#Anyway... there's gonna be a bit of a time skip between this and the next one probably | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lascvitae · 2 months ago

Note

just realized you write for itzy too <333 my girls deserve some love...would you be willing to write mommy!yeji with a reader who's a little bit of a crybaby and ends up crying over something silly and yeji finds it absolutely adorable and maybe it turns into soft sex? thank you 🩷

ADORN ✵ HWANG YEJI.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. JUST LET MY LOVE,

JUST LET MY LOVE ADORN YOU .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ when you come home sad, yeji knows exactly how to cheer you up.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. mommy!yeji x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. smut (18+) ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). soft dom!yeji, fingering (r receiving), overstimulation, chest play, praising, pet names (baby, my sweet girl, my good girl, pretty girl), yall fuck in da tub

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1.5k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty yeji with a bob #needthat also i was gonna make yn a slut cause if that was me… ANYWAY hope you like it anon 💕

masterlist.

YOU DON'T EVEN TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES. you just step inside, close the door behind you and stand there.

yeji looks up from the couch the moment she hears it.

“hey. you okay?” she says softly.

you try to answer but the words get caught in your throat.

yeji’s already walking over. “baby?”

you sniff, bottom lip poking out. “they were closed.”

she tilts her head, tone gentle. “who was?”

“…the dumpling place. i got there and the lights were off. sign flipped. closed early, i guess.” you mumble.

her brows lift slightly. “oh, love…”

“i waited all day. skipped lunch for them.” you say, and when you finish your sentence she opens her arms without a word.

you bury your face in her chest instantly. her hands come up to cradle the back of your head.

“i’m sorry, baby. you were looking forward to them all day, huh?” she whispers, holding you close.

you nod, throat tight.

“and you had a whole little plan. come home, eat your favorite food, cuddle up with me…” she says softly.

your breath hitches and you nod again, quieter this time.

“it’s okay to be sad about that. you’re not being silly.” she murmurs.

you clutch her shirt, breathing in deep. her scent calms you. something about it feels like home.

you feel her hands slowly trail down to your hips. “you want me to make something for you? or…” she asks.

you tilt your head up at her and she raises a brow, hands sliding a little lower.

“you.” you whisper.

yeji doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you for a moment, eyes soft and serious like she’s making sure.

then she leans in and kisses your forehead slowly and carefully.

her lips linger on your forehead like a promise, and then she pulls back enough to rest her hand on the side of your face.

“come on. let’s run you a bath.” she says quietly.

then she takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, flicking the light on a low setting. you hear the water start to run before you even begin to process that she’s already crouched down by the tub and checking the temperature with the back of her hand.

once it’s full enough, she pours the bubble bath liquid into the bath and stands to undress you slowly.

“arms up.” she says gently and you obey without a word.

she lifts your shirt up, presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. then your bra next. then her hands slide down to your jeans.

her fingers ghost over your hips before speaking. “still okay?”

“mhm.” you breathe.

she undresses herself next, movements slower now. your eyes trail over the curve of her waist and the subtle lines of her stomach. you swallow, warmth pooling low in your belly.

when she steps into the bath and settles down, she reaches for you instantly. “come here, pretty girl.”

you ease in between her legs, letting her guide you down until your back rests against her chest. your thighs float under the warm water and her arms find your waist instantly, cheek resting against yours.

the bubbles float around you, the scent of lavender thick in the air. the water is hot enough to relax your limbs but not enough to distract from the way yeji feels behind you.

“you okay now, baby?” she whispers, voice quiet against your skin.

you nod slowly while sighing. “yeah… just tired.”

“i know. you had a long day.” she says softly, hands skimming up your stomach,

her hands reach your chest, slipping under the water and you gasp quietly when her thumbs brush over your nipples.

“mommy…” your voice comes out small.

“shh, i’ve got you. let me take care of you.” she murmurs, fingers slow and warm, rubbing soft circles over your chest.

you squirm slightly, heat burning low in your belly. “that feels good…”

“yeah? you want more, baby?” she hums.

you nod. “please."

she shifts just a little, grip firmer now, thumbs dragging over your nipples until they harden and your hips start to rock back into her.

“you’re so sensitive today. is that why you’ve been acting like this?” she coos.

you moan softly while nodding. “just wanted you.”

“you’ve got me, baby.” her hand slips lower, fingers gliding through the water and dipping between your legs.

you inhale sharply, back arching when she slides two fingers through your folds.

“mommy—”

“i know. i know, honey.” she says gently, kissing your cheek.

her thumb finds your clit, stroking it in slow, tight circles. her other arm curls around you again, hand cupping your tit and thumb flicking your nipple in time with every motion below.

you whimper.

“fuck— mommy— feels so good—”

“you sound so pretty like this.” she breathes.

you choke on a moan, head falling back against her shoulder and hands gripping the sides of the tub.

“mommy, please— more—”

“more what, baby? tell me what you need.” she murmurs voice dripping sweetness.

“everything. need everything— your fingers, your voice— you, mommy, please—“ you pant.

“needy girl. you’re doing so good for me. let me give it to you.” she whispers, thrusting two fingers into you.

her fingers move slow at first, curling perfectly inside you while her palm brushes your clit just right every time. your hips roll down against her hand, thighs opening further.

“mommy— fuck— right there—”

“there? you mean when i do this?” she repeats, thrusting a little deeper and a little faster.

you cry out, back arching. “yes— mommy, fuck, don’t stop—”

she squeezes your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple again and your whole body stutters in the water.

“you’re gonna cum, huh? gonna cum for me?” she whispers.

“uh huh, please— please, mommy—“ you breathe frantically.

“then do it. cum for me.” she says, voice warm in your ear.

you cum with a moan that echoes off the tile, your entire body trembling as her hand keeps moving softly. the water rocks around you, bubbles clinging to your skin as your orgasm rushes through your stomach and thighs.

and she doesn’t stop. her fingers don’t move. they just press deeper, slower, her palm tight to your clit.

you whimper.

“mommy— ‘m still sensitive—”

“i know. but i think you can take it, baby. just one more.” she says, kissing your temple.

you cry out again, legs twitching as her fingers start to move inside of you again, deep, slow thrusts that make you squirm helplessly in her lap.

“you wanted me. you said so yourself. so be a good girl and let mommy spoil you.” she reminds you softly.

you cry out again, body jerking forward as she pushes you right to the edge again —your thighs tremble and your breath stutters, as your fingers slip against the rim of the tub. you reach back blindly, gripping her thigh for something to hold on to.

“mommy— please, i— i can’t—”

“you can. you’re doing so good, baby.” she whispers against your neck, hand slowing its movements.

and when your orgasm hits, it feels quieter this time. deeper. your whole body softens in her lap as you cum with a shaky gasp, whimpering her name softly.

“that’s it. there you go, my sweet girl. just like that.” she murmurs, slowing down until her fingers are just resting inside you, not moving anymore

you stay still for a long time, breathing hard, face flushed and skin damp from the steam. there’s sweat and tears you didn’t even realize spilled over again. your body’s heavy, but not in a bad way.

yeji’s hand slips away from between your legs slowly and carefully as she presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another softer one just behind your ear.

“still with me?”

you nod, resting your hand over hers on your chest instead and squeeze.

“my good girl. you’re so perfect.” she whispers.

you let out a small laugh.

“mm. water’s getting cold.” she smiles against your skin teasingly then shifts slightly behind you.

you hum. “don’t make me move.”

“never. just wanna wrap you up somewhere warm.” she promises, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

“like your arms?”

“exactly like that.” she says, already helping you sit up with so much care it makes your chest hurt.

she helps you out of the bath, wrapping you in a fluffy towel like you’re something precious. but to her, you are. her hands stay gentle even as she dries your arms and legs, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you shiver.

“let’s get you to bed.” she murmurs.

you follow, half asleep and still recovering from the high she gave you, letting her guide you under the covers. the sheets are cool, but she’s warm against your back within seconds, pulling you close and kissing the corner of your mouth.

you smile, eyes fluttering closed.

“still sad?” she whispers.

“mm… only about the dumplings.” you murmur, voice laced with sleepiness.

she chuckles into your shoulder. “i’ll wake up early tomorrow. we’ll get them together.”

you reach for her hand under the blankets and link your fingers through hers.

“i love you.”

her voice is barely audible now, low and and so full of love.

“i love you more, baby. sleep.”

and tomorrow?

you’re getting your dumplings.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

#adorn — hyj #itzy #itzy smut #itzy yeji #hwang yeji #yeji x reader #yeji x fem reader #yeji smut #hwang yeji x reader #wlw #wlw post #kpop gxg #gxg smut #requests ﾟ｡꒰ঌ♡໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

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mistymisfit · 1 year ago

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How he shows he loves you

Summary: 3 short blurbs on how Jason shows reader he loves them.

warnings: mentions of reader being kidnapped, but descriptions are very vague lol.

wc: 2k

a/n: This isn't edited at all, but it has been sitting on y drafts for wayyyy too long

Jokes

Disappointment is not the initial reaction he hoped for when he came in through your front door. Shock would've been a more appropriate response, since your music was too loud and you didn't hear him come in. He decided to pull a prank and scare you, silently making his way to the kitchen where you were having a karaoke session. Which given how quiet he could be when he wanted to, it was not that hard at all. Now Jason tries to hold back his laugh, a boyish grin plastered across his features that he wouldn't be able to suppress even if he tried.

"What are you making?" He whispers next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. If he was being honest, he'd say he is concerned about how long it takes you to notice there's someone else in your apartment. But right now, he's too caught up in the bliss of being in your presence that he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, you're early." You say after the scream you let out when he comes up behind you, seemingly out of nowhere to whisper in your ear.

"Why? You're mad?" He replies, hiding his insecurity behind sass. What if you didn't want him there? What if he's overstayed his welcome? But before he can come up with some convoluted reason for why you don't want him anymore, you're stopping him.

"I just wanted to have this done by the time you got here" You signal back at the food with your head. And he looks over, finally realizing you were cooking his favorite meal.

"What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," You blush "Can't a girl just cook for her boyfriend?"

"Not unless she wants me to make her my wife," He teases, you roll your eyes, growing accustomed to these types of jokes. Once he reached a certain level of domesticity and was comfortable enough in the relationship, he started to talk about how he was gonna marry you. Jason would even jokingly refer to you as his wife. At first, he made you blush, now it was just the usual routine.

You would lie if you said it didn't excite you and make your feelings all mushy when he did that, your heart felt warmer when he showed how committed he was to you. You felt giddy whenever he said "When we get married", he never said if we get married, he was very certain about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he'd drop a detail of his dream wedding, "We're having a chocolate cake, like the one in Matilda" or "I'm kissing the fuck out of you on that altar". One time he said: "If you liked that, imagine what our honeymoon would be", that one got him a soft slap on his chest as you chuckled.

"How did you get here anyways?" You change the subject, going back to your cooking.

"Used the front door" He answers with a smirk, arms wrapping around your waist as he steps closer to you.

"Really? How?"

"Cause I'm your boyfriend," He replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he didn't need to say it like that. "I have been for a while, and you gave me your keys"

"Damn, my doorman just lets anyone in these days" You joke and you can hear the little "tsk" that comes from his mouth as he lets go of you.

"I can leave and come back from your window" He's kidding, but you know him well enough to know he's willing to follow through just for the sake of doing a bit. Instead, you hold his arm, pulling him back to you in between giggles.

"Please, I finally have boot imprint-free windowsills"

He laughs, it's real laughter, not his usual chuckle. It makes your heart work overtime as you watch his smile reach his eyes so much that he ends up closing them. He pulls you in for a kiss before he lets you go to finish the dinner you worked so hard on. The food that when he takes a bite from has him asking:"You want a summer or spring wedding?"

Touch

Even if he's less inclined to admit this, Jason knew that before you met he was touch starved. And now he can't get enough of it, he's constantly on your side or with his hands on you in any way, shape or form. It came as a shock--to him-- how badly he needed you sometimes, he never felt this about anyone before. He swears he's not usually this clingy.

You are walking down the street and suddenly you're not holding his hand or bicep and he's grabbing your hand and putting it back. He could never be one of those boyfriends who don't notice when their partner stops holding their hand, if you ever so that he's immediately holding your hand again and asking what's wrong.

Sometimes his touch is protective. You are going through a crowded space and he has his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you and making sure nothing ever happens to you. It turns a little too protective when another guy tries talking to you and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a kiss.

But most of the time, he's all alone with you, lying down on bed or a couch, and he's tracing shapes on your uncovered skin. He leans his head closer when you play with his hair or God forbid you touch his face, it has his knees giving out. He loves feeling your weight on top of him, loves feeling you're real and that you're with him and not going anywhere. Maybe he sneaks a hand under your clothes if he feels daring, and your attention doesn't shift. It amazes him how he's allowed this, how much access you give him. And over everything else, it doesn't have to be sexual. Casual skin to skin contact did not have to mean anything else; it was just that.

With you he's experienced that not every touch has violence behind it, not every contact has an ulterior motive. So he's so gentle with you, maybe he is not good with words, so he makes up for it. You know he shows his affection in action rather than words, he's not that far from worshiping the ground you walk on. He's specially kind when you know you're vulnerable; he presses kisses to your face as much as he can and to your shoulder blades when he can't. You know he's a big softy since you've pretended to be asleep multiple times as he played with your hair. An more than once you've heard him whisper hushed love confessions he never thought you'd hear. His hands are rough with criminals but you'd never be able to tell by how kind he's around you.

Priority

Jason wants you to know you can count on him for anything, he makes a point of it by telling you multiple times. You ran out of milk? He's buying it on his way to your place Your apartment needs fixing and your landlord won't help? Problem's solved within the hour. Maybe you got terrible cramps, he's there to help you however you want him to. So it's no surprise to you or anyone that the second you're in danger he drops everything else. You're his number one priority.

"Where is she?" He pushes Bruce for information, which he was adamant in not telling him. Knowing Jason, he'd end up acting before he thinks it through, he'd show up unprepared and end up causing a disaster. Or at least that is what Bruce thinks about the son who plotted his revenge against him for years to the last minute detail.

"Jason" He mutters under his breath.

"I swear to God if I find out someone touched a hair in her head because you wasted time-"

"You go with me or you don't" He threatens "at all."

And Jason loves you so much, he's willing to agree to work with him in a heartbeat. He puts all his resentment aside when he thinks it will help you, if it meant working with the bat and abiding by his rules, then so be it. He'll track down the poor fucker who took you and kill him later. He didn't like being around him, it made him feel tense due to the incredibly strained relationship between the two of them. Bruce loved Jason, but sadly his way of showing it translated quite the opposite way in the younger one's eyes.

Bruce was being too quiet about what happened to you. All he knew was that he couldn't reach you, you were not at any of the usual places, and your friends had no idea where you were either. He checked your apartment and things were perfectly placed, no one had broken in--other than him. Then when he tracked your phone, which he only promised to do in extreme situations like today, he found it inside your purse thrown in some dirty alleyway. That's when his panic hit its peak and turned back to get his red hood gear and ask the bats if they knew anything about you.

He got to a warehouse, standing next to Bruce he decides to push him a bit more to get anything out of him. His mind was killing him with questions, were you okay? what happened? how did he know? and couldn't bear another second next to the stoic figure not willing to tell him anything.

"It's Mad Hatter, he's been taking people off the streets for-"

"Is she okay?" He cuts off, he has no space in his mind for whatever crazy thing he had planned against Batman or the city. Not when he's not sure you're safe, when Bruce won't even tell him if you're alive.

"She should be" He gives in "I'll take care of him, you handle hostages"

That's all he needs, he braces himself before following after Bruce, watching every step he made as it could make the difference between losing you or saving you. Jason's a bit pissed he's relegated to hostages much like he was during his time as Robin but decides against questioning for now. He steps and breathes as quietly as he can while he makes his way past the sign that reads "Wonderland". He silently signals to Bruce that they should split and cover more ground, to which he agreed with a curt nod. His masks allows him to have a better vision in the dark, so he can see how filthy the place was and how worn down the wonderland decorations were. He doesn't know if the man was there, but knowing Bruce he sent him on a path he wasn't likely to find him alone.

He finally finds some of his hostages, two twins laying unconscious on the floor. He tried waking them up to no success; he saw their chests move up and down as they breathed, so he knew he could worry about that later. Moving further, he sees a couple more people, all dressed up as characters like the twins were, in the same state. He then moves to the tea party, where another two kids dressed as the animals in the book sat with their heads on the table. He picks one of them up and rests them in a more comfortable position on the floor using what he could to make a cushion for their head, then does the same with the other kid. He thinks it's the least he could do if he couldn't wake them up. After a nerve-wracking walk through Lewis Caroll's nightmare he finds you, he feels his soul getting back to his body when his eyes finally land on you.

You lay on a floor that resembles a chessboard wearing a white dress and a crown, a little blonde girl with a light blue dress is cuddled up on your arms. He kneels down next to you, whispering your name and grabbing your shoulder to shake you in an almost desperate attempt to wake you.

"Please, please" He's sure if someone could hear how pathetic he sounded, his reputation would be ruined forever.

"Jay?" You manage to mutter under your breath, still not opening your eyes.

"Yes, I'll get you out of here"

"Hm, hats" you hummed, he doubted you were even aware of anything.

"I know, baby"

"off" Your voice was low and it seemed to him that you were fighting to stay awake and losing.

He took off the crown from your head and the headband from "Alice's". Listening to your advice, even if you were barely conscious. Once he confirmed you were okay, he carried you out. Then he came back for the little girl next to you, and so on until everyone was out and hat free. By that time police had arrived, and Batman was handing Jervis' ass to the cops to begin the cycle once more. He holds back, watching from afar to avoid getting caught. He watched as Batman shared a few words with Gordon, then Barbara tuned in to let him know which hospital they were taking you to.

When you wake up he is next to you, holding your hand and with the biggest eye-bags you've ever seen him with. He almost starts crying when you call his name in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm okay,"You whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The scene is too touching as you see someone put a hand on his shoulder and tell him something.

"I'll go tell the doctors you woke up" He excused himself, reluctant even to let go of your hand, much less entertained by the idea of being separated from you too long.

You didn't see him as Jason's frame covered the man behind him but now you notice the one and only Bruce Wayne standing in your hospital room. It was too much to take in.

"Oh, Jason must really love me if he was willing to work with you"

#im so bad at titles 😭😭😭😭😭#btw if you see any mistake no you don't #ill edit tomorrow if i feel like it #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #red hood x reader #w: jason #jason todd fluff

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spideyhexx · 2 years ago

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wanna sit between sejanus' legs while sej teaches coryo how to finger someone😵‍💫

anon I want you to know, I saw this last night before I went to bed and the scream I internally let out was insane 🫶 and I have not been able to stop thinking about it🫶and as you will see I did not hesitate with this!

Maybe you've experimented with small makeout sessions between you and Coryo while Sej watches and then the boys would switch, but that's as far as it's gone.

And Coryo let's it slip he has no idea how to pleasure a woman, so Sej decides the next night you're all together, he'll help him out.

Coryo sits near the end of the bed as you sit between Sej's legs, completely naked with your back to his chest. All of your faces are flushed and Sej knows he's gonna have to take the lead here.

"Now with my girl here, a few kisses would be a good start, but I think she's already worked up so we'll skip that," he says, his breath hitting your ear and you're blushing even more. You can't even look Coryo in the eyes, you feel so exposed and you love it.

Sej gently caresses your thigh, urging them to open more. "Be slow, not too fast, gotta build up the anticipation, right honey?" Sej presses a kiss behind your ear as his fingers trail like a ghost touch up and down your thigh. He'd continue this slow tease as Coryo watches in silence. Sej's fingers move closer to your heat, finding your clit.

You let out a gasp and you feel Sejanus smile against you. "She needs this spot rubbed, slow at first but then you can move a little faster, she'll be squirming in no time." You take the chance to look at Coryo and he looks entranced. He's looking directly at Sejanus' fingers, expertly toying with your clit as you feel your hips stir.

"Can hold her hips or thighs down if you want her still." Sej does what he says, using his free hand to hold you as still as possible and that's when you let out a moan.

Coriolanus locks eyes with you then, his mouth parting a little and his hand resting a little too closely to his crotch. "Then, after playing with her like this for a bit, you can..." Sej trails off, dipping his fingers down to rub them through your folds, gathering your wetness on them. You lean your back against Sej's shoulder but he tsks. "look at Coryo, sweetheart." You do as he says.

"She's obedient," is the first thing Coriolanus says and Sej chuckles.

"Sometimes."

You smile at that and Sej teases his finger at your entrance. "start with one finger, then give her two. She likes small thrusts and when you curl them just a tad and don't forget about her clit." Coryo nods, and Sejanus pushes his finger into you, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit.

He does this slow and purposeful for a bit before adding in a second finger. Your hips buck against his hand despite his hold and Coryo moves forward to hold you down, his warm touch surprising but very welcomed. He smirks at you before watching Sejanus pleasure you once more.

After a couple more moments, Sej removes his touch completely from you, making you whine. "Do you want to try now?" He directs to Coryo and the man nods.

They switch positions, Coryo letting out a ragged breath as you press back against him. You choose not to say anything about how hard he is, even though you all knew.

Then, you learn that Coryo is a rather quick learner. He repeats everything Sejanus told him and it's even easier since you're worked up from Sej's touch.

The moment Coryo's fingers curl against the right spot, you're moaning loudly, gripping onto his thigh and Sej holds you down so Coryo could use his free hand to rub at your clit, his speed quickening the more you moan.

Sej would let out little praises under his breath, for you or for Coryo?

You're not sure.

You hear Coryo swallow and let out a breath before he whispers, "c-can I make you cum?" It's an odd, but endearing question, because wasn't that the end point for this anyways? But regardless, you nod. "I'm close, you're doing so good Coryo."

You reach a hand up to tangle in his hair, tugging on the locks as he groans, his own hips pushing harder against your backside. He curls his fingers one more time before you're coming undone on them. Coryo lets you relax against him as you come down from the orgasm, his cock throbbing as he replays the whole thing in his head.

Sejanus looks proud and pats Coryo on the back. "We're gonna teach you so much."

let's chat about coryo, sejanus, or both, here :)

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feralrabidcrow · 10 months ago

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I remade the silly TF2 base that lives inside my head in The Sims 4 for the 3rd time

And this time I'm actually happy with it!

Behold, the base that I use for a reference for when I write fanfiction! Photo spam incoming under the cut as well as me yapping.......

Some basic exterior shots, in short this is the main home base that the mercenaries all live in when they aren't currently deployed at a battlefield, ex. 2Fort or Badwater. Those battlefields all have much smaller bases attached or nearby for the mercenaries to temporarily reside in while they're in between trying to kill BLU.

This is the floorplan of the basement, with its primary features being the medbay, the workshop, the laundry room, and two sleeping quarters, which belong to Medic and Heavy.

The hallway outside of the medbay has a waiting area set up. There is an elevator that travels between the medbay and the garage for convenience.

It's worth noting that I am working here within the confines of The Sims 4, and can only do so much to achieve my actual visions of this base. Where the skeleton is, would be a scale of the type you would usually see in a doctor's office (Medic prefers to keep his skeletons in the closet, you see.) And the weird set-up of counters in the middle of the room would be a proper operating table, with his Medigun attached to the ceiling above it, among other strange contraptions.

The medbay has this little side room, that Medic mainly uses for storage. Though it works well as a quarantine room, if the need arises.

Closet Skeleton™!!!

Here we have Engie's workshop, which looks as you would probably expect.

Here we have some utility areas in the basement, consisting of the laundry room, a basement-y maintenance furnace type room, and a washroom.

I would rather keep all the mercenaries' bedrooms together, so I'm gonna skip Heavy and Medic's sleeping quarters for now and head up to the next floor!

This is the main floor of the base, where most of the action happens. It features the garage, meeting room, training gym, showers, a large washroom with multiple toilet stalls, a kitchen and dining area, a small living room, and four sleeping quarters, belonging to Demoman, Soldier, Engineer, and Pyro.

The garage is a bit of a mess, and its most noteworthy feature is the armory, where the mercenaries keep most of their gear during time off. Though clearly not all of them care about the danger of tripping hazards.

There's not much to say about the gym and meeting room, at least in this physical version. Once again, I am held back by the game I built this in. In reality, the meeting room would have a large round table, more centered in the room, and the gym would just generally have more going on for it, but I tried my best to capture what purpose they served.

You'll really have to use your imagination on this one and believe those weird pipes are showers, because I don't own any packs with standalone showers. Anyways, these are the communal showers, where you get to experience the joy of pretending you're in prison and staring at your coworker's butts!

I have a feeling Tumblr won't let me share all the bedrooms in this already ridiculously long post, so I'll probably have to attach them in a reblog. If Tumblr doesn't let me do even that, I guess I'll die? I sure hope it does! I do not know how Tumblr works.

But here's a little peek at some of the sleeping quarters......as well as the floorplan for the top floor even though it's basically all personal quarters. Sniper's, Spy's, and Scout's, to be exact.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 fanart #tf2 fanfiction #scout tf2 #soldier tf2 #pyro tf2 #demoman tf2 #heavy tf2 #engineer tf2 #medic tf2 #sniper tf2 #spy tf2

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casssmalefantasy · 2 months ago

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beyond the baseline: the series - paige bueckers x oc

iv. someone else's hoodie-ari's seeing jaylen. paige notices. jealousy brews.

s: ari starts seeing a uconn men's basketball player casually. nothing serious-but paige notices, and doesn't love it. the jealousy is subtle, but there.

w: language, flirtation, jealousy, suggestive dialogue, casual situationship

word count: 6.4K?

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part four: "someone else's hoodie"

three weeks earlier.

ari sat curled up at the end of the lounge couch in the athletic center, legs tucked beneath her and one sock slipping halfway off her heel. the glow from the overhead light hit the glossy pages of her psych textbook just right, making it even harder to concentrate. dense paragraphs blurred together no matter how many times she reread the same sentence. her highlighter gave one final, pitiful scratch before dying. her water bottle was empty. her stomach gave a quiet growl in protest.

she sighed through her nose and leaned her head back against the couch cushion, eyes fluttering shut for just a second—

“here.”

a voice dropped beside her, smooth and familiar, and a cold sandwich pressed lightly against her arm.

ari blinked, straightening up just enough to clock paige lowering herself into the seat next to her like she belonged there. smoothie in one hand. sandwich in the other. casual, effortless. annoying.

“what?” ari looked from the sandwich to paige’s face. “why are you—”

“because you looked like you were two seconds from passing out,” paige said, deadpan, like she was stating a fact. “also. you skipped dinner again.”

“i didn’t skip it,” ari said, though her voice pitched higher, guilty. “i just… delayed it.”

“uh-huh.” paige gave her a knowing look, leaning back into the couch like she had all night to call her bluff. “so that wasn’t your stomach just now making a cry for help?”

ari let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as she took the sandwich anyway. “you’re such a drama queen.”

“and you’re welcome,” paige said, popping the straw into her smoothie like she hadn’t just handed ari an unsolicited meal. “you know, a simple thank you works too.”

“mm.” ari bit into the sandwich, still eyeing her suspiciously. “you always come bearing food for the starving, or am i just the lucky one?”

“depends.” paige smirked. “are you gonna stop skipping meals, or do i have to keep rescuing you every night?”

ari snorted, chewing. “you have a hero complex. it’s weird.”

“you have a bad habit of pretending you’re fine when you’re obviously not.”

that made ari pause for just a second, chewing slower as she looked down at the sandwich in her hands.

paige didn’t say it with any edge. it was casual. soft, even. but it still landed a little too close to the truth.

they fell into a quiet moment, not awkward, but stretched—like something was hanging between them they hadn’t quite touched yet.

paige shifted slightly, leaning in to peek at the open textbook on ari’s lap, shoulder brushing hers just enough to feel deliberate.

“what’re you studying?”

ari glanced at the page, squinting. “brain stuff.”

paige laughed under her breath. “damn. sexy.”

ari rolled her eyes. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re the one reading about psychological effects on people for fun. i’m just appreciating the effort.”

their knees touched. ari didn’t move. neither did paige.

“highlighter’s dead,” ari said after a beat, holding it up like evidence.

paige reached into her backpack without looking, fishing around until she pulled out a pink one and handed it over. “here.”

ari looked at it, then back at her. “do you just carry around backup highlighters like some kind of school supply dealer?”

“don’t question the system,” paige said smoothly. “just accept the gift and thank your local princess of organization.”

ari raised an eyebrow. “princess?”

“i’m being humble.”

a short laugh escaped her, the kind that bubbled up before she could stop it. she took the highlighter.

“you’re weird,” she said, a little softer this time.

“and you’re welcome. again.”

ari leaned back into the couch, watching paige sip her smoothie like she hadn’t just walked in and cracked open her whole night with ease. her fingers brushed the edge of the pink highlighter.

“what flavor is that?” she asked, nodding toward the cup.

paige grinned. “guess.”

“strawberry banana.”

“nope.”

“mango?”

“closer.”

“pineapple?”

“passionfruit.”

ari blinked. “that’s… bougie.”

“and delicious,” paige said, lifting the cup again in a mock toast. “wanna try it?”

she offered it without hesitation.

ari hesitated anyway. not because she didn’t want to—but because the space between them was already charged, and this felt like… something. a beat too intimate.

but then she took it.

“thanks,” she murmured, sipping from the straw paige had already used.

paige watched her mouth the whole time.

──────────────────────

paige slid into the seat across from ari in the athlete dining hall, dropping her tray like she’d been there the whole time.

without saying a word, she tossed a water bottle across the table.

ari caught it with one hand, startled.

“what’s this for?”

“rehydrate,” paige said, picking up her fork. “you looked like a dying plant walking in here. little shriveled.”

ari raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“thanks for the concern. you always lead with insults or is that just for me?”

“just you,” paige said, easily. “i save the good material for the people i like.”

ari opened the bottle, still watching her. “and this is you being nice?”

“yup. generous, even.” paige chewed slowly, then added, “also, you forgot your knee wrap.”

ari expression shifted slightly—not defensive, but surprised. “okay, that’s weirdly specific.”

“you always have it when you leave the weight room,” paige said, eyes flicking to her leg like it proved the point. “i’ve seen you mess with it a bunch walking out. today? nothing. figured you rushed.”

ari stared at her for a beat, caught off guard by the way she noticed. not just noticed—paid attention. little things. patterns. things no one usually caught unless they were looking.

“you’re observant,” she said, more thoughtful than teasing this time. paige shrugged, like it wasn’t anything.

“just got a good memory.”

“mm. for me, apparently.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” paige said, but her eyes stayed locked on ari’s a second too long. “it’s just hard not to notice someone who always walks like they’ve got somewhere to be.”

ari looked down, suddenly aware of how warm her skin felt under the table. the water bottle in her hand felt colder than before.

“…thanks. for the drink.”

paige tilted her head.

“anytime, ma.”

the word hit like a soft, unexpected thud in ari’s chest. she didn’t show it—not really—but something flickered behind her eyes, just for a second. like her body caught it before her brain could.

she looked back up, forcing a slow exhale.

“you know you’re a lot, right?”

“yeah,” paige said, unbothered. “but i’m useful.”

ari let a laugh slip, shaking her head as she finally took a sip of the water. her voice was quieter, but not any less sincere.

“annoyingly useful.”

“i’ll take it.”

──────────────────────

present day | september.

“but like…be for real this time,” nia said, sprawled across her bed. she shoved another handful of lays in her mouth, “how fine is he? like on a scale from ‘he cute’ to ‘i’d let him ruin my life.’”

ari, across the room, pulled a navy uconn hoodie over her head—oversized, definitely not hers, the scent a dead giveaway. she rolled the sleeves once, then again, trying to play it casual. “you’ve literally seen him,” she said, grabbing a hair tie off the desk. “tall, tattoos, and jawline sharp enough to file your nails on. he’s not ugly.”

“he’s hot,” nia confirmed, crunching dramatically. “but he also looks like the type to ask for your snap before your name.”

“probably,” ari admitted, tying her hair up into a loose puff. “but he’s kinda funny. and he knows he looks good, which…whatever. it works for him.”

“ugh,” nia groaned, sitting up. “so he’s cocky and tall? girl, be serious. he’s a menace.”

“he’s not a menace,” ari said quickly, maybe too quickly. she slid onto the edge of her bed, reaching for her sneakers. “he’s just—he’s confident. and smooth. it’s harmless.”

“right,” nia said slowly, eyeing her. “and you’re just, what? entertaining him for fun?”

“yep.” ari popped the ‘p’ and started lacing her shoes. “it’s chill. fun. nothing serious.”

nia tilted her head. “you always wear ‘nothing serious’s’ hoodie?”

ari looked down at the sleeves she’d rolled, the faded UCONN logo stretched across her chest. her mouth twitched. “i didn’t even realize it was his, to be honest.”

“mhm. you accidentally put it on, after accidentally spending the night, and accidentally taking it with you?”

“okay,” ari laughed, half-defensive, half-exasperated. “maybe it’s a little more than fun. but it’s not like… that.”

“what’s ‘that’ supposed to mean?” nia asked, curious now. “you like him?”

ari paused, the knot in her laces suddenly too tight. “…i like hanging out with him.”

nia narrowed her eyes. “but?”

“but nothing.”

“girl.”

ari sighed, flopping back against her bedframe, fingers fiddling with her drawstrings. “look, he’s cool. and it’s easy. no pressure, no drama, no expectations. and i don’t have to—i dunno. explain myself.”

nia watched her. “you mean you don’t have to explain why it’s not her?”

ari’s eyes flicked up, sharp and then guarded. “…who’s ‘her’?”

nia just raised her brows. didn’t answer.

ari pulled her hoodie down like it could hide the heat rising in her cheeks. “…i told you. it’s casual.”

“mhm,” nia said again, not pushing but not letting it go either. “well, just don’t fall for him. or do. whatever. but if he breaks your heart, i’m fighting him in front of gampel. cameras rolling. first row witness seats for ice.”

ari winced slightly at the mention of ice. then smiled, soft and distant. “…you’d win.”

“obviously,” nia said. “i fight dirty.”

ari laughed, but the sound was quieter this time. like it wasn’t all the way true.

──────────────────────

when ari met jaylen.

the late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden haze over the soccer field, where folding tables, team banners, and scattered water balloons set the stage for chaos disguised as a charity event. uconn athletes from the volleyball, men’s basketball, women’s soccer, and men’s football here. all teams spread out across stations—laughing, yelling, attempting to organize kids who were having a fun time.

ari stood near a table of water cups and juice boxes, arms crossed loosely over her chest, observing the mess like she’d been tricked into babysitting a neighborhood block party. she won’t admit it, but she kinda enjoyed it.

“you look thrilled to be here,” a voice drawled beside her.

she turned to find a tall guy in a uconn men’s basketball hoodie and too much confidence in his grin. his curls were tied back with a band, sleeves pushed up over his forearms showing some tattoos with pretty brown eyes. the name on his volunteer badge read jaylen #9 like the number was part of his legal identity.

“oh, i’m having a blast,” ari deadpanned. “can’t you tell by the way i’m not sweating and not chasing toddlers with water balloons?”

“so you’re the strategic type. cool, cool,” jaylen said, tilting his head. “i can work with that.”

ari narrowed her eyes. “work with what?”

“we’re paired up,” he said, flashing a laminated schedule from his back pocket. “station six. three-legged race with the ten-and-under crew. we’re in this together now, partner.”

ari blinked. “seriously?”

“unless you wanna abandon the children,” he said, mock-offended. “but i wouldn’t peg you as a quitter or a person to hate kids.”

“you don’t even know me.”

“i know you’re wearing volleyball gear and you look like you don’t take shit from anyone. and also…” he leaned in slightly, grinning, “i know you’ve already thought about making fun of me at least twice. probably three times.”

ari cracked a reluctant smile. “four, actually.”

“damn. ruthless.”

“you’ll survive.”

they walked toward the race station, side by side, and she could feel him watching her from the corner of his eye like he was trying to piece her together already.

“you always this confident?” she asked, tying their legs together with the oversized velcro strap a little too tightly.

“only when it works,” he said. “does it?”

she gave him a flat look. “you’re so annoying.”

“see? it’s working.”

she rolled her eyes, but her laugh escaped anyway. it caught her off guard—how easy it was to talk to him, how loud he was, how quickly he made space for himself. bold. smooth. self-assured.

it hit her, for just a flicker of a second, how different it felt when paige said bold things. when she leaned in too close and let her voice drop just a little. that kind of confidence always made something warm spike in ari’s chest, sharp and unspoken. jaylen’s version was louder, flashier, easier to see coming, but it didn’t land the same.

she shook the thought off.

“okay, hotshot,” ari said, crouching slightly, “try not to trip and kill us both. we’ve got four races to win.”

“you’re competitive. i like that.”

“you don’t know that yet.”

“no, but i plan on finding out.”

their legwork was sloppy at first, mostly jaylen overcompensating with his height and ari yanking him back into rhythm. they bickered the whole time—ari throwing dry comments about his long strides, jaylen countering with mock praise about her ‘elite’ footwork.

by the time the station ended, they’d somehow won every round. neither of them let go of the strap right away.

later, they ended up at the drinks table again, this time side by side on the cooler lid, trading stories about high school coaches. jaylen was quick with jokes, charming in a practiced way. ari responded with sarcasm and subtle grins, sipping a soda like she hadn’t realized how long they’d been talking.

jaylen nudged her shoulder lightly. “see? told you i was a good partner.”

ari glanced at him, then down at the wristband still on her arm. “hmm. jury’s still out.”

he laughed. “okay. what’s it gonna take to win the verdict?”

“ask me again when we’re not surrounded by middle schoolers,” she said, standing.

he stood too, easygoing and unbothered. “bet. i’ll hold you to that.”

ari walked away before he could say anything else, trying to ignore the weird flutter in her chest that didn’t seem connected to jaylen at all.

──────────────────────

present day

ari caught sight of paige across the dining hall—sitting at the far end of a round table with azzi and nika, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves half-pushed to her elbows, laughing at something nika had just said.

jaylen slid up behind her a second later. his hoodie was slung over ari’s shoulders and his hand brushed lightly at her hip as he leaned in to murmur something in her ear. whatever he said made her laugh under her breath, eyes darting down and then back up like she didn’t want to react too much, but couldn’t help it.

paige’s gaze lifted mid-sip from her soda. it landed on the hoodie first, hanging too comfortably on ari’s frame, then tracked slowly upward—to her neck, her mouth, her face.

ari met her eyes. just for a second. enough time to register the look before it vanished.

paige looked away like she hadn’t seen anything at all, but her jaw flexed.

azzi caught it immediately.

“you’re sulking,” she said around a forkful of rice, nudging paige’s elbow with hers.

“i’m literally eating,” paige muttered.

“you’re eating with the sulky face,” azzi clarified, voice light but knowing. “it’s giving ‘i’m about to punch something or someone’ vibes.”

paige huffed a short breath of laughter—dry, humorless. “don’t be annoying.”

niki grinned without looking up from her phone. “she’s not wrong.”

“i’m not sulking,” paige repeated, but the edge in her voice said otherwise.

azzi followed her line of sight. she didn’t say anything for a moment. “that’s jaylen, right?”

paige didn’t answer, but that said enough.

“she’s into him?” azzi asked, more gentle now. less teasing.

paige shrugged, eyes still on her plate like she was trying to burn a hole through the rice. “i guess.” azzi waited. paige stabbed a piece of grilled chicken with her fork like it had personally offended her.

“you okay?”

there was a pause long enough to feel heavy between them. “i don’t get jealous,” paige said finally, voice clipped.

azzi tilted her head, watching her. “sure,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “you’re just glaring at the hoodie for fun.”

paige let her head fall back, exhaling through her nose. “i just… liked talking to her.”

“mhm,” azzi said, bumping her knee under the table. “you sure that’s all it is?”

paige didn’t answer.

but she didn’t look up again either.

──────────────────────

“you tryna let me walk you to class,” jaylen said, casually leaning against one of the dining hall pillars like it owed him something, arms crossed and smirk tugging at his mouth, “or you about to disappear again like a ghost?”

ari looked up from her phone, water bottle tucked in the crook of her arm, a lazy smile creeping onto her face. “hmm. depends. if i let you walk me, do i have to endure ten uninterrupted minutes of your nonstop flirting?”

jaylen grinned, pushing off the pillar to fall in step beside her. “you say that like it’s some kind of burden.”

“it is a burden. a heavy one,” she said, side-eyeing him as they made their way toward the main exit.

he laughed, loud and unbothered. “damn. you wound me, james. and here i thought we were building something special.”

“what, like trauma?” she teased.

“see, this is exactly why i mess with you. got a mouth on you,” he said, shoulder brushing hers as they passed through the doors. “but it’s cute. i like that.”

ari didn’t answer right away. the afternoon sun hit her skin just right—golden, warm—and she tucked her hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. not paige’s sweatshirt, she noted silently. the thought showed up uninvited.

they moved past the gym, their strides syncing without effort. jaylen talked easily—light questions about her team, how often they practiced, how she handled early lifts. he didn’t pretend to know volleyball, didn’t act like he needed to impress her with recycled sports lingo. that, she appreciated.

“so what’s your type?” he asked, glancing at her as they crossed onto the path that curved toward the psych building.

ari raised an eyebrow. “damn. going straight for the scouting report, huh?”

“i’m efficient,” he said, grinning. “bold questions get bold answers.”

she tilted her head, considering. “i don’t really have a type. i like people who make me laugh. people who are… easy to be around. not in a fake way, just… chill. comfortable.”

jaylen pressed a hand to his chest like she’d just confessed her undying love. “say less. that’s literally me.”

ari laughed under her breath, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. she caught herself thinking about how paige made her laugh—not on purpose, not always, but in that dry, under-the-breath kind of way that snuck up on her. how being around her didn’t feel like trying.

she blinked it away.

“you’re tolerable,” she said, voice dry as ever.

“see,” jaylen said, nudging her arm. “this is what i mean. you say that like you’re not flirting.”

“i’m not flirting.”

“sure, pretty,” he said, drawling the word out just enough to make her skin warm.

ari bit the inside of her cheek, eyes flicking toward the sidewalk ahead. her chest gave a quiet, unwanted tug. she never reacts like that when he flirts. not the way she did when paige said ma like it belonged to her.

“always so cocky.” she said instead, shifting the mood back into something light, something easy.

“only around people who pretend they’re not into me.”

she didn’t answer that one.

jaylen’s voice faded a little as they neared the psych building, saying something about her jumper needing work if they ever played one-on-one. ari gave him a hum of acknowledgment, tossed him a sideways glance, but her focus had already started to drift—just a little.

she liked him. she did.

he was easy to be around, smooth without trying too hard, charming in a way that most people would fall for without thinking twice. and sometimes, when he smiled at her like that—broad and confident like he already knew she’d smile back—she did feel something. a flicker. a low hum in her chest. something that was almost enough.

almost.

but not quite.

because every time he made her laugh, every time he said something cocky and grinned at her like he was waiting for her reaction, her brain betrayed her. her mind would flash—brief, sharp—to a different laugh. to dry humor, midwestern sarcasm, and blue eyes that always seemed to be watching her even when paige pretended not to be.

god, those eyes.

the way paige smiled when she was trying not to. the way she gave her food without thinking about it twice, like she already knew ari needed it. the way she said ma like it was a secret between them, like it meant something.

ari shook her head slightly, pushing the thought away before it could settle too deep.

you’re supposed to like jaylen, she reminded herself. he was exactly the kind of guy people expected her to fall for—athletic, good-looking, outgoing. he said all the right things, played the game well, gave her space to banter but never pushed too far. he didn’t make her feel off-balance. he didn’t make her question what any of this meant.

and still… he didn’t make her wonder. not the way paige did. not in that frustrating, heart-racing, skin-warming way that made her feel like she was always on the edge of something unspoken.

and maybe that was the problem.

maybe it was easier like this—safe. predictable. something she could keep in the shallow end. because whatever it was with paige, it had weight. it had sharp corners. and there were too many reasons not to go near it.

like the fact that paige was paige—uconn’s celebrity with a messy hookup history and a habit of not sticking around. and more than that… she was ice’s teammate.

and ice was her best friend. her sister in every way that mattered.

ari couldn’t risk that.

couldn’t be the reason shit got weird. couldn’t give ice a reason not to trust her.

so maybe this was for the best.

laughing at jaylen’s jokes, wearing his hoodie like it meant something, letting herself exist in that easy space where no one got hurt and everything stayed surface-level.

she didn’t owe anyone answers. not yet.

but still… as she walked up the steps to class, she didn’t remember anything jaylen had just said.

she just kept thinking about a pair of blue eyes that made her forget how to breathe. and the quiet, terrible fact that she was already in too deep to pretend she wasn’t.

──────────────────────

paige laid on her stomach in her dorm bed, laptop open in front of her, history quiz half-finished, and sza playing low from her speaker.

she stared at the screen. read the same sentence three times.

Which event is considered the turning point of the American Revolution?

she exhaled through her nose, jaw tight, and hit the pause on apple music.

her room was too quiet now. or maybe her head was just too loud.

jaylen’s name had popped up in a groupchat earlier—someone cracking a joke about him and ari leaving the dining hall together—and paige hadn’t even meant to react. just kept scrolling. just kept acting like it didn’t land in her chest the way it did.

but it did.

and now she was here, stuck in this in-between place she hated—pretending she wasn’t bothered, pretending she didn’t notice the way ari had looked at him lately. or how his hoodie had been slung around her shoulders like it belonged there.

it shouldn’t matter. it wasn’t like she and ari were… anything. not really. not officially. they joked. they talked. they sat close enough that their knees brushed and neither of them moved.

it was nothing.

except… it hadn’t felt like nothing.

not when ari laughed a little softer around her. not when she stole paige’s smoothie and sipped from the straw like it was nothing. not when she called her ma in that low, teasing tone like she knew exactly what she was doing.

and not when paige started noticing things—like how ari always tied her shoes in double knots, or how she tapped her pen when she was overthinking, or how she got quiet after practice on days she felt like she hadn’t played her best.

there was something there. wasn’t there?

paige closed her laptop, flipped onto her back, and stared at the ceiling like it had answers she didn’t.

she hated this feeling. the twist in her stomach. the quiet pull in her chest. the part of her that cared more than she should.

she’d never been the jealous type. she didn’t do the whole what if thing.

but this—whatever this was—felt different. ari felt different.

and maybe that was the problem.

because caring meant risk. and paige didn’t do risk. not with her heart. not after everything.

but still… here she was.

trying not to picture jaylen’s arm around ari. trying not to remember the way ari smiled when it was her sitting next to her, not him.

trying not to want something she couldn’t name.

trying not to care.

and failing, quietly.

──────────────────────

volleyball practice that afternoon was brutal— endless sprints, scrimmages, and extra reps because coach marie was clearly in a mood. whenever she said “getting complacent,” everyone knew it really meant, “i’m annoyed and you’re gonna pay for it.” ari’s lungs burned, sweat dripped down her back, and her muscles were screaming, but her focus kept flickering to jordan.

jordan was… different today. quieter than usual, her normally sharp passes were on point but carried a strange tension, and her serves were even more precise—almost like she was trying to prove something. when the drill shifted and they paired up again, jordan barely glanced her way, eyes darting anywhere but on ari.

“you good?” ari finally asked, wiping the sweat off her brow, trying to keep it casual but careful not to sound like she was prying.

“yeah,” jordan answered too fast, almost clipped. her voice didn’t quite match the easy ‘i’m fine’ vibe she was aiming for.

ari raised an eyebrow. “you sure? you seem… off.”

jordan’s gaze flicked up, locking briefly with ari’s eyes before she quickly looked away. “just tired. a long day.”

ari didn’t press further, but the way jordan’s jaw tightened told her there was more under the surface.

before ari could say anything else, lexi bounced over, slipping on her sweatshirt with a grin. “welcome to the team officially, ari. now we gotta haze you — it’s tradition.”

“oh, absolutely not,” nia said, crossing her arms, eyes sparkling with mischief.

a few girls erupted into laughter, but ari noticed jordan stayed quiet—no smile, no tease, just a tight-lipped expression that looked almost like she was holding back something.

ari smiled softly, genuine this time, because even through all the sweat and exhaustion, there was something about jordan’s weird, quiet energy today that made her want to know more.

and maybe jordan wasn’t just acting weird for no reason.

──────────────────────

that night, one of the athlete apartments was packed—the kind of gathering that didn’t really need a reason. someone’s birthday, someone’s milestone, someone’s idea to celebrate a midweek win with loud music and too many bodies crammed into too small a space.

ari walked in late, shoulder brushing the doorframe, sweatpants low on her hips and jaylen’s hoodie still hanging off her frame. her curls were out tonight, hoops in, eyes sharp. the apartment was humid with heat and laughter, bass rattling underfoot as people leaned into each other in kitchen corners and across couch cushions.

she scanned the room until she saw ice, who waved her over from the far end of the living room—half-sitting on the arm of the couch between azzi and aaliyah, paige perched beside them, a red cup in hand, her blond hair tucked behind one ear.

“look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” ice said, reaching to dab her up. “you smell like men’s cologne.”

ari rolled her eyes and laughed, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. “please don’t start. it’s too loud for your judgment.”

at the sound of her voice, paige’s gaze flicked upward. sharp at first. then slower, deliberate. her eyes traced the hoodie, hung loose off ari’s frame, the familiar swoop of jaylen’s name embroidered near the wrist. her jaw tensed for half a second.

“new look?” paige asked, tone airy, casual. too casual.

ari shrugged, standing a little taller. “borrowed it.”

“mm,” paige hummed, sipping. “it’s big. real cozy.”

“that’s kinda the point,” ari said. her voice was light too, but there was an edge to it. the hoodie was suddenly warmer than it needed to be.

paige tilted her cup. “guess i’ll have to step my hoodie game up.”

ari tilted her head right back, smiling without smiling. “don’t worry, you’ve already got the icy glare down.”

aaliyah cracked up immediately. azzi followed, amused and watching them like a hawk. ice muttered something under her breath.

“you two need a timeout.”

“i’m fine,” paige said, still smiling, but the smile didn’t quite land in her eyes.

ari glanced at her, took in the set of her jaw, the grip on the cup. something coiled quietly in her chest—tight and familiar.

then, across the room, jaylen waved. he was posted up near the kitchen, talking to two football players and a girl from track, but his focus was on her now. his arm lifted in a lazy arc, beckoning.

ari hesitated. just for a second. enough to feel paige still watching her, like her stare had weight. like it left a mark.

“back in a sec,” ari said to ice, then to no one in particular.

she slid through the crowd, brushing shoulders and dodging limbs, until she reached him.

jaylen grinned, leaning in to be heard. “there she is.”

he handed her a red cup—cold and sweating. then, without asking, he let his arm settle low around her waist, fingers hooking slightly in the hem of his own hoodie. ari didn’t pull away.

“you look good,” he said, voice low in her ear.

“i’m literally wearing your hoodie.”

“exactly,” he said, smug and unbothered.

ari rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, sipping the drink just to have something to do. her mind, traitorously, still tugged at that moment earlier. the way paige had looked at her. like something burned just beneath her skin.

“you cool with being seen with me?” jaylen asked after a beat, dropping his voice. it wasn’t playful this time. it was… curious. serious.

ari blinked. “why wouldn’t i be?”

jaylen shrugged. “some people like to keep things quiet. private. temporary.”

she exhaled, careful not to sigh. “i’m not hiding you. besdies it’s just… casual, right?”

he studied her and then nodded. “right. casual.”

jaylen accepted that answer with a slow, unreadable nod. but his hand stayed where it was, just a little too long on her hip. and she let it. because it was easier. easier than chasing the ghost of something that felt more complicated. easier than asking herself why blue eyes and knowing smirks kept creeping into her head.

because if she was smart, she’d leave whatever that was alone.

for ice.

for herself.

and because if paige really cared, she wouldn’t just watch from across the room.

she’d say something.

──────────────────────

a little later, ice pulled ari aside near the kitchen, away from the music and the crowd. the bass from the speakers still thudded through the floor, but here, under the yellow-tinted light, it felt quieter. closer.

“yo,” ice said, her voice low but pointed, eyes locked on ari’s face like she was trying to read every flicker that passed through it. “can i ask you something?”

ari leaned back against the counter, playing it casual even as her heart kicked up a notch. “yeah. what’s up?”

ice shifted her weight, glancing once toward the living room, where paige sat on the couch with azzi, barely nodding along to whatever was being said. her body was there, but she looked a million miles away. “has paige said anything to you lately?”

ari blinked. “about what?”

“i don’t know,” ice said, dragging a hand through her curls. “just… something’s off. she’s been weird the past week. not in a bad mood, exactly. just… different. quiet. distracted. snappy in practice.”

ari swallowed, the knot already forming in her stomach tightening. she forced her tone light. “maybe she’s just tired. school’s been heavy.”

ice gave her a look. “you know tired paige and this ain’t that. i asked azzi, she said she’s fine, but azzi is paige’s best friend so she probably won’t say anything. i know paige—when she’s spiraling, she doesn’t talk. she shuts down, starts holding everything in like it’s a sport.”

ari nodded slowly, keeping her gaze trained on the sink behind ice. “i mean… maybe she’s just in her head. the season is abt to start, all that pressure.”

“maybe,” ice said. then her voice dropped lower. “i just thought maybe you’d know. you two were getting kinda close for a minute.”

ari let out a short laugh that didn’t sound quite right to her own ears. “not as much lately. but… yeah i don’t know what’s up with her.”

“mhmm.” ice tilted her head. “you sure? cause you say it like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

that made ari look up. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

ice raised a hand. “relax. i’m not accusing you of anything. just… asking. feels like something shifted. and i know how paige gets i just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

ari hesitated. her mouth opened, then closed again. she could’ve said a lot of things—some true, most carefully edited. instead, she said, “maybe she’s mad about something else.”

ice squinted slightly. “like you and jaylen?”

ari froze for half a second, then shook her head with a forced chuckle. “no. come on. she doesn’t care about that. it’s not even serious between him and i.”

“still,” ice said, eyes narrowing. “it’s not nothing either. you wearing his hoodie like it’s your damn uniform.”

“i’m just comfortable,” ari muttered, voice tight around the edges now. “that’s all it is.”

ice held her stare for a beat longer before letting it go with a sigh. “alright. maybe it’s nothing. just…if she says anything let me know, okay? she’s not saying what’s wrong, and it’s not like she ever makes it easy to figure her out.”

ari nodded, the guilt sitting heavier now. “yeah. i’ll keep an eye.”

ice gave her a lingering look—equal parts warning and care—then bumped her shoulder. “i’m watching both of y’all.”

“i know,” ari said, smiling faintly.

but it didn’t reach her eyes.

──────────────────────

ari’s gets back to her dorm late.

the party was still echoing faintly in her ears when she shut the door behind her. quiet finally settled like dust around her. ari tossed jaylen’s hoodie on the back of her desk chair, put her curls into a bun, and dropped onto the edge of her bed.

her room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of her desk lam. she sat there for a moment, elbows on knees, fingers laced together.

she wasn’t supposed to feel this confused.

this was supposed to be easy.

jaylen made it easy—charming, chill, low-stakes. he said the right things, made her laugh, knew how to carry a conversation without trying too hard. and he liked her. that part was clear.

so why did it feel like something was missing?

ari leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting toward the hoodie now slouched over her chair.

she’d caught paige’s expression tonight—

just for a second, but it was enough. the way her eyes had skimmed over the hoodie like it burned. the quiet little dig in her voice. the forced smile.

that wasn’t nothing.

and ice asking if she’d noticed anything? if paige was “off?”

off didn’t even begin to cover it.

ari rubbed a hand over her face.

maybe she got it wrong.

maybe paige did care more than she thought. more than paige was willing to admit. and maybe that look—like something bitter had lodged itself behind her ribs—wasn’t about the hoodie at all. maybe it was about her.

and maybe that’s what made this so damn messy.

because if paige did care…

if any of the flirting, the lingering glances, the quiet moments between them meant something—then why didn’t she say anything? why did it feel like crossing those lines meant trouble?

ari exhaled, leaning her head against the wall.

“this wasn’t supposed to be complicated,” she mumbled out loud, voice hoarse.

she liked jaylen. she did. he was attractive. he was cool. he was into her. he wasn’t afraid to show it. but even in the middle of a party, his arm around her waist, laughing into her ear—her mind still drifted. to blue eyes and crooked smiles. to that annoying, sharp-tongued charm paige always carried like a weapon and a gift.

it wasn’t fair.

not to jaylen. not to herself.

but she couldn’t shake the thought that maybe this—this back and forth, this quiet longing—was safer. easier than diving headfirst into something real with someone like paige. especially when ice was watching, always watching, ready to check her if she stepped out of line.

ice.

the reason she held back.

the reason she kept telling herself that paige didn’t mean anything more than just a friend. that whatever was between them was fleeting.

maybe this thing with jaylen was a buffer. a way to keep herself from falling too deep into something she couldn’t control. something that might hurt more than it helped.

maybe it was better this way.

she told herself that. over and over again.

but god, it was starting to feel like a lie.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #ncaa women’s basketball #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x black!reader

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mikimakiboo · 3 months ago

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Mermay day 8 - Murmurs of Purrs

Back with them big boys

- Megalodontale -

Dust, Horror and Nightmare came back after the attack, they eat a little when the Leviathans begin to feel tired.

First

When Dust, Horror and Nightmare came back from the unsuccessful hunt, the three remaining mers rushed to their side, when they felt the disturbance in the currents they got worried they had been hurt, and Nightmare being in his big form didn't help the worries. Dream quickly swam to his brother as Cross and Killer went to Horror to guide him to the nest.

- Nightmare ! What happened ?!

- A whaler boat attacked, it's no more, Nightmare replied, putting down the dead whale he snatched on their way back, can you heal him ?

Dream's healing magic was stronger than Nightmare's, he could heal Horror more efficiantly than him, especially since they regained some strength living with the big shiver.

- Of course I can, he nodded, turning to the great white.

The harpoon was still in his shoulder, Nightmare hadn't taken it off yet as to prevent him from losing more blood. A flash of light and a cloud of bubbles later and Dream was in his big form too, swimming to the megalodon's side with his brother following him.

- Is he gonna be okay.. ? Cross worriedly asked.

- He will, we just need a little space, please.. Dream reassured.

Killer and Cross shot each other a quick glance before backing up and joining Dust on the side, watching Nightmare wrap Horror in his tentacles to keep him from moving as he took the harpoon in his hands. Horror twitched but didn't make any noise, barely conscious as Nightmare spread a little dose of venom around the area to anesthetize it. Killer tensed when he heard the whine Horror let out when Nightmare pulled on the harpoon to remove it, it wasn't right, Horror was the stronger one, seeing him hurt and so weak didn't feel right... he pressed himself against Dust, letting the white tip hold him as they watched Dream heal the wound with green magic, wiping off the bits of seafoam that started to appear around it. The three watched the twins work for a bit and when they were done they let Horror rest, covering him with sails from sunken ships to keep him warm. They both turned back to their small forms.

Cross was the first to go to them, rapidly followed by the other two.

- So ? How is he doing ?

- He's tired, he's lost quite a lot of blood, he needs to rest for now and when he wakes he'll need to eat, Dream explained.

Cross nodded, looking at his sleeping mate.

- Okay, thank you...

- It's fine, no need to thank us...

Dust approached.

- We should eat too, Horror wouldn't like it if we skipped a meal.

- He would beat our fin if he heard we didn't eat, Killer joked, earning a little chuckle from Cross.

- You're probably right..

- Of course I am ! Killer claimes, swimming to the whale.

The others followed him, being quite hungry too, the twins especially as the big forms and their magic consummed a lot of energy. Dust cut the meat in different portions using a sharp metal scrap he had found on an exploration, giving his shiver mates their part and giving the twins a smaller portion to share between the two. They usually ate small crustaceans, clams, oysters and all those sort of things, but Nightmare had dropped his gathering when transforming and he didn't stop to pick it up so they would have to eat whale meat for tonight. It wasn't the first time they ate bigger preys, they just weren't their favorites, but they could digest it just as fine. Nightmare could digest anything that entered his stomach anyway, Reaper always called him a bottomless pit.

None of them really talked during the meal, often glancing at Horror at the slightest movement from the great white. Dream yawned, having swallowed the last piece of meat whole. Nightmare started to feel tired too.

- You two can go rest, we're watching over him, Killer told them, having seen the yawn.

Dream slowly nodded, taking his brother's hand, he led him to the already sleeping megalodon. Just because the others were watching over him didn't mean they couldn't offer some comfort. Dream made his way to his neck, finding a spot near his jaw, and Nightmare went to hide under his hand, wrapping a few tentacles around his fingers. They wiggled a bit to find a comfortable position, then closed their eyes, allowing themselves to rest against their big shiver mate.

Soft purrs could soon be heard coming from the small Leviathans, little comforting vibrations, a little reminder that everyone was safe as long as they were there. The shiver saved them, now it was their turn to watch over them and protect them.

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rafaron1223 · 5 months ago

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Volume 15 is here!!

There's not a lot compared to last time in terms of extra content, it'll be a while to go through everything, but I'll get to it lol.

Going in order, we have a 2 page omake! This time it's about Henry and Martha's tea date party after chapter 102! I'll wait until a full, proper translation comes out, but the gist is that Henry and Martha are having their usual banter. It's pretty sweet, and I love the back-and-forth between them.

Next is the special thanks list. for anyone wondering about Endo's blurb, he shares his opinion on fashion, and below you get a little Anya in a... I don't even know what that outfit is lol.

Gonna skip ahead for a bit and show the sketches and the spine/author's note pages. For the sketches, we have Becky's mom on the spotlight. You may be wondering why no Martha sketches, but that's because Endo has none, lol. In the author's note, Endo says he wants to one day visit the moon. I believe in you, buddy.

And I saved the best for last, the inside cover! As expected, it's a young Martha! I was expecting it to be Martha when Henry was still in school, but here she's in her Imperial Scholar robes! I was also happy to see the other half of the table that they introduced last volume, so of course I had to try combining them (please forgive my rushed photoshop)

And that's it for now! There's still a few more chapters left to fill out another volume, but I am expecting to see a Melinda cover for Volume 16, it'll be great. And looking at past release schedules, I expect a fall release. That's it for me anyways, until next post!

#spy x family #sxf #sxf manga #sxf volume 15 #sxf manga spoilers #martha marriott #henry henderson #martha x henry

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jungkoode · 6 months ago

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死 KKANGPAE | #05 死

† medical emergencies †

"There's something ironic about learning to stitch wounds while he's sitting there half-naked, making your heart do things that probably need medical attention. But hey, at least if you stab yourself with the needle, there's a doctor in the house."

next | index | wc: 7.5k

↪︎author's note : DISCLAIMER TIME! I am not, in fact, a medical student. Shocking, I know. My knowledge of medical procedures comes entirely from watching too much House M.D. and falling down WebMD rabbit holes at 3 AM. So if any actual medical professionals are reading this... I am begging you to suspend your disbelief (；一_一) I did spend like two hours researching stuff though! That counts for something, right? RIGHT? The things I do for accuracy, I swear. My browser history probably has me on several watch lists by now. Between this and the weapons research for chapter 3... Yeah, I'm definitely getting flagged somewhere (◎_◎;) BUT ONTO THE GOOD STUFF! Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, please welcome our resident grumpy doctor to the stage! My love, my light, the medical chief himself - Jung Hoseok! What are we thinking? Because I'm lowkey living for his whole "I hate everyone but I'll still patch you up while cursing your existence" vibe. Fun fact: I totally channeled my inner Dr. McCoy from Star Trek for his character. If you know, you know. And if you don't know... well, Spirk are my space parents and Bones is their bratty child. This is the hill I will die on. Do not @ me. We've still got so many characters to properly introduce though! Remember that info dump in chapter 2? Yeah, we're gonna actually explore all of those personalities. Your girl's got PLANS. Also, this chapter turned out way longer than expected but like... more content for you guys? You're welcome? I think? Look, my ADHD brain knows no word limits. It's either 500 words or 5000, there is no in between. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! Your comments fuel my questionable life choices and enable my caffeine addiction. Much love! (｡♥‿♥｡) Caffeine addiction can only do so much. Stay tuned! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You can't help but roll your eyes as V carries you through the castle like some damsel in distress. His confidence borders on cocky as he navigates the maze-like hallways, cradling you against his chest like you're made of glass. Which you're definitely not.

"Any chance we can skip this knight-in-shining-armor bit and just let me limp my way there?" You grumble, acutely aware of how your ankle throbs with each of his steps. "I promise I won't sue if I faceplant."

V's laugh rumbles through his chest. "And rob myself of playing the dashing hero? I don't think so, love."

His grin is infuriatingly charming as he spirals down another identical-looking hallway. The air smells like industrial cleaner and... cinnamon? You wrinkle your nose, trying to place that oddly familiar scent.

"You do know where you're going, right? Or should I start worrying that we're hopelessly lost?" Your tone is dry enough to kindle a fire as V makes yet another right turn. At this rate, you'll end up back where you started.

"I could navigate this place blindfolded," V assures you with a theatrical wink. "Just thought we'd enjoy the scenic route together."

"Scenic... sure." You emphasize each word with as much sarcasm as you can muster. But dammit, there's something about his playful banter that tugs at the corners of your mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making you smile.

You shift slightly in V's arms, trying to find a position that doesn't make your ankle scream. Each movement is a lovely reminder of how you got into this mess in the first place. t̶h̶a̶n̶k̶s̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶

The castle halls are alive with activity, but everything seems to pause as V carries you through. Other members stop and stare, probably wondering why one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae is playing nurse. Their whispers follow you like shadows.

"If you're trying to show off your navigation skills, I should mention we've passed that painting three times now." You eye him skeptically.

"Bold of you to assume I'm trying to impress you." His grin never wavers. "Though I'm flattered you think I'd go to such lengths."

The silence that follows feels loaded. This little detour isn't just about getting you to medical—it's about something else. A game, maybe, or a message. With V, it's hard to tell where the performance ends and reality begins.

"So what's the real reason for the scenic route?" You can't help asking. It's weird how safe you feel in his arms, considering he could probably kill you fifteen different ways without breaking a sweat.

"Call it... building rapport." His voice drips honey-sweet mischief. "You're quite the talk of the castle these days. Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."

A laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. There's something absurdly hilarious about being carried through the gang's headquarters by one of its most lethal members.

"Well, don't get too attached." The words come out lighter than intended. "This doesn't make us friends."

His chuckle vibrates through his chest. "Give it time." When his eyes meet yours, they're dancing with amusement. "Besides, isn't this more fun than limping alone?"

More members pass by, their stares lingering a bit too long. You know tomorrow the castle will be buzzing with gossip about this little parade, but somehow you can't bring yourself to care.

"Fun's one word for it." You crack a smile despite yourself. "But just so we're clear—I'm staying out of whatever's going on between you and Jeon."

Something dark flickers across his face at the mention of Jeon, his thorny aura constricting for just a second before relaxing again.

"Wouldn't expect anything else." There's actual respect in his voice now. "You've got a mind of your own. That's rare around here."

The infirmary door finally comes into view. This weird little moment of almost-friendship hangs in the air between you.

"End of the line." V announces with theatrical flair. "I must say, this has been delightfully entertaining."

The wooden barrier of the infirmary looms ahead, but V shows no signs of letting you down. Before you can voice your protest, he shifts you slightly to pull out his digital card, swiping it with practiced ease. The panel blinks green, and he sweeps through the door like he's making a grand entrance at a red carpet event.

You're starting to feel less like a patient and more like a prop in V's latest dramatic production.

"Not you again, V. Get out of here."

J-Hope doesn't even bother looking up from his paperwork, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation that only comes from dealing with V's antics on a regular basis.

"But it's an emergency, Hobs!" V's pout is so exaggerated it should come with its own spotlight. "This young lady has been severely injured."

J-Hope finally turns around, giving you a quick once-over before fixing V with an unimpressed stare. "That's what you say every three business days."

"Ah, but this time it's different, I promise." V's grin could charm snakes, but J-Hope seems immune.

"And why exactly should I believe you?" He crosses his arms. "You know I only handle council cases and actual emergencies."

V sets you down on the nearest bed with surprising gentleness, his playful demeanor dimming just slightly. "I know, I know. But look at her ankle. It's swollen like a balloon. I couldn't just leave her hobbling around, could I?"

J-Hope sighs but steps closer to examine your injury. His touch is clinical and professional as he assesses the damage. "Fine. But this is the last time, V. You can't keep using the infirmary as your personal clinic for every damsel you distress."

"Damsel I distress?" V laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. "That's a new one. But I appreciate your assistance, Hobs. You're a true friend."

"Don't 'true friend' me." J-Hope rolls his eyes, gathering his medical supplies. "I'm only doing this because it's my job. And because she actually looks like she needs help, unlike your usual guests."

V lounges against a counter like he owns the place, watching J-Hope gather supplies. "Come on, give me some credit. I do bring real patients sometimes."

"Yeah, once every solar eclipse." J-Hope doesn't even look up from his medical kit. His earthy, sandalwood scent mixes with the sharp hospital smell of the infirmary.

V just shrugs, that playful grin still plastered on his face.

J-Hope finally turns to you, all business now. "Let's check that ankle." Then to V: "Get out."

"Think I'll stick around." V doesn't budge an inch. "Make sure she's in capable hands and all that."

"Right, because you're such an expert on medical care." J-Hope rolls his eyes. "Just admit you're bored and looking for entertainment."

V's laugh bounces off the sterile walls. "Maybe. Or maybe I just care deeply about my fellow gang members' wellbeing."

"Ignore him," J-Hope tells you, voice gentler than you expected from someone who looks perpetually done with everyone's shit. "This might hurt a bit."

You try to focus on J-Hope's treatment, but it's hard with V hovering nearby, his thorny aura filling the room. There's something almost fascinating about watching these two interact—like they can't stand each other but also can't help falling into this familiar pattern of bickering.

It hits you then, sitting on this hospital bed with one of the gang's most dangerous members playing guard dog while the chief medical officer patches you up—you've somehow stumbled right into the middle of Kkangpae's complicated web of relationships. And judging by the way V's still watching everything like a hawk, you're not getting untangled anytime soon.

The quiet of the infirmary shatters when the door slams open with enough force to make you jump. J-Hope doesn't even flinch—probably used to dramatic entrances by now.

Chaewon bursts in looking like she just ran a marathon, panic written all over her face. When she spots you on the bed with J-Hope working on your ankle and V lounging nearby, that panic turns to pure rage.

She doesn't say a word. Just marches straight up to V and slaps him so hard the sound echoes off the sterile walls. V, being V, doesn't even have the decency to look hurt. Just keeps grinning like this is all terribly amusing.

"Wow, you're feisty today, Chaechae." He rubs his cheek, still smiling. The nickname only seems to piss her off more.

"You absolute asshole." Chaewon's practically vibrating with anger. "I let you handle cross-training with my division for one day and someone gets hurt? What the hell, V?"

V throws his hands up, the picture of innocence. "Hey now, this one's not on me. Blame Jeon."

"Jeon?" She scoffs like the very idea is ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

You figure you should probably step in before Chaewon decides to slap V again. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but your division chief shouldn't have to deal with assault charges today.

"Actually..." You clear your throat. "It kind of was Jeon. I mean, technically it was my fault."

Everyone turns to stare at you. Even J-Hope pauses his ankle-wrapping to raise an eyebrow.

"I tried to ambush him," you explain, heat creeping up your neck. "There were these weird noises in the forest, then footsteps, and I thought maybe it was an enemy or something. Turned out to be Jeon. And then we found out it was all just V's paintball game."

Chaewon's anger dims a little as she looks at you, but when she turns back to V, there's still plenty of bite in her voice. "Paintball? Again? Are you actually five years old?"

"Guilty." V's grin gets wider, if that's even possible. "But you have to admit, it keeps things interesting around here."

"Can we focus on the actual patient?" J-Hope cuts through the tension, sounding like he's one dramatic moment away from throwing everyone out. "You can kill each other later, preferably not in my infirmary."

Chaewon's shoulders drop a little, but you can still see worry lines creasing her forehead as she moves closer to your bed. Her presence feels protective, almost maternal—which is weird considering she can't be that much older than you.

"You okay?" She asks softly, then shoots V a glare that could melt steel. "I should've known better than to let them handle cross-training. Especially those two."

V just keeps grinning like this is the most entertaining show he's watched all week. He steps back, giving Chaewon space, but you notice he doesn't actually leave. Probably hoping for more drama.

"It's fine," you try to sound reassuring. "Just a sprain. Could've happened to anyone."

Chaewon's face says she's not buying it. The look she gives you reminds you of when your mom knew you were lying about doing your homework. Meanwhile, V's just chilling against the wall, watching everything unfold like it's his personal Netflix series.

J-Hope works on your ankle in silence, occasionally muttering what sounds like curses under his breath. The infirmary fills with an awkward mix of Chaewon's worried sighs, J-Hope's grumpy instructions, and V's unhelpful commentary about proper ankle-wrapping technique that makes J-Hope's eye twitch.

"There." J-Hope finally sits back, your ankle wrapped tight in elastic bandage. "Nothing serious, but you need to rest. Keep it elevated above your heart, keep the compression on. Should be fine in a couple weeks."

Your stomach drops. "I'm sorry—did you say weeks?"

"If you're lucky." He stands up with a scoff that suggests he's seen way too many idiots ignore his advice. "Could be longer if you try to play hero."

You look at Chaewon, hoping she'll say something about how that timeline is ridiculous.

Two weeks of no training?

You'll be behind everyone else, t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶u̶s̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ completely out of practice by the time you're healed.

"I can't just not train for two weeks." The words come out whiny, but you're desperate. Two weeks of doing nothing while everyone else gets stronger? No way.

"Hell fucking no." J-Hope's voice is definite as he digs through medical drawers. "I'm not dealing with Jeon 2.0. You either rest for two weeks or I'll make it two months."

"That's why he avoids this place like the plague." V's still lounging in the doorway like he owns it, looking way too amused by everything.

J-Hope slams a drawer shut. "God forbid that fucker lets me do my actual job." He finally finds what he's looking for—a small bottle of pills. "Here." He tosses them at you with surprising accuracy. "Ibuprofen. One every eight hours. Six if you're dying, which you won't be if you actually rest."

"But—"

"Two. Weeks." Each word comes out like a threat. "Unless you want to become my permanent resident." His scowl could curdle milk. "And you—" He rounds on V, who's still grinning like this is the best entertainment he's had all day. "Get that bastard in here. His check-up's three months late."

V actually laughs at that. "What makes you think I have any control over what Mr. Stick-up-his-ass does?"

"Maybe he'll show up just to spite you." J-Hope's voice is dry as dust.

"Your optimism is adorable."

"Well, hope is literally my name." A rare smirk crosses J-Hope's face before his signature frown returns. "And you owe me, you dramatic little shit."

"As you wish, oh great healer." V throws his hands up in mock surrender, laying the theatrics on thick. "Your humble servant shall attempt this impossible task."

You stare at the bottle of ibuprofen in your hands, turning it over and over like maybe if you fidget with it enough, the label will change from "two weeks rest" to something more bearable. The thought of being benched for that long makes your stomach twist.

Two weeks is forever in gang time. Everyone else will be getting stronger, better, more valuable, while you're stuck playing invalid. By the time you're back on your feet, you'll be so far behind it'll be like starting over.

"Hey." The bed dips as Chaewon sits beside you, her presence grounding and familiar. "I can see those wheels turning. Don't stress. We'll figure something out."

"Actually," J-Hope pipes up from where he's finally managed to shoo V out the door. "You've got cross-training with my division coming up anyway. Could knock that out while you're healing. We always need an extra pair of hands here, and it'll keep you from going stir-crazy."

"Seriously?" You glance between them, hardly daring to hope. Medical training sounds way better than two weeks of staring at your ceiling.

"Makes sense." Chaewon nods, and something in her tone makes you think she's already working out the details in her head. "We can reschedule your Assassination Division training too. They can do individual sessions to work around your injury."

Wait.

Individual sessions? As in... one-on-one training? With V?

With Jeon?

Your brain short-circuits for a second before logic kicks back in. Cross-training exists for a reason—coordination between divisions is crucial in this life-or-death world you've chosen. One wrong move, one miscommunication, and people end up dead. If private lessons are what it takes to stay in the game, then t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ that's what you'll do.

"Okay." Your voice comes out smaller than intended, but you mean it.

"Good." J-Hope shoves his hands in his pockets, already looking done with this conversation. "See you tomorrow before lunch then."

"See you tomorrow, chief." You manage a smile, even as your mind races with possibilities—both exciting and terrifying—of what these next two weeks might bring.

Chaewon insists on wheeling you back to your room herself. The halls feel longer from wheelchair height, and her silence as she pushes you isn't helping. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head, probably already reworking training schedules around your stupid ankle.

She swipes her card at the elevator before you can even reach for yours. The ride up is quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and your own thoughts about how spectacularly you managed to mess up your first cross-training session.

The elevator dings open to your division's floor, and immediately you hear laughter spilling out from the lounge. Eunchae and Sakura are sprawled across the couch, but their smiles fade as soon as they spot you rolling in like some kind of injury parade.

"Holy shit, what happened?" Eunchae practically teleports to your side, crouching next to the wheelchair with wide eyes.

"Yeah, we heard all this commotion earlier but then you just... vanished." Sakura hovers nearby, her gaze bouncing between your wrapped ankle and your face like she's trying to piece together what went wrong.

You let out a long breath. "So... funny story. I tried to ambush Jeon during V's paintball game because I thought he was an enemy infiltrator or something."

"Oh no." Sakura's face does this thing where she's trying not to wince but totally failing.

"What the hell?" Eunchae's protective side flares up immediately. "Did that asshole body slam you or something?"

"Actually, no." You can't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. "He just... countered me. Really easily. I'm the one who fucked up my landing."

"That's rough, buddy." Eunchae squeezes your shoulder, and you're grateful for how normal she's making this feel. "We played it smart—just hid behind trees and watched everyone else lose their minds."

"Yeah, except someone turned out to be weirdly good with a paintball gun." Eunchae nudges Sakura with her elbow. "Better watch out, Jeon. You've got competition."

Quick footsteps in the hallway make you look up. Yunjin bursts into the lounge like she's being chased, pink hair flying everywhere, face flushed.

"I heard voices and—oh my god, are you okay?" The words tumble out of her in a rush. "I couldn't find you after all that shooting started and I got so worried and—"

"Just a sprained ankle," you cut off her spiral with what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really."

Her shoulders drop a little, but she's still hovering like a concerned mother hen. "I got you dinner from the cafeteria. Figured you might be hungry after... everything."

The gesture makes something warm bloom in your chest. "Thanks, Yun. You're the best."

Chaewon clears her throat, reminding everyone she's still here. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Time to get you to bed. Doctor's orders."

Your little entourage follows as Chaewon wheels you to your room—Yunjin with the food tray balanced carefully in her hands, Eunchae and Sakura trailing behind like excited puppies. The scene would almost be funny if your ankle wasn't throbbing with every tiny bump in the floor.

Once you're settled in bed (after Yunjin fusses with your pillows for a solid minute), everyone finds spots to perch. The food smells amazing, and you realize you're actually starving.

"So what happened after I got taken out?" you ask between bites. "Did anyone else get ambushed by grumpy snipers?"

Sakura practically bounces in her seat. "Oh my god, you missed the best part! V did this insane action-movie roll thing when someone tried to corner him—"

"He looked like a deranged raccoon," Eunchae cuts in, making Yunjin snort water through her nose.

You lean back against your mountain of pillows (thanks, Yunjin), letting their chatter and laughter wash over you. Your ankle still hurts like a bitch, and the thought of dealing with Jeon and V for the next two weeks makes you want to scream a little. But right now, surrounded by these idiots who somehow became your family...

Maybe it won't be completely terrible.

t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶f̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶

Morning hits different when your whole body feels like it's been run over by a truck. Between last night's paintball drama and your throbbing ankle, you sleep through your usual breakfast time. Not that there's much point in early rising when you're stuck playing invalid anyway.

By the time you make it to the cafeteria, the morning rush is long gone. Your beloved croissants are just a distant memory, replaced by sad-looking toast and a fried egg that's probably been sitting under the heat lamp for hours. You grab a cup of earl gray because there's no way in hell you're touching that brown water they call coffee at this hour.

At least Eunchae's still around. She's like Yunjin's louder, bolder evil twin—in the best way possible. While Yunjin's off somewhere being productive (thanks to that whole "new year, new me" thing), Eunchae's happy to keep you company, practically writing poetry about her breakfast sandwich. The girl takes her food seriously, and honestly? You respect that.

When breakfast's done, she insists on walking you to the infirmary. You've swapped the wheelchair for crutches because hobbling around on sticks somehow feels less pathetic than being rolled everywhere like some kind of injured parade float.

You slide your card at J-Hope's private wing, expecting rejection—his space is usually reserved for council members and people who are literally dying. But apparently he's added you to his VIP list because the scanner blinks green without hesitation.

J-Hope actually looks pleased when you walk in, which is weird enough to make you do a double-take. Then again, he probably doesn't get many patients who actually follow his instructions. Must be a nice change from dealing with gang leaders who think they're too important for basic medical care.

Eunchae gives you a warm wave and friendly nod before disappearing, leaving you alone with the medical chief. The quiet efficiency of his workspace and his focused presence makes everything feel weirdly... peaceful.

"Nice to see someone following orders for once," he mutters, not looking up from what appears to be a small mountain of paperwork.

"You didn't exactly make it optional." Your lips twitch into a crooked smile.

"Never do." He grunts, shuffling papers. "Some people are just too stubborn to live."

"Can't you pull rank on them? Being head of medicine and all?" The question slips out before you can stop it.

"Oh, I do. More than I'd like." His voice carries years of dealing with difficult patients. "In here, I'm god. They pull rank, I pull rank. Doesn't matter if you're the supreme leader of the universe—I'll uno reverse card your ass so fast your head will spin."

"Bet that goes over well with the big shots."

"Their faces are always priceless." He actually smirks, tapping a stack of papers into perfect alignment. "Now, ready to learn how to not kill people with medical supplies?"

"Born ready." You settle into a chair, trying not to look too eager. After all, how hard can it be?

The infirmary honestly feels very different from the rest of the castle—all sterile air and quiet efficiency. J-Hope moves around like he's performing some kind of medical ballet, laying out supplies with the kind of precision that makes you think he could probably do this in his sleep.

Which, you guess, he probably can.

"Alright, lesson one." He snaps on latex gloves. "Stitching wounds isn't like sewing clothes. You fuck up, get sloppy with cleanliness, and your patient gets an infection. In our line of work, that's not just inconvenient—it's deadly."

You pull on your own gloves, the latex clinging weird and tight to your fingers. J-Hope picks up a suture needle, holding it between you like he's showing off a prized possession.

"What about when we're in the middle of nowhere?" The question slips out before you can stop it. "You know, during missions when shit goes sideways?"

He sets the needle down, and something in his expression shifts. The overhead light catches the tired lines around his eyes—probably from years of patching up stubborn gang members at ungodly hours.

"Field medicine is different," he says, suddenly sounding more like a battle-hardened mentor than a cranky doctor. "Clean is still better, but sometimes you've got to choose between perfect and alive. When someone's bleeding out in some warehouse, you work with what you've got."

He grabs a bottle of disinfectant, tapping it with one finger. "This? This is your new best friend. Small enough to carry anywhere, strong enough to maybe keep someone from dying of infection in a pinch."

"What about stitches?" The question slips out before you can stop it. The thought of someone bleeding out because you don't know what you're doing makes your stomach turn.

J-Hope nods like he gets it. His usual grumpiness softens into something more teacher-like. "In the field? Use whatever you've got—fishing line, clean thread, even fibers from sterilized cloth. Main thing is getting that wound closed before they bleed out or it gets infected."

He lets that sink in for a moment, fiddling with something metallic between his fingers. For all his crankiness, there's something reassuring about how seriously he takes this stuff.

"But the second—and I mean second—you're back, you bring them to me." His voice goes hard again. "This isn't permanent fixing, it's just keeping them alive until they reach actual medical care."

He holds up what looks like a weirdly curved needle. "This is what we use for stitching. Curved makes it easier to control, especially for beginners." His fingers dance over different types of thread. "Absorbable sutures for internal wounds, non-absorbable for surface cuts."

"Yeah, that means absolutely nothing to me."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Right. Let's dumb it down." He reaches for what looks like a small medical kit. "In the field, you won't have time to play doctor. Your emergency kit will have basic curved needles and non-absorbable thread. Simple, reliable, gets the job done."

"And the other kind? The absorbable ones?"

"Those are for surgery—internal stuff. They dissolve on their own." He waves vaguely at the door. "Out there? Stick to non-absorbable. Quick and dirty fixes until you can get them proper help."

"So it's basically just... sewing someone up?" You try not to sound as skeptical as you feel.

"If you want to oversimplify it, sure." His dark eyes lock onto yours, dead serious. "But this isn't patching up your favorite jeans. You've got to line everything up right, make it tight enough to hold but not so tight it causes damage. And for fuck's sake, keep everything as clean as humanly possible."

You nod along, trying to picture yourself actually doing this in the field. The thought of having someone's life literally in your hands makes your stomach do weird flips.

"What about really bad wounds?" The question slips out before you can stop yourself. "Like, really bad."

J-Hope's hands pause over his supplies. Something in his expression shifts, and suddenly you remember he's probably seen exactly what you're imagining.

"Then your priority is keeping them alive long enough to get to me." His voice goes flat, professional. "Stop the bleeding first. Stabilize what you can. Stitches won't mean shit if they bleed out before you finish the first one." He looks you dead in the eye. "I'm good at what I do, but I can't bring back the dead."

The words hit harder than you expected. It's easy to forget sometimes, working in Seduction, that this isn't just some elaborate roleplay. People actually die in this life.

You watch as J-Hope threads the needle easily, his movements quick and precise. When he turns to what looks like a piece of fake skin, you try not to think too hard about where it came from or why it looks so... realistic.

"Pay attention now." He positions the needle above the practice pad. "Basic interrupted suture—it's your best friend in the field. Simple, reliable, gets the job done."

The way he handles the needle is almost mesmerizing. Each movement flows into the next like he's done this a million times before. Which, considering his job, he probably has. The stitches line up perfectly, neat little soldiers in a row.

"The key is entering at a 90-degree angle," he explains, demonstrating another perfect stitch. "Too shallow, it won't hold. Too deep, you cause more damage."

You lean closer, fascinated despite yourself. It's kind of beautiful, in a morbid way. Like some deadly form of embroidery.

"Your turn." He holds out the needle, and suddenly this doesn't seem so fascinating anymore. "Time to see if you've been paying attention."

Your hand definitely doesn't shake when you take it. Not even a little. And if it does? Well, that's between you and whatever poor bastard ends up needing your stitches someday.

You take a deep breath and try to copy J-Hope's movements. Your hands aren't nearly as steady as his, but he guides you with surprising patience, adjusting your grip here and the angle there. For someone so cranky, he's turning out to be a pretty decent teacher.

"Not completely terrible for a first try." The words sound almost like praise coming from him. "This kind of skill? Could mean the difference between life and death out there."

A soft beep cuts through the quiet, followed by the infirmary door swinging open.

Cool air rushes in, making goosebumps rise on your arms.

You don't need to look to know who it is—there's only one person whose presence makes the air feel this heavy, like the moment before rain.

Jeon walks in, all dark clothes and darker mood. His eyes find yours first, something unreadable flickering across his face before he turns to J-Hope.

"Looks like V didn't hold back," J-Hope says with a smirk.

Jeon just grunts, which seems to be his default response to everything.

"Sit." J-Hope points to a nearby chair like he's commanding a particularly stubborn dog. "I'll deal with you in a minute."

You try not to stare as Jeon drops into the chair, but it's hard to ignore how he fills up the space. Everything about him radiates tension—from the set of his jaw to the way his fingers tap against his thigh. The guy looks about as comfortable as a cat in water.

The contrast between them is almost funny—J-Hope moving around with his usual efficient calm while Jeon sits there emanating pure "don't touch me" energy. You catch a whiff of pine and mint when he shifts, and something in your chest does this weird little flip that you choose to ignore.

You try to focus on your suturing practice, but your eyes keep drifting to Jeon. It's weird seeing him like this—quiet, still, almost t̶a̶m̶e̶ docile. The great Chief of Tactical Assassinations, reduced to sitting in a medical chair waiting for J-Hope like some kind of obedient schoolboy.

He looks... different here. Less like the intimidating force of nature who uses you as paintball bait, more like someone who really, really doesn't want to be at the doctor's. His knee bounces slightly—probably the only sign he'll allow of his discomfort.

The door clicks shut behind J-Hope, and suddenly you're very aware that you're alone with Jeon. The silence feels heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of medical supplies and his measured breathing.

You force yourself to concentrate on the needle in your hand. These stitches aren't going to practice themselves, and the last thing you need is to look incompetent in front of him. But it's hard to focus when you can feel him there.

It's just so strange seeing him hold himself back like this. Usually his presence fills any room he's in, but now he seems almost... contained. Like he's trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

It doesn't work though—you're still hyper-aware of every tiny movement he makes.

The silence stretches until it feels like another person in the room. You've never been good with awkward silences, but starting a conversation with Jeon feels about as appealing as pulling teeth. Besides, what would you even say?

Thanks for using me as bait earlier, that was super fun?

"How's the ankle?"

His voice catches you off guard—low and quiet, missing that sharp edge he usually carries. For a second, you're not sure if you imagined it.

"It's... getting better," you manage, your voice too loud in the quiet room. "J-Hope knows what he's doing."

The corner of Jeon's mouth twitches up, and for a second he looks almost human. "Yeah, give that man a white coat and suddenly he thinks he runs the place."

There's this weird undertone of respect when he says it though. Like maybe he actually appreciates having someone who isn't afraid to boss him around. You get it —there's something weirdly comforting about J-Hope's no-nonsense attitude, even when he's being a grumpy dictator about your ankle.

"He definitely doesn't take shit from anyone." You find yourself smiling a little, because it's true. Even the mighty Jeon has to sit and wait his turn in here.

Something flickers across his face and he looks away quickly, like he just remembered he's supposed to be an intimidating gang leader, not someone who makes small talk about cranky doctors.

You go back to your stitching, trying to focus on the fake skin instead of how weird it feels to have an almost normal conversation with him. The silence creeps back in, but it's different now. Less like you're both waiting for the other to attack, more like... well, like two people just waiting for the doctor.

You try to focus on your stitching practice, but something feels off. There's a rustle that doesn't quite fit with the usual infirmary sounds—too careful, too measured.

When you glance up, you catch Jeon staring at... a pastry bag? One that definitely wasn't there when he first walked in. Or maybe it was and you were too distracted by his whole everything to notice.

He's looking down at it like it holds the secrets of the universe, brow furrowed in concentration. It's weird seeing the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, terror of rival gangs, looking almost t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶i̶e̶d̶ uncertain about a paper bag.

What could possibly have the human hurricane so wrapped up in thought? The last time you saw him this intense, he was lining up a sniper shot. But now he's just... staring. At pastries.

Before you can ponder this mystery further, J-Hope bursts back in, arms loaded with enough medical supplies to patch up a small army. The sudden entrance makes Jeon flinch—just barely, but you catch it. His eyes snap up like he's been caught doing something wrong.

Then, in a move that feels almost panicked (if Jeon did panic, which he obviously doesn't), he thrusts the bag at J-Hope.

"For you." The words come out gruff and quick. His tattooed hand extends the bag like he's diffusing a bomb, gaze fixed somewhere over J-Hope's left shoulder.

J-Hope freezes mid-step, and honestly? Fair reaction. If this was V pulling something like this, it'd be normal—probably part of some elaborate prank. But Jeon? The same guy who treats medical check-ups like personal attacks? Bringing peace offerings?

"You know I don't even like croissants, right?" J-Hope stares at the bag like it might bite him. The disbelief in his voice makes you pause mid-stitch.

"It was the last one." Jeon crosses his arms, all defensive posture and clenched jaw.

J-Hope holds the pastry bag between two fingers like it's evidence in a crime scene. When he looks up at Jeon, his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "What's the catch? Trying to bribe your way out of the physical?"

"What am I, V now?" Jeon's shrug carries enough attitude to fill the room. "No catch. Just thought I'd... you know." He waves vaguely at the bag, looking like every word physically pains him.

You focus very intently on your stitching practice, pretending you're not eavesdropping on whatever this weird interaction is. The silence stretches until J-Hope breaks it.

"Right..." He drags the word out like he's talking to a particularly suspicious child. "Since when do you do random acts of kindness?"

Something flickers across Jeon's face. His eyes meet yours for a split second, and your stomach does this weird flip that you choose to blame on hunger. The scent of pine gets stronger as his irritation builds.

"Since now, apparently." His voice could freeze hell over. "If you don't want it, give it to her. I don't give a shit."

J-Hope's eyebrows climb even higher as he turns to you, lips twitching. "Want a potentially poisoned croissant? I can test it first if you're feeling brave."

Your ears definitely perk up at the mention of croissant. After that sad excuse for breakfast this morning, you're practically going through withdrawal. The smell of butter and fresh pastry wafting from the bag is t̶o̶r̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ tempting.

"I'll risk it." You can't help but laugh a little. "Can't say no to a good croissant, even if it comes from suspicious sources."

Jeon's eyes find yours for a split second. Something colors his face—too quick to catch—before that familiar blank mask slides back into place. He doesn't say anything, but some of that rigid tension leaves his shoulders.

J-Hope passes you the bag, but his attention stays locked on Jeon like he's trying to solve a particularly frustrating puzzle. The pastry's still warm when you take it, and honestly? If it's poisoned, at least you'll die happy.

"Right then." J-Hope's voice goes stern. "Your turn, Mr. I-Can-Walk-It-Off. You're three months late for your check-up." He emphasizes each word like he's scolding a child. "Three months, Jeon."

Jeon responds with his signature grunt, finally hauling himself out of the chair. He moves to the medical bed a few meters away from you, and you can smell the pine notes slowly dissipating. Not that you're paying attention to how he smells. Obviously.

The infirmary suddenly feels smaller when Jeon steps into the medical bed area. There's something about the way he moves—all quiet power and deadly grace—that reminds you of his rank. Every single one of his steps looks calculated, like he's constantly ready for anything.

He shrugs off his leather jacket, and you try really hard not to stare. t̶r̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶k̶e̶y̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶d̶ The movement is unfairly fluid, drawing attention to arms that definitely come from years of training. The kind of definition that makes you think he could probably lift you without breaking a sweat. (You already know he can)

Your eyes drift to his hands—the same ones you've seen wrapped around coffee cups or handling weapons, but never really looked at before. The infirmary's harsh lighting makes the tattoos on his wrists pop, intricate designs disappearing under his black t-shirt like secrets waiting to be discovered. His fingers are long and elegant despite their strength, decorated with simple silver and black rings that somehow make them look even more dangerous.

He grabs the hem of his shirt and—oh.

Oh.

The movement is so casual it's almost offensive, the way he just strips off his shirt like it's nothing. Like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to your blood pressure right now.

A tattoo catches your eye, peeking above his waistband. "Devil never sleeps" inked in bold letters right above the waistband of his pants, and suddenly you're very interested in what that might mean. t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶l̶a̶t̶e̶r̶

Your gaze definitely doesn't trail up his torso. You absolutely don't notice the thin silver chain you've never seen before, probably always hidden under that stupid leather jacket. And you certainly don't catalog how the muscles in his chest look strong but not bulky, or how his abs are defined but natural-looking, the kind that come from actual fighting instead of just gym sessions.

And for some stupid reason the pine scent comes back, stronger, and you realize you might be staring. But honestly? If he's going to just casually strip in front of you, he can deal with the consequences. You're only human, after all.

You try to focus on your stitching practice. Really, you do. But there's something magnetic about the way his scars and tattoos map stories across his skin. Each mark feels like a chapter you shouldn't want to read but can't help being curious about. It's not just that he's t̶o̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶ physically impressive—it's the way he wears his battle wounds like armor.

Jeon doesn't seem to notice or care about your wandering eyes. He carries himself with this casual confidence that suggests being shirtless in the infirmary is just another weekday for him. He shifts a bit, settling on the edge of the medical bed.

You snap your attention back to your suture pad so fast you nearly stab yourself with the needle. This is not the time to appreciate how the fluorescent lights catch on his silver chain, or how his muscles shift when he—nope. Absolutely not. Back to stitching.

J-Hope transforms before your eyes, seemingly possessed by professional focus. He grabs his stethoscope with ease, moving toward Jeon like he's approaching any other patient. Not a deadly gang leader who could probably kill someone with his a snap of his fingers.

"Let's check that heart of yours first, Jeon." The words come out clinical, detached.

Jeon just nods, and it's weird seeing him this... compliant. His stormy presence seems to settle into something quieter.

When the stethoscope touches Jeon's chest, the room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You definitely don't notice how the metal disc sits right above one of his tattoos, or how his breathing stays perfectly steady despite the cold touch.

"Heart sounds good, strong and regular." J-Hope moves the stethoscope, all business.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes because of course his heart's perfect too.

Stupid, perfect Jeon with his stupid, perfect everything.

Jeon stares straight ahead at some fascinating spot on the wall, the perfect picture of indifference. His chest rises and falls steadily under J-Hope's stethoscope, and you definitely don't notice how the muscles shift with each breath. Nope. Not at all.

"Deep breaths," J-Hope instructs, all business.

Jeon complies without a word. The movement makes his chest expand more noticeably, and you suddenly find your suturing practice absolutely fascinating.

Super interesting, these fake stitches. Totally worth your complete attention.

Except it's not.

Your hands are going through the motions, but your mind keeps wandering. The needle weaves in and out mechanically while you try really hard not to think about the way the infirmary lights catch on Jeon's silver chain, or how his jaw clenches slightly when J-Hope's stethoscope touches a cold spot.

You feel like you're intruding on something private, which is stupid because it's just a medical exam. But there's something weirdly intimate about watching someone like Jeon—who's usually wrapped in leather and attitude—sitting here half-naked and compliant.

The needle slips.

"Shit—" The sharp sting makes you jump.

A bright red bead of blood wells up on your fingertip, because apparently you can't even do basic stitching when you're t̶o̶o̶ ̶b̶u̶s̶y̶ ̶o̶g̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ slightly distracted.

"You okay over there?" J-Hope looks up from his examination.

You're about to brush it off when you feel it—Jeon's eyes on you. The weight of his gaze hits like a physical thing, dark and heavy and way too knowing. Like he can tell exactly why you stabbed yourself, and t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ that's... interesting.

There's something in that look—something that makes your skin prickle and your breath catch.

Is he annoyed? Amused? Or maybe...

He turns away before you can figure it out, but the heat lingers on your skin like a brand.

Jeon grabs his shirt and pulls it back on in one smooth motion. You try not to notice how the fabric clings slightly before settling into place, or how his hair gets messed up for just a second before he runs his fingers through it. Just like that, the mask slides back on—Chief of Tactical Assassinations restored, that glimpse of something more human safely locked away again.

Your finger throbs, a tiny punishment for letting yourself get distracted.

t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶h̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ Real professional, getting caught staring like some rookie. In this life, distractions get people killed. Though usually not by sewing needles.

J-Hope's already moving around the room, putting away his supplies. He definitely catches you trying to hide your pricked finger, because suddenly he's there, slapping a band-aid on it with more force than strictly necessary.

"Pay attention next time," he grumbles, but there's something almost fond in how annoyed he sounds. "These needles aren't toys."

Jeon's already heading for the door, leather jacket back in place. He moves like someone who can't wait to put as much distance between himself and this medical checkup as possible.

Can't really blame him—you'd probably bolt too if you had to deal with J-Hope's judgment this early in the morning.

He pauses at the door though, just for a second. Those dark eyes find yours one last time, and something in your chest does this weird little thing that has nothing to do with the pine and mint scent he leaves behind.

Then he's gone, and you're left wondering what kind of storms are brewing behind those gloomy eyes.

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meganegatari · 2 years ago

Text

going to the library with girlfriend ellie.

☆: another random, self indulgent af blurb. i love libraries, and ellie, and drabbles, and writing fluffy things for y'all. this one's definitely not my best work, but i really wanted to put a little something out anyway. there's something so healing about writing fluff.

trek, trek, you hear behind you, as you race through the endless sea of tall shelves, the musty scent of old paper filling your nose. like a machine you scan the aisles, picking up book after book excitedly. you open it, read and decide, yes, this one too! the peace of libraries has always brought you comfort, and hallucinating whilst staring at a dead tree reading has always been your favorite activity. but you’ve run out of things to read which warranted yet another trip to the greatest place on earth. unfortunately for her, you've tasked ellie to be the carrier of all the novels.

"baaaaabe, do you really need this many??" she whines and pouts, as she trails behind you and struggles to keep up.

you turn back to look at her, almost stumbling with a huge stack in her arms which is almost taller than her, it's honestly unbelievable how she hasn't toppled over yet. she frowns at you, earning a chuckle on your part. she's so cute.

"just a little more! you agreed to come with me, els, you knew what you were signing up for. and yes i do need that many, books are my life. books and you, of course."

"but my arms are gonna fall off..." she steadies herself and huffs. "fine, but let's sit down in a few minutes, 'kay?"

grinning widely and and nodding, you take a few of the books from the top to ease the weight, then you skip off happily once more to peruse the shelves, searching for something to grasp your attention, and vaguely convinced you heard ellie tsk-ing behind you. after a bit she goes to sit down on the armchairs in a little corner with a cozy lamp, slumps into the cushions with a grunt, and is relieved she can finally set down the stack she was carrying. you're too absorbed in walking around to notice, but ellie is watching you with a smile from her seat, wondering how in the world she got lucky to have such a curious minded, smart, and loving girlfriend. you meant the world to her. as you scampered around, collecting more and more books, you catch her eye and wave, and her heart just about jumps out of her chest then and there.

when returning to your tired girlfriend, she's keeping herself occupied by checking out the synopses on all the books, with genuine interest.

"i'm back!" you say in a cheery tone, cheeks warming as you add, "may have gone a bit overboard this time, sorry for making you carry it all."

"hey! no, no, i love doing this with you. honest." she smiles warmly back at you, taking half the stack you're carrying in her arms, dividing the entire haul between the two of you. the two of you begin to walk to the desk to check out, until her emerald eyes light up and she remembers, "do they carry comics here?"

"uh, i think so.."

"BE RIGHT BACK-"

she suddenly dashes off with no warning, leaving you with the sighing librarian as she has to take a look to see what they've got.

this little outing turned out better than you had expected. next stop, a hole in the wall cafe for some lunch.

☆: not sure how i feel about this one honestly, but wanted to write a little something. hope y'all still like it! oh also, does the tiny text bother y'all? lemme know and i'll use the regular one, this one's aesthetically pleasing to me, but could be annoying. ellie n her comics own my heart.

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cheonstapes · 2 years ago

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We need a soulmate au with Miguel! There are barely any in this fandom with reader x miguel and it’s such a cute trope!

Especially with someone who isn’t a complete sunshine, just a reader who is as equally as cold and uninterested in the idea of “soulmates” as Miguel would be, yet they both finds themselves naturally drawn to one another.

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOU AND ME, ALWAYS TOGETHER’ (=ﾟωﾟ)ﾉヽ(^o^)

a/n ~ NO SMUT?? OH EM GEE! this was so cute i loved it sm! and yes, im sorry but i hate the sunshine reader fics😭 GIMMIE EMO READER AND GRUMPY MIGGY!!

summary; your futures were sealed from the moment you both met, you two just had to accept it.

pairing; miguel o’hara x reader

wc; 1.5k

cw; FLUFF! minor angst, soulmate au!, i think reader is mostly gn! pls tell me if not🩷, blood, injuries, mutual pining, kissing, reader has a little panic attack, love love love, spanish not translated, NAWT PROOFREAD - we all caps now

As much as he hated to admit it, Miguel always knew you were different.

Miguel was cautious of those around him, guarding his heart against anyone he deemed was getting a bit too close. And you — you were no exception, well, at the start. You were no ray of sunshine, that’s for sure. The way you carried yourself, so nonchalantly — almost rivalling Miguel in his own game.

He thinks about the day he first met you often, the curt nod you gave when he reluctantly invited you into the society. The moment he locked eyes with you, something changed. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the fight, or maybe it was the way your bored eyes brightened ever so slightly as you looked at him. Whatever it was, he didn’t like the way his heart momentarily skipped a beat.

He knew you felt it too, that small spark in your belly. It was impossible to ignore him, not just because he’s your boss — but because you didn’t want to. Every time you were around him the world seemed to look a little brighter, blending colours of you two’s shared connection to create an opening for you both to find each other — to explore the depths of that tumultuous abyss.

It was too good to be true, anyway. The idea of being connected to someone like that, having a ‘soulmate’, was downright stupid. You both were too busy protecting the multiverse to worry about something as trivial as love — Miguel scoured the timelines, and no matter how hard he tried, a love of his own was not part of it.

Yet you couldn’t seem to leave each other alone. The bond between the both of you constantly drawing you back to him, and him back to you. It was small things at first, asking you to go over some

mission reports, double checking data that he had already triple checked with you — then it was asking if you wanted an empanada from the canteen, bringing you coffee when he noticed your tired state, sitting you on his desk as he patched up your injuries.

It infuriated you to no end. Harbouring these feelings deep inside of you, you knew deep down you may be overreacting— but this had to stop. It would never work. It’s all you could tell yourself as you sat in silence, your mask covering your distressed face as he rambled on about the details of the next mission. “You’re with me, let’s go.”

“Huh?” You were so cute. It was a look that he’s never seen on you before, your eyes widened slightly, mouth open in a small pout. “The mission. You’re coming with me, so get moving.” That was the last thing you really wanted, being in direct contact with Miguel. A small part of you felt…excited? It was a strange feeling, one you didn’t welcome with open arms — pushing it down with a roll of your eyes and a small huff as you followed Miguel through the portal.

The universe you were in was practically a wasteland. It was unlike any you’ve seen before and it didn’t sit right with you at all. The air was filled with a noxious green smog, buildings seemingly crumbling with every swing the two of you took. “This is gonna be quick, capture the anomaly and we go. Do not engage unless it attacks first.” His stern voice cut through the heavy silence, your head flitting over to where he was perched on a rooftop.

“Yeah, ok, no problem.” It took everything for you not to respond with some sarcastic remark, the vibe here was too unsettling for you to take a jab at Miguel. He could sense something was off, not with this world — but with you. It was like he had a sixth sense, always knowing when you were upset, angry, happy, hungry. He didn’t think much of it, but something about today made the sense so much more intense.

He was next to you in an instant, towering over you as he blocked your vision of the world in front of you. “Hey, cariño, look at me.” Miguel’s voice had never been softer, even though there was still that gravelly undertone — it was calming, enough to get you to lift your head. The pure distress on your face made his gut twist in anguish, feeling his own anxiety picking up — he hadn’t felt like that in years. Those rough hands of his held your cheeks, so gently, as his thumb caressed the warm skin.

“You know I don’t like seeing you like this — all worried. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were capable of handling yourself, nena.”

“I know…but I-“

“Ah — no buts. What you aren’t gonna do right now is doubt yourself. I’ve known you for 8 years now, and the last thing I think when I see you is ‘quitter’. So get your ass together so we can finish this and go home.” Another curt nod, but this time there was the small hint of a smile on your face — the fire in your eyes reigniting at his words.

“Bueña chica. C’mon the anomaly should be just —“

It was barely touching you. The end of a sharp spike close to penetrating the tender skin of your stomach — but for some reason the pain was unbearable. It felt like blood was pooling in your organs, only there was none. The quietness interrupted as soft patter of crimson droplets hit the jagged concrete of the roof.

Your eyes trailed up, Miguel’s face uncharacteristically contorted into one of something akin to fear — the gaping hole in his stomach revealing itself when the thick shard slides out of it, the anomaly making unintelligible clicks and groans behind him. “No…no, Miguel!” The pain you felt directly mirrored his, your screams of anguish piercing the sensitive ears of the creature — its scaly body slithering off before you could stop it.

“Miguel? Miguel, stay with me ok — we’re going home, I-I’m gonna open the portal now and we’re gonna get you some help.” He could hear how fast your heart was beating, rings of red invading your eyes as tears pooled along with it. Even with the doughnut-sized hole in his torso, he couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were when you’re worried — the pain subsiding momentarily. “Ey, ¡carajo!, cálmate cariño. I…I’ll be ok, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Miguel, respectfully, that’s bullshit — there’s quite literally a whole carved out of you and you wanna sit here and tell me you’ll be ok? We’re going back right now, you’re not fucking dying on me.” Turning, you tapped around on your watch — opening a portal back to the HQ. Miguel’s presence behind you didn’t go unnoticed, despite his fatal, in your eyes, injury — he still found the time to tease you when he should be on the ground fighting for his life.

“How many times am I gonna have to tell you to look at me?” Was his voice always that deep, that sultry. His hands trail up your arm, grasping your wrist gently to stop your movements. The world turns as your spun round, eye-to-chest with Miguel before he lifts your head by your chin. He guides your hand towards his stomach, your hand meeting his firm muscles. “Where — Where did it…?” He chuckles deeply, shaking his head.

“Told you it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he looked at you — his eyes softening as he looked down at your expression. You were spluttering, hands waving around as you tried to process what you’re looking at — the hole now completely sealed as if nothing happened. Miguel’s rough hands cupped your cheeks, eyes flickering down to your lips — his own face heating up slightly.

You pause, hands shaking coming to grasp onto his shoulders — your bodies coming to press against each other. It was straight out of a movie, a dysfunctional one at that, but a movie nonetheless — faces meeting in the middle as your lips collide, tongues gently dancing. One of his hands move to grip your hips through the fabric of your suit, blunt nails digging into the fat as he grunts out curses against your spit soaked lips.

A few heated minutes pass and he breaks the kiss, panting down at you. “Let’s go capture that fucker.” You nod, your face lighting up from that bright smile you put on — once dull eyes sparkling up at him. “And after, I’m taking you out to that buffet place you keep talking about.”

Your hearts were beating in sync, everything perfectly aligned as you both finally found each other. You’re future together slotting into the timeline, the shared acknowledgement of your connection coming to fruition.

Whether you believed it or not, you two were soulmates, and nothing would change that.

-if you put a buck in my cup

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