as well.
“And which of them did the most damage?”
Thick fingers dig into your hair, nails scraping your scalp as your head is yanked back. You swallow your whine from the pain and meet a set of deep blue eyes. You know those eyes—well, you know stories of those eyes. As a small child, you overheard whispers amongst the Fremen elders of the Harkonnen boy with the soulless eyes who killed his mother and maimed his family’s slaves. The promising younger nephew of the Baron: Feyd-Rautha. Barely older than yourself and yet word of his deadly glare was already jumping from planet to planet.
But those eyes change as they look at you. There’s a quick shift from wicked to amused, a glint flitting across his irises as he scans your face. His lips tick upward—almost imperceptibly—but you catch it before it disappears.
“Release her,” the future baron instructs. The tension from your abused strands eases as he steps forward and crouches in front of you, much too close for your liking. You want to flinch away, but Fremen do not cower to intimidation.
“So,” he starts, peering into you, “you're the one causing me trouble, hmm?”
“She took down twelve of our men.”
His brow raises and his head tilts, but Feyd-Rautha does not break your stare. “Twelve? Is that right?”
“She bites as well, the fucking bitch,” the soldier grumbles to his leader. When you roll your eyes, said leader's lips quirk again. “Too much spirit in her if you ask me.”
All sense of amusement drains from the na-Baron’s features. Cold blue eyes flick to the soldier, and with the attention momentarily off of you, you take a breath.
“I did not ask you,” he says in an eerily calm tone.
You can practically hear the gulp that struggles to make its way down the other Harkonnen’s throat. “Apologies, my Lord.”
Feyd-Rautha returns his gaze to you. He examines you for a few long beats before lifting his hand and swiping his thumb through the blood beginning to cake on your split lip.
“Don’t touch her!” comes from the left in your native tongue.
You wince. He’s one of the younger ones, just shy of your age. Well-trained enough to be a dangerous force, faster than the older Fremen at your sides, but so full of hatred for Harkonnens that his enthusiasm has him making silly mistakes, clearly not excluding shouting in a threatening tone when it would be best to remain silent.
The butt of a Harkonnen weapon slams into the back of his head and he falls forward, landing face-first on the floor.
The na-Baron doesn’t pay the disruption a lick of attention. His index finger meets his thumb and they swirl together in small circles until they’re thoroughly coated in your blood. Then, one at a time, he sticks them into his mouth and sucks that little bit of you off of each pale digit.
“Lover?” he asks you, nudging his head toward your knocked-out friend. You shake your head.
Leisurely taking in your features, his eyes trace the curl of your lashes, the slope of your nose, then the V of your cupid’s bow before he says, “A woman more deadly than the men who flank her is quite rare...and impressive.” Your brows pinch at the compliment and he smirks. “I think I might have use for you, Fremen girl.”
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A/N(just a repeat of the notes up top in case you missed it): this is just the first section of this fic, which I can't decide if I want as one long fic (5k words) or multiple short parts (5 or so). If you like it, feel free to provide an opinion on that. Comments help me out and make me happy, so they're always welcome :)
@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha#dune part 2#austin butler#dune#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune 2
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Hey so, I was wondering if you could do a f/f hero x villain snippet, where the hero is in a super secret relationship with the villain, but, despite the villain explicitly having other goals, betrayed and used the hero, the hero still loved her? Until one day the hero gets so tired of it that she leaves the city without a single world and villain goes after her? sorry if its too specific
"Where are you going?"
Part of the hero had expected it, but it still didn't make it any easier to hear that voice in her motel room. Her shoulders tensed. She kept her gaze trained firmly on unzipping her bag.
"Hey." The villain's voice sharpened. She crossed the room, taking hold of the hero's wrist. "You can't just leave. What the hell?"
The hero yanked her hand back. Her head snapped up.
The villain stopped, at whatever expression it was that she saw on the hero's face. She wet her lips. "Look," she said, gentler. "This is silly. Just come home, alright? We can talk about this."
"I don't want to talk to you right now."
"Baby-"
"Don't." The hero's jaw clenched. "Don't you even." The hero looked back down again, pulling out her toiletries and night clothes. It was easier than looking at the villain; flaying herself raw with the memories and the longing and the awful truths that she should have accepted so very long ago. "Just go. If you ever loved me, just go. Please."
For a second, she thought that might work. At least, she'd thought the villain might temporarily back off, maybe get another room and try again in the morning.
(She wasn't sure if that would be a confirmation of love or the lack of it. Did it matter anymore?)
The villain crouched down in front of her, studying the hero's face. Her eyes flickered.
"I really hurt you this time, huh?"
The hero swallowed.
They'd had so many arguments, the villain and her. There had been times when she'd been furious that the villain simply couldn't seem to change her ways, change her plans, not even for the sake of the two of them. There had been yelling and cold demands and promises to do better. Apologies pressed on honeyed lips.
"We're more important than the world," the villain had said, kissing the hero's head. "You're my world now."
But that hadn't been true.
There had been times when she'd broke her heart over the villain. She'd wondered if it was her fault, somehow. If she needed to try harder, love better. She'd wondered just how bad things had once been for the villain to so compulsively choose victory over kindness. Revenge over love. Her plans, over the hero.
"Of course I love you," the villain had snapped. "I just don't see why love means I'm the only one who has to change. What about you? You're not perfect! Crying in an argument is super manipulative, you know?"
All that was left was tiredness. A hollow exhaustion.
"Yeah," the hero said. "You win."
"This isn't what I wanted."
"Well, now you know what it's like to have your lover not care about about what you want."
"You care." The villain said it with such certainty. She reached out to cradle the hero's jaw in her hands, delicate, like she was incapable of any pain she might cause. "You've never been able to stop caring. You're caring right now."
"Maybe. But I'm still done."
The villain's grip tightened.
"You're not done. We can't be done."
"Go home."
"Not without you."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?" The villain's eyes turned stormy. "You're mine. I'm yours. We belong together."
"And do you still find it good? Us?"
The villain stopped short again, as if she hadn't expected the question, as if she hadn't even considered it. Her hands dropped to her sides.
"You used me," the hero said. "I loved you and you used me. Do you understand that?"
The villain stared at her, uncertain in the face of the hero's tone. The tectonic shift of it. "I love you."
The hero shrugged.
"You don't love me anymore, is that it?" the villain demanded. "Because I don't believe that for a second."
"Sure, I love you."
"So come home. Baby." The villain surged to bestow a kiss to the hero's forehead, as if enough sweetness could once again wash away all that was bitter, or at least sufficiently mask the taste of the poison. "We've got over worse than this before. It's just how we are, you know? We fight. We make up. We don't just - you don't just leave."
The hero had wanted to simply slip away. Let it go without another fight she wasn't sure her heart had the energy for anymore. Of course the villain would never allow that.
There was always a final battle, wasn't there?
And the villain would stay no matter how cruel the hero was to her in turn. It was the way of her. But the hero didn't want to be cruel. She'd never wanted that.
"I don't think we're good," the hero said. "I don't think we've been good for a long time now."
"I'll be better."
"You never are though, are you?"
The villain swallowed. Tears flooded her eyes.
"I spent so long thinking that my love wasn't enough." The hero reached up, despite herself, to wipe those once-in-a-lifetime tears away from the villain's cheeks. Then she stood, looming over her very own perfect monster. "But it was. I was. And yours just isn't anymore."
The hero plucked up her things and made for the bathroom, pausing in the doorway, glancing back. The villain knelt on the floor, her head bowed as if for the slaughter. The hero summoned up the very last of her strength.
"You've always been so good at keeping secrets, but you're not keeping me anymore," she said. "Don't still be here when I come out."
She locked the door of them for good.
#villains and heroes#heroes and villains#angst#break ups#relationships#writing#story#f/f#fic#fiction#original fiction#dialogue#betrayal
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✴️THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND✴️
The Guide - the only post you will ever need to understand how your subconscious mind works!
1. Time isn't real
Let me break it to you! Time isn't real at all cuz think about it all these hours and numbers are made by humans!
But how?!
They just track how the earth moves around the sun and that's all
Yes without time there will be morning and night and still these hours aren't real
As in whole THE UNIVERSE!! TIME DOESN'T EXIST IF YOU AREN'T ON THE EARTH!
which GETS US TO THAT ONE POINT
SUBCONSCIOUS MIND REPROGRAMMING DOESN'T TAKE 21 DAYS OR ANY TIME
Subconscious mind reprogramming is instant
That's why I always add it to my tapes as benefits and that's why I made the benefits! cuz it bypasses the conscious mind and it makes it easier for your subconscious to make it reality!
So basically it all comes down to what you assume!!
2. Languages
I got that question a lot about what if I can't speak English, will the affirmations work?
Yes ofc they will
whatever it's affirmations only or my tapes
Even if you make your own tapes it will work!!
3. Thoughts
Is it really "it is what it is"?
Yes, it is what it is
For ex.
if you think you already got 50k US DOLLARS you already have it it's that simple (like that success story a girl experienced with one of my free tapes she manifested 50k US DOLLARS! - also this one success story - The tape is on YouTube btw)
Again it all comes down to what you assume!
4. Assuming
Assuming hmmm... Do you know that all your thoughts are assumptions?
But there are two things about these thoughts!
Did you assume that they are real and true?
Do you assume that whatever you want is already achieved?
Do you assume that you are always right?
Or did you assume that it can't happen cuz you think you are lying!
Just be honest with yourself
Get a piece of paper and write everything you think about down ABOUT A SPECIFIC MANIFESTATION YOU GOT ON YOUR MIND!
And if you think you are lying why? Ask yourself! Make all that noise go away and clear it for yourself! You deserve better
Now this gets us to another point which is your manifesting self-concept and your self-concept they are very important for ur existence like they are the core of your life! So a little advice work on them then do whatever you want!
Cuz it changes the way you think and what you assume
So like a person with a bad or mid self-concept they will always assume the worst for themselves
Another person with a good self-concept they will be aware of who they are and what they are capable of!
5. Thoughts, Feelings and beliefs!
Again and again
How you feel is created by thought
Subconscious programming → beliefs → feelings → thoughts
So if you keep saying "oh I am sad" multiple times you will be sad it's just that simple
Use it for your own good!
And imagine what... Right now
Your beliefs will reflect in your reality after one thought instantly after reading this post so be careful cuz i already manifested this while typing this!
And listen to in control tape by me on YouTube!
Basically you can always create beliefs instantly cuz you believe that time isn't real... Did you know what we are doing here? Just assuming the best for us but you still have to be constant to get used to it and make it a part of your programming like everyday
Someone like me I enter the void every time I nap and sleep I got used to it and I don't even feel tired anymore when I wake up there and I don't use it that much anymore!
I literally enjoy how easy it is in life to do whatever I want and experience whatever I want!
6. Simple assumptions to have a good relationship with your subconscious mind
I will give you 10 affirmations from my paid subconscious mind tape at the end (I know it won't be the same as the tape itself because of the benefits but still it might help you guys!)
Do you know that your subconscious mind is here for you like a parent it's like your personal assistant - it has everything about you, your memories and it controls ur whole life it accepts every single thought you think about unless you say it it's not something you accept so it gets in your subconscious mind like "oh I don't accept this"
Even the negative statements your subconscious mind knows it negative!! Same thing with the positive statements
Like for ex.
I am not a bad person - negative statement
Your subconscious mind acknowledges it!
Your subconscious mind won't take it in like "I am a bad person" without the "not"
Even the same thing with
I am a good person - positive statement
Your subconscious mind acknowledges it TOO
The subconscious mind ACCEPTS THE NEGATIVE STATEMENTS TOO!
IT IS simply WHAT IT IS!!
It's not the opposite at all as some weird bloggers said! Or even that book about the subconscious mind it's called "the power of the subconscious mind by Joseph Murphy" it's full of bs and limiting beliefs - I genuinely hate it
I literally saw a coach in Saudi Arabia on X (PREVIOUSLY Twitter) selling a whole course for almost 30k USD and sharing all the limiting beliefs in that book and that was months ago!
I mean at least IF YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE PAY FOR SOMETHING PROVIDE THEM WITH THE BEST THINGS AND INFORMATION
I hated how some people let some crazy stuff like that get to them without doing their own research or just creating their own rules!!
Be a little independent please for your own good
Your subconscious mind can be programmed instantly YOU DON'T NEED ANY TIME all you need to realize and understand is that yes "I always reprogram my subconscious mind instantly" and YOU JUST NEED comfort and just repeating the affs - this is a way
Another way to do it - make your own tapes and it's just repetition
Another way to do it - simply be it be whatever you want to be! Like it's already you!
One last way to do it - my free tapes + paid tapes they are very effective they work from the first listen because they have benefits again what actually made my tapes get that much success stories is the benefits
I am gonna upload 2 new free tapes they are small but very effective! Everyone here will like them!!
🎀10 Affirmations for your subconscious mind🎀
from my paid subconscious mind tape
Affirmations:
Me and my subconscious mind are one.
My subconscious mind already accepts everything I say as true.
My subconscious mind already accepts everything think about as true.
My subconscious mind is already my best friend forever.
My subconscious mind always helps me with everything.
My subconscious mind always loves me.
My subconscious mind always helps me reach my highest potential in this lifetime!
My subconscious mind already believes what I want it to believe easily effortlessly quickly and instantly.
My subconscious mind always manifests everything I want easily effortlessly and instantly.
I have a perfect relationship with my subconscious mind.
Thank you guys for all the support and love and I hope this post helped you!
If you have any questions you can always send an ask I will be happy to answer them whenever I am free! Also you can dm me if you want a paid tape or a custom tape!
One last thing these tapes are with benefits they aren't like any other tapes that are available everywhere these days! 🎀
Enjoy!💗
#loa#law of assumption#neville goddard#self concept#loassumption#void success#loa success#success stories loa#self development#self esteem#non dualism#non duality#nonduality#nondualism#subconscious mind#subconscious reprogramming#subconscious#void concept#voidstate#the void#void state#void#the void state#void state tips#how to manifest#manifestations#manifest#manifesting#manifestation
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Coffee and Other Things
DI!SingleDad!Leon X F!Teacher!Reader
Summary: you and Leon have a lil lunch date, but he just can't keep his hands to himself
Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, brief fingering, choking, hair pulling, riding, car sex, semi public sex, soft!dom leon, praising, Leon has a mouth on him, the s stands for slut, parent teacher dynamic, age gap, foul language
WC: 4.1k lol I can't write short things
A/N: lol omg I wrote 2 things in a month?? Woah witchcraft. Yeah yall thought I abandoned this series. Well kind of. I was very unmotivated to write for it but idk I was like fuck it why not, this has been sitting my drafts since September soo. I will warn yall that this is not going to be a constant thing. I'll update when I have inspiration to write for it, so it'll probably be sporadic, but I hope yall enjoy it the same.
If you'd like to keep up with this series (or any of my works) follow @midnightreadinglibrary for updates since I no longer have a tag list and turn on notifications, don't worry, I'll only reblog my written works there
Universe masterlist
God was it hot out here. It was inhumane that's what this was. If there was one thing you hated in this world was having to stand outside in eighty degrees in the summer or thirty degrees in the winter. Right now it was the former, or close to it, anyway. May sure seemed to think so. But the sun burning on your back this early in the morning was not helping. You were praying to the Gods to save you now because this cardigan was going to be the death of you.
You counted the tiny heads standing in line— as best as seven year-olds could anyway. You were missing one chocolate brown-haired head. Weird. Leon hadn't mentioned not bringing Isabella to school today.
You looked at your wristwatch, three minutes before you had to take your kids inside. You sighed softly, folding your arms over your chest as you kept an eye on your kids, but you also kept some attention ahead, in case you maybe saw that pair that in a matter of weeks had become such an important part of your life. Even if Izzy didn't realize it yet.
But you stood corrected. Your lips curved up at the sight of a tiny Isabella, pigtails and all dragging her leather jacket wearing dad across the playground. He had her tiny lilac backpack hanging from one shoulder and her Rapunzel lunch box hung from his free hand. This was the first time you had actually seen Leon drop her off. Claire— who you had learned was a close friend of Leon's for many years now— would normally drop her off, or Izzy would come strolling into your classroom after drop off so you wouldn't see him either way. And now that you were seeing this for the first time, you couldn't hold in your laughter.
"I told you I was going to be late!" The little girl fussed as she dragged him. He closed his eyes, sighing heavily as he wondered what the hell he was raising. "Aunt Claire is never late."
"Yeah, well your daddy got—" shot at last night by the mercenaries of a deranged scientist. Leon bit his tongue and he shook his head at himself. "I got home late. Sorry, I'll try not to be late next time."
Izzy turned her head to look at him, lips pulled up into a tiny smile now. "It's okay daddy. You'll do better next time."
She stopped at the end of the line, and he stopped with her. His eyes instantly landed on you at the very front. His eyebrows irked up and his lips curled up, he didn't think he'd actually see you this morning. Fuck, how was it that you looked prettier every time he saw you? He took his eyes away from you to look at Izzy. He crouched down to her height, shrugging her backpack off his shoulder to hand it to her. She happily strapped it over her shoulders and took her lunch box as well.
"Eat some okay? I know I'm not the best cook but a sandwich and some fruit can't be too bad right?" She nodded eagerly, just happy that her dad had made her lunch. She was about to run off to her friends but he called her back. "Isabella. C'mere for a sec. Listen, I'm picking you up after school, okay? So think where you want to go eat and we'll get ice cream after, yeah?"
The way his little girl's eyes lit up at his words was better than anything else in this world. Nothing could ever top that. She threw herself around his neck and he couldn't help but smile a bit.
"Thank you daddy!"
"Yeah. Love you bee." He rubbed her back softly, pressing a kiss to the side of her hair before he motioned his hand at her. "Okay, go on. Go say hi to your friends."
Izzy happily ran off, saying a 'Love you!' over her shoulder before she squeezed her way into the line where her girl friends were also standing.
You couldn't quite hear their exchange, all you could hear was Izzy saying I love you to her dad, but that alone was enough to melt your heart. Your eyes found Leon's and you couldn't help but smile. You watched as he stood to his full height, and the look in his eyes all but called you over to him. You chewed on the inside of your cheek softly as you nudged your friend, Emily— the other second grade teacher standing on the line marked next to you.
"Hey, can you watch my kids for a sec?" You bit your lip and gave her a sheepish look. She looked at you with a confused frown but then her lips parted in realization when she saw Leon.
"For that? I'd watch your kids the rest of the day. Go girl." She said quietly and nudged you away.
You laughed softly at her and made your way over to Leon as casually as you possibly could. It was normal for teachers to talk to their parents for casual conversation, right?
"Hey Miss. How's it going?" He was really good at pretending to be cordial, you give him that. He stood at least a foot away from you, his hands shoved into his pockets, but his eyes were anything but innocent as they looked you over.
"Hi Leon. I see that you brought Izzy today?" You said, arms folded over your chest as you tried to not be so obvious.
"Yeah. I wasn't home last night when she went to bed, so I figured I'd make it up by dropping her off." He shrugged, but his nose twitched a bit as he remembered the mess of this morning. "Though, I have a feeling neither of us are used to it. She kept saying I was doing this and that wrong, that I was driving too fast, that her left ponytail was too tight. That her right was too high. I'm wondering where she gets all that attitude from."
You couldn't help but laugh at him. So much so you had to cover your mouth with the back of your hand. He clearly didn't see the humor in it and he narrowed his eyes at you.
"I'm sorry, but I can't help it. She totally gets it from you." You snorted as you remembered the first day you met. You had never met someone so grumpy and with so much attitude. It was part of his charm, you guessed.
"I'm offended." He gave you a pointed look and shook his head. You shrugged at him, hiding your smile behind your lips. But he had a tiny smile of his own. He looked around him for a second before he leaned down to speak to you. Nothing too scandalous, but his cologne was definitely intoxicating you now. "Listen, I have some free time today so, you wanna get lunch? I'm guessing you have lunch time."
"I…" You laughed softly, a soft heat creeping up your cheeks at his proposal. "Yeah I have a lunch. I got forty-five minutes at eleven thirty. Pick me up?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course. It's a date then." His lips curled up a bit, he hadn't actually ever said that out loud. It sounded nice. A date. With you.
"It's a date." You said quietly, repeating it to yourself, almost as if you had to say it to believe it.
Sure, you've had two successful dates with Leon, and you didn't even have to get started on how good your chemistry was. But you were still cautious. Dating hadn't exactly been kind to you and Leon just seemed way too good to be true. You had honestly just expected him to ghost you at some point.
But you were so glad you were wrong.
~~~~
"Leon—" You scolded him, but the words leaving your mouth didn't match your hands. You gripped him closer, your fingers clinging to his button down shirt. He only hummed in question. "Leon, c'mon stop that. I only have like twenty minutes."
You didn't actually want him to stop. Not really. His lips on your neck, licking and lightly sucking at every spot that made you shudder. You sat on his lap, straddling him on the front seat of his Jeep Wrangler. You weren't quite sure how you ended here. One minute you had been sitting with Leon, drinking coffee and eating some cream cheese bagels, talking about your job, his job, his kid, a little bit of everything, laughing and joking for what felt like hours. And then you were here, at an empty parking lot, in broad daylight.
This was such a bad idea. But the way his lips kissed you and the way his growing hard on brushed against your clothed clit was way too good to say no.
"Twenty? Fine. I can make you come in five." He breathed into your ear, his hands running up your bare thighs, scrunching up your dress to your hips.
His words alone made you want to come then and there. You breathed out a shaky sigh, eyes closed as you tried to argue that this was a horrible, horrible idea. You were more sensible than this. His hands found your ass, and he squeezed, making you squirm on his lap. Which only made him harder against his jeans.
"C'mon. Promise I won't go so hard this time." He brushed his lips under your jaw, slightly lifting his hips to make the front of his jeans brush you some more. "I need to feel you come on my cock again, please."
Fuck, the way he sounded begging, begging to fuck you. You didn't need much convincing, but that? That made you pool into your panties.
"No hickeys, and no bruises," You muttered, remembering you had to wear scarfs in this heat for days to cover the marks his fingers left. Leon smirked a bit at this. "I'm serious. I've never had to cover up bruises before you."
Leon dug his teeth into his bottom lip, leaning back to look at you as one of his hands sneaked under your dress and he kept his eyes on you as he rubbed his thumb over your clit through your panties.
"I won't bruise you this time." His lips curled up into a satisfied grin when your lips fell open into a silent moan. "I gotta say though, your neck looked so pretty with my fingers all over it."
He sat up, his free hand pulling you to him by the back of your neck and his lips crashed against yours harshly. He happily took in the moan that left your throat as he thumbed at your clit. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, groaning softly when your fingers threaded his hair.
He held you against his mouth, his thumb on your clit for what felt like years, you honestly worried you had run out of time. But in reality only a minute had passed. He let go of your head to blindly reach for the console. He groaned softly as he touched around for a second, but ultimately had to pull away to look. He found his wallet, he dug through it with urgency before he tossed it on the passenger's seat.
Your eyes landed on the golden wrapper and you frowned at him.
"You do remember you came inside last time, right?" You asked with genuine confusion and he could only laugh in response.
He pressed a hard kiss to your lips before he replied. "I remember. Trust me, I remember. But unless you wanted to sit with my come inside you for the rest of the day. Figured this was best."
Your face heated up with embarrassment and you let out a soft laugh, Leon could only watch you with amusement.
"Were you hoping to get laid then?" You laughed softly and he only shrugged in response, his eyes never leaving you as he unbuckled his belt.
"I was hopeful. I was kinda hoping you missed me enough." He chuckled, now watching as you reached your hand to unbutton his shirt. He sucked in a sharp breath when you leaned down to press your lips to his neck.
"I did." A playful smile fell on your lips as your lips trailed further down. He let out a pleasured sigh that quickly turned into a pained grunt when your lips touched a particular spot below his collarbone.
“Hmph… Careful baby.”
You pulled back with furrowed eyebrows as you tugged his shirt aside just enough to see a purple forming on his pale skin, but it looked like a burn almost, a circle with an angry marking.
“What.. What is that? Are you okay?”
He found the concern in your voice endearing.
“I got shot last night during an assignment. But I'm here, aren't I? I'm fine.” He tried to say it as casually as possible, he looked at you with unwavering calmness, you were anything but.
“You got what?” You almost shouted, it definitely caught him off guard. You swallowed hard as you placed your hands on his chest, almost as if you needed to feel that he was okay.
“It caught my vest. But it still leaves a bruise. It hurts for a day or two. But I'm perfectly fine.” He knew you weren't convinced, your furrowed eyebrows and tight lips said as much. He sighed, “Can we not.. Do this right now? Please?”
“Yeah.. Okay.” You still weren't entirely convinced but God were you having a hard time being worried when you could feel him against you. You could yell at him later.
He gave you a small smile before he kissed you again, not wanting to waste any more time. He was quick to lift you up enough to pull down your panties and tossed them on the passenger's seat. And fuck, the look he gave you when he pulled away was enough to make you soak his jeans, you were sure if it, anyway. His eyes never left you as he spat on his fingers. He needed to watch your face when his fingers touched your clit. And what a sight that was.
“Oh, you sweet girl,” He taunted, rubbing slow circles on your clit. He parted his lips to match the silent moan you let out, but the look on your pretty face was priceless. “Already so wet for me, hm?”
All you could do was nod, heated and already breathless with adrenaline. But you couldn't hold back the cry that left your mouth when he slipped his fingers into your wet hole. Your head fell back slightly as you reached to grip his shoulder, just any part of him really. He watched your face carefully, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he buried his fingers to the knuckle, curling them against your most sensitive spot. His fingers worked you for what felt like hours, but in reality it was merely a minute or two. Though by then, the sound of his fingers in and out of your cunt was all he could hear. Other than the sounds leaving your mouth. But you could only take so much of this torture.
“Please Leon—” God, you sounded pathetic, the way you were so desperately grinding against his hand was equally pathetic. “Need you.”
Leon was a simple man. If his girl wanted to be fucked he had to comply. There wasn't anything else to it.
His fingers left you empty in an instant, and you couldn't help but whine at the loss, but you knew you'd get something better soon enough.
“Do me a favor, darling,” he grabbed your hand and placed it right where his cock was straining against his jeans. You swallowed hard, your chest still rising as you looked at him with big eyes. “Help me here, hm?”
It took you a second to process his words, maybe you were already cock drunk just on the thought of it. But your shaky hands eventually unzipped his jeans and pulled him out of the confines of his boxers. The sigh Leon let out was almost primal as he messed around with his smart watch. You couldn't quite understand what he was doing but you didn't exactly have the mental capacity to think when his cock was right there.
“Go on baby, I'm almost done here. You can ride me, can't you?” His words were almost mocking as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. Your mouth was slightly open as you ran your tongue over your dry lips.
“I.. I—Yes.” You responded quietly as you slipped the condom on him. Leon sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing as he watched you lean forward, and slowly sank down on his cock.
Leon leaned back, his lips falling open as you sat on his cock. He swallowed hard, and it took him the very little control he still had left not to force you on his cock. But alas he let you take your time. His hands were tight on your hips as if to encourage you. And it took you a second to adjust but you ultimately lifted yourself before slamming back down on his cock, over and over until you were bouncing on him like that was all you were meant to do in this world.
“Shit Leon, you feel so—” you were sure you sounded absolutely pathetic, your words broken in between moans as you leaned back until your back touched the steering wheel.
Christ, Leon sure was loving this sight.
He adjusted himself under you so that he could ever so slightly lift his hips to meet with yours. He particularly loved this sight because God, this dress, it was so perfect on you. The V cut was low enough for him to see your neck and collarbone perfectly, but of course your entire chest was covered. Unless he pulled the front down..
“Fuck, feels so good, I know baby.” He breathed out, watching you through hooded eyes as his hands moved up to your chest, and he pulled the material down enough so that your bra was exposed. He groaned, and it was almost animalistic. “Take this off. Take it off, please.”
Please.
God.
Leon definitely felt the way you squeezed around his cock right then. You kept your grip on his shoulder with one hand as you somehow reached behind you with the other and unclasped your bra with the other. Leon fumbled around with the sleeves of your dress until those were off your shoulders. And the second your bra was out of the way, he grabbed a handful of both of your breasts with both of his hands. And he fucking moaned.
“Goddamn, you look so pretty like this.” His eyes traveled from where his hands were grabbing at your bare chest, to your exposed neck with your head thrown back as you so desperately fucked yourself on him. He didn't even care about the mess you were most likely leaving on his jeans. “Look at you, using my cock like you fucking own it. Fuck.”
Even in your delirium, this brought a smile to your face and you were sitting up to look at him. You brought a hand to his face, the sound of his grunts and moans were in your ear and the completely pussy drunk look on his face made you want to come right then and there.
“Say that again. Please, say it again.” Your words were slurred, breathless as you so desperately chased your release. Leon bit his lip softly, sitting up to meet you halfway. With a tight grip on your ass, he lifted his hips to thrust into you with intensity as if to prove a point.
“Yes darling, you can fuck yourself on this cock all you want ‘cause it's all yours.” His lips were on your jaw as his free hand held you by the back of your neck.
You dug your nails into his chest, surely to leave marks as you closed your eyes. Your heart was pounding, skin burning hot to the touch as he held you, each drag of his cock brushing deliciously against that perfect spot. You were so close.
“Choke me, please.” You pleaded barely above a whisper, nothing short of a whine. And the moan Leon let out at your request was by far the most erotic thing you will ever hear.
He ran his tongue over his lips as he brought his hand to your neck and wrapped his fingers around your throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to bruise, but it definitely was tight enough for you to see white. The lack of blood flow mixed with the tight feeling in your stomach. You could only take so much.
“Oh my— Fuck. I—” Words were no longer something you knew by then, you were grinding your hips so desperately, and the way you were squeezing his cock, he had quickly learned meant you were so close.
“Mhmm just like that pretty, come for me, I know you can do that.” His thumb found your swollen clit as he held your throat and he watched with big eyes as your mouth fell open. Leon let out a soft moan that mimicked the one leaving your throat as you squeezed him tightly. Too bad he couldn't actually feel you come on his cock this time. “That's a good fucking girl. Yeah, atta girl.”
He gripped the side of his seat as he drilled into you, lifting you on and off his cock as he fucked you through you release, and chased his own, of course. You pressed your forehead against his, soft whines leaving your lips at the overstimulation of his jeans rubbing against your clit. But you could hear his soft moans in your ears, his soft praises as he gripped your throat with soft fingers, until he gave you a particularly deep thrust and he held you down on him. The string of curses leaving his mouth as he came were anything but coherent, but fuck did it make you wet all over again to hear him unravel like this, just for you.
“Shit. You see what you do to me?” He breathed out a laugh, his hand now cradling the back of your hair as he left kisses on your jaw.
You closed your eyes tight, breathing in deeply, taking on the smell of his expensive cologne mixed with his own scent, and Christ, it was so intoxicating. All of him was intoxicating. You hummed softly and threw your arms around his neck, leaning close to him, just craving to feel him close, even if closer was even possible.
“Likewise… Look what you made me do.. I've never..” You swallowed hard, feeling yourself grow heated in embarrassment.
“What's that?” He pulled back ever so slightly to be able to look at your face, curious by what you meant. He softly tucked a strand of your loose hair behind your ear when he noticed your flustered face. How he could be so gentle and tender after absolutely wrecking you was always beyond your comprehension.
“In a car.. You know? I've never..”
A tiny smile formed on his lips, “Seriously?”
“Stop. It's just! I don't know. I've never done anything risky like that. Like we could totally get arrested for this.” You almost wanted to curl up into yourself in embarrassment but Leon never let go of you, not once, he simply chuckled.
“You do know I work for the government, right?” He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your embarrassment was quickly gone, to say the least. “Gotta say Miss, I am totally ruining you.”
And he was indeed. What a pretty thing you always were. And by the time he was done with you, you were a flushed, fucked out mess, your hair tousled and your dress pulled down. But he rather enjoyed seeing you like this. And the things he made you do, the things he made you feel, they were beyond this world. To think you always prided yourself in being rational.
You were about to respond with one of your remarks when an alarm on his watch went off. You jumped at the sound, panicked for a split second thinking it was the police or something, but you calmed down when you saw him lift his wrist and tapped the screen. He smiled at you with pride, and if you didn't know better you would have thought he even puffed out his chest with pride.
“Would you look at that, I did make you come in five.”
#leon s kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon smut#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#DI leon#single dad leon
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espresso - kim mingyu
pairings: kim mingyu + reader
trope: friends to lovers
genre ▸ romantic comedy (including smut)
wc: 4.2k
warnings: 'unprotected' sex (shes on the pill tho) , oral [m + f receiving], fingering, choking, lots of praise and pet names, creampie, v. squirting. lmk if I miss any.
[August 2nd, 2023]
mingyu: r u still comin'?
you: mhmm there was traffic near the apartment when you called, I'm like a street away now
mingyu: k I'll have them wait for you then :P n hurry, I miss u
mingyu: r u still comin'?
you: mhmm there was traffic near the apartment when you called, I'm like a street away now
mingyu: k I'll have them wait for you then :P n hurry, I miss u
It's been so long since you last met the friend group that you're nervous to walk in. You've known these guys since highschool through mingyu, but since enrolling into uni, you just haven't found the time to meet up.
Of course, you see mingyu the most frequently, you attend the SNU together after all.
Alas, the nerves were for nothing. When you walk in, you're greeted by ecstatic cheers. Your name is called out as soon as you're spotted by soonyoung.
"Come hereeee, you're all grown up now" his eyes beam as he stares at you walking toward the circle they form in the living room, he seems tipsy already.
"Soonieee i missed you" hugging him as soon as you come into contact. "Yah quit hogging her" chan complains.
"Ignore them both, they're half bottle of soju away from total drunkenness, let's get you comfortable, yeah?" Dokyeom pulls you away from their cling on you. "What do you wanna drink? doesn't have to be alcohol if you're not into that, but we warned we were just discussing a drinking game"
God, you missed this.
"Just water, but drinking game? I'd love to join, but y'know my tolerance is practically non-existent."
"That's okay, you can just watch, but—" Before Dokyeom could elaborate, Mingyu joins you in the kitchen and answers for him.
"Well, y'know we used to play truth/dare or drink, right? DK suggested we play again for old time's sake."
You don't quite notice when minghao walks in, so you're a little startled at first when another voice echos through the room calling your name. "I missed you, its been so long" he goes to pull you into an embrace but Mingyu grabs your wrist to go join the others at the circle. "Missed you- too- hao-" you're cut off by mingyu's fast pace.
So fast that you miss the glare the two exchange, minghao being the only one with a smirk plastered across his face.
DK follows into the living room, holding a tray of shot glasses and alcohol. "So, who's first?"
The guys take turns giving each other ridiculous dares, ranging from posting videos of themselves twerking on their Instagram stories (dk our megan-kneed king) to speaking Korean in an American accent for the rest of the game.
When it's Minghao's turn to ask, he targets mingyu. "I dare you... to call the girl you like and confess exactly how you feel to her" its the first 'serious' one of the night.
In all honesty, it caught you the most off guard. Watching mingyu genuinely hesitate for a second, until he devours his shot in one go. Since when was he seeing someone.
The men go at it for a few more rounds, then switch over to video games when wonwoo finally arrives. He'd been at his internship all day.
This was the most fun you'd had in years, but you can't help but have the mingyu thing linger in your head. You're best friends, why wouldn't he tell you about this..?
Later that night, after everyone else had left or crashed on the couch/ living room floor, you and Mingyu find yourselves sitting on the porch of his room. The cool night air and the soft hum of the city make for a perfect backdrop to your thoughts.
"Why didn't you tell me you liked someone?" you ask, trying to sound casual but feeling a pang of something you can't quite identify.
Mingyu looks at you, his expression unreadable. "It's complicated."
"Complicated how? We're best friends, Mingyu. You can tell me anything," you insist.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Nothing. it's all nothing, don't worry about it".
You're defeated, dropping the topic completely. "Anywho, it's late I should get goin-" A larger, warm hand grasps your wrist once more, causing you to lose your train of thought. The touch was unexpected, but he's still so gentle.
"Don't go." minguys brown orbs bore into yours, looking at you with sincere concern "It's past twelve, you shouldn't be driving alone."
"It's okay gyu, I'll be fine". He uses his grip on your hand to pull you closer.
"Please don't do". His pleas make your breath hitch. You're used to his alcohol-induced clinginess, but the way your heart races right now is far from typical.
The tension between your bodies causes your cheeks to overheat, why did he have to be so pretty.
You grab Mingyu's leftover soju off the ledge and chug it. He watches you in awe.
"Mingyu can I do something stupid?"
"Do anything you want, whether to me or something else, just stay with me"
You're not sure if its the alcohol taking over, but you lift your hand to his cheek, tip toeing to be face to face with him. Lost in thought, you stare into his eyes, which are busy looking at your lips.
"Can i kiss you?" It's like he read your mind. You nod, and without wasting even a second mingyu's lips crash onto yours.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away for air, but he chases your lips as soon as they depart from his.
His hands explore your hips, then waist, until he's grabbed one of your thighs, pulling it up to his frame.
He pulls away, this time you expect him to say that you shouldn't be doing this, but to your surprise...
"Need more. I need you, y/n" The whininess in his tone causes you to reject any worry you previously have about 'ruining the friendship'.
"You have me, Gyu". you manage to say, but you're so breathless it comes out sounding like a moan, it ignites something in Mingyu You'd never seen before.
His eyes grow dark in an instant, kissing you again this time leading you into the room with the hold he had on your hips. Strangely, you're the one who feels intoxicated now, mingyu sobering up by the minute.
"Can i touch you, y/n?" he whispers, breaking the kiss.
"Please do" you whisper back. He feels feral.
Now you're on the bed, back against the mattress with mingyu hovering above you. He takes off his shirt and you're blushing like a teenager all over again.
You've seen Mingyu shirtless a number of times throughout your friendship. You would always have to look away, afraid he'd notice how flustered he made you. All those times were nothing compared to being this up close.
"Do you like what you see princess?" the way he says nickname has your heart and core fluttering. He holds your hand, presses it against his chest and you feel his heartbeat racing.
"I'm nervous too, its alright. we can stop at any point you don't feel like doing more, okay?" No other guy you've got this far with before paid this much attention to your satisfaction, he's unreal.
"Mingyu, i need you"
"You have me pretty girl, just tell me where"
You start by placing his palm against your cheek, then down to your chest torturously slow following the line that divides the left and right of your torso all the way down to your clothed cunt. "Here." you bat your lashes at him, doe eye on full display.
Mingyu wastes no time, he tugs the waistband of your pants all the way off in one swift motion. "Tell me how bad you want it baby"
"Please gyu," you start, but your mind wonders far off anything coherent when you feel his lips graze your supple skin. He bites onto your panties, pulling them down your thighs with his teeth. So slowly, so sensually it almost feels surreal.
Once it's off, all of his attention is on your bare cunt, "dripping for me already and I haven't even touched you yet"
"let's take care of that, yeah?" almost immediately, his face is buried in your heat, licking a long strip from your clit to your needy hole until he's back up, attacking your clit.
"Fuck, you taste so good" he practically moans out against your skin, sending vibrations through you.
Not long after the constant cycle of rubbing your clit and eating you like you were his last meal, he pulls off, spitting directly onto your slit and slides his middle and ring finger into you. His face returns to your cunt, repeating everything he did earlier, this time focusing on stimulating your gspot with his fingers.
“Right there! mmh” you whine out, trying to suppress your moans incase one of the guys outside wake up (which they wouldn’t even if you were to scream, because they’re all blacked out drunk).
“Don’t stop, please! fuck, gyu don’t stop” you feel him smirk against you. Your hands scurry the bed for something to hold onto when the pleasure starts to feel like too much. They finally reach to mingyu scalp tangling his hair causing him to moan out.
Without warning, his hands and lips detach from your pussy, earning pained a whimper from you feeling empty.
“Need to be inside you. Like now. i’ll make it up to you. Promise” he leans in, pulling you into another passionate kiss, hands busy with the him of your shirt “Take this off pretty. Wanna feel all of you.”
“Good girl” he hums once you do, kissing you as a reward. “Put me in”
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated by his size. Not only was he long, but he was blessed in the girth department too.
You reach for him, holding the base of his cock to align it with your entrance. Once you start pushing the tip in, you’re scared you might not be able to handle the rest of him.
“That’s it, keep going you can take it.” he encourages. He glides in easily thanks to his fireplay earlier, but the stretch was alot. “Don’t worry baby i’ll make it fit.”
He gently moves your hand off of his dick where you connected and places his on your hips instead. “It’ll feel good soon, i promise” he whispers.
He slams every inch of himself into you all at once in a sharp motion. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good for me” his strokes are slow, but hard. Not missing your g-spot once. The pain turns to pleasure faster than you thought.
“You look so pretty like this” you’re unable to respond to the compliment, too consumed in how good he makes you feel.
Your nails graze his back, surely leaving marks. It drives him insane. the thought of you claiming him gets him so worked up his pace quickens, his pelvis snapping against yours.
Mingyu busies himself in your neck, leaving bites thatlll most definitely bruise before tomorrow.“Gyu m’gonna cum” you’re seeing stars.
“let it all go for me princess” that’s all it takes for you to release all over his cock.
His pace is constant, fucking you through your orgasm.
“Shit, that was so hot, good job pretty”
Your pussy clenches on him repeatedly, sending him closer to his edge. “Ass up” you obey as soon as he requests. Once you’re flipped over, he puts a pillow under your stomach ensuring your comfort.
“Took me so well just like i said you would”
In no time, he’s back to his previous pace, thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt. “Has anyone else ever made you feel this good?”
“No! fuck, only you gyu!” you can’t see him, but you can already assume (accurately so) that he’s got a smirk plastered across his face.
As he continues, you feel the coil from earlier build up again.
Mingyu holds your hand, pulling it under your body, between your lower tummy and the pillow, pressing it against the bulge that appears when he strokes all the way into you. “Do you feel me here?”
“Yes, god cumming again” he presses down against the bulge harder, adding more stimulation to your second orgasm.
“Good girl. Me too” he groans.
“Fill me up, gyu” he does exactly that.
“Fuck,” he chucked lowly “you can’t just say stuff like that, it makes me wanna ruin you”
“Then ruin me” you muster out through broken moans from the overstimulation.
Your walls are coated white, flodded with his release.
He still hasn’t pull out of you, not wanting to break contact.
“You mean that?” he says as he collapses onto the bed, pulling you into a warm embrace.
“Nah i was just kidding” of course, you’re only teasing. After this, he can do anything he wants to you.
“Uh huh, will you still be saying that when i ask you to sit on my face once you’re no longer sore?” he bites back at you.
“Shh go to sleep” you attempt to change the topic, aware that you’re playing a losing game.
“No sleeping yet pretty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up” and with that, he scoups you up bridal style, walking you to the bathroom and starts the shower for you two.
“My legs are wobbly because of you”
“Weren’t you just begging me to ruin you?”
“Okay whatever let’s get this over with i’m sleepy “ you sulk.
Mingyu spends most of the time in the shower focused on tending to you even though you reassure him you’re okay to do it on your own.
You’re in his clothes, cuddled up into his large arms. He can’t believe this is really happening. The girl he’s been inlove with since he was a teen is really here, right now, beside him like this.
“are you asleep?” he asks softly.
“depends” you respond playfully, making him roll his eyes.
“i’m really glad… this happened” his tone changes to a whisper, much more serious than earlier.
“Me too. i’d be even more glad if it happened another time?”
“Noted” he giggles, which turns into a yawn.
“goodnight, y/n”
“goodnight, gyu”
His arms wrap around you, pulling you in somehow even closer. You both fall asleep in a matter of minutes. your heart feels so full.
[August 3rd, 2023]
You wake up, content in Mingyu's embrace. His eyes are sealed shut, his chest rising and falling softly in rhythm with yours. You turn over completely onto your stomach, lifting your head to face his sleeping one.
He looks so peaceful, the most angelic sight you've witnessed this closely. Your movements are subconscious, without realising your palm cups his face, delicately caressing his cheeks.
"I wish we could stay like this all day," his facade falters, smiling at your words. "you sly little sh-" he cuts you off, flipping you over so that he's on top of you.
"Let's stay like this then" he drops his head to your chest this time, not wanting to split from your warmth.
"But the guys?"
"What time do you think it is baby?" he snickers "They all left, that's why I was already awake"
You look over to the clock on the nightstand. It's 11am already...
"Don't blame me, you're the one who drained the life out of me last night!" crap was it a bad idea to bring up last night already? your statement causes him to blush, but his face is hidden, turned away so you don't see.
"Anywho, i made breakfast for you, let's go to the kitchen" you don't think Kim Mingyu could get any more perfect.
You end up spending all morning at his house, showering together again, brushing your teeth, wearing his clothes, eating and talking casually like you typically do... well, almost... mingyu finds all sorts of reasons to kiss you.
At first it was because he swore you had something on your lips. The next it was he had to blow off an eyelash from ur cheek. None of it was true, however you didn't mind. You relished in how touchy he was.
Later in the day, Mingyu insists you should stay longer, but you had plans to meet with Jiwon (your best friend) that evening. Reluctantly you leave, making a deal, brought about by mingyu's persuading, that you hang out with him one-on-one again that week.
At the mall, Jiwon and you wander every store until you're both exhausted, taking a break at a cafe and catching up on random varied topics.
There's never a lot to discuss since you two are either always together to texting, but you still always manage to find things to talk about. You're not sure how she'd react to the news about mingyu, so you decide to rip the bandage off all at once out of nowhere after hours of contemplation.
"HE? YOU? stop i'm gonna pass out YOU GUYS? Y/N?" her loss for words is legitimately not far off your own inner monologue when you processed it yourself.
"Well... how was it? was he big?" Jiwon whisper squeals.
"To sum it up in one word, it was heavenly. And yes, he's fucking huge"
"Oh my god this is amazing. If I'm being honest I expected this to happen at some point, he's always watching you with google eyes like he's totally smitten with you. And although you deny having feelings for him, its obvious that you're both enamored with each other and are afraid to come to terms with it for 'maintaining the friendship' or whatever." you hate that every syllable she utters is spot on.
"Okay i wont attempt to disprove what you say, but you cant tell me that it isn't totally valid. He's seen me at my best and worst and is overall the best guy friend I have ever had and it'd be weird to break up since we share so many of the same friends"
"what's to happen, will happen y/n. just do what's best for you. I think that that would be allowing whatever has started with mingyu last night to go on."
"Ugh. I agree. Thank you for being my moral compass Jiwon I don't know what I would do without you" On spur of moment, she grabs your hand.
You expect her to say something sweet after holding your hand so endearing, however it appears she has something different in mind.
"Cute, now follow me, lets get you some lingerie to celebrate with your boy toy." she really has no filter.
mingyu: hiiii
mingyu: i MAY have a teensy tiny problem
you: ?
did someting happen?
mingyu: umm... i may have told my mom that i'd introduce her to my "girlfriend" at the end of this summer a few months ago when she wouldn't stop bugging me about setting me up with her friends' daughter
you: and..?
mingyu: well..
you: oh
are you asking me to pretend to date you in front of your family
mingyu: perhaps
you: are you crazy?
you want me to LIE to Mrs. Kim
mingyu: pretty much
you: can't you just tell her the truth
mingyu: you're okay with her setting me up with her friends daughter princess?
you: shut up
fine, I'll do it.
mingyu: that's my girl
He's insane.
You decide to ignore this issue and worry about this at a later date since it's a month away.
[August 7th, 2023]
Mingyu's at your apartment, finally able to hang out together like you decided on the last you met.
You're both on the couch, keeping fair distance whilst you watch 'Crash Landing On You' for the second time with him.
Halfway into the second episode, mingyu slides himself closer to your end of the couch, breaking the invisible barrier between the two of you.
"i miss you" he pouts, seeking your attention.
"i'm right here" you can't help but giggle at how stupidly adorable he looks.
He places a hand on your waist, reeling you closer to him. "I have an idea of something more fun we could do"
"Mhm, and what is that?' you inquire.
"Let me show you" he lifts you like you weigh nothing more than a feather, settling you on his lap allowing you to straddle him.
"Remember what i said about sitting on my face? Can you do that for me pretty girl?" his fingers dance on the elastic of your underwear, waiting for your permission before he goes any further.
"Yes i can, but can i taste you today instead, gyu?" your reply catches his off guard.
"Anything you want baby" the pet name sends shivers down your spine, encouraging you to act upon your urges and pulling him into deep kiss.
You get off of his lap, knees against the hard wooden floor, ridding him of his jeans whilst he tugs his shirt off. He's so fit.
His dick bulges through his calvins, fighting against the fabric. "Look at how hard you make me pretty"
You take his cock out of his boxers, almost salivating at the sight of it. His tip is crimson, begging for relief.
You wrap your hand around his shaft, drawing it closer to your face. You lick a long strip along it, coming back up and stopping at his tip and taking it into your mouth.
Once he's past your lips, he's a groaning mess. "Fuck, you're doing so well, keep going."
You take him in further gagging around him when he's all the way in, stuffing your throat. "Good girl. So good for me, shit"
His hands pull your hair into a loose ponytail, using the light grip to guide you. You bob your head, thrusting him in and out of your mouth at a steady pace.
It doesn't take long for you to find a rhythm, but it's not enough for him. He really just wants to be inside your cunt, so to speed up the process, "Can I fuck your throat baby?" his voice drops a few octaves down, losing himself in pleasure.
You nod in response, and that's all the confirmation he needs to push your head closer to his pelvis. He stands up to angle his dick better, thrusting in and out of your mouth, gradually reaching his climax.
Your eyes are full of tears, mascara running down your face tipping him over the edge. "Can you handle swallowing?" he asks through broken moans making you nod again. He holds you in place, reaching all the way down your throat where he releases his load.
He reaches out to hold your hand, pulling you to your feet, flush against his body into a kiss. "You're unreal".
He sits both of you back onto the couch in your previous position. "Please fuck me" you whimper out, too horny to care about how desperate that must've sounded.
"So bold" he smirks "Well, as my lady wishes"
He works on removing your bottoms while you unbutton the silk pajama shirt you're wearing. When you're finally stripped out of your clothes, he's in awe at the revelation of what you'd been hiding underneath.
"You're gonna be my demise" is the last thing he utters before yanking your panties to the side, lifting you to align your cunt with his cock, and slowly sinking you down on it.
You moan in unison at the feeling of the initial stretch. It feels like he's breaking you in two in the most divine way possible.
"Fuck, y/n nobody else can ever feel you like this."
"I'm yours mingyu, fuck!" you manage to whine out.
He holds your hips to slam you onto his dick. His free hand creeps up to your neck, choking you slightly as he fucks into you. It drives you insane, feeling him all the way inside you near your cervix. At some point, his cock really does kiss your cervix, causing you to sob out from the overwhelming pleasure mixed with that unfamiliar pain.
He doesn't fail to hit the spongy tissue in you even once. He changes position, laying you on your back with his hand still on your throat. Your vision suddenly blurs, a mix of white and stars clouds your mind with your eyes sealing shut.
You're squirting. All over him at that.
"Holyyy fuck," Mingyu groans out. "Y/n, fuck you're gonna make me cum"
"Cum-" Youre interrupted by a wave of your orgasm crashing through your body "-in me"
And so he does. This might have been the hottest thing mingyu has ever experienced.
"You're clenching down on me so hard, fuck. oh fuck-" The overstimulation from his relentless thrusts sends you both over the edge.
"The couch" he says followed by an airy laugh, but you couldn't really care less about the mess right now.
"You have officially ruined me" you whisper with a fucked out smile.
"Good." he smiles back. his eyes linger on where you connect, pulling out of you and admiring the sight of his cum dripping out of you. "Fuck, can I take a picture of this?"
"Sure, just dont show it to anyone" his eyes sparkle at your response.
"It's cute that you think i'd share you" he uses two fingers to plunge into your tight, dripping hole and fucks his cum back into you. "so pretty" he pulls his phone out, snapping a picture of the image he's already embedded into his mind.
"Let's go clean you up"
#kim mingyu#seventeen#mingyu#mingyu smut#svt#kpop smut#kpop#mingyu x reader#seventeen imagines#mingyu imagines
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batter up! | j.wy x gn!reader x j.yh
SMUT!! mdni!!!
—————
they needed their good luck charm, they said.
you're the only reason why they do so well in their games, they think.
you can't even begin to explain how you got so lucky. you're the one who can't think.
jung wooyoung, pitcher for your university, was an enigma. he's not very talkative outside of his four friends and as wild as he looks, he's pretty tame. not once have you seen him at the few parties you get invited to and in your few shared classes, he's not even there sometimes. how did you manage to get him between your legs, even you can't tell.
then there's jeong yunho. he's from the rivaling university and funny enough, from the rivaling baseball team as well as the same position as wooyoung. he's like wooyoung in a way, two sides of the same coin. you met him at the few parties you attended and he was immediately hooked. right now, his cock was down your throat.
"we have a game tomorrow baby, wanna do so good for you- oh fuck!"
yunho throws his head back at as you somehow manage to fit even more of his length down your throat. you're on your back and yunho takes the liberty to play with your nipples, causing you to moan around his cock.
wooyoung's fingers are prodding at your puckered hole as he works his mouth on you. Your thighs are pinned down by his body weight as he puts your body to work. You can feel his saliva dripping down, working as a lubricant for him to be able to insert one finger. he takes his mouth off of you to speak.
"ease up f' me baby~ want you nice and relaxed when you take my cock-"
"i thought you said last game's winner would go first," yunho interrupted followed by a hiss when you fondle with his balls.
"well i don't see you helping baby to take you," wooyoung replies. he's able to insert another finger into your hole, making scissoring motions to open you up more. with his other hand, he touches your heat, building up your orgasm. had you not been distracted, you would have told them to quit arguing.
yunho let's out an annoyed sigh before he strokes your cheek lovingly.
"so good baby~ you take my cock so well. you gonna make me cum?"
you nod your head as best as you could, causing the man above you to chuckle. yunho grabs at your throat before he starts thrusting at his own pace. you make sure to keep your jaw slacked as best as you can. you can feel your spit and drool running down the sides of your face as yunho has his way with you.
at the same time, wooyoung's fingers build up speed and he inserts 3 of them before thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace. his other hand won't let up on your heat either and you feel your own orgasm reaching.
"gonna make you cum so good baby. you want that? want youngie to make you cum?"
you don't have time to answer wooyoung as yunho's thursts a couple more times before he comes down your throat. at the same time, you feel yourself cumming on wooyoung's face.
carefully, yunho pulls his cock out, leaving your throat feeling raw. wooyoung removes his fingers at the same time, admiring your gaping hole.
both men give you some time to breathe before you're being pushed down onto yunho's chest. yunho rubs at your thighs before holding them open, making room for wooyoung to get between them and line his cock up with your hole. you can feel yunho's own cock twitching behind you, getting hard again.
"we're gonna give it to you so good baby, one of us will have to win tomorrow, thanks to you."
#ateez smut#ateez x reader smut#wooyoung smut#yunho smut#jeong yunho smut#jung wooyoung smut#yunho x reader smut#wooyoung x reader smut
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no thoughts just suguru being that toxic ex that leaves you wanting more.
he's warm when he presses you against your mattress at 3am after ghosting you for weeks. he comes knocking at your door when the world goes quiet and the only thing he can hear is the sound of his name coming out of your mouth in breathy moans and whimpers. he worships your body like it's the only thing that's keeping him from tethering further from whatever morality he has left. he kisses you like he's gonna run out of air, looks at you as if each time is gonna be the last.
"you're so fucking good to me, always so good to me." he mumbles against your shoulder, kissing the sweat off your skin as the sight of you arching your back even more to take him deeper makes him lose all of his senses.
"pretty pussy always takes me in like she's made for me." he says, flipping you onto your back. he smirks, watching you roll your eyes when he fills you up in one punishing thrust. "isn't that right, baby? you're made for me, aren't you?"
you think you nod, but then suguru's grabbing your chin, looking at you intensely. "speak up, would you?"
"yes, yes, sugu! only yours. only yours," you cry out as he pinches your nipple.
"good girl," he whispers, giving your nipple a long, filthy lick as he fucks you through the noises in his head.
you wish he'd stay in the morning. when he does, it's all quiet whispers of i love you's that you know doesn't matter when he leaves your bed. you wish the stinging in your chest would stop when he makes you feel like you're the only sanctuary he knows from the path he'd forged himself in.
it doesn't, but you've come to terms that you'll always hurt for him anyway.
"you just don't get it," suguru grits out, eyes bloodshot, looking almost desperate. "i can make it possible, you just have to believe in me."
he's cold in places you can't be in; always just a word away from reaching him. you imagine if you join him, the freezing cold would inject itself into your veins, the chill settling in your bones until there won't be any warmth for you to give.
then what?
he'll leave.
you pull him closer, his body tense and close to breaking in your arms. "i know you want me to," you whisper, almost remorseful. you think of the kids at jujustu high, the sound of satoru's lighthearted laughter when he's with you, all the negative emotions that have built you up and the rest of humanity who had no choice but to be alive, and you slowly push him away. "but i don't want everyone dead, suguru."
it's an endless cycle. the same conversation, a variation of the last until he disappears once more. you think you'd be sick of it by now, filling your time with other aspects of your life. maybe find someone to settle down with as you smile at satoru's approaching figure with your favorite snacks, finding joy and safety in his presence.
but then it's 3am and the rain is pouring like it's never going to end. you hear a knock on the door, and before you know it you're opening your mouth as suguru slides his tongue inside you, pushing himself inside your cunt. he's whispering i love you's as if he really does and you think that you at least get to have this part of him.
you believe him.
#ashe.writing#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#suguru geto#suguru x reader#suguru#suguru x you#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru smut#geto suguru angst#angst#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fanfic#writing#jjk fic#geto x reader#geto x y/n#geto suguru x y/n
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