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favefandomimagines · 1 month ago

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Catch Me (f.l)

Summary: it was only supposed to be a stupid argument; it wasn’t supposed to be the last time they spoke

Request: @multifandomloversthings can you write a frank langdon fic where the reader gets really hurt and it’s really angtsy idk completely up to you lol love your work!

AN: summary is a bit misleading (; or is it?

The morning light filtered in through the half-open blinds of Frank Langdon’s apartment, casting golden streaks across the kitchen floor. Y/N stood by the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee she’d barely touched. Her eyes weren’t on the mug or the sunlight. They were on Frank.

He stood across from her, half-dressed in scrubs, tension radiating from his shoulders like heat from pavement.

“So that’s it?” she asked quietly. “You’re really not going to say anything?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting to the clock as if it would save him. “Y/N, I just don’t think now’s the time—”

“The time?” she cut in, voice rising. “Frank, your kids met Abby’s boyfriend after six months. Six. We’ve been together for almost two years. I’m not asking to move in. I’m asking to meet your children.”

He flinched at the tone, guilt clouding his face. “It’s different.”

“Why? Because I’m not their mother? Because I work the same insane shifts you do? Because you’re scared?”

His silence spoke volumes.

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. “It feels like you don’t want me in that part of your life, Frank. Like we’re just… this side thing you keep at arm’s length.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” she asked, voice cracking.

Frank’s jaw flexed, and he exhaled sharply. “We’re gonna be late.”

She set the mug down with a loud clink, brushing past him. “Right. God forbid we deal with emotions before saving lives.”

The ER had just settled into a rhythm again when the next trauma call came in.

“Thirty-two-year-old male, incoming—agitated, potentially psychotic, combative. Security is following the rig. EMTs are struggling to keep him restrained,” called out Dr. Collins from the trauma board.

Frank glanced up from his charting. “We got a bed?”

“Bay Two just cleared,” Perlah called back. “We’ll have to sedate him quick if he’s that violent.”

Collins nodded. “Mohan, Mel, Y/N—you’re with me. Langdon, you’re on a priority chest trauma coming in five minutes. Split.”

Y/N gave a curt nod and peeled off with her team. Frank hesitated for just a beat, eyes lingering on her back as she disappeared behind the curtain with Collins.

He didn’t say anything—but something twisted in his gut. It was the kind of feeling he’d learned not to ignore, even if he didn’t understand it yet.

The gurney burst through the double doors with a crash, EMTs shouting over the patient’s thrashing.

“Name unknown—ID says ‘Jake Anders,’ but he’s not answering to it. He’s disoriented, screaming about people trying to kill him. Tried to bite one of us.”

The man was muscular, shirtless, covered in sweat and abrasions. His wrists were tightly bound by thick leather straps, and even with two EMTs and a security guard holding him down, he was barely contained.

“Let’s get him to the bed, secure the limbs,” Collins barked. “I want 5 of Haldol and 2 of Ativan, IM, now!”

Y/N moved to the side of the gurney, unflinching as the man screamed in her face. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, tears and sweat streaking down his cheeks. He fought every hand on him, jerking violently.

“Sir, we’re trying to help you,” Mel said firmly. “You need to calm down so we can treat you.”

He screamed something unintelligible, thrashing hard enough that the gurney wheels wobbled.

One of the restraints snapped loose with a loud pop.

“Arm free!” Mohan yelled.

Chaos erupted.

The man surged up from the bed, swinging wildly. A nurse ducked. An elbow hit one of the techs in the jaw. In the confusion, Y/N stepped in, grabbing for his flailing wrist, trying to regain control.

And that’s when it happened.

None of them saw the blade.

It must’ve been small, rusted, hidden somewhere in the waistband of his jeans or the fold of a sock. Homemade, maybe. A jagged piece of scrap metal wrapped in tape. No one knew. They only knew that in one frenzied flash of movement, it was in his hand.

There was a glint of metal, a jerk of his arm.

And then—

Y/N gasped.

Not loud. More like a shocked exhale.

Her grip loosened. She stumbled back two steps, her eyes wide. Her gloved hand moved to her abdomen. And when she pulled it away—blood. Dark red, warm, immediate.

“Y/N?” Mohan’s voice cracked. “What—”

The man was finally subdued by security, slammed back onto the gurney as the sedatives kicked in. His arm went limp, the makeshift weapon still clutched in his fist.

Mel’s eyes caught on it first.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “He had a knife.”

Mohan followed her gaze—and then saw the blood on the floor.

“Y/N!” she shouted, lunging toward her.

Y/N blinked, like she was trying to stay upright through sheer will. “I’m okay—” she started, but her knees buckled.

Mel caught her before she hit the floor. “No, you’re not. You’re bleeding bad.”

Y/N clutched the wound. Her scrubs were already soaked at the side. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale.

Collins face dropped. “She’s been stabbed. We need a gurney—get her on vitals now!”

“But Frank—” Y/N started.

Mel hushed her, gripping her hand. “Don’t talk. You’re going to be okay.”

“Don’t tell him,” Y/N gasped. “Not yet. Please—don’t…”

She trailed off.

Mohan checked her pulse. “Thready. BP’s tanking.”

“She needs to go to trauma now,” Collins barked. “I’m calling Robby. She needs attending hands on her—someone get Dr. Robby here now!”

One of the nurses sprinted off as Mel and Mohan wheeled Y/N toward the trauma bay. Her blood left a trail behind them on the tiles.

The man who stabbed her was unconscious, unaware of the chaos he’d caused.

And as the ER shifted into full emergency mode, one unspoken thought passed through everyone’s mind—

Frank didn’t know yet.

In trauma three, the atmosphere shifted with every second, a storm brewing within the sterile walls of the room.

Y/N’s body was cold, her face pale under the fluorescent lights, but her eyes remained open, wide with fear and pain. Her breath came in ragged bursts, and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything except the pressure on her abdomen, the place where the bleeding wouldn’t stop, no matter how much they tried to stem it.

"Mel, apply more pressure," Mohan directed, trying to sound calm as she applied her own firm hand to the wound. "We need to stabilize her. No more bleeding—get the line for fluids, now!”

But the seconds felt like minutes. Time was stretching, the urgency mounting. Y/N’s breathing hitched in sharp, shallow intakes as the pain began to catch up with her.

"I’m fine," she whispered hoarsely, but it sounded more like a plea than a declaration. She was losing blood fast. Her skin, once tan and healthy, was turning ashen.

Mohan’s voice trembled but remained steady. "Y/N, you're not fine. You’re in shock. We need to get your pressure back up, and we need to get you into surgery—stat."

Y/N’s eyes fluttered, her hand tightening weakly around Mohan’s wrist. “Please... don’t tell Frank...”

"Shh..." Mel hushed, but there was nothing comforting in her tone. The reality was setting in. Y/N was losing consciousness too quickly, her body too weak to fight anymore.

The group worked feverishly, pushing fluids into the line, trying to stabilize her enough for surgery. But despite all the attention and care, her body seemed determined to slip further from their grasp with each passing minute.

Outside the trauma bay, Frank was finishing up a consultation with an urgent care patient. He barely registered the frantic beeping of the monitor that flashed from across the room. Another trauma alert? He had a second to breathe before the door swung open.

Perlah appeared, her face pale, her hand shaking as she gripped the doorframe. "Dr. Langdon..."

Frank straightened, his gut already twisting. Something was wrong.

"What is it? Where’s Y/N?" His voice dropped. He hadn’t seen her in a while after the trauma alert, and it suddenly occurred to him that he'd been too distracted by his own cases to check in on her.

"She's been injured," Perlah said, almost apologetically. "Stabbed."

He didn’t wait for more details. His feet were already moving before she could finish. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. The familiar hum of the ER seemed muffled, as if the world had paused and left him alone in this crushing moment of helplessness.

When Frank burst through the double doors of trauma three, the room froze. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. The only sounds were the urgent beeping of machines and the rasping of Y/N’s breath.

Her body was spread out on the table, her face pale and drenched in sweat. Mel and Mohan stood at her side, applying pressure to the wound, but Frank's eyes immediately landed on the red that was soaking through the black scrubs beneath her.

“Y/N!” he called, but his voice cracked before he could get the rest of her name out.

He rushed to her side and cupped her face in his hands. She was unconscious and that only fueled Frank’s panic.

“Y/N, stay with me,” Frank demanded, his voice cracking with the force of it. “Please, stay with me.”

But her breath came in slow, uneven gasps. It wasn’t enough.

“Don’t move her,” Mohan said quickly, pushing him back gently. “She’s bleeding out, Langdon. We can’t—”

“I can help,” he said, his words sharp with panic, his hands hovering over her.

“No,” Collins said firmly, stepping between them. Her eyes were hard, but there was a softness beneath the surface. “You’re too close to this, Langdon. I’m not letting you work on her.”

Frank’s breath was coming faster now, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t expected. His fingers trembled, hovering over the gurney. He wanted to do something. Anything. He needed to help her.

“She’s my responsibility!” he snapped, his voice rising. "I can help her stabilize—please, just let me—"

“You’re not helping her by freaking out,” Collins shot back, her tone terse but trying to remain steady for the both of them. “She needs calm. We need to stabilize her vitals. Robby’s already on his way in.”

Frank’s heart stuttered in his chest. Robby. Of course. He would take control of this situation. But Frank couldn't stop looking at Y/N, at the way her eyes were closed, the way her body was slack.

For a moment, Frank’s entire world narrowed to her face, pale and barely breathing. She was slipping away from him. And in that moment, a voice inside him screamed that he couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not after everything they’d been through.

He pulled away, taking a few unsteady steps back. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, nails digging into his palm, his breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts.

“Y/N…” he whispered again, softer this time, almost like a prayer.

The door swung open again, and Robby rushed in, his face set in a professional mask, but his eyes widening as he saw the severity of the situation.

“What happened?” Robby asked, pulling his gloves on as he walked quickly to Y/N’s side.

“She’s been stabbed,” Mel said immediately, the information sharp and precise. “We’re trying to keep her stable, but we’re losing her fast. BP’s dropping. Pulse is weak.”

“Right. Let’s get her to surgery now.” Robby moved quickly to assess her, his hands moving with the precision of someone who’d done this a thousand times. “Frank, get out of here.”

Frank blinked, startled. “What?”

“I said, step aside,” Robby repeated, his voice firm, unwavering. "You're too close. I need to take over."

Frank’s entire body felt like it had been hit with a tidal wave. The anger, the desperation—everything collided in a heartbeat. He wanted to shout, to tear Robby apart for telling him what to do, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not when Y/N needed them all to focus.

He felt helpless. Useless.

Robby didn’t give him time to respond, continuing to work on Y/N’s vitals as he barked orders to the nurses.

“You call the OR,” Robby instructed Mohan, who was already moving to prepare Y/N for surgery. “Get the anesthesia team on standby.”

Mel took a deep breath. “I’ll stay here and help prep. Keep her stable for transport.”

Frank watched it all unfold, his mind fighting between guilt and fear. There was nothing he could do, nothing except wait, and that was the most agonizing part.

When the room began to clear and the nurses took Y/N away, Frank found himself rooted to the spot. His fingers trembled. His chest was tight, and his mind was running a thousand miles a minute.

How had he let this happen? How could he stand here while she lay unconscious, on the brink of something worse?

The doors to the trauma bay swung closed behind Y/N, the wheels of her gurney rattling against the tile as Mohan and the surgical team rushed her toward the OR. Then silence—one of those rare, suffocating kinds of silence that didn’t belong in an emergency department.

Frank stood alone, hands shaking, red smeared across his gloved hands. Not his blood.

Hers.

He stared at it like it didn’t belong, like if he just looked hard enough, he could will it away—reverse time, put her back on her feet and pretend this morning’s fight had never happened.

“You okay?” Perlah asked softly, standing at a respectful distance, as though getting too close might cause him to break apart.

Frank didn’t answer. His jaw clenched as he tried to focus on something, anything else—but the image of Y/N’s face lifeless in front of him kept replaying in his mind. He didn’t even get to tell her he loved her.

Mel stepped into the trauma bay with a clipboard in hand. “You should go clean up. You’re covered in her blood.”

He didn’t move. “She asked you not to tell me?”

Mel’s expression faltered, her voice softening. “She was scared. Probably didn’t want you to panic. But no one was going to keep that from you.”

Frank finally looked up at her. “I should’ve been there.”

“You were working a trauma—there was no way to know. This wasn’t your fault.”

Frank laughed—sharp, bitter, hollow. “She thinks I don’t want her in my life. She thinks I’m ashamed of her because I haven’t let her meet my kids. And now... what if those were the last words I ever said to her? What if I never get to—” His voice broke. “What if she doesn’t wake up?”

Mel didn’t try to offer false comfort. Instead, she just placed a steady hand on his arm. “Then tell her. When she does.”

He stared at her. “And if she doesn’t?”

Mel didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. They both knew the unspoken truth that lingered in every trauma bay: Not everyone made it. Not every story ended with a miracle.

The OR board updated with Y/N’s name. Trauma laparotomy. Unstable vitals. Possible internal bleeding.

Frank sank into one of the staff chairs outside the OR hallway, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He didn’t even care about the blood on his clothes anymore.

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much. He didn’t respond to pages, didn’t even flinch when Dr. Robby finally emerged, his face drawn tight with fatigue.

Frank was on his feet in an instant. “How is she?”

Robby exhaled slowly. “The knife nicked the inferior epigastric artery. If she’d noticed even five minutes later, we’d have lost her. But we stopped the bleeding. She’s stable—sedated, but stable.”

Frank swayed slightly, the breath he’d been holding finally releasing. “She’s okay?”

“She’s going to be okay,” Robby confirmed. “But it’s going to be a long recovery.”

Frank nodded numbly, throat thick with emotion. He barely registered Robby’s hand squeezing his shoulder before the attending disappeared down the hallway again.

Hours later, long after the chaos had ebbed and the ER settled into an uneasy quiet, Frank stood outside Y/N’s room in post-op recovery.

The room was dim, machines humming softly. Y/N was lying in the hospital bed, her face pale, hair matted to her forehead. A nasal cannula fed her oxygen. Monitors blinked steadily. Her hand rested over her stomach, bandaged beneath the gown.

Frank stepped inside quietly, dragging a chair beside her bed. He sat down slowly, as though afraid he might wake her, or worse—afraid she wouldn’t wake at all.

“Hey,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She didn’t stir.

He leaned closer, his hand wrapping around hers, grounding himself in the warmth of her skin.

“I know I’ve been... distant. With the kids. With the future. With us,” he admitted, voice cracking. “But it’s not because I don’t want you in my life. I just didn’t know how to bring you into theirs without screwing it all up.”

A pause. Just the sound of her steady breathing.

“But I was wrong. And I’m sorry. You’re already part of their lives, whether they’ve met you or not. And if you’ll still have me—when you wake up—I want to do this right. All of it. I’m done holding back.”

The room was still. Quiet.

Then, her hand twitched.

Frank blinked and leaned closer. “Y/N?”

Her eyelids fluttered. She stirred slightly, head turning toward him with the effort of someone swimming up from a heavy fog.

“Frank...” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but her fingers curled weakly around his.

He leaned forward, kissing her hand as tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Recovery wasn’t easy.

Y/N’s body had been through hell. The trauma of the stab wound, the blood loss, the surgery—it all left her exhausted, bruised, and weak.

Her usually strong frame seemed almost fragile under the layers of gauze and hospital blankets. But if there was one thing Frank knew about her, it was that she didn’t know how to stay down.

From the moment she was awake enough to register her surroundings, she was already trying to convince the nurses she could walk, get back to rounds, return to work. It was almost comical, the way she threatened to pull her own IV lines just to go chart something.

“You’re not even cleared to sit up yet,” Frank teased gently one morning as he walked into her hospital room with coffee and one of her favorite chocolate croissants, still warm from the bakery near his place. “And you think they’re going to let you check someone’s vitals?”

She smirked, even as she grimaced and held her side. “I’m just saying. ER’s quieter without me. Someone’s gotta keep you all on your toes.”

“You almost died,” he said softly, his voice losing its humor. “We’re okay with quiet.”

Her smile faded. A long moment passed before she reached for his hand.

“I heard what you said. When I was out.”

Frank sat down beside her bed and rubbed his thumb gently along her knuckles. “Yeah?”

“I don’t remember everything... but I remember enough. You said you’re done holding back.”

He nodded. “I meant it. Every word.”

She was quiet again, searching his eyes. “You were scared.”

“I was terrified.”

“And now?”

“I still am,” he admitted. “But I’m more scared of what happens if I don’t let you in. What I’ll lose if I keep shutting you out.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “So... does this mean you want me to meet them?”

Frank smiled, a soft, vulnerable thing that rarely appeared in the ER. “Yes, it means I want you to meet them.”

It took another three weeks before she was discharged. Even then, Robby made sure everyone knew that if she even thought about stepping foot back in the ER before her follow-up CT, he’d revoke her badge himself.

She spent most of her recovery in Frank’s apartment.

He brought her books. She brought chaos to his perfectly ordered life.

He cooked. She critiqued.

He worried. She rolled her eyes and told him to stop treating her like glass.

It wasn’t easy, learning how to live in the same space without the controlled chaos of the ER buzzing around them. But it was real, and something about that made it even more beautiful.

#imagine #the pitt imagine #the pitt #frank langdon imagine #dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon #imagines

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mariasont · 5 months ago

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hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the ringing of phones and panicked conversations were replaced by the only the sound of air conditioning (when it worked) and the occasional sneeze or cough. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated — time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than heavily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early, too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become, it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones, professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention. He’d even go as far to say you dressed more modestly than most.

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional, he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today — black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it — his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong, knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass.

Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there, so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones — greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences, pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting, he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though. The pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want, what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake.

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter.

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect, the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing, knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day, but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #perv!aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem reader #hotch #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader

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dollyhao · 1 year ago

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gf!ellie with a oral fixation (sweet midnight sex)

you and ellie lay on your bed late at night getting ready to go to sleep. she's watching tv and your strolling through your phone while ellie starts to dose off. she shifts her body to lay her head against your chest. you pay her no mind because this is her little habit.

she fiddles with your tank top and gazes sleepily at the revealed skin of your breast. she tugs at the top of your shirt. "can i?" she mumbles as gazing up at you. you glance down at her seeing her droopy eyes plead with you as she slowly pulls your shirt down.

you nod at her, "but not too hard els. im sleepy." you say turning on your side to face her.

when ellie first told you about her oral fixation you were kinda confused. you knew she enjoyed putting stuff in her mouth but you didn't think it had a name. when she explained that thats why she liked having your nipple in her mouth so much without it being sexual all the time, you understood. so being the amazing girlfriend you are you let her whenever she asks.

she pulls your shirt up over your breast and takes them both in her hands massaging them softly. she kisses around your nipple before taking one in her mouth. she wraps her lips around it but doesn't suck wrapping her arms around your waist, pressing your body closer to hers.

you readjust yourself trying not to think too hard about the warmth of her mouth wrapped around you. it always takes you a minute to adjust to the feeling but it gets frustrating when her tongue flicks over your nipple. you let it go because this is what ellie says she needs.

you start to doze off when you feel ellie start to suck harder, her teeth grazing your nipple as she runs her tongue over it. her grip on you tightens her hand that's on your back trails down your thigh; lifting it over her hips. you glance down at her to see her eyes looking up at you. her fingers trail up her leg, grasping on your ass under your oversized shirt.

"ellie," you mumble brushing her hair out her face, "what are you doing?" ellie lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, "i dont know..." she says honestly. "i-i thought this was supposed to be innocent," you squirm as her hands creeps lower to your covered cunt, stroking your pussy with her middle finger.

"i know, im sorry." she rolls you over laying you on your back. "can i keep going?" she whispers to you softly as she sit in between your legs. you look over at the clock on your nightstand seeing that its 2 in the morning. you nod at her and she trails the kisses down your stomach to your underwear, pulling them down.

"i thought this was supposed to be innocent." ellie mocks your earlier statement as she sees how wet you are. "how was i supposed to keep it innocent with you sucking and rubbing on me, asshole." you say jokingly shoving her shoulder. ellie slips a finger into you kissing your lips again. its slow and sensual as she runs her tongue over your top lip.

your arms wrap around her neck as she fucks against your sweet spot. "mhmm~, more baby." ellie pulls away from your lips to look you in the eye as she adds another finger. you press your forehead against hers, panting out her name. "it feel good mama?" she asks mouth only a breath away from yours. "yess, faster els." you beg her. "ask nicely." ellie smirks bending her head to kiss your neck.

you run your hands through her hair, "please, baby?" you arch your back into her and and she slide her hand over your arch, pulling you flush against her. she does what you asked speeding up her thrust and you let go on her fingers. you come down from your high glancing over at ellie, who settled at your side, giving you a innocent look.

"you feel better?" you tease her. she nods settling next to your exposed chest. "absolutely not." you pull your shirt back down throwing your arm over her and laying on her chest, patting her shoulder. “go to sleep els.”

#wlw #lesbian #the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #loser ellie #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie x reader #tlou ellie

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hereforuconnwbb · 2 months ago

Text

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 2

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6.4k

warning: language, mention of injury

heres chap 2 guysss !!! im tryna follow the ideas u guys gave me, so im not 100% sure if its exactly what yall had in mind, but im gonna slowly build it up from here 🤞🏽 hopefully there’s no mistakes and it all makes sense cause i wrote the last bit of this chapter and read through this half asleep 😭 anywaysss hope u guys enjoy 🫶🏽

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was still early, but the campus was already alive. The buzz of conversation, the shuffle of students walking to class, and the occasional skateboard rolling past made it feel like the world had hit play again. Paige stood by one of the low stone benches just outside the library, sunlight hitting her face while a gentle breeze played with the hem of her hoodie.

She was early, way too early, but she’d never admit she was nervous. Her phone was in her hand, thumbs scrolling through Instagram, even though she hadn’t really seen a single post. She kept checking her reflection in the dark screen anytime it dimmed. Hair was decent. Fit looked casual but intentional. Nothing screamed I’m trying, even though she absolutely was.

Calm down, she told herself for the twentieth time. It’s just tutoring. You need help. That’s all it is.

A group of students passed by laughing, and Paige looked up, spotting Caroline a few feet away walking with her coffee, headed her direction. She was with Aubrey, Ice, and KK all of them talking shit about something and laughing loudly. Paige already regretted her decision to come to this part of campus.

Caroline smirked the second she saw Paige. “So,” she said, greeting her with a little side hug. “You texted Azzi?”

Paige gave her a side-eye. “How do you already know that?”

“She told me last night,” Caroline said innocently, sipping her coffee.

Aubrey lit up. “Wait, wait, you messaged her? Already? Damn, that didn’t take long.”

KK raised her eyebrows. “What’s going on? Who’s Azzi?”

Caroline turned to her with a smile. “Azzi’s my best friend. She’s super smart. Paige needed help with some classes, so I suggested Azzi could tutor her.”

“And I said I was fine,” Paige muttered.

“And then you texted her anyway,” Aubrey said, grinning. “Knew you would. Couldn’t go under 24 hours without seeing her again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige said under her breath, adjusting her bag strap to have something to do with her hands.

Ice laughed. “Hold on, is this the same Azzi girl that Aubrey said had you all flustered yesterday?”

Aubrey nodded proudly. “Yup. Paige met her once and forgot how to talk.”

“I didn’t forget how to—geez, will you all chill?”

KK leaned in toward Ice. “Now I really wanna see what this girl looks like.”

“You might get your chance,” Caroline said casually, checking her watch. “She’s got class with me in a few minutes. She’s probably walking up now.”

And almost on cue, a voice called out from behind them.

“Hey, Caroline!”

The group turned and spotted Azzi walking up to the group of girls, backpack slung over one shoulder, her braids swaying slightly as she walked. The sunlight caught on her hoops, and Paige went completely still.

Azzi looked laid-back and composed, like she hadn’t just unknowingly walked into a firing squad of nosy basketball girls. She gave Caroline a warm smile before her eyes moved naturally to Paige and paused. Her smile lingered, just a bit softer now.

“Hey, Paige,” she added.

Paige nodded quickly. “Hey.”

They made eye contact, and it was enough to set off another wave of chaos in Paige’s chest. She was hoping no one would notice, but of course, the girls clocked it instantly.

Ice nudged KK and whispered, “Yeah, I get it now.”

KK nodded slowly. “Mhm. She’s got that calm, pretty energy. No wonder Paige’s out here acting like a freshman with a crush.”

“Shut up,” Paige hissed through gritted teeth, though her ears were turning red.

Azzi looked toward the two new faces in the group, a little curious but she does recognise them. Caroline jumped in. “Azzi, this is KK and Ice our teammates. KK, Ice, this is Azzi.”

Azzi offered a polite smile. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You too,” KK said, still smirking. “Heard a lot about you.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”

Aubrey was barely holding it together. “We didn’t even say anything yet,” she said, laughing. “But sure, Paige. We’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Liar,” Paige muttered.

Azzi glanced at her, still smiling, and Paige felt the air shift again so subtle, but it was there. That unspoken thing sitting between them that no one was addressing. Paige quickly looked away before her teammates could start up again.

“Welp, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Caroline said to the group. “Azzi and I have class.”

“Later,” Aubrey called as Caroline and Azzi started walking away. Aubrey turned towards Paige with a smirk so evil Paige felt it in her bones.

Paige groaned. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

“Oh, I’m saying everything,” Aubrey said gleefully. “The way you just shut down when she looked at you? Paige Bueckers, the ultimate rizzler herself, turned into a puppy.”

Ice laughed. “And she didn’t even do anything. She just said hi”

“Fuck off,” Paige muttered, but she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad. Not really. Because yeah, Azzi hadn’t done anything. And yet here Paige was, heart racing from a single look.

—-----------------------

Azzi settled into her usual seat beside Caroline in the lecture hall, her notebook already open, though the pen in her hand wasn’t moving. The lecture hadn’t even properly started yet, but even if it had, she knew she wouldn’t be paying attention right away.

Her thoughts kept wandering.

Specifically, to the text she’d gotten the night before. From Paige.

She hadn’t expected to actually hear from her, not after how Paige had brushed off the idea of tutoring like it was unnecessary, even laughable.

Azzi had stared at the message for a solid minute before replying.

Even now, she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it.

“Earth to Az” Caroline murmured, nudging her gently with her elbow. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. Thinking about someone?”

Azzi blinked and turned toward her, caught but trying to play it cool. “No. I mean—sort of. Just… thinking.”

Caroline’s smirk said she wasn’t buying it. “Thinking about how Paige Bueckers finally caved and texted you for tutoring?”

Azzi let out a soft sigh and shook her head. “I told you last night. I was just surprised she actually did it. She looked so confident yesterday like she was going to fake it till finals.”

“Well, she is confident,” Caroline said, half-amused, half-approving. “But academics? Paige only pretends she doesn’t care. Inside, she’s stressing big time when she’s behind. Girl’s too proud to admit it most of the time.”

Azzi tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect her to be the kind to reach out. Especially to someone she barely knows.”

“She knows who you are,” Caroline said, shooting her a look. “You’re the quiet one who actually takes notes and doesn’t worship the ground she walks on. That probably intrigued her.”

Azzi gave her a look. “I don’t worship anyone. I just… don’t care about basketball or any other sports.”

“Exactly,” Caroline grinned, tapping her nails against the desk. “That makes you different. Refreshing, even.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, unsure how to take that. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think I’d actually be tutoring her. It feels weird.”

Caroline turned more fully toward her, her expression softening. “Weird because you don’t know her, or weird because she was lowkey flustered around you?”

“I don’t think it was anything like that,” Azzi said slowly, trying to sound firmer than she felt. “She was probably just nervous about needing help. That’s all.”

Caroline tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Sure. That’s all.”

Azzi sighed. “I don’t even know her. Like, I’ve heard of her, obviously, but we’ve never talked until yesterday. And it was barely even a conversation.”

“You don’t need to know her to notice when someone’s acting different around you,” Caroline said, her tone a little more knowing now. “I’ve seen Paige with a lot of people. She’s got this… guard. But with you? She was definitely off her game.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was starting to feel the flutter of nerves deep in her chest. “You’re reading into this too much. I’m just going to help her study, that’s it.”

Caroline shrugged. “Alright, fine. Just tutoring. But don’t act surprised if she tries to flirt in her weird, awkward way.”

Azzi snorted, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Caroline teased with a wink.

Azzi leaned back, glancing up at the slowly-filling lecture hall. “I’m not trying to get involved in anything messy. I’ll help her study. That’s it. No weirdness, no distractions.”

Caroline raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not saying you like her. I’m just saying… keep your eyes open. Paige Bueckers may be all cool and untouchable to the rest of the world, but around you? Something’s shifting.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, letting the words hang between them as the professor started setting up slides at the front of the room.

She wasn’t crushing on Paige. She didn’t even really know her.

But there was something about the way Paige had looked at her outside, something a little tentative, a little unsteady, that stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit.

Azzi shook herself out of it and looked down at her notebook again, forcing her mind to focus on the lecture.

Just tutoring. That was all this was.

Right?

—-----------------------

It was 10 minutes to 3, and Paige was sitting stiffly on one of the benches just outside the library steps, her jacket zipped all the way up despite the mild afternoon warmth. She kept pulling at the zipper down halfway, back up, then down again like it was a dial for her anxiety. Her foot bounced restlessly, her fingers twitching every few seconds to check her phone, even though it hadn’t buzzed.

Aubrey was fully stretched out beside her, taking up way more space than necessary like this was a casual trip to the beach instead of her best friend’s slow descent into chaos. One arm was draped over the back of the bench, the other cradling a half-empty iced coffee that had long since lost its chill. She watched Paige out of the corner of her eye with a grin that kept creeping up every time Paige adjusted something for the hundredth time.

“You know,” Aubrey drawled, lifting her cup to her lips, “if I had a dollar for every time you checked your reflection in your phone screen, I’d be rich enough to drop out and live off vibes alone.”

Paige didn’t even look at her. “I was fixing my hair.”

“That the same ‘fix’ you did 3 minutes ago? Or the one right after you dabbed your hoodie with water to flatten that invisible wrinkle?”

Paige groaned and let her head fall back against the bench. “Why are you even here?”

“Entertainment. I live for this.” Aubrey shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other. “Besides, watching you spiral over a girl you met yesterday is 10 times more fun than whatever I was gonna do with my afternoon.”

Paige turned her head slowly to give her the most deadpan look imaginable.

Aubrey beamed back. “Seriously though, you’re killing me. You’ve checked your lip balm, like, four times. What’s the difference between ‘subtle shimmer’ and ‘barely there glow’? They’re the same.”

“They are not the same,” Paige snapped, immediately regretting how fast she said it.

Aubrey’s laugh rang out loud enough to make a student walking by turn their head. “You hear yourself right now?”

Paige pulled the hood over her head and groaned into it. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You just hate that I’m right.”

There was a moment of silence as Paige exhaled slowly, pulling the hood back off and sitting upright again. Her knee was bouncing now, the nerves nowhere near subtle.

“I just… I don’t know,” she mumbled, eyes flicking toward the library entrance. “She’s really…”

Aubrey perked up. “She’s really what?”

Paige shook her head quickly. “Forget it.”

“Nooo, no, no. Don’t back out now. Say it. I need this.”

Paige sighed and looked out across the quad like the grass was gonna give her strength. Her voice dropped just above a whisper. “She’s really pretty.”

Aubrey clutched her chest like she’d been waiting her whole life to hear it. “There it is!”

Paige frowned, eyes still ahead. “And seems smart. Like, scary smart. But not in a loud way. In a ‘makes you feel dumb without even trying’ kind of way.”

Aubrey raised her brows, clearly loving this. “Damn. You’re gone.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, folding her arms.

“I’m just observing. You’ve had a crush for a solid twenty-four hours and you’re acting like it’s prom night.”

“She’s tutoring me. That’s it.”

“Mhmmmm. You mean she’s ‘tutoring you’ and you’re ‘definitely not falling apart at the seams’ while trying to remember what two plus two is when she looks at you?”

Paige glared. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re in denial.”

“I’m gonna throw your coffee across the quad.”

“I’ll buy another one. Worth it.”

Paige groaned again, running her hand through her hair. “God, what am I even doing? I’m acting like a middle schooler.”

“You’re acting like a college student with a gay panic problem,” Aubrey said with a shrug. “It’s fine. It’s cute. Just maybe stop adjusting your jacket every time someone walks by or they’re gonna think you’re shoplifting nerves.”

Paige looked down at herself and huffed, trying to smooth it down one more time before stopping mid-motion, catching herself. “Damn it.”

“See?” Aubrey grinned, nudging her. “You’re spiraling. It’s kinda adorable.”

Right then, Paige’s phone buzzed. She yanked it out like it was on fire.

2:57pm

Her breath hitched. She shot a glance at the entrance.

A flash of dark curls pulled into a ponytail appeared just inside the glass doors of the library.

“Oh shit,” Paige whispered, standing up too fast. She quickly brushed invisible dust off her sweatpants, glanced down at her sneakers, frowned at a smudge, then looked back up.

Aubrey watched with a lazy smirk. “You good?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Paige muttered. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to fail basic math but win the gold in gay panic.”

“Okay, seriously. Stop talking.”

“I’m done,” Aubrey said, hands up in mock surrender. “Go learn some equations and maybe flirt like a human person while you’re at it.”

Paige took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her pants, then started walking toward the library steps.

Aubrey called out one last time, “And maybe try not to stare at her!”

Paige didn’t even turn around. She just lifted her hand behind her and gave Aubrey the finger as she reached the door.

Her heart was pounding. Her palms were a little clammy. But she was walking.

Paige let out one last breath.

The second Paige stepped through the library doors, it felt like her shoes were too loud. Like every step echoed through the entire building even though the carpet was doing its best to muffle them. She tugged her hoodie sleeve down over her palm, eyes sweeping over the rows of tables until she found her.

Azzi was near the far corner, by the window. The sunlight filtered through the glass, catching the edge of her curls and lighting up the gold tones like some kinda magic effect from a movie. She had a pencil in hand, lightly tapping the eraser against the page, her other hand flipping through a worn notebook covered in neat little tabs. She looked focused. Comfortable.

Paige was very much neither of those things.

She hovered for a second, literally just stood there, trying to remember how walking worked before finally forcing her legs to move. Her palms were sweaty again. Her backpack felt too heavy. She hoped her hair wasn’t doing anything weird.

Azzi looked up right as Paige reached the table. “Hey,” she said, a casual, soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Paige’s brain glitched for a second. “Hey,” she said, and it came out a little too fast.

Azzi closed the notebook and motioned to the chair across from her. “You’re on time.”

“I’m always on time,” Paige said, slipping into the seat like her limbs were made of static. She regretted the joke immediately. “I mean, usually. Sometimes. Not like always always, but—”

Azzi raised a brow, amused. “You’re good. I’m just saying I expected a minute or two buffer.”

Paige laughed nervously and tugged at the sleeves of her hoodie again. “Yeah, no. I was already out here. Early. Just, you know… prepping.”

Azzi gave her a look like she was trying not to smile. “Prepping to be tutored?”

“Exactly.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath and opened a different notebook, one already half-filled with notes. “Ok. So I looked over the syllabus and the last few slides from class. Want to start with the stuff from earlier in the week?”

“Please,” Paige said, dragging out the word like it physically pained her. “That whole section might as well have been written in some foreign language.”

“Alright,” Azzi said, flipping to the page. “We’re still on systems of equations and matrix transformations. Did you get the basics?”

Paige hesitated. “Define basics.”

Azzi didn’t even blink. “Like… what a matrix is?”

“…Is that the Keanu Reeves one or the number box one?”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, let’s start with the number box one.”

She turned the notebook around and slid it across the table so Paige could see. Her handwriting was crazy clean. Paige immediately noticed how she circled everything in soft, pastel highlighters—blue for definitions, pink for formulas, green for notes. It was weirdly calming to look at.

“So this,” Azzi said, tapping the first example, “is a 2x2 matrix. Two rows, two columns. Easy enough?”

Paige leaned in a little, squinting at the page like it might bite her. “Yeah. I think I remember this part.”

Azzi looked up. “You’re allowed to say you don’t. No judgment.”

“I mean, I kind of remember it. It’s more like it shows up and I recognize the face, but I don’t remember the name.”

Azzi laughed again, light and genuine. “Alright, we’ll reintroduce you.”

She walked Paige through the basics, what each position meant, how they worked when you multiplied them, the reason why flipping them could screw everything up. Paige nodded, trying to focus on the numbers, the shapes, anything that wasn’t Azzi’s voice being low and patient or the way her curls bounced when she looked down to write something.

At some point, Azzi switched to a blank page and turned the notebook so Paige could try a problem herself. She watched closely as Paige worked through it slowly, brow furrowed, tongue slightly poking out the corner of her mouth.

“You’re overthinking it,” Azzi said, voice soft. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Paige huffed and leaned back, pencil pressed between her palms. “One step at a time is how I ended up failing that quiz.”

“True,” Azzi said, grinning. “But now you’ve got me. Upgrades.”

That earned a real smile out of Paige. “Yeah. This is definitely better.”

Azzi looked at her for a second, then tapped the page. “You’re actually not far off. You just missed one sign. Wanna try again?”

Paige nodded, gaze flicking back down to the numbers.

She could do this.

Well… she could try.

And maybe, just maybe if she didn’t totally embarrass herself, there’d be more study sessions like this. Not that she was hoping for anything.

—-----------------------

The soft hum of the library was like a low lullaby, comforting in its quiet, yet full of the sort of focused energy only a place of learning could have. Books, notebooks, and pens were strewn across the table between them, yet all Paige could focus on was Azzi.

Azzi was reading the textbook aloud softly, walking her through another set of equations. Her voice was calm, steady, yet there was an underlying intensity in the way she spoke, like she genuinely wanted Paige to understand. Every now and then, Azzi would pause and ask if Paige was following, looking at her over the top of her glasses, and Paige would just nod though most of the time, her attention wasn’t entirely on the lesson.

She caught herself again, staring. Azzi’s hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face, and those glasses—those damn glasses. Paige had to fight the urge to look away every time Azzi adjusted them, because the way they sat on her face, giving her an effortlessly smart, put-together look, made Paige’s stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t quite figured out.

Azzi wasn’t even trying to impress anyone. She was just sitting there, leaning over the textbook, completely engrossed in helping Paige. Her calm demeanor was almost too much for Paige to handle sometimes like the sort of quiet confidence that was magnetic.

She caught herself again, looking at Azzi’s profile as she read. The way her lips moved as she pronounced the words, her fingers subtly tapping on the page as she went through the steps in the problem.

“Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice snapping Paige out of her daze. “You still with me?”

Paige blinked and tried to clear the fog in her head. “Yeah, sorry,” she said, focusing on the math in front of her. She quickly scribbled a few numbers down, even though she was far more focused on the way Azzi was looking at her now, brows furrowed in concern.

“I said we can move on to the next problem if you’re ready,” Azzi added, voice softer now.

“Yeah, I think I got this one,” Paige lied, her words more rushed than she intended. She was trying her best to concentrate, but the math seemed to fade into the background as she found herself distracted by the soft rhythm of Azzi’s voice and the quiet rustling of pages. The way Azzi’s fingers traced the lines of the book as she found the right spot. The way her eyes would flicker from the textbook to Paige every few seconds to check in on her, making sure she was following along. It was like everything Azzi did was just too perfect, too natural, and it made Paige feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Do you want me to slow down? I know this part can be tricky,” Azzi offered, her eyes searching Paige’s face for any sign of confusion.

But the truth was, Paige wasn’t confused about the math at all, she was distracted by Azzi’s presence, her calmness, the way her voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She gave a small shake of her head. “No, I’m good,” she said, though her voice came out quieter than she intended.

Azzi nodded, returning her attention to the problem at hand. She explained the next step slowly and clearly, but Paige’s mind wasn’t really processing it. Instead, she was watching the way Azzi’s lips moved as she spoke, the way her fingers tapped the paper, the way her glasses slightly slid down her nose as she read the equations. Paige couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool Azzi seemed. She looked so unbothered, so calm in her own skin, and it was something Paige both envied and admired.

The longer they sat there, the more the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken things. Paige could almost feel the weight of the silence, but not in an uncomfortable way, in a way that made her want to lean forward, ask Azzi about her life, about everything that made her the person she was. And yet, every time she tried to get her words together, her thoughts scattered like smoke in the wind.

“Paige, are you sure you’re following?” Azzi asked again, this time with a small frown forming between her brows. She wasn’t accusing or frustrated; just genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige quickly said, shaking her head as if to clear the distraction. She forced herself to focus, finally pulling her eyes from Azzi’s face and onto the equation in front of her. “I think I get it now. Thanks for being patient.”

Azzi smiled softly. “No problem. You’re doing great, really. You just need to take a breath every now and then. You’re trying too hard.”

Paige bit her lip, trying to suppress the chuckle that almost slipped out. “Trying too hard?” she repeated, her voice teasing. “I’m not trying hard enough for this?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes softening as she leaned back in her chair. “Well, maybe you should try a little harder. You’re already getting the hang of it.”

Paige felt a little flame of pride in her chest at Azzi’s praise, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being drawn to the way Azzi sat there, calm and composed, like she had everything under control. And Paige was… well, a mess of emotions she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

She forced herself to focus back on the book, willing her mind to follow the equations instead of her thoughts, but it was getting harder with each passing second. She glanced back at Azzi, who was quietly writing out steps on the page. Azzi’s head was tilted slightly, a sign of concentration. And it hit Paige then how deeply she was starting to care for this girl. How much more than just math sessions she was starting to crave.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” Paige said finally, trying to focus back in, her voice steadying now.

Azzi looked up and nodded, smiling again. “Good. See? You’re getting it.” She paused, and for a moment, Paige thought she saw a flicker of something in Azzi’s eyes—something warm and unspoken. But then it was gone, hidden behind the coolness of her usual composure.

Paige nodded, forcing her eyes to stay on the page, though her thoughts felt like they were running a mile a minute.

“Alright, let’s take a short break before we do the next one,” Azzi suggested. “You’ve been at this for a while now.”

Paige didn’t protest. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and let herself relax for a moment, her gaze slipping to Azzi again, just long enough to catch her watching her with that same quiet focus. That same soft intensity that made Paige’s heart flutter in a way she wasn’t used to.

Paige didn’t mean to do it—didn’t mean to let the curiosity slip out, but the words came before she could stop them.

“So, uh, what made you agree to tutor me?” Paige asked, her voice softer than usual, as if she was treading into unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but something about Azzi seemed different. Quiet. Like there was so much more beneath the surface.

Azzi paused, her hand hovering over her bag, and then looked up at Paige. For a brief moment, there was that same familiar flicker of something behind her calm demeanor, but Azzi quickly masked it with her usual composed smile.

“I dunno,” Azzi said after a beat, voice casual, “You seemed like you needed help. And I guess I’m a sucker for helping people out, especially if they’re willing to put in the work. You seem like you actually care about getting it right.”

Paige nodded, appreciating the honesty in Azzi’s voice. “I do. I just… get distracted sometimes.” She chuckled softly, but the sound felt more nervous than anything.

Azzi smiled again, a little warmer this time. “Yeah, I noticed.” She shrugged slightly, picking up her notebook and tucking it into her bag. “I like helping people. I used to tutor a lot when I was in high school. It just feels good, you know?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What else? You seem like you’ve got other stuff going on. What do you do for fun when you’re not helping people like me?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, clearly considering whether to answer. Paige almost regretted asking, but then Azzi sighed, almost reluctantly.

“Well, it’s a bit of a random fact, but I used to play basketball. Like, competitively.” Azzi glanced up at Paige, her eyes not quite meeting hers. She continued quietly, “I stopped playing a few years ago. Tore my ACL in a game, but that’s not the reason I quit. I just… lost the love for it, I guess.”

Paige blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that. Azzi, with her calm confidence, so different from the athletes Paige was used to, didn't seem like the type who would’ve played a sport like basketball. “You played? For how long?”

Azzi shrugged, her fingers tapping against the desk idly. “Since I was a kid. But by the time I hit high school, I wasn’t really feeling it anymore. It wasn’t about the injury. I could’ve come back after the rehab. But after a while, I just realized it wasn’t my thing anymore.” She paused for a moment, eyes flickering to Paige, then away again. “I guess I was just… over it.”

Paige couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at her lips. She knew how much basketball meant to her. The idea of walking away from it, losing that love—she couldn’t imagine it. “So, what did you end up doing after that?”

Azzi gave a small smile, almost wistful. “I got more into school. Focused on things I could control, you know? It’s where I found my rhythm again.”

It was almost like she was shutting that chapter down, not wanting to revisit it. But Paige didn’t press further. It was clear that basketball, once a major part of Azzi’s life, had faded into something she didn’t want to talk about too much.

“Sounds like you figured things out,” Paige said softly, leaning back in her chair, watching Azzi carefully. “I respect that.”

Azzi finally met Paige’s gaze, her expression softening a little. “Yeah, well… I guess everyone finds their own way eventually.” She gave a slight shrug, as if brushing the conversation aside, before turning her focus back to the textbook in front of them. “We should get back to it. I think we’re almost done with this chapter.”

Paige hesitated for a moment, a thousand questions swirling in her head, but she could tell Azzi wasn’t quite ready to share more. And for now, Paige was okay with that. She’d already learned something important—that Azzi was much more than the quiet, composed classmate/tutor sitting across from her. There was depth to her, layers that Paige would have to be patient to peel back.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Paige finally said, refocusing on the math in front of her. “Let’s finish this up.”

As Azzi started explaining the next set of equations, Paige felt a little more settled. They were getting somewhere, and for the first time, Paige wasn’t just focused on the math in front of her. She was focused on Azzi, her presence, the way she spoke, the little things she hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just about the lesson anymore. It was about being with Azzi, understanding her in ways that went far beyond equations and textbooks.

—-----------------------

They finished the last practice question with a shared sigh of relief. Azzi leaned over, checking Paige’s final answer with a quick glance, then nodded in approval.

“Yep. You got it.”

Paige blinked down at the scribbled page. “Wait… I did?”

Azzi chuckled, a genuine laugh that made Paige’s chest feel weirdly warm. “You’re improving. You just need to stop second-guessing yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” Paige muttered, setting her pencil down and rubbing at her temple. “But I’ll take the dub.”

Azzi started to neatly organize everything back into her bag. “I think that’s enough math for one day.”

“Agreed,” Paige said, stretching again. “My brain’s officially fried.”

Just as she grabbed her water bottle and leaned back in her chair, a voice cut through the quiet hum of the library.

“Yo, Azzi.”

Paige looked up and instantly regretted it.

Strutting toward them like he owned the place was Jace McCallister—tight end on the UConn football team, cocky smirk permanently etched on his face, confidence dripping off him like cologne. Paige knew him. Everyone did. He was loud, flashy, and flirted like it was a full-time job. The kind of guy who wore his jersey to class and thought everyone should thank him for showing up.

Azzi glanced up, face unreadable. “Hey.”

Jace leaned casually against the edge of their table, not even glancing at Paige. “Just wondering when our next session is? You free this week?”

Paige’s brows knit. Our session?

Azzi nodded politely, unfazed. “Yeah, I think tomorrow. Same time?”

“Perfect.” He flashed her a grin. “Can’t say no to learning from the smartest girl on campus.”

Azzi’s lips pulled into a tight, polite smile. “Well thank you.”

Jace chuckled and finally glanced at Paige, as if just noticing her. “Oh. Hey, Bueckers.”

“McCallister,” Paige replied, voice flat.

He raised a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a tutor too.”

“She doesn’t,” Azzi cut in smoothly before Paige could answer, her tone calm but firm. “We’re just going over some extra stuff.”

Paige didn’t say anything. She just watched the exchange, something unsettled building in her chest. She knew Jace. Knew his reputation. And the way he was looking at Azzi now, like she was the next thing to win over, made her stomach twist.

She shouldn’t care. It was just tutoring.

But still.

Jace winked, then tapped the table. “Catch you later, Azzi.” He turned and walked off, not a single ounce of subtlety in his swagger.

Paige stared after him, jaw tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi looked over. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Paige said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… don’t like that guy.”

Azzi tilted her head, curious. “Why not?”

“He’s a walking ego,” Paige said, grabbing her stuff. “And he’s a player. Like, in every sense of the word. He’s not exactly subtle about who he hits on.”

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. Just zipped her bag and stood up. “He’s harmless.”

“Sure,” Paige muttered, a little sharper than she meant to. “Just be careful, okay?”

Azzi blinked, surprised at the tone. Paige ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

“Sorry. That came out weird. Just forget it.”

Azzi gave her a long look, something unreadable in her eyes. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence toward the library exit, Paige internally screaming at herself. ‘It’s not that deep. She’s not yours. You’re literally just studying.’ But no matter how many times she told herself that, her clenched jaw said otherwise.

As they stepped out into the afternoon sun, a small group of girls standing near the library steps caught sight of them—specifically Paige.

“Oh my god, that’s Paige Bueckers,” one of them whispered, eyes wide.

Before she could even react, one of them stepped forward, all smiles and nervous energy. “Hi! Sorry, we don’t wanna bother you, but could we maybe get a picture? We’re huge fans.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard but immediately smiled.

“Of course,” she said, already stepping toward them, voice warm and friendly. “What’s your name?”

One of them nearly melted. “I’m Sam. This is Ava and Kayla.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Paige said, handing her phone to one of them after snapping a few selfies together. “You guys coming to the game on friday?”

“Yeah! We can’t wait! Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Paige said sincerely. “I’ll try to put on a show for y’all.”

They grinned, waved, and scurried off giggling, still whispering to each other as they walked away.

Azzi stood a few feet back, arms loosely crossed. Watching.

Paige turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Azzi shook her head slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t expect what?”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “You being… like that. With people.”

Paige tilted her head. “Like what?”

Azzi gave her a soft shrug. “I guess I thought you’d be more… I dunno. Big-time athlete energy. Standoffish. You’re not.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, amused. “So you thought I’d be a bitch?”

Azzi smiled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it, though.”

Azzi’s smile widened just slightly. “Maybe. A little.”

Paige laughed. “Damn. That’s cold.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on her, more thoughtful now. “You surprise me. In a good way.”

And Paige couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as they started walking again, side by side.

They walked in silence again for a bit, the quiet not uncomfortable—just filled with a weird hum Paige couldn’t place. It clung to her like static, buzzing beneath her skin every time she glanced over and saw Azzi walking next to her, face calm, unreadable as always.

When they reached the small fork in the path outside the library, Azzi finally slowed to a stop.

“This is me,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

Paige stopped too, a little slower. “Right. Yeah.”

Azzi looked up at her. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

Paige snorted. “I mean… there were a few moments where I considered setting my notebook on fire.”

Azzi smiled. “But you didn’t.”

“Thanks to you.”

There was a beat of quiet. Paige swallowed and scratched at the back of her neck. “So… when do you wanna do this again?”

Azzi tilted her head, thinking. “I’m free Thursday evening. If that works?”

Paige nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Azzi gave her a small nod. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

“Cool,” Paige said, trying not to sound weird. “Coolcoolcool.”

Azzi’s brows lifted just slightly. Paige looked down at the ground, internally facepalming.

Azzi smiled again, more to herself this time. “You’re kind of strange.”

Paige looked up. “Rude.”

Azzi started walking backwards slowly, smirking. “But I mean that in a good way.”

Paige watched her go, lips twitching. “Sure you do.”

Azzi turned around and gave a small wave over her shoulder. “Later, Paige.”

Paige stood there for a second too long after she was gone, staring at nothing in particular. Then she finally exhaled, rubbed her hands over her face, and mumbled under her breath.

“Fuck.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #wbb #ncaa wbb #wnba basketball #wnba #dallas wings

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orbitsaturn · 9 months ago

Text

"go outside!"

━ in which the guy you're beefing with online turns out to be cute

modern au! kinich x reader

part 2 here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"your builds are lackluster, I suggest using these artifacts for better damage" you read, gritting your teeth, about to smash the computer screen right in front of you.

It's been about 5 minutes since you started beefing with this random dude off the internet for apparently no reason. (you started it) about the builds of characters that you showcase.

"my builds aren't your business!" typing harshly on your keyboard, it's noises loud. almost instantly you get a respond back. "well, you posted saying you wanted an opinion on how good your character is. I just gave you the input you asked for." the reply reads.

"but you badiaccly worded it in a way that Impliees my builf is trash!" you type hastily, not bothering to fix the spelling mistakes. to be fair, you were overreacting a bit (a lot.) but you had a bad day today! and some random dude off the internet is making it worse.

"my apologies." he replies.

"..." you stare at the computer screen in front of you for a moment, wondering what to do. either you continue the petty fight you have or accept his apology right now. either way, it's your decision.

and somehow you choose to continue fighting the random stranger online!

almost instantly you type back a response, the clicks of your keyboard filling the room. "my apologies? MY APOLOGIES?! my apologies my ass. that wasn't genuine at all!" you type before hitting send. after a few seconds you see a reply pop up, "friend me, i'll help you build your character correctly."

THE AUDAC-

wait. if you did accept his offer, you can flex your newfound damage to your friends...

...

never mind!

"no!"

right after the reply you sent, a notification quickly popped up.

"have fun with your trash characters then, loser."

HUH?!

almost instantly you start typing a response the moment you saw those words on the computer screen.

"TRASH CHARACTERS?! TRASH?? CHARACTERS?? why are you even beefing with some stranger online. GET A LIFE!!"

"sorry that was my pet lizard."

PET LIZARD?? DOES HE THINK IM STUPID??

"you're kidding me. pet lizard?? you think I'd believe that?? you're just trying to find an excuse."

"no, I'm serious, that really was my lizard. his name is ajaw."

your eye twitched, is he really going to keep up with the 'my pet dog ate my homework' type of shit?? you sigh, maybe it was time to just let him go, i mean... he really used his lizard as an excuse... so you quickly type out a response, expecting the argument to be over. (no) "geez. just stop... go outside! this is actually really sad."

"I do go outside, I go out a lot actually"

man. now he's (you) dragging it out.

"i doubt that. proof?" you respond, closing your computer for the day, not expecting a reply. after a bad day, you really needed a good afternoon nap.

----

RING RIIINGGG RINGGG RINGGG

RINGGG RIIIIIINGGGG

loud ringing could be heard from your phone, instantly waking you up, delirious on whether it was the next day or in the middle of the night. you grab your phone lazily, the sound of ringing feeding you feelings of annoyance. as you look at your screen your alarm clock asking you to snooze more or stop the alarm.

obviously you would've chosen to snooze more. but you were feeling a bit more productive today! (spending all your time on games)

so you got up, turning your computer on getting ready to have another late night gaming session, when you something at the corner of your eye.

1 new message from almightydragonlord!

oh it was that rude fellow from earlier...

but of course you clicked on the notification, not expecting to see anything grand.

but your jaw instantly drops.

because in the video you see.

is a cute ass boy with dark hair and green eyes.

"hi sparklingtoots, I do go outside, as for this video, ajaw insisted on giving you hard concrete proof, I didn't really want to. but here you go."

as the video pans out you can see inside a helicopter..?

oh he's jumping out

wait.

HE'S JUMPING OUT?!

and when the camera pans outside the helicopter, the figure of the almightydragonlord was getting smaller and smaller as he falls down. with the video ending right when he pulls his parachute.

"what the fuck." was all you could say.

you stare off into space, what the hell did you just see? some cute dude skydiving off a helicopter? a really. really. cute dude skydiving off a helicopter? the cute dude you were beefing with a few hours ago?

and suddenly a notification popped up, your eyes almost bulging out of your sockets on what you see.

"see, i told you i do go outside."

and it follows up with something that makes you scream internally.

"accept my friend request too."

and of course you accepted this time.

#kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich #kinich genshin #genshin kinich #genshin kinich x reader #kinich genshin x reader #ajaw #k'uhul ajaw #fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic

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sidsickly · 15 days ago

Text

Non-Casual

A/n: i said this was gunna be a blurbs acc but here i am with a long ass one shot about my pookie.. i guess this is a blurbs and such acc BUT guess who started season 2🤭

not proof read btw srryyy

welp anyway read at ur own risk im toooo lazy to yk put genre and shit

Casual. That’s what you both agreed this arrangement would be after you ended up in his hotel. Spiraled out on his bed, hands tangled in his hair while babbling nonsense. His hands held your hips down on the bed, not letting up until your release came.

It only happened on long trips, whenever the case would start to get to you both.You’d fidget with your pens in meetings, his eyebrows would furrow not harshly–but enough for you to notice. It was like clock work, everyone would clear out for the night and carpool to the hotel, say goodnight in the hall and branch off to your rooms.

This time was like no other, Hotch was quickly going over the schedule for tomorrow–yet you were in your head nibbling at your bottom lip.You tuned Hotch out completely by this point, your eyes found their way to the man clouding your thoughts..But his eyes were already on you–he looked a little startled before focusing his gaze back on Hotch.Your eyes don’t leave him watching as he tucks away a loose strand behind his ear.

By time your attention found its way back to Hotch he’d finished talking, ending with a quick ‘goodnight agents’ and heading off to his room, everyone followed suit walking off to find their rooms as well. You walked the quiet halls before finding your room; lucky you it seemed to be farther away from everyone, tapping the roomkey on the scanner you pushed open the door immediately kicking your shoes off and tossing the small bag you brought with you aside

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed allowing yourself to fall back onto the plush bed, a soft content sigh leaves your lips allowing your body to relax into the bed. A stare up at the ceiling for who knows how long until you sit up with a groan, your hand immediately goes for your waist band pulling out your phone. You pause as you flip it open–It was already open to your messages with Spencer. A beat passes and you begin to reconsider what you're about to do, but your hand begins moving before your mind can catch up.

Room 220.

Sent 1:04 AM

You stared down at your screen sitting at the edge of the bed. Well it’s too late for regrets now, you toss your phone aside letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

A minute passed. Then another and finally a knock interrupted your thoughts, you begin to nibble at your bottom lip once more while closing the short distance between you and the door. You slide the door stopper out its place placing your free hand on the handle, opening the door you’re met with a disheveled Spencer.

His hair hangs in front of his face casting shadows over his features, but he doesn’t allow you to take in his full appearance. His arms snake around your waist as his mouth attaches to yours, he walks you back into the room shutting the door behind him with his foot.

Within minutes he has you bare and gripping the white hotel sheets and within the hour he’s taken out every single stressor from the case on you.

You knew you couldn’t handle casual, it never ended well for either party; yet whenever he needed you, you came even when your heart would ache.This was different though, you weren’t staying in hotels working on a case.. It was a normal annoyingly long report day.

The sudden vibration from your phone startled you. Pausing the music from your laptop, your eyes glanced at the phone causing you to squint before sliding your glasses back up your face.

Reid📚

Still working?

You slid your glasses off and rubbed your tired eyes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation catching up to you? But the message was still there and the contact still said his name.

This was new and you felt your chest tighten, he probably needed to relieve some stress from today—you slide your phone away, turning your attention back to the reports on your desk, not bothering to turn your music back on.

“Ouch, you could’ve at least opened it.”

You basically jumped from your seat, sliding off your headphones and turning in the direction of the voice. There he stood, Chinese food in one hand and a bag with what looked like soda’s.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted out.

He laughed in response walking over, you watch him set everything on the open area of your desk before grabbing the desk chair nearby and sliding it over.

He sat right next to you, “I think the better question is, why didn’t you reply to my message?” He was already working on opening the bag containing the food, setting each box down carefully.

“I wanted to focus on finishing my reports.” Your fidget with your pen between your fingers twisting your chair away from him.

He immediately grabs the arm rest of your chair and turns you back towards him, a soft smile rests on his lips and you can’t help the slight flutter of your heart; so you roll your eyes.

“You’d think a profiler would be a better liar.”

You scoff, grabbing one of the take out boxes along with a plastic fork before popping it open. Twirling the fork in the noodles you avoid his eyes feeling the slightest bit of tension begin to fill the air.

“Oh whatever Reid.” lifting the fork to your mouth blowing on the hot food before taking a bite.

“If you don’t wanna tell me that’s fine.”

A silence takes over the room, glancing over at him you almost choke—because he was already looking at you. Attempting to play off your surprise you focus your attention back on the take out box

“So what’s the occasion?”

“Huh?”

You look back up at him;holding up the take out box shaking it a bit. “You’ve never brought me food; so I'm just wondering why now?” He clears his throat breaking the eye contact, his eyes drop down to the take-out box in his hand.

“I uh..” He trails off like he’s trying to find the words.

“I thought you could- uh- you know..use some dinner; since i saw you skip out on lunch”

A smile finds its way to your lips leaning back in your chair, “You watching me doctor?” You tease. He shifts in his chair. Eyes still avoiding yours he moves the food around in his box, a silence filled the room but your eyes never left him. It’s just you and him. Why not enjoy the view?

You shift in your seat. The silence was awkward now and the tension was only growing more and more thick. So you clear your throat and attempt to shift the conversation “Well thanks anyway, I was getting hungry.” He glanced up at you before setting his box down, his hair managed to fall in his face when he faced you again and without thinking; you reached forward tucking it behind his hair.

In the two seconds it took your eyes grew wide realizing your actions, you moved to pull your hand back but suddenly his hand is on yours keeping it in place. A shiver runs down your spine from the action and your body stiffens up.

“Sorry I don’t know why-” You cut yourself off as he uses his free hand to pull you closer.

The sudden action seems to surprise both of you. He lets go of your hand leaning forward a bit, you allow him to enter your space as his hand lays on the arm rest now. You’re just staring at each other now, tension thick and suffocating as you both wait for someone to do something. Anything.

You blinked; and his lips were on yours. They were soft, like always.. But they felt different this time, he kissed you slowly and passionately. No stress behind it. No urgency. You melted into the kiss moving your hands to his hair as he found your waist, in a swift movement he pulled you into his lap causing the chair to creak.

He slid his hands down your waist squeezing at your hips; the kiss never changed pace even in his lap. After what felt like hours you pull away looking to the ceiling catching your breath, your hands rest on his chest feeling it rise and fall; you could feel his eyes burning into you and sitting in his lap made it impossible to avoid his eyes–So you tilt your head down to meet his eyes.

His hair is messy but something swirls in his eyes as he looks up at you, his hands tighten on your hips and it’s like you can see the gears turning before he opens his mouth.

“I can’t do casual” He breathes out.

Worry. That’s what was swirling in his eyes; he assumed you didn’t feel he how did. He assumed you could do it casually with no labels or ties.

You move your hands from his chest to cup his face, you watch his eyes widen slightly before allowing a small smile to find its way to your lips.

“Neither can I.”

A/n: if you’d like to be added to a taglist for future stories pls drop a ‘📚’ in the comments :3!

my request are open as well if you have anything you’d like to see me write!

#sid’s impala #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #x reader #fanfic #fan fiction

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honeekyuu · 11 months ago

Text

genius. [akaashi keiji x f!reader] chapter one.

>>You struggle to pay rent on your limited graduate student salary, and your worst enemy agrees to help you out.

You realize you need to find a partner for your faceless porn account, and Akaashi Keiji is the only man who meets all your requirements.<<

series status: [ongoing]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: this series is going to be the death of me. im currently writing ch. 2, and the first scene (the first scene!!! of 9!!!!!) is 10k words. i wrote a 10k smut scene. :)))) im actively dying. please enjoy chapter 1!!!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

---------------------------------------

“ Shit, shit shit- ” You throw things all over the apartment, searching for your keys. The clock on the wall reads 10:55AM, flipping quickly to 10:56 and making you swear again. “ Fuck! Oh-” You snatch up your house keys with a victorious cheer and then immediately race for the door, your bag hauled over your shoulder on the way.

You turn the 30-minute bike ride to campus into 20 minutes, but that still gets you to the door of the Linguistics department by 11:15. You slam down on the elevator button repeatedly while you wait, glancing back at the rest of the lobby only when you hear someone call your name. It’s a student of yours, so you have to smile and wave back politely, even though all you want is to scream ‘ I’m so fucked! ’ into the void.

The elevator doors open, and you treat the buttons on the inside panel with the same cruelty, choosing to text your frustrations to Bokuto while you wait to arrive on the 5th floor.

[11:16 AM]

You: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Kou: OMG SAME

You: ?? whats wrong on your end

Kou: nothing why?

Kou: IS SOMETHING WRONG???

You snort, rolling your eyes.

You: late to my 11am

Kou: OH THE READING GROUP

Kou: which one is that??? Linguisticsomething of something something??

You: you know,,, there was no way to be wrong with that answer kou

Kou: :)))))

You: it’s LEM

Kou: LINGUISTICS AND EXPERIMENTAL METHODS

Kou: RIGHT

Kou: oh wait isnt that the one akaashis in?????

You: thats why im fucked

Kou: oh im sure he wont say anything

Kou: SAY HI FOR ME

The elevator opens, so you shove your phone away and race down the hall to the lab room. You skid to a stop in front of the door, taking a calming breath before pushing into the room as quietly as possible. A few people glance up from the round table in the center with small smiles before returning to the presentation on the screen, but you know well enough that you’re not in clear.

“-f it’s true then that case gets valued where base-generated, rather than at the landing site after Movement, we should see that these forms are nominative-marked. However, clearly, we get accusa-”

You take the seat closest to the door, and it creaks.

Akaashi Keiji’s eyes find yours.

You grimace openly at him, and he lifts an eyebrow, his finger still hovering over the example on the TV.

“Y/n. Would you like me to start over?”

You struggle not to roll your eyes at him, your face burning with embarrassment. “Of course not. Please, continue.”

“It might be helpful if I start over-”

“I don’t need the background on case valuation in Korean, Akaashi,” you snap. “We work on the same language.”

You watch his eyes harden. It’s only you that he looks at like that. He opens his mouth, but your advisor cuts in on your left.

“Okay, you two,” he says. “Let’s try not to kill each other today.”

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and meet Akaashi’s eyes evenly. He stares back blankly only a moment before returning to his presentation.

“So, we can see here that accusative-marked nominals are permitted, despite the prediction that only nominative is grammatical-”

You let out a quiet breath, trying to pay attention to his presentation – because, no doubt, he’d put you on the spot about it soon – while also recovering from the adrenaline rush of getting here. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you extract it subtly, glancing at the screen. There are two alerts.

Bank Account Balance (Oct. 10); $562.95

Rent Notification: Rent and Utilities; Payment ($1018.00) Due Nov. 1

Your heart sinks, a lump forming in your throat, and you shove your phone away, returning to Akaashi’s presentation. A coffee cup from the nearby cafe slides into your periphery, and you turn to see your advisor pushing it toward you silently, his own cup in front of him. He doesn’t look at you, but he does crack a tired smile.

“ Drink, ” he whispers. “ You’ve had a hard couple days. ”

You smile and bring the cup to your lips, ignoring when Akaashi glances at it and then between you and your advisor. It’s your regular order, and you’re immensely glad that most of your advisor meetings happen at coffee shops. You make it through Akaashi’s presentation with little issue – unsurprisingly for the department’s Golden Boy, his work is flawless. You agree with every argument he makes, every flaw he finds in the analyses of previous work.

So when he says “ Any questions?” in that polite, soft-spoken way of his, you’re prepared for the very few questions asked to be nothing more than clarification. No one has any comments about his thinking or his analysis, and no one challenges him. Because Akaashi Keiji is always right.

But you can also see that these questions don’t excite him. He answers each one nicely, nodding along and mumbling ‘ Yes, that’s right ’ or humming thoughtfully – as though he needs to think about it at all – and then shaking his head, clicking through his slide deck until he can point to something and correct someone’s thinking. But he looks a bit disappointed, like he’d been hoping for a bit more of a discussion. He even glances at your advisor hopefully – but your advisor is also his advisor, so why would he have any notes? He’s already pre-approved all of this.

Well, that’s what you get for being so smart, you think with a little bit of snark. Your advisor always preaches to the group that peer feedback creates room for improvement, but what’s Akaashi supposed to do when there’s no more room? He’s already the best.

He meets your eyes briefly, and you look away. You’re not going to give him what he wants.

“Okay, then,” he says after a moment, unplugging his laptop from the TV. “Thanks for listening – Y/n?” You pull your laptop from your bag, standing and rounding the table. You take the HDMI cord from him, slipping into the chair he’d occupied. He takes yours, careful not to touch your things. You sigh softly and then smile at the rest of your reading group.

“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming.” You gesture to the TV, your slide deck open. “So, if you were here for my most recent project, you know that I got some interesting results and will be broadening the scope in order to explore them for my dissertation.”

You launch into your presentation, the material so familiar to you that you don’t have to think about what to say. Your second major project had wrapped up last year, your name sitting on a journal article set to print at the end of the month. You’d gotten a number of reviewers asking similar questions, all related to the experimental results of one of your tasks, so you and your advisor had decided that, for the dissertation, you would be increasing the technical difficulty and redoing the experiment with new materials and a more rigorous theoretical analysis.

You present this to the group, outlining your idea and the changes you’d be making to the original project in order to answer the open questions left by your reviewers. By the end of your 20-minute slot, you’ve got most of the group nodding along in agreement.

Most of the group.

You do your best not to look at him, but you can still see Akaashi sitting there with his arms folded in his lap, his expression void of everything. His eyes skim your slides, unreactive, and you just know that you’re in for it.

“Okay-” you sigh, clapping your hands on your knees. “That’s it. Thoughts?”

Your advisor lifts his brows, a smile tugging at his lips, and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Just the grilling of a lifetime incoming .

There’s silence for a while, everyone trying and failing not to look at Akaashi, because they know how this will go. And then his lips part, a soft breath taken.

“Can I… ask a few questions?” He starts gentle, the way he always does. He fools everyone into thinking he’s sweet and soft and careful, but you know better. You know that, if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t have started like that. He would have complimented their work first, noted the things he thought they’d done well.

You’ve never heard a compliment from Akaashi Keiji in the five years you’ve known him.

“Of course,” You sigh. Some snickers pass through the group.

“How do you know that this will tell you anything at all?”

He doesn’t hold back – you’ll give him that.

“Sorry?”

“If your results indicate a misalignment between the production of this ambiguous form and the comprehension of it, why are you using eye-tracking to test only comprehension? Where’s your production gone?”

You inhale slowly, flicking back through the slides. “Like I said before, there are two possibilities for why this form was over-produced and under-accepted by participants. Either they are operating within their grammar and just attaching an emphatic element to a different word, resulting in a homophone with the ambiguous form I’m interested in-” You flick through more slides. “Or they’re operating outside of their grammar, in which case there are discourse factors at play.”

You meet his eyes with a tight smile, trying to remain polite. “Running an eye-tracking task with comprehension will let me see, in real time and without metalinguistic interference, if they accept this form in situations that should be ungrammatical. If they don’t, then these results are due to emphatic attachment and that’s that. If they do, then..” You shrug. “There’s more to be done. But my point is that production wouldn’t be necessary here. I have what I need.”

The group all shift their eyes from you to him in an instant, waiting for the tennis match to start. Akaashi only meets your gaze for a moment and then nods, and you feel mildly victorious at having won this interaction. But you swallow it down, because he’s opening his mouth again.

“And what about case?”

You almost roll your eyes. “What about it?”

“What analysis are you adopting?”

“I’m only using accusative-marked forms for this experiment,” you say. “The object of the embedded clause is the position I need. I’m not adopting competing analyses.”

“But there are other ways to mark case on these forms – as I’m sure you’re aware.” His gaze narrows at you when he says it, and you know he’s getting back at you now for your comment earlier. “What about those?”

“I’m not interested in them-”

“ Right ,” he bites. “I understand that. But what are the case alternations available?”

It takes a special kind of person to draw Akaashi Keiji’s patience short, and you’re happy to be that person every single time. You have to purse your lips not to smile, because there’s a little piece of you that finds it funny to draw out that twitch in his eyebrow that no one else claims to have ever seen.

“Genitive and nominative, and dative under restricted circumstances.”

He lifts his brows at you. “So pretty much all of them.”

You nod simply. “But using pretty much all of them means I’d have to change the structure of the sentence for each type. It’s not a simple swap.”

“Then do it.”

“Excuse me?” You lift your eyebrows in disbelief.

He shrugs. “Your results could be due to any of the things you’ve talked about. Or they could be due to this form being preferred with different case markers in different situations. You could be getting low acceptability because of the case, rather than what you’re interested in.”

You just stare. “That’s, like, four dissertations, Akaashi.”

His eyes have flattened out again. “Then maybe you should have done it right the first time.”

“ Okay ,” your advisor says, clapping his hands. “Hour’s up. Let’s thank Keiji and Y/n for their time.”

Your eyes stay locked on Akaashi’s while the room clears out, both knowing that you’re not allowed to go anywhere. You get a couple ‘ good job ’s from the people leaving, but you can’t bring yourself to break eye contact first. In fact, it only serves to irritate you more – why is it only you that gets those reassuring comments? Why don’t people tell Akaashi that he’s doing well? Do they think you need it? Does everyone think you need it more than he does?

“Alright,” your advisor breathes, shutting the door again and turning toward you. “Oh-Come on, you two.”

You break first, dipping your head and turning to unplug your laptop from the TV.

“That was good, both of you.” Your advisor cuts a glance at Akaashi as he sits. “A little harsh there, but-”

“Sorry,” He mumbles, immediately deferent. But you know he’s not apologizing to you, and that makes you finally roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” your advisor laughs, taking his coffee and sipping at it. “Let’s just finish this up so I can get away from all this hostility.”

The meeting ends quickly, the three of you just summarizing thoughts and future steps for each of your projects. Akaashi purses his lips when you speak about your plans, but he doesn’t push at you any further.

Finally, you’re able to leave, so you gather your things quickly and bolt for the door. Unfortunately, your office is directly across from Akaashi’s, so the walk down the hall is spent with him on your heels.

“It’s not four dissertations, by the way,” he says as soon as your advisor’s out of earshot. “Just redesign your materials to include the case alternations, and you’ll get something interesting.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, not stopping your march down the hall. “I’ve already designed the eye-tracking materials, Akaashi. It’ll take me weeks to redo them for case.”

“Then take the weeks ,” he argues, just as you’re both arriving to your respective doors. “Do you want to do it fast, or do you want to do it right?”

You whirl on him, your anger unfiltered now that you’re alone. “What would you know? You’ve never done the kind of research I have to do. You don’t know anything about psycholinguistics – you don’t know what goes into something like this. You just sit in your world of theory, without ever thinking about the practical applications. You might be right about everything all the time, Akaashi, but I’m the one who has to take those theories and do something with them.”

He stares back emptily while you rant, and then he leans in close, his eyebrows lifting as his voice drops. “Are you really going to be okay not including the case alternations? Now that I’ve brought it up?” When you only sigh heatedly through your nose, glaring up at him, he shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” Then he turns to his office door, slotting the key in the lock while mumbling to you. “You’re a lot of things, Y/n, but you’re not lazy.”

You stare at his office door long after it’s been shut.

You really hate Akaashi Keiji.

–

“I dunno, Kou, I’m not sure what to do,” you sigh, running a finger along the rim of your coffee cup. It’s the same from earlier, because you don’t have the money to buy another and because drinking it slowly helps to stave off your hunger. You’d been too rushed for lunch before leaving home, but you know dinner’s only four hours away. You can last until then.

“Well-” Bokuto talks through a mouth full of food. “-is it gonna bug you to not do it?”

“ Yes ,” you admit a little grumpily. “Of course it is. But I don’t have the time – I wanted to have pilot data for the experiment by the end of October.”

“What would happen if you pushed it back a few weeks?” He asks loudly, spooning more food into his mouth before he’s even done eating the first mouthful.

“I don’t know. It would just push my whole timeline back, and I’d graduate later than expected, and I’m already losing my mind. I need a job , Kou – I can’t live on grad student wages much longer.”

“Yeah, I feel you,” he nods, pulling more food out of his backpack. “But at least you’re still splitting that nice apartment with your roommate! $500 a month is so nice.”

You stare down at your lukewarm coffee.

You haven’t exactly mentioned to him or your other friends that your roommate had moved out. She hadn’t left for anything negative – in fact, she’s a good friend of yours. The two of you had posted in the graduate students’ forum over the summer before your first year, each requesting roommates, and you’d paired up nicely. Your personalities had gone together well, and you’d stayed roommates the entirety of grad school. But she’d had to go home suddenly, which was fine for her because she’s finishing up her dissertation and doesn’t need to be on campus.

However, that does leave you without a roommate in the middle of the semester. There’s a fee for you to break your lease early, and it would overall be way more expensive for you to move out, especially in the middle of October. But paying over $1000 on your own, with your limited salary, is extremely difficult.

You’d looked for another roommate, but there aren’t any grad students without housing this late in the year – the only people you’d seen posting on the university Facebook page about housing had been undergrads, and you’re certainly not comfortable with that. So, you’d looked for extra jobs, but your student contract only allows you to be employed a certain amount, and you’d already reached the maximum. Your advisor had told you as much, shaking his head regretfully when you’d all but begged for extra hours in his lab. You’d even tried finding jobs outside of the university, but most of them had asked for a consistent work schedule and more hours than you can afford to give.

Which might be why you’d decided to turn to making adult content online.

You’re not particularly attached to the idea of being a porn star, but you’d seen a video online talking about the amount of money that adult content creators can make even from a single video, and you’d made an account without giving yourself time to think about it. You’d taken all the necessary precautions – things like always editing out your face and the singular tattoo you have on the inside of your ankle, or never displaying your background in a way that would be recognizable to someone who knows you. You really don’t need anyone finding out about this, especially not your friends.

You’re not sure that Kuroo would really care – the chemistry student’s nosy, sure, but he’s a big proponent of leaving people to their lives. And you know that Bokuto would probably find it interesting, but he’s got an objectively big mouth and little social control, so it would be a risk to tell him. The only person you’re really worried will find out is Yachi – your closest friend, that sweet girl wouldn’t be likely to judge, but she certainly wouldn’t understand. She’d ask a lot of questions – ‘ why would you do something like that?’; ‘well, are you sure there aren’t other options?’; ‘i would rather move out if i were you’ . Yachi’s had a very straightforward way of thinking ever since you met her, and she’d be the most likely to tell you that pursuing this line of work is drastic and unnecessary. You’re not sure you’re emotionally strong enough to deal with that.

Especially since your new occupation isn’t exactly going well . You’ve only been at it a few weeks, and you’ve garnered a decent number of subscribers on your platform – 897, to be exact (you check every day; you’re desperate). But, in the month since your roommate’s left, you’ve hardly made $300, and, while $300 of extra income per month is certainly not insignificant, it’s not enough to pay your rent.

Which is why you’re sitting here now, lunchless and sipping pitifully at cold coffee. But at least you’re in good company, Bokuto’s presence always a weight off your shoulders.

“Hi, Bokuto.”

Here comes the weight, right back on your shoulders.

You look up from your cup, meeting Akaashi’s eyes. He scans you quickly but doesn’t greet you, only setting his lunch tray down on the table and taking the seat beside Bokuto. The silver-haired man looks between you with wide eyes.

“Aw, man! Did you guys fight at your reading group?!” He rubs at his stomach. “Don’t fight now, too. It’ll make my tummy hurt.”

You laugh weakly, turning away and surveying the crowded dining hall. “Of course not, Kou. You’re neutral ground.”

“What she said,” Akaashi says, carefully mixing his food with his chopsticks. He cuts a glance at your coffee cup. “Is that the same one from this morning?” He glances at the time on his phone. It’s already past 2:30.

You’re instantly defensive. “Yeah.”

He hears the edge in your tone, shaking his head with a breath of laughter while pulling noodles into his mouth. He chews and swallows before responding, ever the gentleman. “Didn’t bring lunch?”

“Forgot it at home.”

He points at the buffet line at the back of the dining hall. “Then buy something.”

“Trying to save money,” you say. You watch his eyebrows pull together in confusion, and you know why – the dining hall’s extremely cheap, usually only $8 or $9 for a fair lunch. The issue is that you don’t have $8 or $9. You don’t have rent money, so you don’t have lunch money.

Thankfully, though, he doesn’t say anything else about it, and you’re briefly appreciative that he’s respectful of your financial situation. You’re also appreciative that he doesn’t tip Bokuto off about it. The large man is tapping away on his phone while he chews loudly, so he’d barely heard the questions Akaashi had asked you. He looks up at the silence now, glancing between you.

“What’d I miss?”

“Nothing. We were fighting,” Akaashi says. Today’s turning, shockingly, into a day of appreciating Akaashi Keiji.

“ No, ” Bokuto whines. “No fighting.”

A body slides into the spot beside yours, and another into the spot beside Akaashi.

“They fighting?” Kuroo asks, organizing his food on his tray. Tsukishima snorts across the table, mumbling ‘ aren’t they always? ’ quietly.

“We’re fine,” you laugh. “Trying not to make Kou’s tummy hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Kuroo says as he’s lifting a bite of food to his mouth. He stops, though, staring down at your cup. “Your tummy hurts, too, I guess.”

“I guess so,” you say, smiling and sipping at the now-gross coffee. He doesn’t say anything about it, only turning to ask Tsukishima about some ongoing drama in the history department. But he does slide his tray between the two of you while he talks, shoving his chopsticks into your hand and then leaning casually over to keep chatting to the blond, as though he’s merely asking you to hold them while he talks. You purse your lips, embarrassment warming your ears, but you pick at his tray anyway – just a bit of rice and a thin cut of spam balanced on his spoon. You take two bites and then slide the tray back, muttering ‘ thanks ’ under your breath.

You feel Akaashi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you pull it into your lap.

[2:47 PM] New Comment on Your Video

Your eyes widen, and you lower the brightness and turn your back slightly to Kuroo.

user6969 : pretty hot, would be hotter with someone fucking her tho

It already has ten likes. Your eye twitches, and you clear the notification quickly. You could never film with another person. You can’t . That defeats the whole purpose of keeping this anonymous.

But what if that’s the thing keeping you from making money? From paying rent? At this point, would you rather bring someone else into this, or would you rather eat the cost of moving out?

But you can’t move. With breaking the lease and having to sign a new one – moving fees not included – you already don’t have enough money. There’s no way to get approved for a new place with such little money in your bank account.

Should you sell feet pics? No, you can’t switch platforms or content at this point. You’d be starting from nothing in that case, and it’s no guarantee you’d do well there. Not that you’re really doing well with your current account, either.

Are you going to have to find a partner to film with?

“ Y/n .”

You jump, looking up. Akaashi’s staring back, standing behind Bokuto with his eyebrows raised and his tray in his hand. He looks a little annoyed.

“I’ve been calling your name.”

You blink. “Sorry. What is it?”

He lifts his brows impossibly further. “We have to go.”

You start, checking the time again. It’s 2:52. You have to go to the undergraduate class you’re TAing with him. “Oh, shit,” you mutter, standing with your bag. “We’re gonna be late.” You wave a cursory goodbye at the others, rushing to toss your coffee in the trash.

You chase after Akaashi, cursing his long legs, and follow him across the quad to the lecture hall. You both slide past the doors just as your advisor’s clearing his throat to get the class’s attention.

“ Now that our distinguished TAs have arrived, we can get started… ” he says into the microphone connected to the podium.

You follow Akaashi up the steps to the top row, managing to control the urge to roll your eyes at the number of undergrad girls watching longingly as Akaashi passes by. You sit with him in the back corner, huffing quietly and then hugging your bag to your stomach, because a low gurgle of hunger is creeping out. Akaashi snorts quietly, and you glare sideways at him. But he just reaches down into his bag, extracting a granola bar and offering it to you, his eyes still on the whiteboard at the front.

You grimace. “ I’m good, thanks, ” you whisper.

“ It’s going to annoy me, ” he says, jabbing the bar at you. You take it with a soft sigh, mumbling ‘ thanks ’ to him while you try to unwrap the plastic without being loud. You eat it quietly, deciding that it’s the least he can do for torturing you during LEM. And then you stuff the empty plastic in your bag before extracting your laptop, intending to take notes on your advisor’s lecture.

The screen is bright and noticeable when it opens to your most recently opened tab – thankfully not your porn account, which you’re always mindful to close before leaving home. But it is open to your bank’s website, still signed in and clearly displaying the meager $562.95 in your checking account.

You jump, rushing to lower the screen brightness and close out of the tab at the same time, and then you cut a glance at Akaashi. He’s not looking directly at your screen, but he’s certainly not looking at the whiteboard anymore. His eyes hover suspiciously in the space between your laptop and his, and he meets your eyes quickly before looking away when he realizes you’re watching him.

“ Sorry, ” he mumbles. “ Brightness caught my eye. ”

“ Don’t say anything ,” is all you say. All that you’re willing to plead with him. He just lifts a brow and nods, saying nothing else as he refocuses his attention on the lecture. You sigh, pushing two frustrated fingers against your temple, because now Akaashi Keiji knows you’re broke and living way too far above your means.

–

You sit on your couch four days later, scrolling aimlessly through Tinder. You grimace as you swipe, unable to bring yourself to approve of any of the guys you’re seeing. There are obviously some good-looking ones, and even some extremely attractive ones, but every time you start to swipe right, you hesitate.

How crazy are you going to look, matching on a dating app with someone, only to ask them if they’d be willing to be your faceless porn partner?

You groan, throwing your phone down. You can’t believe you’ve even gotten to this point. Just this week, you’d sworn you would keep running your account alone. You’d sworn you wouldn’t let anyone else get involved with this, for your pride and for your anonymity.

That’s another reason you’re so unwilling to match with someone on Tinder. What if he ends up being a total weirdo? What if he leaks your name online or talks about you to his friends? Or-

Oh, God, what if he lies about his age and ends up being an undergrad? Even worse – an undergrad in your department ?

“ Ugh- ” You shudder, picking your phone back up. “No. No fucking way.” You quickly delete your account and the app, shaking your head. It’s too much of a risk, and you’re not even sure you could ever trust someone you don’t know to help you with something so private and sensitive.

Do I really have to find a partner?

You pull your laptop from the table and open it, logging into your porn account and scrolling through the videos. You’d stuck to the same posting schedule since you’d started, maintaining consistency and posting every day over the last four weeks. It had definitely helped with your views, because the subscribers you do have know when to expect a new video. But, even this week alone, your view count has become stagnant and – in the case of the video you’d posted today – even gone down a few thousand hits.

You check the section for monetization, seeing you’d made an extra $16 dollars in the last four days. $16 dollars in four days. You might as well start selling your couch.

But if you can’t find a partner amongst the hundreds of men you don’t know, then it has to be someone you do know.

“Kuroo,” you sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. And then you shake your head. He’s the best choice – he’s private and minds his business. He would never be a risk for outting you. He’s also extremely attractive, and you have decent chemistry. But he’s also one of your closest friends, and you’re not even willing to tell him you do this for a living, for fear of something changing between you. You could never ask him to help you.

“Bokuto,” you move on, bobbing your head back and forth. He’s definitely the least likely to let anything change between you – he’d find it interesting, and he would never judge you. He’d also be more than willing to help, especially since this is for the purpose of paying your bills and not just something you do for fun on the side. He’s incredibly kind and motivated in that way… but still, it isn’t right.

Not only does it feel a bit weird to imagine having sex with him, even for business, but it also wouldn’t be long before he accidentally lets something slip to someone. It would be unintentional, of course, but Bokuto Koutarou isn’t exactly known for his subtlety. Not to mention that you need someone who can’t be recognized on camera, even faceless, and Bokuto’s presence is so overwhelming that it would take no time at all for someone who knows him to pinpoint exactly who it is.

You shake your head, going through the mental list of every guy you’ve ever interacted with. You don’t really know Tsukishima, despite eating lunch with him most days and seeing him at almost every function, and you get the feeling he would laugh in your face if you ask. You think of guys you’d known in college and even some guys you’d met at the events that your friends have invited you to. You even pick up your phone and start scrolling through your contacts, really stretching the limits of your imagination.

None of them work.

“ Fuck ,” you groan, scrubbing at your brow. This isn’t going to work.

Your phone buzzes with a text, the message sliding into view before disappearing.

[9:48 PM]

Akaashi: i printed copies of the handout for discussion on monday

Akaashi: putting them in my mailbox so you can grab them before class

Akaashi: youll print the exams next week, right?

You stare at the messages as they come in.

Akaashi .

His name drifts like a whisper through your mind, and you have to throw your phone on the table and stand, your eyes wide.

“No. No,” you say, rounding the couch and pacing behind it. “No, no, no.”

Not him. Anyone but him. You can barely stand him, and the idea of him knowing what you do to make rent is unfathomable. You can’t trust him with something like that-

But, he is trustworthy. He’d shown himself not even a week ago to be sensitive to your personal information and financial situation. He makes judgment calls that benefit you, even though he could be doing everything in his power to make your life hell. As annoying as he is – as rude as he can be, especially to you – he’s a decent human being. He’s private, he’s subtle, he’s quiet and keeps to himself, and-

And he’s average. A very good-looking man, yes, but overall a perfectly normal, average guy that would never be recognized.

“ No! ” You groan, starting to pace harder. “ No, no, no! ”

Your phone starts to ring on the table. You jump, staring at the screen.

You can see his name even from here.

You approach it carefully, hands shaking as you reach for it.

“H-Hello?”

“ Y/n, ” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

“Uh-” You laugh weakly. “Hi. What’s… up?”

“ I’m just checking you got my texts. I’m leaving the department now. ”

“You stayed there until 10 on a Saturday?”

“ I lost track of time. You got my texts, then? ”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yeah, I got them. Thanks for printing.”

“ And you’ll-”

“Yep. I got the exams.”

There’s silence on the other end, followed by the quiet jingle of his office keys. “ Are you… You sound.. not great. Nervous. ”

It’s mortifying that he can hear that it in your voice. Why can he hear that in your voice?

“No, I’m good. Just-just busy. Stressed.”

“ Oh. Okay, then. ” He pauses a moment, and you wonder if he’s giving you time to say more. You don’t. Finally, he clears his throat. “‘ Kay. Bye. ” He hangs up before you can repeat it back to him.

A perfectly average, decent human being who’s private, subtle, quiet, and keeps to himself.

The only issue is that you hate each other.

Great.

–

You pace in front of his office door two days later, biting your nails while you think. Anxiety swoops low in your gut, over and over again while you imagine talking to him. Swelling and heaving when you imagine the look on his face, inevitably judgmental and maybe a little amused that you’d even thought to approach him.

God, you can’t do this.

“No,” you mumble, turning back toward your own door. You’ll find someone else.

The door opens behind you, and you jump, spinning around. Akaashi stares at you in exasperation, his glasses askew and his hair ruffled like he’s been pulling his fingers through it.

“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand outside all day?”

“Uh,” you stammer, shaking your head. “Uh, no. No, I didn’t-I don’t have anything-”

“Y/n,” he sighs. “You’ve been pacing out here for ten minutes. I’ve been watching your feet go back and forth in front of my door this whole time. It’s really fucking distracting – I’m trying to work.”

Your eyes go wide, because you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Akaashi swear before. He opens the door wider, beckoning you in with an impatient sweep of his arm. You find yourself stepping past the threshold, wringing your hands as you stand in the middle of the little room. He leaves the door cracked, slipping past you carefully and returning to his desk.

“What is it?” He sits and starts sorting through his papers, attention only partially on you. “Something about LING 303? I graded my section’s assignments already – do you need the answer key?”

You swallow, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “No, I… I have an answer key, too.”

“Then?”

A large part of you wants to leave. He’s in a bad mood, and he’s clearly busy. You’re not sure this is the best time to bring up something this sensitive with him. But then again – when would you ever find the best time to talk to Akaashi Keiji about your secret porn account?

So, with a shaky breath, you return to the door, pushing it closed quietly and locking it.

“Uhm,” you start, turning slowly on the spot and facing him. “Can we talk?”

He’s got his eyes, wary now, on the doorknob where your hand rests, your thumb still over the lock that’s been pushed in. He blicks and flicks his gaze to yours, eyes narrowing when he sees the discomfort in your expression.

“O…kay?” He sets his papers down and leans back in his seat, his attention yours now. “...What’s up?”

You make your way to the chair in front of his desk and perch in it uncertainly. “Okay. Is it okay if I say everything before you talk?” He just tilts his head, watching you intensely, and then he nods once. Whatever had been on his mind before is clearly gone, and you silently hope it hadn’t been some groundbreaking idea that you’ve just interrupted.

“So,” you start, heaving out a nervous sigh. “You saw my bank account the other day. Last week.” He nods again, and you rush into the speech you’d practiced all morning, not wanting him to think you’re just here to ask for money. That might be easier, honestly. But your courage might never come again, so you need to barrel through this now. “It’s been that way for about a month now. I live in a 2-bedroom apartment, and – when I had a roommate-” He squints now, because he’s certainly heard Bokuto talk about your roommate as though she still exists. “-my rent was only $500 a month.”

He opens his mouth to speak, thoughts very obviously swirling in that overactive brain of his, but he shuts it again, remembering he’d promised you silence. He nods, and you nod back.

“She moved out a month ago for personal reasons, and if I break the lease and move out, too, it would cost more than just continuing to live there on my own. And-” You throw your hands around while you talk, ramping up in intensity now that you’ve gotten started. “-I know that in the long run, it’s more cost-effective to eat the move-out fees and the cost of moving, but you saw my bank account. I don’t have any way of doing that right now.”

“You need a roommate,” is what he says, unable to stop himself. You sigh, shaking your head.

“I tried. The only people searching for housing this late in the semester are undergrads.” He grimaces, and you nod. “So that’s not an option.” You sigh again, trying to remember what to say next. “Uh-Oh, right-So-” You wring your hands in your lap. “My rent’s over $1000, and I obviously don’t have that. And I’ve tried looking for extra jobs and for extra hours around the department, but I’m at max hours, and there are no part-time jobs that are flexible with my research and teaching schedule.”

You sigh shakily, staring out the window behind his head. You stay that way for a minute, gathering your courage. Akaashi watches you carefully, tracking the slight changes in your expression and the defeat that crosses your face.

“Y/n?” he asks, his voice soft now, in that way that he speaks to everyone who’s not you.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “Nervous.” You clear your throat and ground yourself, looking him straight in the eye. “So, I had to turn to some… desperate measures.” His eyebrows lift with interest, and you think you see him lean in almost imperceptibly. “I… decided to start making… content -”

You watch understanding cross his face immediately – of course it does, he’s not the Golden Boy for nothing. His eyes go wide, and he inhales quietly, leaning back in his chair and letting out a long, drawn out breath that ends in a quiet ‘ oh, boy ’. You stop talking, just watching him nervously. He stares back a moment, his mouth opening and closing with thoughts unsaid as he considers how to respond.

“And it was your only option?”

“Probably not,” you laugh. The sound is watery, and your eyes are starting to sting. “But I couldn’t think of anything else at the time, and I haven’t figured out anything better since – anything short of asking someone for a $500 loan.”

“Okay,” he says simply. You meet his eyes, searching for judgment or thinly veiled disgust, or anything . But he just looks back at you, his face devoid of everything but concentration as he thinks. “So, why are you telling me this?”

You break eye contact, staring down at your lap. You’re sweating profusely, your stomach doing that terrible flipping. “It’s… not exactly going well .”

Silence, and then-

“Define ‘ not going well ’.”

You flick your eyes to meet his briefly, seeing that he’s staring at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before. When you make eye contact, he takes a breath.

“Y/n-”

“Someone-” You swallow. “I’ve only made $300 in the last four weeks, and my roommate helped me pay the October 1st rent because she felt bad for moving out so suddenly. I’m clearly desperate, Akaashi, because I’m not making the kind of money I need to be making, but there’s nothing else. And someone commented on a video that-” You break, rubbing at your brow and breathing hard. God, this is so difficult. You don’t know how to say it to him.

“You need a partner.”

You suck in a breath, your own watery, stinging eyes meeting his. He’s breathing a little harder now, and his expression’s not as guarded as it usually is. He’s tapping a finger nervously on his desk and blinking a lot.

“Why me?”

You fumble for an answer. “Uhm-Because-”

“Why not Kuroo?” He asks, his voice calm despite the increased tapping on his desk.

“‘m not sure our friendship would survive it. I care too much about him.”

He nods, clearly not offended by the implication that you’re willing to risk things with him . He’s not your friend and he knows that. The relationship between the two of you is delicate and tense, but it’s never entered the realm of care. Professional respect at most, outright hatred at worst. There’s nothing to risk by asking Akaashi Keiji to help, aside from the risk that he’ll make you feel bad or even that he’ll tell someone else. And it must mean something that you’re trusting him not to do those things.

“Bokuto?” he asks, jumping through all the same mental hoops that you had.

“There’s a million reasons it can’t be him,” you say, sighing tiredly. He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, but he doesn’t push it. He just shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this with someone in the same department.” He considers something else, rolling his eyes slightly. “ And we have the same advisor. It’s too close. If something goes wrong…” He shakes his head again. “I don’t know, Y/n.”

“Right,” you say emptily. You’re already recalculating how often you can film and post solo content without losing too much sleep, the thought of selling feet pics popping up again. Anything to keep your mind off of the fact that talking to Akaashi had been a mistake – a waste of his time, and an exposure of yourself that had amounted to nothing.

This had amounted to nothing, baring this piece of your life to him. How humiliating.

“Y/n,” he says gently. You don’t meet his eyes, just patting your pockets for your office keys.

“Okay, well – thanks for your time-”

“I won’t say anything, Y/n,” he tries. “About any of it. I promise.”

“Thanks,” you laugh. “Yeah, I would appreciate that. Sorry for wasting your time.” You stand quickly, spinning to the door.

“Y/n- Y/n- ”

The sound of your name is muffled as you yank the door open and slam it closed behind you. You hear him sigh on the other side, a quiet ‘ fuck’ uttered in the stifling silence. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you plead for it to be Bokuto or Kuroo or Yachi.

Shockingly, it’s all three, sent to your group chat.

[2:26 PM]

Kou: LUNCH? TEN MINUTES?

Tetsu: bo we eat lunch at THE SAME TIME EVERY SINGLE DAY

Kou: IM JUST CHECKING, FUCK

Hitoka: i like that he reminds us, hehe

Kou: yeah, see??? Yachi’s forgetful!!!

Hitoka: hey now.

Kou: oops-

A small smile tugs at your lips as you drift down the hall to the grad student lounge to get your lunch. But, as you’re typing out that you’ll be down soon, another text comes in.

Akaashi: y/n i wont say anything

Akaashi: i swear

Your face burns with embarrassment. It’s damage control, plain and simple, and the fact that he feels the need to do that at all makes this whole situation worse. You can’t bring yourself to open the text or say anything else to him. It’s humiliating, knowing that Akaashi Keiji knows what you do for money now. That you’re not even good enough at it to make rent.

Akaashi doesn’t make it to lunch that day. You try your best to shrug uncaringly when Bokuto wonders aloud why he’s not there.

–

Keiji has never known what to make of you.

From the moment he’d met you – at the department orientation five years ago – he’d found you interesting, and not always necessarily in a good way. When you’d rattled off that list of research interests during your self-introduction, the one that had been unrealistically high-reaching and ambitious, he’d written you off as naive. When you’d made friends easily, your smile bright and your laugh loud and grating against his ears, he’d written you off as annoying.

And then you’d gone ahead and proven that that list wasn’t as high-reaching as he’d thought. Or maybe it was, and you’d just had a touch of insanity in your blood. You’d proven that you aren’t just ambitious – you’re successful. You’re smart – brilliant, even. And Keiji had found you interesting again, because he could never tell if you’d realized it. He still can’t.

You carry an intensity in your shoulders and eyes that he’s always caught off guard to see. You question the work of your peers with the kind of brutal honesty that should make you unpopular. It should make people hate you, the way you pick apart their ideas and results. But they never do. They never hate you, and he kind of hates that.

Maybe it’s because you always seem so eager to learn. You don’t criticize when you question – you just question . You don’t tear anyone down – in fact, your questions only seem to build people up, to the point that you’re often stopped in the halls and asked for your opinion on methodological choices and theoretical connections. People seek you out, and you’re all too happy to help.

But with your own work, you’re suddenly unsure. Keiji bristles when he sees it, that uncertain tilt of your head when you talk. It’s almost impossible to notice, and he’s sure that, to everyone else, you’re just being humble, or a nervous public speaker, even. You’re knowledgeable about your work, you seem confident when you answer questions, and you accept criticism with grace, taking notes diligently when points come up that you hadn’t thought of.

But he sees it – that uncertainty in your own ability. And it pisses him off.

You are annoying, he’d decided after the first time he’d noticed that hesitant nature. It annoys him, because you work just as hard as he does – you’re just as smart as he is – and you can’t seem to see it. Or is it a ploy? Is it an act, a performative relatability that only he can see?

You piss him off.

How can both of you be so brilliant, but you seem so much more likeable? How can people call him the Golden Boy and then be too afraid to approach him? You’re the Golden Girl, for fuck’s sake. Can’t they see it? Why are you so easy for people to talk to? Why do people tell you ‘ good job’ when you give presentations, and he’s never gotten so much as a pat on the shoulder? Why do people like you so much , and all he gets is polite smiles and nervous expressions? Why does his name float around the department in reverence, but it’s your name that people say when they want to get a second pair of eyes on their proposals, their chapters?

And why , for all that is good in the world, do you not realize it ?

That’s why he targets you. It’s like an itch he can’t reach — he just can’t help himself. He doesn’t offer you meaningless platitudes or careful language when he gives you feedback, because it’s not your favor he wants. What he wants is to push you. He wants to push you to your limit – bully you to it, if he has to.

Because it’s your research that’s born of brilliance, the kind of brilliance that makes goosebumps rise on his skin. The kind that makes his spine straighten and his gut wrench with excitement. It’s your research – your mind – that he’s drawn to. He wants to see you succeed, because he wholeheartedly believes that you could change the field.

But you don’t see that. No one seems to see that, except him and, undoubtedly, your advisor. So, when he pushes you, he know it looks like a personal attack. He knows it looks to you like he dislikes you for no apparent reason, because you’re just trying your best and he’s the department genius that thinks you’re beneath him. He knows how it looks, and he makes not a single move to fix it – because he’s seen, more than once, how what you think he is and what you think he’s doing has moved you to do revolutionary things.

He’s seen you do remarkable things with just a little bit of hatred.

So he keeps it up, because maybe he hates you just a little bit, too. Maybe his own work is as unquestionable as it is because he’s secretly begging you to question it, begging you to give him that focused look and that critical eye that always makes his breath hitch. But you never give him what he wants, so he doesn’t either. He doesn’t give you the softspoken voice or the gentle, polite demeanor that he gives everyone else, even though he can see you yearning for it. He won’t give you that, not until you realize what you are – a genius, just the same as him.

When you come to him on October 16th, opening your life to him in ways he hadn’t expected, he means every word he says to you. It shouldn’t be him – it would get messy, the two of you having sex. He knows you had to have thought this through already, that you would never have approached him unless he was the absolute last option available, but he can’t bring himself to say yes to you. He knows you need the money, and there’s a non-insignificant part of him that actually wants to say yes. That wants to help you, because, despite how he feels about you, he can recognize the severity of the situation. Of the look in your eye, desperate and scared.

But he can’t bring himself to do it, because he knows that this intricately built web of hate and respect that you’ve built together is incredibly fragile. That whatever you two have – whatever this thing is that can’t be called friendship or anything close to it – would collapse and change. Keiji doesn’t like change.

So he watches, over the course of October 17th, 18th, and 19th, as you become more desperate.

He catches you dissociating more than once during your shared reading group meetings, and you don’t even pull your laptop out during the syntax class you TA together. You avoid his eyes for the duration of the 17th, but you seem to forget about him entirely the rest of the days, your gaze distant and stressed. You check your phone more than once during class, and he doesn’t dare look, because he’s certain you’re looking at your porn account for views and comments.

He catches you chasing after your advisor after group meetings, and he realizes quickly that the man’s aware of your financial situation, because he only shrugs regretfully and leaves you in the hall, staring down at nothing. He catches you turning down Bokuto’s lunchtime offer to hit up a bar on the evening of the 18th, and then he glances into your office the morning of the 19th – you’re staring blankly at the journal article on your desk, not reading a single word, and Keiji begins to understand how this might impact your research.

He confirms it that afternoon, a cloudy Thursday just before lunch. He’s passing his advisor’s office on the way to the grad student lounge, a can of iced coffee waiting with his name on it – but he stops short when he hears your voice inside.

“ ...have to find another job, ” you say, your voice clearly stressed. “ There’s no way to get an advance on next month’s paycheck from the department? ”

The old man sighs loudly. “ I’ll see what I can do, but you know these things don’t usually work like that. And they take time. I think another job’s the only option at the moment. ”

“ Okay, ” you say. “ In that case, I’m not sure what to do about my research- ”

Keiji inhales sharply, pressing his ear to the door. You’re not postponing your experiment, are you? You can’t. He knows he told you to push it as much as necessary for the case marking issues, but he hadn’t meant for it to be like this .

“ Take some time to focus on your personal situation ,” your advisor says. “ Find a part-time job with stable hours, and we’ll work your research around it. It might double the time needed- ”

Double?!

Keiji’s starts to shake his head. No, that’s not possible. You can’t.

“ Fuck ,” he whispers, stomping off down the hall, his coffee entirely forgotten. God, is this really going to be the thing that brings you down? Is it really going to be this ?

He barrels into his office and starts to pace the length of it. He thinks through your situation in extreme detail, rubbing at his brow and sighing in frustration every time he has to turn and pace the other way down his office.

Obviously, you’ve thought through every option, but he runs through them anyway, if only to confirm for himself that you really are left with no option except finding a job and delaying the progress of your research.

Well, there’s one option.

One option that wouldn’t require you to put your energy toward applying for jobs and training for some side gig you have no interest in. One option that doesn’t require you to lose sleep or miss class or drop out of optional reading groups due to having to work somewhere across town. One option that would probably get you immediate payout, which he knows is the reason you started in the first place.

He looks at the little flip calendar on his desk. October 19th. 12 days until your rent is due. How long would it take you to apply for jobs? Would they let you start right away? When would you get your first paycheck?

Is finding a part-time job even a solution anymore?

“ Fuck! ” He throws himself down in his chair. There’s a very large part of him – the majority, even – that’s concerned about your research progress. It’s unwarranted, his dedication to work that’s not his own. But it’s not even about that – it’s the fact that he knows how this will tear at you. How it will eat you alive, not being able to work on your research. How agonizing it’ll be, seeing the rest of your cohort progress while you struggle to pay rent. Because you think like he thinks, whether you’d like to admit it or not.

Maybe that’s the smaller part of him, too. The part that wants to help you because it’s you . Because, as much as he dislikes and even hates you at times, he wants to fix this for you. He wants things to be okay for you, because you’re a person with a life – a person in his life – and you don’t deserve the kind of torment you’re currently experiencing. He doesn’t want to see you crushed by the stress.

Not when there’s something he can do about it.

–

Akaashi texts you that night.

You sit, hunched, at your dining table, frantically fixing your resumé and sending it off to different cafes, restaurants, and bars all over Tokyo. You’ve been applying all week – two places have already rejected you, saying they’re only hiring full-time workers, and one place has scheduled an interview with you, but it’s over a week away.

You’re staring intensely at your laptop, pushing down the continuous sense of dread by finding more and more places to apply. You barely notice when your phone buzzes next to you, and you pick it up without looking, thinking it’ll be one of your friends sending a meme to the group chat.

[7:59 PM]

Akaashi: i’ll do it.

You stare down at your phone, unseeing. Your ears start to buzz, and your vision goes blurry for a moment.

He’ll do it? He’ll-

You press call before you can think of anything. He picks up on the first ring.

“ Hello? ”

“You’ll do it?” Your eyes focus in on a scuff on your hardwood floors, latching onto it so you don’t have to look at anything else. “Really?”

“ Yeah. I’ll do it. ”

“Why?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, and you eyebrows scrunch the longer it stretches on.

“ I could use a bit of extra money, too. Once you’re done paying rent. ”

It’s insultingly easy to spot that that’s bullshit, but you don’t press it. You can’t risk pressing this. Not when your solution – this miracle – is finally within reach.

“What about the other stuff?”

“ We’ll figure it out. I can draft up a contract and bring it by tomorrow, if that works for you. ”

“A contract?” You want to roll your eyes, because that’s incredibly Akaashi Keiji , but you also recognize that you hadn’t thought of that.

“ Are you in or not? ”

There’s no way in hell you’re passing this up.

“Yes-Sorry, I’m just… surprised. But, yes.”

“ Alright. Tomorrow afternoon? ”

“I’m free after 2.”

“ I’ll be there at 2:30. Send me your address. ”

“O…kay. Okay.”

You hear him swallow and shift on the other end, and then he mumbles, “ Okay. See you tomorrow. ”

You’re left with the dial tone, that scuff in the hardwood burned into your mind when you blink.

“Okay,” you say to no one.

The conversation had lasted 55 seconds.

–

He shows up at 2:29 on Friday, rapping three quick knocks on your door and scaring the shit out of you as you pace the living room nervously. You rush to get it, fixing your hair and clothes as you go and giving the room a cursory glance. You’re suddenly so nervous to exist in front of him, feeling your appearance and the cleanliness of your home under scrutiny even though he hasn’t seen either yet.

You pull the front door open, dragging your eyes up to meet his. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a tucked-in white button-down, the collar peeking through the top of the black sweater vest he’d fitted over it. His glasses, black and settled comfortably on the bridge of his nose, glint in the light and block you from seeing the look in his eye when you appear in front of him. And then he shifts his weight, and you see those deep blue eyes staring right into yours.

Akaashi adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. “Hi.”

You swallow hard. “Uh. Hi.” You step back quickly to let him in, and you try not to notice the subtle cologne he’s wearing when he brushes past you. Had he always worn cologne? “Thanks for coming.”

“Mhm,” he hums, slipping his sneakers off and setting them neatly to the side in your foyer. When he stands, you watch him cast his gaze across your living room and dining area, tucked into a corner by the kitchen. He steps into the living room, wandering slowly to the side of the couch while looking at the space. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to let this place go.”

High ceilings, lots of windows, and a small balcony. Hardwood floors and an open floorplan – the kitchen is visible past the island counter, two beams capping the ends of the bar to section the area off from the rest of the room. Your bedroom door is just past the couch, your roommate’s old room hidden down a narrow hallway with the bathroom.

When you and your ex-roommate had found the place together, five years prior, rent had been cheaper and $500 hadn’t been considered a steal for a place like this. You’d managed to keep the landlord from raising the prices over the years, the two of you stellar tenants with not a single issue to note. That’s the only reason he’d let your roommate break her lease so suddenly – especially since you’d said you could take the entire thing over until you could find a new roommate.

Not that that new roommate would ever appear.

“Yeah,” you say, following Akaashi into the room and gesturing for him to sit. You move to the kitchen to get two glasses of water while he takes the corner and sets his backpack down at his feet. “I’ve made my home here. Would hate to start over, I guess.”

He looks around, eyeing all the decorations and furniture in the room. Your roommate had left you with the furniture, thankfully – this place would be barren otherwise. She’d even left her bed and the little couch in her room, reasoning that keeping the room furnished might encourage someone to move in.

You’re not sure you’d ever tell her what you use that bed and couch for now, a conveniently placed “studio” right in your own home.

You join Akaashi on the couch, offering him the water and just nodding awkwardly when he thanks you for it. His fingers brush yours when he takes the glass, his attention still on the room, and you fight the blush that rises. There are a number of thoughts floating through your mind as you examine his fingers, but you shake your head to clear them, because technically no contracts have been signed, so you’re not allowed to think about how pretty his hands will look on camera.

“So…” you start. “What exactly did you have in mind for these contracts?”

He blinks, as though remembering why he’s here, and sets his glass down. “Right.” He rustles through his bag, extracting two sets of papers and handing one to you. “I… had to look up a template for this kind of contract-”

You snort despite yourself, because he’s blushing slightly at having to admit that he has no clue what he’s doing. He rolls his eyes but continues anyway.

“I think it’s standard to just discuss expectations, boundaries, and-uh- preferences .”

You flip the first page over, finding blank lines to fill in the terms of the agreement – and then a long checklist that spans about two more pages. It consists entirely of turn-ons, turn-offs, kinks (taboo or otherwise), and absolute non-negotiables. There’s another page with blank lines, the section titled ‘ Agreed Upon Consent System ’.

You nod slowly. “You did your homework.”

“Did you forget who I am?”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you look through the checklist again. “Sorry – is ‘Shibari ’ listed here because you know it, or because you expect that I might?”

He smothers a smile, but you catch the downward turn of his lips before it’s gone. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh. And then you look at him. “And… you’re sure you’re okay with this?” When he just nods, meeting your eyes evenly, you watch him for a moment. “And you won’t, like, hold this over my head or something?”

His brows furrow for a moment before smoothing out. “No. Of course not.” You don’t respond, and he sighs. “I don’t benefit from hurting you, you know.”

You relax at that. You suppose that’s true – the two of you might not like each other, but it would be another level of messed up if Akaashi were to use this against you in any way..

“Okay. Sorry. I had to check.”

“Surprisingly, I’m above blackmail.”

You shake your head, wondering if he’d always been a little funny, or if this situation’s so ridiculous that you’re finding everything hilarious. “Okay, so – terms?”

He shifts his weight forward, leaning his elbows on his knee while he looks down at the first page of the contract. “I think payment’s the most important part right now.” You nod, watching as he retrieves a pen from his bag and clicks it a few times. “I was thinking… I take 20% of the cut for each video, but only when it wouldn’t prevent you from paying rent and bills?”

“How’d you decide on 20%?”

He shrugs. “I’m relatively comfortable financially, so I don’t need a large portion. And I don’t expect anything for the first few weeks, at least – not until your finances are settled.”

You watch the side of his face while he thinks – his lips pinch into a grimace and he shifts his head back and forth. He’d always been that way, from the beginning. He clicks his pen a few more times, and then he glances at you.

“Is that okay with you? I’m good for 10%, too.”

You shake your head right away. “No, of course not. 20% is completely reasonable.”

He nods, tapping his pen to the paper and writing out the agreement for payment. He sighs quietly. “Okay, next thing… What do you do for privacy?”

You take a breath. “I edit my face out of everything, and-” You stretch your foot out and lift your pant leg, displaying the small sunflower tattoo on the inside of your ankle. “-I edit that out, too.” You point down the hall. “I film in the spare bedroom, so that no one recognizes the stuff in my room. And I muffle some of the audio, so my voice isn’t easy to recognize. It would help, too, if we need to talk to each other.”

He nods, and then he starts to roll up the sleeve on his right arm. “Would it be hard to edit this out?” There’s a medium-sized tattoo on his forearm, a stretch of the moon cycles sketched in black across his skin.

“Oh, woah-” You scoot in on instinct, your fingers hovering over his milky skin. “When did you get this?”

“Last year, when I passed the Prelim.” His voice comes from over your head, quiet and low. You smile to yourself, examining the intricate line art. “I wanted to gift myself something.” You find it interesting to imagine Akaashi Keiji being nervous enough about passing the milestone between doctoral student and doctoral candidate, so much that he’d promised himself something if he were to pass.

“Pretty cool gift,” you mumble, your fingers tracing the air over his skin but never making contact. He lowers his arm, and you seem to realize only now how close you are. You meet his eyes quickly, seeing the silent amusement in his gaze, and you scoot back to your spot. “Sorry.”

He says nothing of it, just nodding down to his arm. “Can you edit it?”

You squint at the art. “I can try, but if you move your arms a lot, it might be easier to cover it with makeup. We can test it – film from the other side, lower the camera so your arm’s out of frame. That kind of thing.”

He nods, rolling his sleeve down again. You look away from his hands as he works, taking the moment instead to reflect on how business-like this conversation is. You’d expected more discomfort, given the circumstances. But you both treat it with detachment and only a few hiccups that can be recovered easily. It’s oddly easy, in a way that you can’t imagine with Bokuto or Kuroo – perhaps because of how much history you have with them, how much would be changing by entering into this kind of agreement together.

There’s nothing holding you and Akaashi together that would prevent you from doing business together in this way. It’s reassuring to realize that.

Akaashi buttons the cuff on his sleeve again and reaches for the pen, jotting down the terms of privacy. He glances at you briefly. “About who we can tell…”

Your heart jumps. “No one, preferably.”

“Right,” he says. “But if someone were to find out on accident, or if someone puts together that we’re having sex… what do we say?”

“Oh…” You tap your nails on your thigh. “Just that we’re hooking up?”

He nods. “That’s fine. I also think it’s fine if you decide to tell someone what we’re actually doing.” He cuts you short when you open your mouth to protest. “ I won’t tell anyone, because this isn’t my financial situation and this wasn’t my idea. This is your business, and I’m mindful of that. But I think it’s perfectly possible that you might end up wanting to tell someone, for whatever reason. And I think that’s your prerogative, so I don’t mind if you tell them that I’m part of it.” He takes a breath, smiling to himself when he considers something. “Uh, but – maybe don’t show them anything.”

“Oh, God, I would never,” you reassure him, shaking your head. “That’s a huge violation. And I don’t expect that I’ll want to tell anyone-”

“Still,” he argues. “It’s good to have the option. If you’re stressed or need a friend.”

“Well, what if you want to tell someone? What if you need a friend?”

His eyebrows tent in amusement, and he sighs. “How about we just agree to ask each other first? Whatever the reason.”

You take a breath. “Okay. I’m okay with that – reserving the right to say no?”

“Of course,” he says plainly, adding that to the terms.

You nod, sighing shakily. You feel an odd sense of trust with him – that he’s good for his word, because he’s, more often than not, honest to a fault.

“Anything… else?” you ask. “Before we get to the… technical parts?”

He snorts through his nose while he writes, and you’re reminded of the absurdity of the situation. “Yeah, just one more thing.” He purses his lips now, not meeting your eyes. “When was your last health visit?”

“Oh!” You blink rapidly, realizing what he’s asking. “Oh, I’m clean. I get a yearly health check, and I haven’t had sex in– I dunno, probably two or three years, so I’m good,” you ramble, laughing to yourself as you brush off his concern. Then you stop, because he’s looking at you like he’s fighting laughter himself, and you register what you’d said. That you’d just admitted to him that you haven’t gotten laid in three years . “Uh-”

He shakes his head. “Good to know. And it’s been at least a year for me, too.” He reaches into his bag, retrieving a sheet of paper. “But I brought this, in case you needed it-” He starts to hand it to you, and you piece together quickly that this is his health check. You take it, only glancing at the date to confirm that it was, in fact, done today.

“You went to the doctor today?”

He blinks. “I thought it would be best.”

You gape at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I would have believed you.” You glance around your living room. “I don’t even know where my sheet is- I went two months ago-”

“I don’t need to see it,” he says, shaking his head. “I believe you.”

“Dude! You can’t have all these weird, anti-double-standards.” You throw your hands up and hand him his health check back, and then you stand, moving to the file cabinet in the corner. “I’m finding that little fucker-”

“ Y/n ,” Akaashi laughs, and you pause, if only because you’ve never heard your name like that from him. He looks more visibly relaxed, too, now that you look at him properly. “It’s fine . If you want to find it, find it later.”

You sigh, staring him down a moment but returning to the couch nonetheless. He tries to hand you the health check again, but you brush it off with a grumble. “I don’t need your stupid health check, damn it.”

“I went through the trouble of getting it,” he argues, lifting his brows with a smug tilt of his head. You glare, snatching it from him but leaving it on the coffee table.

“What else, huh?” You bark, half-joking. “Got any other surprises for me?”

“No,” he says with a patient shake of his head, his lips tugging his smile away. “We can get to the technical part.”

You sigh, lifting your copy of the contract from the table and leafing through it. “So, I post every day on a consistent schedule. Obviously, I don’t want you to give up every evening of your week to film for the next day’s post, nor do I have the time.”

“And it would look weird – both of us becoming suddenly unavailable to see our friends every night,” he reasons, and you nod.

“Exactly. You have a life, and so do I. I usually batch all my content one night a week, and then I spend a few hours the next night editing everything and scheduling it to post.”

“You’ve really thought this through,” he comments quietly, also leafing through his contract. You warm, realizing it’s a compliment.

“ Thanks ,” you mutter. “I’d hoped it would have yielded better results, but at least I have a consistent schedule now.” You return to your proposal. “I think filming partner content will take longer, naturally, but I don’t want us meeting every night, so how’s twice a week? Five or six hours each?”

He hums and nods right away. “Makes sense. And we can change the days every week, so we’re not both conveniently missing every single, say, Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Yeah, good point.” He writes it down, and you clear your throat. “And I don’t think we should kiss,” you suggest, your voice quiet.

“I agree.” He doesn’t think twice about it, just writing it on the next line, and relief fills you. You hadn’t been sure how to bring up to him the fact that you find kissing personal and intimate in a way that you aren’t comfortable experiencing with him. It would probably offend you if he were anyone else – the way he agrees immediately – but you know he’s only thinking about this as logically as you are.

You appreciate, for once, that you and Akaashi Keiji think so similarly.

“And,” you start, clapping your hands as you realize something suddenly. “As for protection-”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, reaching down into his bag.

He drops a box of condoms on the table, size large.

You stare down at it dumbly. “Oh. Okay. That’s-” You’re not sure you’d ever expected to be in the know about the size of Akaashi’s-

“I was at the store and didn’t want to forget.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine, it’s just-” You smile to yourself, a little embarrassed to know this. “Videos with condoms don’t really do as well as videos without.”

You feel his eyes on the side of your face. “I… did not know that,” he says. “But I can understand why.”

You swallow, handing the condoms back to him with an awkward grin. “I’m on the pill, is what I wanted to say.” You’re glad to see that the apples of his cheeks are becoming rosy.

“Got it,” he says, turning to put the box in his bag again. He scribbles ‘ birth control ’ haphazardly on the sheet, and you let out an accidental snicker. He shakes his head at it, and you catch the grin on his face just as he’s turning away.

“Uh,” you start, trying not to laugh again. “I was also thinking pet names might be necessary.”

“Oh, if we need to talk to each other,” he realizes, nodding. “Yeah. Do you have a preference?”

“I think that question might be better for you,” you muse. “I’m good with most things-”

“ Sweetheart ? Princess ? Pretty girl or baby girl ? Darling ?” he asks without thinking. You watch his mouth move, words you’d never expected from him just falling from his lips like nothing.

“S-Sure. That’s all fine with me.”

“Okay,” he says. “I think for me… I mean, baby ’s fine. I’m not really into the… more stereotypical names.”

You tilt your head. “What, like daddy ?”

He grimaces. “Yeah, that’s not my thing-” He cuts a glance at you. “Sorry, if it’s yours.”

You smile wide now, utterly amused. “Can’t say it is. But – are you a dom, Akaashi? Or a sub.”

“Why?” he says, a single eyebrow lifting as his lips quirk in a grin. “Because I like to be called baby ?”

“I’m just curious,” you say, feigning a seriousness you simply don’t feel.

“Well, be curious in bed, not now.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. “Yes, Sir.” His fingers twitch on his pen, and your eyebrows lift with interest. You lean forward. “ Sir ? Is that it?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“But you reacted when I said it-”

He rolls his eyes and starts to flip the page toward the checklist of preferences. “It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it.”

“How’d I say it?”

He stands, glancing down the hall. “Like a brat.” Your smile drops, right along with your stomach. It flips violently, and your fingers start to tingle, but he barely gives you a second look. “Give me a tour of the spare bedroom? While we go through these.”

Your legs shake when you stand. “Sure.” You lead him down the hall, contract clutched in your hand and heart in your throat. You weren’t prepared to hear that from him.

You push the door open, letting him in. He wanders to the center of the room, turning in place. You’d put plain white sheets on the bed, the comforter a deep red color. The couch in the corner is covered in a pale green sheet, and there are a few throw pillows and blankets laid over the arm and back of it. There’s an empty desk in the corner, one that Akaashi eyes with an amused lift of his brow.

“It’s nice in here,” he says blankly, his eyes still tracking the decor in the room. It’s all plain enough not to be recognizable, but the room is comfortable to be in. You’d put string lights all around the wall, your phone equipped with an app to change the colors whenever. You’ve got one tripod for your phone near the bed and another near the couch, and there’s a chest at the end of the bed. Akaashi taps it with his foot.

“Functional or just decoration?” Your harsh flush is his answer, and he reaches for the latch, pausing for permission once he’s got his fingers on it. You nod curtly, and he drops his contract and pen on the bed so he can crouch by the chest and lift the top with both hands.

He gives you no indication of his thoughts when he looks inside – it’s filled with sex toys, harnesses, props, and basically anything else you thought might be useful. Looking at it now, you’re certain it looks like you’re into a lot of interesting things, but he only glances at you for a second round of permission before he reaches in. He seems to understand that it’s one thing to look and another entirely to touch , but you give him that permission, too.

The first thing he extracts is a whip. “Have you ever used this?”

You smile emptily. “On myself, once. Wasn’t very fun. And I didn’t upload the video.”

He sets it back inside gently. “I prefer to use my hands, if that’s okay.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to this. “Sure.”

He spends the next few minutes quietly pulling out a variety of dildos, butt plugs, and vibrators and laying them neatly on the bed, side by side. You grow warmer with each one, unsure what to do with this situation. He also retrieves a stretch of black cloth that you’d used once to blindfold yourself. It hadn’t gone as well as you’d hoped.

He stands with it now, tugging on it experimentally. “I like this.”

“Okay.”

He nods to the items on the bed. “I like all those, too-” He glances down and reaches into the chest again, setting a bottle of lube next to the vibrator on the end.

You approach him finally, standing beside him as you survey the collection. “Okay. Why?”

He picks up his contract, scanning the list and pointing to your bed as he speaks. “Guided masturbation.” He points to the dildos and the vibrators. He points next to the butt plugs. “Anal-”

“Oh, I’ve-” You fidget with your fingers. “I have yet to be successful with that.” He stares down at you in confusion, and then gestures to the fact that there are three of them on the bed, varying in size. You smile pitifully up at him. “I thought the issue was the size.”

“O…kay,” he says with a breath of laughter. “We don’t have to include anal-”

“No, I’m…” You chuckle to yourself. “I’m not opposed… obviously.”

There’s a long moment of eye contact, one where you become incredibly warm and his lips fight to tug into a smirk, but he eventually turns back to his contract.

“Understood.”

You wonder how much longer this torture will last.

He moves to the couch, sighing quietly and clicking his pen again. You’re starting to get the idea that that’s a nervous tick. “Should we just go one at a time and say yes or no?”

“Okay. Sure.” You close the lid of the chest and sit on it, ignoring the pile of toys behind you.

You spend the next ten minutes that way, voting on a list of kinks with Akaashi Keiji, as though you haven’t spent the last five years dreading every second with him. You learn that he’s into choking – giving and receiving – but that he prefers giving oral more than receiving it. You tell him that you like being tied up but that you’ve never tried it with a partner before, and then you admit to a slight oral fixation. He jokes dryly that you’d have to settle for his fingers in your mouth, in that case, and you bite back a warning that the oral fixation includes marking your partners up where others can see. He only lifts a brow and asks if he should check off ‘ exhibitionist ’, and you joke that your balcony isn’t visible from the street. You ask more certainly if he’s a dom, because it’s becoming obvious that he is, and he rolls his eyes and asks if you’re always this bratty.

The list goes on and on, and you’re surprised by how honest both of you are being. He checks ‘ dacryphilia ’, and you tell him with waning embarrassment that he can go ahead and check ‘ somnophilia ’ while he’s at it. Even things you’ve never tried but have been quietly interested in make the list, and you wonder if maybe it’s because this is a chance to try all those things without fear of judgment from the person you’re doing it with. There’s no pressure with Akaashi, because there’s no crushing fear that he’s going to find you strange or uncomfortable.

He’d shrugged and nodded when you’d said the word somnophilia, for fuck’s sake. He utters the words ‘ temperature play’ , ‘ overstimulation ’, and ‘ ruined orgasm ’ with ease, and you rattle off ‘ edging ’, ‘ praise ’, and ‘ dirty talk ’ like it’s nothing. There’s nothing to worry about with him.

Eventually, he sighs, turning to the last page of the contract, which only has the ‘ Agreed Upon Consent System ’ section and lines for your signatures. “And… is it alright if I’m a little mean?”

You tilt your head at him, your embarrassment long forgotten. “Like, degradation? Calling me names?”

He hums and then shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He thinks for a moment. “More like… disinterest.”

“Oh.” You consider it. “I suppose that’s a kind of degradation.”

“I suppose it is.” He shifts. “Just worried, since you mentioned praise.”

You feel a little embarrassment now. “Well, is there a way to do both?”

His smile is surprised, and he ducks his head when he laughs. “Yeah, I think there might be. Disinterested praise.”

“Yeah, see? Just make sure not to smile at me when you say nice things,” you joke.

He shakes his head and then taps the paper. “What’s our consent system?”

You shrug. “I’m only really familiar with the color system.”

“Green, yellow, red?” he asks, already starting to write it down. You hum in agreement, and he holds the contract up when he’s done. “Okay. I’m ready to sign if you are.”

You leave your blank copy on the bed and hop off the chest, joining him on the couch. You watch as he signs his name and marks the date on one of the lines – he hands you the pen after, and you do the same, your name sitting neatly under his.

“Okay,” you breathe, staring down at the paper with fresh eyes. He nods beside you, and then he turns his head. You feel his eyes on you, so you meet them, and he sticks his hand out to you.

“Let’s get you your rent money.”

You can’t help but laugh when you take his hand, shaking it firmly.

–

He texts you later that night, after you’ve had time to lie in your bed and process what’s just happened.

You feel, weirdly enough, more comfortable with him – not completely, and certainly nothing of the friendly sort, but you feel like the afternoon hadn’t been that tense or difficult. It had mostly been awkward and a little funny, which is only to be expected in this situation. It makes you wonder, while you’re showering and making dinner, if maybe Akaashi’s not all that bad outside of an academic context.

Of course, things between you inside an academic context are so hostile that it had always bled over into whatever social interactions you’d been forced into by your mutual friends. You can’t imagine that those things will change anytime soon – it feels strange to picture Akaashi as anything but rude and torturous within the department, and you find that you’re not so enthused at the idea of him suddenly warming up to you. You like how things are between you. You like him just how he is, predictably annoying and cold.

So, when he texts you, you’re unsurprised that your guards go up.

[10:16 PM]

Akaashi: i need your account name + site

[10:18 PM]

Akaashi: please

You feel the floor drop out from under you, and you answer in a frenzy.

[10:19 PM]

You: no fucking way

Akaashi: ???????

Akaashi: i need to study before tomorrow??????

Yes, you’d agreed to spend the majority of the day tomorrow batching content for the week. But you have no idea why you hadn’t anticipated this.

Aghast, you don’t bother typing, just jabbing down on the button to record a voice note.

“You need to study?! ” You say, exasperated. “My body’s all over that account! I’m doing a lot of things on that account! Naked things!”

You send it and wait, pacing the space around your bed. He sends a voice note back. You click play with a shaky thumb.

“ Are you insane?” he says, and you hear that he’s laughing at you. You swell with annoyance as he talks. “ Did you plan to have sex with me with all your clothes on? ” You roll your eyes, sitting at the edge of your bed.

“Yeah, that was a stupid point,” you mumble to yourself.

“ I need to see what the general aesthetic of your account is, okay? To see how you film. ”

You press the microphone again to record. “Yeah, but this feels super unfair! You’ll have seen my whole body, and I won’t have seen yours – this is skewed!”

He texts back this time.

[10:23 PM]

Akaashi: oh, sorry. let me link you to my porn account, too, then.

Akaashi: are you hearing yourself???

You groan, throwing yourself back on your mattress. You know he’s right, but it’s terrifying to know that Akaashi will have seen you naked – more than naked, really – and you will have no clue what you’re walking into tomorrow. Still, you just flail on your bed a few times in protest before sighing and lifting your phone to your face.

[10:26 PM]

You: xxxvids .com

You: username tokyolovely

You throw your phone down and roll over to bury your face in the mattress, screaming into the comforter when your phone buzzes with his response.

Akaashi: … no comment.

You want to smack him.

Akaashi: and why couldnt you choose one of the big sites that everyone else posts on???

Akaashi: onlyfans?? pornhub even???

Akaashi: i swear to god if i get a virus from xxxvids .com

Akaashi: rent is not the only expense youll need to worry about

You definitely want to smack him.

–

Keiji throws his phone down on his desk, shaking his head with a sigh.

“What even is that?” he mumbles to himself, typing the site into his laptop. “ XXXVid- This is so stupid. Just use PornHub at that point.”

He’s accosted immediately by thumbnails of naked women and men with penises that just have to be cosmetically enlarged. He plugs his headphones in quickly, very much not needing any audio surprises from this site, and makes an account, rolling his eyes when he needs to come up with a username.

When he’s done, he types your name into the search bar.

“ Tokyo…lovely, ” he says as he types, and then his middle finger hovers over the Enter key.

His goal really is just to look at how you’ve set up your account. He just wants to see the general tone of your channel. If you’re loud or quiet. If you’ve marketed yourself as one of those gentle, virginal girls or as a sex freak that makes a lot of noise. He needs to know these things, so he knows how to perform tomorrow. It’s logical. It makes sense.

But still, he sits here, finger hovering over the key while he contemplates it. He’d gone through the entire contract with you and revealed his deepest interests – previously experienced or otherwise. But this feels like a move he can’t take back. Once he does this, he will have seen your body, and that’s irreversible.

You agreed to this, you idiot.

He groans, jamming his finger down on the key before he can think further about it. The website buffers long enough that he wonders about that virus again, and then it loads.

Oh.

His heart jumps, and he finds himself looking away from his screen and glancing nervously around his living room, as though he doesn’t live completely alone. And then he looks back, met with the sight of your body.

He can only tell it’s you because he knows it’s you, and – looking at you in a set of black lingerie in the first thumbnail – this body looks like yours. The next thumbnail has you in a mismatched bra-panty pair, and, in the video after, you’re not wearing anything at all. He sucks in a breath, glancing away every few seconds while he scrolls, because it feels wrong to stare. He focuses on the titles, testing every ounce of his reading comprehension in this moment.

[Oct. 19] Shy Girl Fingers Herself to Orgasm

“Shy?” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”

[Oct. 18] Virgin Sends Masturbation Video to Boyfriend

“Not a virgin,” he says. “No boyfriend.”

[Oct. 17] Girl Makes Herself Squirt on Friend’s Couch

“Not a friend’s cou-Wait.” He blinks.

You can squirt ?

The room becomes noticeably warmer as he stares down at the little thumbnail of you curled up on the couch in your spare room. He’d intended to watch one video, just to see the extent of your editing, but he’d meant only to skim through it, skipping parts and examining the video from a purely analytic standpoint.

But… Well, if he’s going to watch one, anyway…

He drags his mouse over it, about to click into it, when a pop-up banner appears from the left side of his screen.

TOKYOLOVELY IS ACTIVE NOW – SAY HI!

Keiji jumps, feeling as though he’s been caught doing something awful. And then he sighs heatedly and clicks on the banner, watching it open to an empty chat box.

[10:35 PM]

tokyohandsome: stop anxiously scrolling through your own videos

tokyolovely: YOU FUCK, YOU CHOSE THAT NAME ON PURPOSE

tokyohandsome: get offline, tokyolovely

tokyolovely: youre not allowed to watch the one of me with that dildo in doggy

Keiji blinks hard. The what ? Where you’re what ?

tokyohandsome: go to bed, youre driving me nuts

tokyohandsome: wait-

tokyohandsome: can you see which video i view????

tokyolovely: …. if i say yes will you exit this website

tokyohandsome: ill take that as a no.

tokyolovely: YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHICH ONE YOU WATCH

tokyohandsome: goodnight, lovely <3

tokyolovely: i hate you.

He laughs to himself, bright and hidden in his hand.

tokyohandsome: do you get paid for interacting with viewers in dms?

tokyolovely: yes.

tokyohandsome: do i decide how much they give you?

tokyolovely: … it’s a rating after i log off.

tokyohandsome: then you better say goodnight to me and log off, lovely <3

tokyolovely: ….. goodnight, handsome.

tokyohandsome: :((

tokyolovely: …. <3

tokyohandsome: :))

TOKYOLOVELY HAS LOGGED OFF

He sighs, pleased, and gives you a five-star rating like he’d always intended, closing the chat. He’s tempted to go looking for that video of you in doggy position, but he respects your hyper-specific request and returns to the video he’d originally seen. He clicks on it now, nerves a bit eased after that absurd interaction with you, and settles back in his chair.

The video starts with you in your underwear, touching yourself gently through the fabric. He watches with distant interest as you squeeze your breasts through your bra and then drop one hand to the spot between your thighs that’s currently hidden by how you’re curled up. You touch yourself vaguely, and he hears the beginnings of a moan, quiet in his headphones.

The sound grows the longer you continue, and he wonders if those moans sound faked because they’re obviously so or because he knows you. From the many years of hearing your voice – albeit never in this situation – he can’t imagine that this is what you would actually sound like if you were feeling good. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he watches you start to slide the panties down your thighs.

He’s certain he can pull better sounds out of you than that.

He watches a few moments longer, genuinely critiquing the video and your performance, if only to gauge how he should act, too.

But then you drop your panties on the couch beside you, sighing breathily, and move to unhook your bra. Keiji’s eyebrows lift as you slip the straps off, and suddenly he’s not thinking about things he plans to do differently as your business partner.

You prop your feet up on the couch and spread your legs, and he spreads his, too, unconsciously, eyes dropping to your exposed core. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and he shifts in his seat, his sweats becoming suspiciously tight. He watches you on his laptop screen – the way your fingertips swipe over your clit in two tight circles before dropping to your entrance – and he swallows, committing the motion to memory, because he’s here to study. To study .

He blinks hard, shifting again and ignoring the way his cock twitches in his pants and strains against the band. He watches you dip both fingers into your entrance before slipping out, and he has the torturous thought that your fingers look a lot smaller than his. You repeat the motion three or four times, working yourself open until you can fit both fingers up to the knuckles.

You moan in Keiji’s ears, loud and a little gratuitous – but he moans back.

He palms himself through his sweats, watching you finger yourself. His breath hitches, and his stomach swirls with nerves, and he feels a wave of desire crash over him.

And then he hears your voice, in that note you’d sent him.

‘-feels super unfair – You’ll have seen my whole body, and I won’t have seen yours-’

He groans, throwing his head back against his chair briefly, and reaches for his phone before he can overthink.

“ Fuck it, ” he mumbles in a strained voice, opening the camera and propping his phone up against the stack of books on his desk.

He presses record.

–

At 11pm, you get a text.

You’ve sat on your bed the last thirty minutes, scrolling through Twitter absentmindedly as you think about what Akaashi could be watching. You wonder if he’s actually watched anything, or if he’s just skimming the thumbnails and titles, or maybe if he’d just logged off right after you, satisfied with teasing you a little.

You feel painfully vulnerable in your state of not knowing. You have no clue what you’re walking into tomorrow. At least before, you were partially comforted in that neither of you had seen the other naked, and also in that neither of you had been with someone else in at least a year. There had been an air of safety, knowing that you and Akaashi were on relatively equal ground.

You’re horribly underground, now.

So, when his first text comes through, the banner pulling down over the top of your screen, you think the worst.

[10:59 PM]

Akaashi : [Video Attached]

What is that? What did he do? Did he record your videos on his phone? Is he commenting on them? At the very worst, he’s making fun of you, and at the very best, he’s offering you tips to improve your filming or editing. You really don’t know which you hate more.

But then his second text comes in, this banner replacing the last.

Akaashi: making it a little less unfair.

“ What? ” you mumble, brows furrowed as you click on the notification. Your phone jumps to the text thread, and you squint at the thumbnail of the video. It’s just him leaning toward the camera with a furrowed brow, seated at his desk in grey sweats and a white t-shirt, with his glasses perched on his nose and his hair slightly wet from what’s probably a recent shower. He’s got headphones in, and there’s something bright on his laptop screen.

It’s the glare in the corner of his glasses, a reflection of his laptop screen, that makes your heart leap.

You know that pale green sheet.

“What… the fuck …?” You bring the phone close to your face, too scared to press play . “Is that asshole live-reacting to my video?” With a trembling finger, your click on the video.

And you realize immediately what’s happening.

Akaashi settles back in his chair with a heated sigh, his tongue darting out as he watches his screen. It’s because he leaned back that you can see properly now – the tent in his pants, the hand he presses over the outline of his cock with a quiet sigh.

Your jaw drops. He’s-

His eyes track your movement on the screen, which you can now see clearly in the glare of his glasses, and his bottom lip catches between his teeth. He breathes hard, palming himself through his sweats as he watches your video. He glances once at his own camera, clearly nervous about recording this, but then his eyes widen and fly to his screen, whatever sound you’d just made in his headphones drawing his attention completely.

“ Oh, f- ” He purses his lips, and you feel yourself leaning in, wanting to hear what he’d been about to say. He blinks rapidly, eyes trained on one spot – you can see exactly which video it is now, and your heart jumps when you recognize the way your own body moves in the reflection of his glasses.

So that’s what he’s into.

You spend so long staring at the reflection in his glasses that you nearly miss the way he starts to move. You drop your eyes in time to catch him lifting his hips just enough to slide his sweats down to his thighs. He tucks one hand into his boxers, and you watch with parted lips as Akaashi Keiji’s eyes roll back into his head.

“ Fuck, ” he breathes, his head dropping back momentarily, and your mouth falls open more, your brain stunned into nothingness as you watch him masturbate to a video of you masturbating. As you realize that this isn’t just anyone watching one of your videos – liking one of your videos.

This is Akaashi Keiji.

Akaashi Keiji’s just given you the confirmation that you’re good at this, after so many weeks of feeling quite the opposite.

“Oh,” you breathe, the sticky heat of understanding washing over your skin. It worsens when he uses his free hand to tug his boxers down, making this ground feel suddenly a lot more equal.

Oh.

Akaashi keeps his eyes glued to his screen, and you catch a glimpse of your on-screen self coming more and more undone. You examine him closely while he watches it, too – his lips are swollen and wet from pursing and biting at them, and there’s a flush high on his cheeks and a hooded, hazy quality to his eyes that makes your stomach flip with nerves. His tongue darts out again, wetting his pink lips just as he’s parting them to sigh.

Your eyes drop, watching how he slides his palm against his cock, slick with precum and making the most impolite, soft squelching sound whenever he flicks his wrist. Your thighs press together instinctively, a hard throb pulsing through your core when his hips jerk slightly.

His breathing speeds up, as does the flick of his wrist, and you realize in the reflection that you must be starting to squirt. Akaashi grips the arm of his desk chair with his free hand and presses his lips together, his moan muffled but still audible. His hips jerk and stutter, and then his eyes roll back into his head again as he comes all over his hand and stomach, streaks of white painting the back of his hand and wrist.

His lips part in a gasp and a rough sigh as he’s coming down, and he slumps against his chair, breathing hard as he stares at nothing – the screen is dark in his glasses now. He drags his clean hand through his hair, tugging hard and breathing out a soft ‘ fuck ’. He breathes twice more, and then his eyes flick to his camera, as though he’s only just remembered it’s there.

He sees himself in the video and rolls his eyes immediately, a breathless laugh leaving him as he shakes his head and looks away.

“ Uh, ” he says, still laughing. He leans forward, reaching with his free hand for the phone, and shakes his head again. “ See you tomorrow, I guess.”

The video cuts there, leaving you with silence and a sudden, overwhelming attraction to Akaashi Keiji.

Oh.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi smut

608 notes · View notes

pinkslaystation · 11 months ago

Text

No longer a memory [Simon 'Ghost' Riley]

You are reading: [Part 2] Read [Part 1] here! Word Count: 1.4k You viewed Simon as your friend, but clearly he did feel the same.

When Ghost was asked about his emergency contact, he mentioned Soap's name.

"You can't put down another soldier, mate. Gotta be yer ma or summit." His higher-ups informed him.

"Why no'?" He grumbled, leaning against the wall in the dingy office.

"Wot if you're on a mission with 'im? Wot if he's injured too? Hm? Just do me a favour and put down yer missus, will ya."

Ghost rolled his eyes in annoyance, slamming the door shut as he walked out. With an important mission coming soon, it was vital that everything was in order before they left.

He just doesn't get it. Why does a skilled killer like him need an emergency contact? He's only been fatally injured once, and when they contacted his previous emergency number back then, was it really a big deal with someone at the nearest Maccies picked up?

Gaz frequently laughs at him, "Tried to call your mother, ordered a quarter pounder instead." It's a running joke in the team.

Ghost skims through his phone contacts, and he's embarrassed to see how few numbers he has: 5 being his teammates including Gaz, Soap and Price, one being KFC, one being his mother which he had saved under Slag. He scrolls up and down rapidly, debating to himself, should he just give them a fake number?

No...they'd find out again.

He clicks under the spam numbers.

His eyes shift to a familiar number.

It was yours.

The monotonous ticking of the clock paired with the irregular typing of the keyboards were burnt into your brain unknowingly. You've lost count of the number of days you've been in the menial job now, your first job since graduating university. How long have you been with that company, 2 years? 602 days now? You're counting the days 'til the weekend but even during that, you've got no one to come home to.

What a pathetic life.

Sometimes you wonder what Simon was doing in that exact moment was he working like you? Was he also in London? Did he...think of you, the way you think of him? It's possible he's forgotten, I mean after 5 years you've lost contact with the majority of your classmates- so much for best friends for life.

You check your phone, 9:28 P.M. 2 more minutes and you're running out of there.

By the time it hits 11 P.M., you're tucked away in bed a movie playing the background as you're aimlessly listening to reddit stories on TikTok whilst watching a minecraft speedrun.

You switch to using Instagram, by that I mean stalking. Your friends seems to be growth further away from you, one sending you an e-invite to their wedding, one welcoming their 1st child into their families, and yet you're still hung over about the last day of secondary school. The way the last time you had seen him had been in form, when he glances at you walking in late. The way his hands would purposely linger against yours when you were asked to hand out sheets to the class.

The mere thought of him jolted you. That, and the sound of your phone ringing.

It was an unknown number.

There's a hitch in your breathing. Was this a sign? What's the phrase, speak of the devil and he has appear? Was it perhaps...Simon?

You wait for a minute before picking up, not wanting to come across as desperate.

"...Hello?" You murmur.

"Hey." The voice is harsh and cold. It reminded you of Simon.

"Simon?" You whisper, a smile appearing on your face.

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"What? No- Alan. From Accounting. You left some documents here at work, they seem important. You gonna pick 'em up?"

You blink. Once again your're stuck in another fantasy. In what world would it be Simon? The man who couldn't even reply to your texts in summer holidays. The man who wouldn't even attempt to return a full smile when you locked eyes in the corridor. The man you shouldn't have feelings for. Because, well, it's not like they were ever reciprocated.

What a pathetic life.

Alan, the dickhead from Accounting interrupts yet again. "Yo, you there? Wan' me to bin them?"

You sit up in your bed, sighing deeply uncomfortable, "Pull up your pants man, I'll be there in 30, Jesus. Just leave them on my desk."

Question. What's short but intense, most people dislike it, but you find it thrilling? One would think a conversation with Simon. But the answer is: London traffic.

You'd assume the usually busy roads to be dead and empty at 11:30 P.M. ish, but you're heavily mistaken, my friend. Seems like London nights are the life of the party. Driving past busy clubs and lit up pubs, whilst listening to One Of The Girls by The Weeknd [SUCH A GOOD SONG-] made you feel like a movie star in a coming of age film.

One where the guy gets the girl.

Of course, the majority of the drive you've being beeped at, or you're doing the beeping, but it's what really appealed to you when making the move to the heart of London. Life moves on whether you want or not, might at well be at the capital of England. Though sometimes you feel you're more likely to run into Simon in the north...

By the time you reach the entrance of your workplace, you begin regretting your outfit decisions, making eye contact with yourself in the reflection of the glass doors: A black hoodie and flared joggers. Nothing wrong in the clothing of course, but compared to the Data Analysts and Investment Bankers that are judging you right now, it makes you feel like the smallest person in the room.

Just a elevator ride up, grabbing your shit, another ride down, brisk walking to the car, and you can go back to the comfort of your bed. Easy, no?

You're in the elevator finally. The weird look from the receptionist really was the cherry on the cake.

Soon enough, the doors open again at the 9th floor, and you're met with the dark room of your department, which only had 2 of your colleagues slaving away at their desks, one which you're 99% sure is rotting away as they type on their keyboard.

You briefly nod at the two as they look up from the elevator doors opening, to which they returned.

Where's that file, where's the fucking file. You mumble to yourself, sifting through all the papers from your desk. The rotting lady looks up to you, shushing you for the noise.

Yeah, if only you had the courage to shush your toxic-ass husband...You think. Soon we'll hear your reddit story next to some trashy ass run on Subway Surfers on Tiktok...

The way down the elevator was excruciatingly slow, which was odd considering it was working perfectly fine 5 minutes ago.

The doors open again, at the 8th floor and 3 analysts walk into the once quiet elevator, and now you're face to face with the loud chatter of clients, and business meetings and...who left a mess in the men's toilets...

A phone rings again, and the analysts all search their coats, thinking it was theirs.

Not me.

Neither.

How is there service in this elavator-

Someone coughs, and you open your eyes from drowsiness, the 3 business musketeers silently urging you to pick up your from and rid them off that irritating ring tone.

Silently apologising, you bring your phone out of your hoodie pocket. It's another unknown number.

With no hesitation this time, just pure frustration and fatigue, you pick up the call, "Alan, I swear to God, if you're calling me again-"

Correction. There is service in the elevator. It just wasn't good.

The line breaks at the other person on the phone speaks.

"He- Co- It's an emergen- He- -mon Ril- -jury-"

"Huh?" You respond, partially not hearing as the line breaks every now and then. but also because the other 3 people decided it was okay to talk on full volume.

You try once again, "I'm sorry I can't hear you."

"Missi- crash- 3 dead- -husba"

You snort, you wish these 3 analysts were dead right now-

"-Rile- Come- t- -ocation- sen- -by text- -sband-"

The line goes dead, and you're stuck staring at your phone with more confusion than you had started. Husband?

What was that? Wrong number? No, they had addressed you by your full name. You couldn't hear much, but from what you gathered...an emergency? I mean, that alone you could tell from the shrill from the speaker's voice.

The elevator door opens again and this time, it's the ground floor and all 4 of you walk out. It looks like the scene where the rich, popular characters make a grand entrance, straight out of a K-drama, except one person clearly missed the memo about dressing formally.

You check your phone's call log, debating whether to call them back.

Before you can lock your phone and shove it back into your phone, it dings again, a text from the very number. They've given you a location. A quick search on your phone, shows you google images of an army training ground. You check the time. It's just past midnight.

Looks like you're going on an adventure.

The drive to the army grounds was shorter than Google Maps had said, and now you're parked on the side of the roads waiting for the gates to be opened.

Theories are racing through your head right now, who do you know that's in the military currently?

Your coworkers? No.

Your university friends? No.

Your secondary school classmates? No.

Simon? Can't be.

The gates open, and you drive to the 2 men standing by the doors to the building, one is dressed like a doctor, the other? Like Stalin.

You get out of your car worried, "Hi, someone called over the phone?"

"Aah, yes. Mrs Riley. A pleasure to meet you. I mean I didn't think you were even going to come." He turns to the doctor.

You don't fail to hear the words exchanged between the both of them.

"What if she works at Maccies as well...she's dressed like it-" he murmurs, smiling at you widely.

The doctor on the other hand, seems to be more tense about the situation, "Sir, can we just send her in already, it's 1 A.M., I got a family to go home to-"

"Wasn't your wife cheating on you though-"

"Sir- How do you know- Okay, Miss. Mrs... Riley, was it?" The doctor turns to you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "No. Um, no. My first name's not Riley, it's-"

"Will you just follow us. Please."

The inside of the building was almost the opposite than the outside, a loud brightly lit environment with crowds of doctors and nurses rushing around, compared to the silent dark grounds.

"Sorry, where are we going exactly?" You question, as the two men walk in front of you.

"You're handling the news better than I expected, Riley." The military leader (?) notes.

What news?

"What news?"

There's no follow up answer, instead they lead you to a quiet corridor, just outside a room, to which they gesture you to open. The doctor reads from a file, "He's going to be fine, just a few cuts and bruises-"

You interrupt, "I'm sorry?"

"What he's trying to say- we found him unconscious, seems like he inhaled too much of the gas. Thought he was in grave danger. Wasn't responding to anything. Broken rib cage, but he'll be fine. He always is, this man."

The doctor agrees with the solider.

"Indeed, a few months of bed rest, and he's be back in better shape."

The two stare at you, as you look at them with an unreadable expression.

"...And...I'm here because?"

They share a confused look.

"You're his wife, no? His emergency contact? That's what Simon said at le-"

"Si-Si-Simon?"

One second you're at home, the next you're a work again, and now you're in the bathroom with your head in your hands, sitting on the toilet lid, panic pulsating through your blood. For some reason, you can't find it in yourself to tell the truth, that you're not Simon's wife, so instead you pussied out and excused yourself to the nearest bathroom.

The good thing is, the 2 men believe you're crying over Simon's injuries, the bad thing is that he's awake. And he's been made aware of the call to his emergency contact: his wife.

"Good to say you mate. Called your wife. Sensitive one, that. Rushed-"

Simon breaks out of his dazed look. "Wife?" He barks.

The doctor shares a knowingly glance to the solider, Simon's higher up. "Yes...the one under your emergency contact?"

"Wot- Oh. Er- Yeah." Simon clenches his jaw, rubbing his temple, "Did she pick up or sum-"

"No Simon, she's here. In the bathroom."

The minimal colour in Simon's pale bruised face drains out in a click, and he's staring dead straight in front of him. For a second, no one talks, there's no movement, not even a breath is exhaled. Simon's not religious but he prays the 2 can't hear his beating heart thumping rapidly.

How was do when he sees you? A smile? A wave? A 'haven't seen you in so long'? No...he selected spouse when he put your number down for his emergency contact, if anything, he's got a role to act in front of the staff and higher-ups.

There's a knock on the door that breaks the silence. The door creaks open awkwardly, and a small head peeps out.

Simon's breath hitches.

When your parents instructed you to get out fairy land, you did. You were called delusion by your friends throughout adolescence, and you're teachers feared your expectations in life were always too high.

You remember the first time your parents told you the story of how they met. In your mind it was a romantic story, two doctors meeting together for the first time in the hospital, locking eyes and blushing furiously when their fingers touched through gloved during a high-risk heart transplant surgery. So when they mentioned that it was mere 'marriage of convenience' type relationship to you, your belief of love at first sight hit the iceberg of reality and sunk. Sunk deep.

So mustering the courage shouldn't be that difficult, right? Love doesn't exist...

The first step into the hospital room felt like walking into every exam hall you've ever entered in your entire life merged into 1...times 10. Nerve-wracking was an understatement.

Your goal was to just lie and act at his wife, play pretend and hope Simon plays along with it. It's all acting.

A marriage of convenience, you could say.

"Hey, Si-"

Your breath breaks, cutting off your own words as your eyes lock with Simon's. The room seems to shrink, and the bustling noise from the hospital corridor fades into the background. Simon's gaze is intense, his usual stoic expression softening for a brief moment. It's something the doctor and the soldier haven't seen, given the 5 years of knowing SImon.

He reaches an arm out, without speaking a word.

"Oh, erm." Taking his hand, he gently drags you, motioning you to sit on the chair beside his bed. Small electric shocks course through his fingertips and into yours, a warm feeling bubbling through your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way his eyes lock onto you, as his fingers gently caress your hand.

Simon’s grip tightens ever so slightly as you sit down, his touch simultaneously reassuring and questioning. You swallow hard, nerves prickling your skin. It feels like a minute has passes by the 2 spectators in the room feel like their watching a slow-burn romance movie.

The soldier clears his throat, breaking the silence. "We’ll give you two some privacy," he says, gesturing for the doctor to follow him out. As the door clicks shut behind them, the heavy silence continues to fall over the room.

Simon’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gesture that feels both foreign and familiar. His mask of stoicism cracks, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath. "I didn’t think you’d come," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. Your heart rate increases with every word he speaks, the hints of his northern accent peaking through the harshness of his voice.

You smile. "Well, here I am," you reply, attempting to sound casual despite the thundering of your heart. "Guess I couldn't ignore the call of duty." Your attempt of a pathetic joke makes him grin.

Simon interlocks his fingers with yours, and you swear your body changes to manual breathing. "SImon...You don't have to act, they're not here..." You mumble.

Simon chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, usually so guarded, now seem to search yours for something unspoken. "I'm not acting... and...I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What for?" Both of your hands gently hold Simon's and you notice the way just one of his hands dwarf both of yours.

"That day...the last day. I tried to come, I swear, love. I was late-"

"I waited for you Simon." You blankly state. Simon freezes at the slight frustration in your voice, "I waited so long for you, hell, the teachers nearly kicked me out."

Simon nodding understandably, grinning slightly at the thought.

"I know. I asked our form tutor, missed ya by 15 minut-"

"Then why didn't you call me Simon? Hm?"

The lack of response let's you continue, the heat from your hands warming Simon's.

"I called you, I texted, I reached out to your friends-"

"-but it's difficult when I had none, right?" Simon cuts you off, his eyes urging you to look at the situation from his perspective, "The moment I saw you in that classroom on that first day, you were the only person that smiled at me. When I forgot my lunch, it was you that shared with me by your desks. Fuck, it's always been you, and I was too fucking embarrassed with myself to even be around someone as perfect as you."

Simon squeezes your hand as he continues.

"I didn't want you to be seen with me, because...you deserved better, love. You've always had. Good grades, good school, good life, didn't was you to be dragged down by a dick like me." He huffs out, turning away, "Signed up for the military that day, y'know. Remember when you said you wanted to just give up on your dreams of uni and jus' join the army. Just use all your frustrations on a gun or sumthing... I bulked up over that very summer."

You stifle a warm tear as it escapes and runs down your cheek.

"Wanted to be someone for you, swear down. So I signed up for the military...and I- that day. I was going to tell you...and ask you out."

Raising your eyebrows, you feel the atmosphere shifting, he continues.

"Yeah," Simon chuckles, reminiscing, "Wrote a letter cos I didn' know how to get my feelins across. But uh, I was too late. And when I asked your friend, and they told me you were moving out for uni...I just thought it was better to let my feelins die out. Didn't wan to drag you down any further..." He mumbles the last part.

A mix of emotions flood through you as Simon's words settle in the room. The weight of the years apart, the misunderstandings, and the unspoken feelings hang in the air. You take a deep breath, wiping away the tear that escaped earlier.

"Simon," you begin softly, your voice trembling with a blend of sadness and hope. "You never dragged me down. If anything, I felt lost without you."

Simon's gaze shifts back to you, eyes searching for any hint of resentment or anger. Instead, he finds warmth and understanding, a look he's not seen in years. "I thought you'd be better off without me. That you'd move on and find someone who could give you everything I couldn't."

"But I never wanted someone else," you confess, your voice firm despite the quiver in your heart. "I wanted you, Simon. Even when you weren't there, I kept hoping you'd come back. Do you know how many times I've looked at my phone hoping it was you that was calling me?"

Simon laughs, moving ever so slightly closer to you, his thumb continuing to stroke your hand, his touch grounding you both in the present moment. He takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

"I'm here now," he says finally, his voice steady. "And I'll call you ever chance I get. Don't want to waste any more time."

You squeeze his hand in response, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Neither do I."

Simon presses a chaste kiss against your forehead and you lean against him.

"The name Riley really does suit you, y'know." Simon whispering into your hair.

"One step at a time, Si." You whisper back, burying your smirk into the crook of his neck.

Maybe your parents were wrong, maybe love at first sight does exist.

Outside the room, the 2 men straight in awe at the couple. The doctor sighs, "No more trouble in paradis-"

The solider nudges the doctor, "You wish that was you, huh."

me rn

tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk, @spankmydepression, @yourfavbabigirl

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #ghost #ghost angst #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon angst #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff

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starsinthesky5 · 1 year ago

Text

you are in love II || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe navigate life once you move in together. everyday feels like a dream with him

a/n: requested part 2 to my first fic :) this was super fun to write!! i am so sorry for how long this is LMAO. i just couldn’t stop writing this one and it felt good to write all this because of my first ever fic. writing has been so much fun and thank you all so much for the love and support <3

also, i can say with a fact that joe is joe-ing right now and im so-

no thoughts head empty 😁

part 1 part 3

warnings: smutttt, language, y’all are horny horny…

word count: 12.3 k (again, i am so sorry HAHA)

-------------------------------------------

February

The sounds of rumbling thunder woke you up fairly early Saturday morning. Your eyes fluttered open as you looked over at the clock, it was 8 am, a little too early for your liking. You felt a pile of weight on you and looked down to be met with your adorable boyfriend wrapped around your torso. His head was lying on your chest and his arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, and he was fast asleep. Joe usually wasn’t a clingy sleeper, you were, so this was a little peculiar for him. Sure, you guys would cuddle all the time, but you would usually stay like that throughout the night, or you would end up on his chest. But last night it seemed he had moved onto your chest, and you weren’t complaining because you felt so warm and cozy.

You raked your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, which he had been growing out, so pulling on the strands was even more fun than it usually was. You looked around the room, taking in your surroundings. You were in Joe’s bed, which was now yours, and were in his room, which was also now yours. You looked over to the TV table in front of you, which was decorated with numerous photos of you and Joe from over the past year that he had filled his room with. Some photos from your adventures together, some photos of you both before his football games, and some photos that only the two of you had seen from special moments in your relationship. When you first saw all the pictures he had in his room, your heart soared. You didn’t think he was such a softie but he loved to display your relationship anywhere and everywhere he could. There were a few boxes scattered throughout the big room. You were in the process of moving your stuff into Joe’s house, so there were a lot of things around the room at the moment.

“This is the life,” you whisper to yourself as you press a light kiss to his forehead, which ends up waking him. He moved around a little before opening his eyes and you immediately shut yours so he wouldn’t notice that you’re the reason why he woke up. You stayed incredibly still as he lifted his head from your chest, pressing soft kisses around the exposed skin of your collarbone because of your tank top before moving up and pressing a few soft kisses to your lips.

“Morning, Baby,” he says, pressing another kiss to your soft lips. His raspy morning voice and bedhead look always made you spiral. There was no reason for him to be this hot this early in the morning.

You opened one of your eyes to take a peek at him, then both. “How did you know I was awake?”.

“I’ve been awake for the past 20 minutes,” he laughed. “I just didn’t feel like getting up and waking you up. But it seems like you’re awake,”.

“That I am,” you say, giving him a lazy smile.

“Ready for another day of moving into Casa Burrow?” He says as he gets up and moves next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” You say while patting his chest as he begins to play with your soft hair.

“Unless you can come up with a better name, then yes,”.

“Casa Burrow it is,” you smile as you press a kiss to his neck.

He lets out a sigh before pulling you closer so that you are on top of him, just like how he was on you earlier.

“What’s with the sigh?” You ask.

“I don’t wanna get up,” he groans. “The rainy day vibes and this comfy bed are making it really hard to want to be productive today,”.

“Just be glad we’re doing this after the season’s over and not trying to do it during the season, shit would be so chaotic,”. Although Joe had mentioned you living with him in December, you had slowly moved your stuff in but had been officially living with him since the end of January. You wanted to wait till the season was over so that it wouldn’t be too much for him to handle.

“That is true,” he says.

“Well, we have to be productive today if we wanna get rid of all these boxes,” you giggle while looking up at Joe. His icy blue eyes met yours and instantly set off fireworks in your belly. He looks absolutely sexy right now and you needed him, which gave you an idea.

You moved your legs so that they were straddling his hips and sat up. His hands naturally navigated around your waist. “Butttt, we don’t have to be productive until a little later,” you tease while moving your hands across his bare chest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “What are you suggesting we do in the meantime?” He asks while slipping his fingers into the bottom of your tank top.

“Hmm, maybe a rep of our favorite workout,” you say as you press a slow and sensual kiss on his lips.

“Sounds good to me,” he whispers as he peels off your tank top. A few minutes later, both of your clothes are on the floor and you’re caught up in a messy heated kiss.

Your wetness was seeping onto his impressive erection as he moved your hips so that you were grinding down on him.

“Mmph, Joe,” you whimpered into the kiss. His hand navigated to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into the kiss. You moved your hand so that you were cupping his face and started to suck on his bottom lip, making Joe moan into the kiss. A few seconds later, you pulled away and sat up.

“You ready?” You smiled.

“Always,” he said as he patted the sides of your hips.

You lined yourself up with his cock, your core was slick with arousal which made it easy for him to slide inside. You let out a loud moan as he moved deeper and deeper into your core, eventually reaching the hilt. “Joey,” you moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted.

You pressed your palms against his chest and started to move your hips, getting straight to business. At first, you moved slowly but eventually picked up the pace. Sounds of skin-hitting skin filled the room as you started to ride him faster and harder.

“Y/N, you feel so good,” he moaned as he dug his head back into the pillow. He was having the time of his life right now. The love of his life was fucking him into oblivion and looked absolutely gorgeous while doing so. Your hair was disheveled but flawless. Your ample breasts were bouncing with each movement, giving him the perfect opportunity to play with them. He moved his hand to your right breast, giving it a soft squeeze before running his thumb across your sensitive bud.

“Fuck,” you moaned as you threw your head back. You leaned back, placed your hands on the sides of his legs, and began to slide up and down his length, causing another moan to come from his lips.

“You like that?” You teased, knowing exactly what you were doing by saying that. His eyes widened at your question. That was often something Joe would say during sex, and it always drove you crazy because of how hot he sounded while saying it. Now it was your turn to make him go crazy.

He immediately sat up and reached out for you, grabbing your waist and flipping you over so he was on top. He was still inside you and started to thrust into your wet heat.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly. “It was my turn,”.

“Nope. I wanna make you feel good and that’s my thing,” he said, referring to your teasing while pushing his face into the crook of your neck and sucking on the soft skin. You felt as if you were floating on a cloud of ecstasy. Every caress, every touch, every kiss sent shivers down your spine and made you moan with delight.

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him so you just laid back and let him go at it. You moved your hands into his hair, pulling at the strands so he would move his head from your neck and back to your lips. You pulled him in for a short kiss before you let out another moan. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, begging to be released.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimpered. Joe began pounding into your core, harder and harder with each well-placed thrust. Your breath came out in short gasps as he pushed you deeper into the bed with each strong thrust. You looked down to where you two were connected, watching as Joe’s impressive length left an imprint on your lower belly each time he thrusts into you.

“Just like that,” you moan and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Every thrust caused a wet squelching sound to fill your bedroom along with both your breathy moans.

“You’re so good,” he moaned as he began to slow his thrusts, allowing you to take control once again. You mustered enough energy, grabbed both his upper arms, and pushed him to the side so you were back on top.

“Holy Shit,” he moaned as you started bouncing on his cock. “Fuck, I love you,”.

A smile crept up your face, “I love you,” you moaned as your hands went back to his chest. He began to thrust up into your pussy as you felt your walls begin to tighten around his cock.

“You’re doing so good my love,” He whimpered as his grip on your hips tightened. You leaned down and continued to move your hips, your pace getting faster and faster until you felt the rubber band in your belly snap. “Cum for me baby,” he says, feeling your walls clench around his cock. Your head dropped down to his neck while he continued to thrust into you as you reached your high, his arms wrapping around your back, holding you so incredibly close.

“Joe, F- Fuck,” you whimpered into his ear, feeling your high just as he was about to reach his.

A few rough thrusts later, you felt him shoot his load inside of you, “Fuck, Y/N,” he cried out. You pressed kisses around his collarbone as you lifted your head from the crook of his neck and moved a few of his messy curls out of his eyes. You press a few more kisses around his face before finding his lips and pulling him in for a soft kiss. Both of you spend a few minutes catching your breaths and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. “You are unreal,” he says, giving you a lethargic smile.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you whisper as you drop your head into the crook of his neck.

“That’s always a positive sign that the workout worked,” he laughs.

“Look at us being productive,” you giggled.

“I thought the whole point of this was to not be productive,” He said as his hand slid up and down your back.

“Well, it was. But with us, procrastinating is pretty much impossible. We’re workhorses in our own right. Star QB and multi-award-winning singer-songwriter? Yeah, procrastination is not in our dictionary,” You smile before getting up and carefully moving off of him. He lets out a soft groan as you leave him bare and cold on the bed.

“Mmm, Come back,” he says, making adorable grabby hands towards you.

“Ah ah ah,” you shake your head. “Time to be productive for real, we got a lot to do today,” you say as you throw a towel toward him before grabbing your own.

“Is this an invitation to shower with you?” He hopes.

“Nope,” you laugh. “Give me 15 minutes and then you can go. No funny business for right now,” you wink as you grab some clothes and walk into the bathroom. You shut the door, smiling softly at what your new life was looking like.

Sure you’d miss LA and New York, but it wasn’t goodbye forever. You just needed somewhere grounded where you could spend the majority of your time, and both of those places were definitely not it. You loved those places and everything the cities had to offer, especially for your career, but it just got too suffocating for you. Meeting Joe was like a breath of fresh air you so desperately needed. And now being with him, spending every day with him, felt like a dream.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Joe was staring up at the ceiling. Normally he would do this when he was bored, but this time he wasn’t bored; his thoughts kept him occupied. Thoughts about you, specifically. Now that you had moved in with him, he was giddy at the thought of getting to wake up to your beautiful face every morning and kiss you goodnight every night. He was so excited to be able to have you with him all the time now, getting countless ideas of what you guys could do together around the city and Ohio.

A little later, you come out from the steamy bathroom, drying your wet hair with a towel. Joe was sitting up on the bed, looking through one of your songbooks. He looks up and immediately closes the book as if he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“No no, go ahead,” you giggle as you take a seat on the fluffy ottoman next to the bed, which happens to be one of your many new additions to his home.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he says.

“You’re not prying, Joe. Besides, if I remember the book correctly, that one is filled with shit about you,” you say as you grab the book and open it up.

“Really?” He says as his face turns red.

“Mhm,” you smile as you flip through the pages.

“So is this where you write your songs?” He asks.

“Mmm, kind of? I consider this as an anything book honestly. There are some pages filled with full verses and songs, but some pages with just 2 lyrics on them and some thoughts,”.

“Ohhh, cool cool,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Here, let me show you,” you say as you get off the ottoman and back onto the bed next to him, opening the book to a few pages.

—

3rd album–

song title: slut!

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

08/03: he just knows exactly how to calm me down when those anxiety inducing thoughts fill my head. he never complains when I shut down, instead he comforts me and tells me it’ll be alright, nobody has ever done that for me. he’s the sweetest boy gentleman I have ever met.

3rd album–

song title: daylight

And I can still see it all (In my mind) All of you, all of me (Intertwined) I once believed love would be (Black and white) But it's golden (Golden) And I can still see it all (In my head) Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed) I once believed love would be (Burning red) But it's golden

12/14: he told me he loved me. and i said it back. everything he touches turns to gold, including me and our love. it’s golden.

3rd album–

song title: I can see you

Chorus: 'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me And I could see you up against the wall with me And what would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you

Bridge: I could see you in your suit and your necktie Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight" Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission Hide away and I will start behaving myself

07/05: i met a guy last night.

—

“Damn, that last one was pretty short and simple,” he laughs.

“That’s because those feelings didn’t need to be described in depth. The song pretty much sums up the things that filled my head that night,” You laugh as you close the book and place it back on the nightstand.

“I can see that,” he says, a little shy after reading the things you had said about him. “Someone was a little worked up,” he laughed.

“You mean feeling like I wanted to jump your bones right then and there? Well when I spend the entire party next to this gorgeous, sexy, and hilarious quarterback, that’s a given,”.

You look over at him and see that he’s trying to hold back a huge smile, “Awww, is someone feeling shy?” you tease.

He turns his head to meet your soft eyes, “The way you write about me, about us,” his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so talented. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like this before,”.

Your heart flutters at his praise as you run your fingers over his thigh. “I love you,” you say.

“I love you so much,” he says before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on your slightly swollen lips.

“So all of those were for the new album?” He asks as he gets off the bed, wandering into the closet to pick out some clothes. He opts for his usual black sweatpants and a white Nike tee.

“Yup,” You say as you get up and walk over to the stack of boxes titled ‘room’. You pulled out a few more picture frames that had photos of you and Joe. You turned around and saw that he already had tons of photos of you both around the room so you weren’t sure where to put yours.

“We can probably put those in the living room if that’s cool with you?” He asks as he walks back out to the bedroom.

“Fair enough, I completely forgot how many photos you had already,” you chuckled.

“Can’t help it, we’re too photogenic and our photos always come out amazing. It just fits. Anyways, back to the album. So should I expect my comment section to be filled with ‘Oh my god is this song about you’ in a few months?” He smiles.

“Probably. It’s been a great 8 months of kinda hiding from the public but I think it’ll be blatantly obvious that we’re together together once I fully pop out at these games and start posting from here,” you giggle.

You and Joe had a pretty private relationship. There was no real confirmation that you two were dating, however, there were rumors and speculation which was a given considering who he was and who you were. You had shown up at the games in January and people did notice, but nobody knew what was going on for sure. Now that you had moved in together, it would become pretty clear to everyone that you both were in a serious and committed relationship and it wasn’t just a momentary fling.

“We’ve hid long enough, besides it’ll be great to actually have you next to me at all the events and stuff from now on. I can’t with the randos trying to flirt with me, they gotta know I’m already spoken for,” he smiles.

“I’ve been looking forward to marking my territory,” you tease. “Anyways, go shower,” you say, lightly pushing his chest.

“Trynna get rid of me?” He teases.

“Mmm not really. Just wanna get the smell of sex off of you,” you laugh.

“Well I’ll be smelling like sex again later,” he says, staring deep into your eyes once again.

“Then we’ll shower again. I’m gonna head downstairs and make some breakfast. You good with smoothies?” you ask as you walk backward to the door.

“Yes ma’am,” he says.

“Perfect,” you smile back.

“Have funnn,” he sing songs before heading into the bathroom.

An hour later, You and Joe are sitting at the kitchen island together, drinking your delicious fruit smoothies, and talking about some more house stuff. The sounds of thunder and heavy rain fill the house as you talk.

“Mmm, this smoothie is so good,” Joe groans. “Your smoothies are always the best,”.

“Thank you,” you say, taking another sip of the fruity beverage.

“So with the house, since I just moved in a month ago, I wanna do some renovations and since we’re living together, I want your input too,” he says, putting his smoothie down.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?”.

“I was thinking we re-do the backyard area in time for summer, maybe add a pool-house and re-do some of the landscaping,”.

“Ooo,” you say. An idea fills your head as you think about the backyard, “Can I plant a garden in the spring?” You ask eagerly.

“Anything you want. It’s your house too,” he smiles.

“Yay! What else do you have in mind?”.

“I was thinking about redoing our bathroom too, just to make it more up to our liking. The same with the basement. I was thinking we could make it into a game room/hangout zone,”.

“That sounds amazing,” you say, finishing up your smoothie. “We can put a bunch of football stuff from over the years down there, put a bunch of cool stuff on the walls, all the game equipment can go down there too,” you say. “Full-on man cave,”. You get up and place your smoothie cup in the sink before walking back over to him, taking a seat on the counter, your legs dangling.

He shakes his head before saying, “Nah, not a man cave. I want you to have your stuff down there too. We can put a bunch of ‘you’ related stuff on the walls too if we’re gonna make a football wall. I was thinking since the basement is absolutely massive, we could build a little home studio for you down there,”.

Your stomach fills with butterflies as your eyes soften. “Really?”.

“100%. Like I said, this is your place too,” he says while getting up and putting his cup in the sink.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” You said, making grabby hands towards him. He walks over to you as you spread your legs open. He moved in between them as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. His warm body acting has a cozy blanket for you.

“You’ve told me that many times, so yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” he laughs. You two are wrapped up in a warm hug, when suddenly a loud bang fills the house, causing you both to jump.

“Mmm, I just love the rain,” you say. It was true though, you loved rainstorms. Something about the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows made you so incredibly relaxed. The gloomy weather was tranquilizing.

“And I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek before moving out of your embrace. “Now let’s go unpack,” he says, putting out his hand to help you off the counter.

You spend the rest of the morning unpacking the last few boxes you had lying around in the living room. A lot of decor and personal additions to the house were left, so you were carefully placing them around the house. The majority of the unpacking of the important things already happened so now you were just finishing up.

“What’s in this box?” Joe asks, tapping the top of it.

“Those might be all my music-related awards and stuff,”.

He grabs the box and walks over to the shelf around the corner without saying anything. You let go of the box you were holding and follow him to see what he was up to.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

You watch as he puts the box on the floor, opens it up, and pulls out a few of your awards.

“Putting them on the special display shelf, obviously,” he laughs.

“But this is yours?” You say looking over at the shelf. This was where Joe displayed all his football accolades. A few football awards from high school, and a bunch from college, including the natty and his ring. Under those was his AFC championship trophy and his Comeback Player of the Year award, the spot next to it was specifically reserved for the Lombardi he’d be looking to add in the next year. A few various awards from other football-related things were also around the case.

“It’s ours,” he corrects, placing your Grammy for Album of the Year on the shelf.

“Right, ours,” you smile. Joe always made sure that you knew that this was all yours just as much as it was his. You were a little hesitant around the house just because you felt that it was his and you were mooching off of him, but he made sure to correct you every time.

You let him decorate the shelf with your various accolades, stepping back and watching him work his magic.

“And I think that should be it,” He said, looking into the box to see if he missed anything. You walked back over to him and hugged him from behind, “It looks great, Joey. Thank You,”.

“You’re welcome, Babe. How many more boxes do we have left?” He asks, walking over to the living room, you still holding on to him and moving with him.

“Mmmm, I think maybe 3 more? The boxes upstairs in your-”.

“Our,” Joe interrupts.

“Sorry, Our Room shouldn’t take that long to unpack since there’s like 4 more boxes with just clothes and some other random things. We can probably do those tonight,”.

“Sounds good. And it looks like we’re almost done over here too,” He says, looking over at the 2 boxes left.

“Yup,” you say while letting go of him. “There’s like 3 more in the basement that we can do after,”.

“If we’re down there, we should play a round of ping pong,” he says, opening up the last two boxes which had a mix of kitchen stuff and living room decorations.

“You’re on, Burrow,” you giggle as you reach over to empty the boxes.

He grabs your hand and softly pushes it away, “I got these. You should find a spot for our sexy photos that we couldn’t fit in our room,” he smiles.

“Sexy? You’re funny,” you laugh as you walk over to the couch to pick up the photos. There were 3 photos you had to find places for.

“But it’s true,” he says while carefully placing a few wall accents around the room. “We’re both hot therefore the pictures are sexy,” he says looking back at you. The first one was a photo of you two from your brother’s Wedding, you both were sitting at the table together hand in hand, a huge grin on your faces from the many cocktails you had, but also because of the pure happiness you felt with each other.

The second photo was taken by your Mom, a sweet and innocent one. You had brought Joe to your family’s house for the first time, a few weeks before the start of the season, and fell asleep in each other’s arms while watching a movie together. Your family had come home to the two of you in your own world, and you remembered a special conversation between you and your Mom about you and Joe.

Flashback to last September

You sat down on the porch chair next to your Mom with a glass of your Mom’s freshly squeezed lemonade, taking a sip of the bitter yet sweet drink. You had been looking forward to some 1 on 1 time with your Mom since Joe had gone out with your Dad and Brother to get stuff for the family get-together party you were having tomorrow night.

“Mmm, just like how I remembered it,” you groan.

“Glad you like it, sweetie,” she smiles, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“It feels good to be home,” you say.

“It’s good to have you home. And it’s great to have Joe here as well. You both looked cozy today,” she smiles.

“Dang, straight to it,” you giggled.

“Well, when I come home to my daughter asleep and cuddling her boyfriend on the couch, looking absolutely lost in their own world, yes I’ll get straight to the point,” she says, patting your thigh.

“And your point is?” You say, taking another sip of your lemonade.

“You look happy. Truly satisfied,” your Mom says, her eyes filled with joy. “The happiest I’ve seen you in a long time,”.

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the bracelet Joe had given you with both your birthstones on it. “Yeah,” you smile. “I am,”.

“He’s a really nice boy,” she adds. “Very kind, respectful, caring, natural, handsome. You seem so relaxed around him too,”.

“Momm,” you say while covering your face with your hands.

She laughs as she watches you struggle to hide your blush and smile, “But most importantly, he adores you. The way he looks at you reminds me of how your father looked at me when we first started dating. The look of pure & young love,” she says.

“He is great isn’t he?” You say, falling back into your chair and staring up at the blue sky. “He’s like a breath of fresh air on a stuffy humid day. He just gets me on a level no one ever has before and he treats me like I’m the only girl in the world,”.

“I can’t wait to show him around town and do the things I used to do out here with him,” you add.

Your mom stays silent for a few seconds, prompting you to turn your head to face her. “What?” You laugh. “What’s with the stare?”.

“You’re in love,” your Mom teases, giving you a sincere smile.

Your eyes widened as she continued to stare at you. “Mom, we just started dating,” You told her.

“And? What have I told you, Y/N? When you know, you know. We all know and it’s about time you realized it too,” she laughs.

“You just met him this week,” you said, slightly surprised that she was saying all this to you.

“I know but I’ve never seen you this way about a boy before, this time around it’s different. I see the way you look at him and the way he acts around you. It’s extraordinary. None of your previous relationships have had this effect on you. Also, might be my personal bias since we’re a football family, but Joe is my favorite,”.

You stopped to think about what she was saying and she was right about it all. You really haven’t been this way about a boy before. He made you feel things you’ve never felt before and in the short time you’ve been together, he’s made this better than any of your previous relationships. It was a different effect this time, and it was all because of him.

End of flashback

The third photo was from a vacation you took last August to the Florida Keys after you saw your family, you’re both in a hammock on the beach, you are sprawled out on Joe’s large body as his left arm is looped around your bare stomach and his right arm is holding up the vintage camera to take a photo of you both. He’s pressing a kiss onto your cheek as your hands are reaching up to grab the camera. He captured the perfect photo, both of you in your most natural state as you were caught mid-laugh and his lips were pressed against your skin with a smile.

Flashback to the end of October – Bengals bye week

“I needed this,” you sigh as you lean against Joe’s bare chest. You both were curled up together on a hammock on the beach in front of the house Joe had rented for the week. You spent the afternoon in the water together and took a little break before preparing for dinner.

“It was nice that we could do this during the bye. I can’t remember the last time I spent a bye week somewhere other than the couch,” he says, sliding his hand up and down your upper thigh.

“Which, by the way, will change,” you say while looking up at him.

“Well, that’s good. I need more downtime, especially with my favorite person,” he says, pressing kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Joe,” you laugh, throwing your head to the side.

“What?” He says, still pressing kisses along your shoulder and now neck. His arm loops around your waist and moves his fingers around the soft skin of your abdomen.

“That tickles,” you giggle. He begins to move around in the hammock, causing it to swing back and forth. “Joe, we’re going to fall,” you scream.

“I got you,” he assures as he holds you tighter. He reaches down onto the sand to grab the Vintage Camera you’d been using to take pictures during the trip and brings it up to him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, still laughing because his soft fingers were still moving around your sensitive stomach and that was where you were most ticklish.

“Taking a picture obviously,” he states, turning the camera on with his free hand and turning it to face you.

“Absolutely not! I look like I got hit by a bus,” you say while you try to reach up for the camera but he pulls it away further from you. Of course, he had long arms.

“You look hot,” he says, pressing more kisses along your skin, a huge smile on his face. “This bikini is really making it hard for me to not keep you in bed all day," He couldn’t be happier right now. He was lying on the beach with his adorable, smart, talented, and gorgeous girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that this was real, that you were real. The night you first met, he thought you were a figment of his imagination but that turned out to be false as you were 100% real and 100% stole his heart.

“Lies,” you say while making grabby hands at the camera. He manages to snap a few photos while you’re actively trying to grab the camera out of his hands, but you eventually accept defeat and smile for the camera.

He lowers the camera after a few moments to take a look at the photos, his hand now sliding up and down your belly. He swiped through the first few photos and grinned. “These are perfect,”.

You lifted your head a little higher to get a glimpse of the photos and smiled at the funny yet adorable picture. His lips pressed to your skin, you caught mid-laugh, and an invisible cloud showering you both with love. The photo captured you both in your most natural state and it was beautiful. “Hm, I guess I don’t look that disheveled,”.

“Not at all, but you will later once we’re back in that gigantic bed and under those covers,” he whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

“Oh really?” you ask, turning around in his arms so that your stomach is pressed against his.

“Mhm,” he says as his hand navigates to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Well, we have a little more time till dinner. Why don’t you make me look disheveled so that I can get presentable, and then make me look disheveled again after dinner?” you tease, ending your sentence with a slow and needy kiss. You feel his arms snake around your waist while he moves to get off the hammock. Laughter fills the air as your legs wrap around his body as he gets up off the hammock and carries you inside, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you soak in the moment.

End of flashback

“Hey, you alright?” Joe asks as he rubs your shoulder from behind you; he snapped you out of your daze which you didn’t know how long you were in.

“Yeah, I was just caught up looking at our sexy photos,” You smile.

“See I told you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Now I just gotta find somewhere to put these,” you say, looking around the room to find a spot.

“Here, let me,” he says, grabbing the photos from your hand. You watch as he places one on the TV table, then one in the kitchen, and places the last one on the table by the door.

“That wasn’t so hard,” you said as you sat on the couch to take a breather.

“Not at all,” he smiles as he takes a seat next to you. He places his arm behind you and his hand rests on your shoulder, running his thumb up and down the side. You drop your head into his chest and snuggle a little closer to him, making his hand move down to your waist.

“You okay?” He asks at the sudden closeness.

You crane your head up, “Mhm, I just wanna be close to you,” you smile as you press a few kisses to his clothed chest.

“Fine by me,” he says softly. “So, you enjoying this so far?”.

“Enjoying what?”.

“Living with me? I hope it’s everything you wanted,” he says.

“It’s everything and even more,” you say, running your fingers across his chest. “I needed somewhere less suffocating and loud, and this is it,”. You lift your leg up and move so you’re in his lap, his hands letting you do what you want before returning to your waist. “I needed somewhere that felt like home and well, home is where the heart is. And my heart is with you,” you say.

He looks at you for a few moments, his heart racing and his smile growing bigger by the second. Joe was so happy that you felt this way with him and was relieved that you didn’t regret your decision. He needed you by his side and you needed him as well.

You had never lived with any of your previous boyfriends, but this time around something was different. It was more promising than your past relationships. Living with him was like putting on the “big girl pants” for real and felt serious. You already knew you both were serious about each other, but this doubled down on that.

He pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his big hands around your waist and pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head.

“Love you too,” you laugh.

You stay wrapped up in each other's arms for a few minutes, discussing what you should do for dinner tonight and eventually deciding on cooking together.

“Now let's finish unpacking so we can be free,” you say, moving out of his embrace but still around his hips.

“Orrr, we could stay here? Maybe lose a few clothes while we’re at it,” he smirks.

“Laterrrr. We have a little more to do and then I promise you can do whatever you want,” you say, moving to get off of him.

You watch as Joe throws his head back into the couch cushion and lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Someone’s horny today,” you tease as you walk backward to the basement door.

Joe turns his head to you, seeing you walk away, gets off of the couch, and slowly follows you, “Well when I have this gorgeous, enchanting, kind, adorable, and incredibly sexy girl in my house, it’s kind of hard not to be,”.

You raise your eyebrows as you walk closer to the door, “Damn. Where is she? Must have missed her,” You question as you grab the door handle.

“Right in front of me,” Joe laughs, moving closer. You quickly open the door and run down the stairs, Joe closely running behind you.

“Joe,” you laugh as you run through the basement and try to escape him, but his fast reflexes make it difficult. You make it to the couch in the basement and turn around to see where he is, but bump into his large body in front of you. His hands wrap around your waist and his lips crash down on yours, you melt into the kiss. You always turned into putty when you were in his arms, so this wasn’t new.

His hand travels to your neck, pulling you deeper into the rough yet passionate kiss. You let out a soft whimper when you feel his other hand travel down to the waistband of your shorts, prompting you to pull away.

“Joe, we have a few more boxes,” you pant, breathless from the kiss. You stare at his glossy lips covered in cherry lip gloss, wanting to press your lips against his again but knowing you have things to do.

“10 minutes, please,” he pleads.

You stare at him for a few seconds, watching how impatient he is and feeling a little bad that you made him like this. “Fine, we have all the time in the world for the boxes,” you replied and Joe wrapped his arms around you as soon as you finished talking, launching you both onto the soft couch.

“Joe,” you laughed as he threw the pillows onto the floor. “I don’t know what we’re doing in 10 minutes but have at it I guess,” you giggle.

“10 minutes to make you feel good, obviously,” he scoffs.

“Anddd what about you?” You smile as Joe pulls your shorts down, pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

“Later,” he says as he begins to suck on the plush skin of your upper thigh. You let out a soft moan as you feel his lips on your skin and his hand moving up to cup your breast through your shirt.

He lifts his lips from your thigh and begins to pull your panties down, which happens to be extremely damp. “Damn, wonder what made you so wet?” He smirks.

“He’s sitting right in front of me,” you say as you move up on your elbows, watching him closely.

He flashes you a smile and starts to peel your panties off, taking his sweet time. You fall back against the couch pillows and feel Joe’s hands spread you open a little more. A few seconds later, you feel his tongue lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a quiet moan as you push your hand into his hair, pulling on the soft strands. His tongue flicked against your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. You let out a moan as waves of pleasure washed over you, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his magic on you.

“Please don’t ever stop,” you moan as Joe’s free hand moves under your shirt to cup your breast. He looked up as he continued to use his skillful tongue to send you to heaven, and saw you struggling to keep your eyes open. He moves back down to your folds and all you can hear are wet slurping sounds from below and your breathy moans.

“J- Joe,” you struggled to moan as you were seeing stars.

His hand moves back down to your thigh and down to your leg which he throws over his shoulder. He spends a few minutes fully attacking your soaking folds with kisses and delicate nips, before moving back up to your clit and sucking roughly on the sensitive bud. The movement of his tongue was sending you over the edge.

“Mpmh, Joee,” you moan as your back starts to arch. Joe softly pushes you back down and then you feel one of his fingers enter your core, sending you into overdrive. You feel him pump his finger in and out of your slick core as you continue to moan his name.

“F- Fuck, Y- You’re so good,” you smile as you start to feel the pleasure building in your belly. He looked back up as he continued to please you and saw your content smile. Only he could make you feel like this, and the thought of only him being able to do this to you forever made him even more ravenous. He sucked on your clit even harder and added another finger into your core. You pulled harder on the strands of his hair, earning a grunt from him that sent vibrations throughout your body. Your free hand gripped the couch as you felt like you were floating on a cloud of euphoria.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. Joe’s hand moved back up to you, searching for your hand. You let go of the couch and grabbed his hand, his fingers entwined with yours.

Your head filled with thoughts of pleasure and the fact that you were the only girl who could make Joe act so lustfully and passionately. He was all yours and you were all his.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers, you shattered into a million pieces, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. You cried out his name over and over as you rode the waves of pleasure, your body trembling with the force of it all.

“Joe, Fuck I- I can’t,” you moaned as your legs shook, not being able to finish the sentence or think about anything.

Joe didn't stop until he had milked every last drop of pleasure from you, his mouth and fingers relentless as they drove you wild with desire. He stayed down for a few more minutes, lapping up the mess you had made, and when he finally pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You spend a few minutes catching your breath and you recover from your orgasm. Joe went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to help clean you up, and after that helped you put your shorts back on. He was lying on your chest right now, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and you were twirling his hair with your fingers.

“That was-” you say.

“Intense?” Joe laughs.

“I think intense is too small of a word to describe that,” you snicker.

“Well, whatever it was, it tasted and felt like heaven,” he smiled, pressing a few kisses onto your chest.

“Glad you enjoyed it as well. But I think it’s time to do what we actually came down here for,” you say as you slowly move back up on the couch.

“I think I agree with you this time. We still have to play that round of ping pong,” he says as he gets off of you.

“I hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked, Burrow,” you tease as you start to stand up, feeling the aftermath of both what happened this morning and what happened just now. You started to walk towards the boxes, an evident limp in each step, and Joe noticed and walked over to you immediately.

“Hey, Hey, take it easy. I can unpack the boxes, you go sit on the couch,” he says as he rubs your arm.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Absolutely. Just direct me to where you want everything and relax,” he smiles.

You walk back over to the couch, grab a throw blanket, and get comfy as you watch him open the boxes.

“I was thinking that those two walls over there can be the personal accomplishment type walls we were talking about earlier,” you point out.

“Ooo, I like that. Both are facing each other so it’s perfect,” Joe says as he puts your Nintendo Switch right next to his on the game console table.

“I can work on that later. But I was thinking for yours, we hang up each of your 4 Jerseys, Athens, OSU, LSU, and the Bengals, and put stuff from each era on a little table underneath the jerseys. Maybe even hang up a few photos,” you say as Joe continues to unpack the boxes.

“Interior designer also on your resume?” He says, looking up at you with a smile.

“Maybeee,” you grin.

Joe continues to unpack the rest of the boxes, and you direct him to where you think the various pieces of decor and knick-knacks should go. He leaves 1 box alone as it has a lot of your awards, music memorabilia from over the years, and other career-related items. He said that he would use this to build your little wall of accomplishments, insisting that you two do each others.

“Is it finally time for Ping Pong?” You smile as you look over and see Joe grabbing the paddles and the balls.

“Hell yeah,” he smiles. You get up from the couch and make your way over to the table. “You’re on,” you say, getting your game face ready.

A few minutes later, you and Joe are caught up in an intense game of ping pong. You started off pretty calm and relaxed, softly hitting the ball back and forth. Until Joe decided to trash talk and try a trick shot on you, sending the ball on the side you weren’t standing on, allowing him to score.

“I am not about to lose,” you said as you slammed the ball back onto Joe’s side of the table, but he still managed to get to it and bounce it back.

“I never lose,” he shrugs as he launches it back to you.

Joe's reflexes were too much for you to beat as he always managed to hit the ball and make you miss. But you resorted to certain tactics that caused him to miss occasionally, a teasing glance or occasional trash talk that got him worked up. Joe was very good at ping pong, no doubt about that. But ever since you met, he managed to teach you all the ins and outs of the fun game and made you a better player than you were before. Whenever you two would hang out, whether it was in LA, New York, or Cincy, you managed to end up at a ping pong table, playing your favorite game.

“Ya know, for a man that usually wants to be the best at everything he does, you’re not trying hard enough to be best at this it seems,” you tease, hitting the ball back to him. Your trash talk causes him to look at you and miss the ball completely.

“Fuck,” he whispers, picking up the ball off the floor.

The score was neck and neck a few minutes later and you were still going at it and no sign of stopping in sight.

“Just give up, Y/N” he smiles. “We’re going to be here all evening,” he says, hitting the ball back over.

“Fine by me. I’m not losing, I told you,” you say hitting it back over the net.

By the time the final round of the game rolls around, you’re fully locked in and determined to beat him. You attempt to recreate Joe’s trick shot, and you succeed, causing Joe to be slightly taken aback. The ball flies at his side of the table hard and fast, completely missing Joe and his paddle, and you get the final score.

You throw your paddle down onto the table and jump up and down, “I told youuuuuuu,” you yell. “Guess you do lose,” you tease, pointing at him and laughing.

Joe drops his head in defeat and softly laughs. “Damn, using my own move against me,” he says.

“You did teach me everything I needed to know to be good at ping pong,” you shrug. “You created your own competition,”.

“That I did,” he sighs.

A little later

After your game of ping pong, you head back upstairs, the storm from this morning still raging outside, even harder than before, causing darkness to flood through your home.

“Damn, it’s dark as hell up here,” you say, walking over to the patio door to take a peek at the storm.

“Looks like it’ll be storming all night,” Joe says as he checks the weather on his phone.

“We should probably get to making dinner then, just in case the power decides to go out,” you say, turning around and walking to the kitchen.

“Good idea,” he says, following you into the kitchen.

You switch on a few of the lights and get to work. You had decided on making Chicken Parmesan with garlic bread. Joe wasn’t much of a cook, but he would try to help you whenever you decided to make something. For tonight, you left him in charge of marinating the chicken and grilling them on the stove while you made the sauce and boiled the pasta. He walked over to his phone, connected it to the speaker, and played some music to lighten the mood while you were cooking.

A half-hour later, the chicken is grilled and the sauce is made. All that was left was the pasta to be done boiling and the garlic bread you just popped into the oven to be ready.

You walked over to the pot of pasta, stirring it around as you heard the song change to “Real Love Baby”, one of your favorite love songs in the entire world. Joe looked up from the chicken that he was putting the finishing touches on, realizing that one of your favorite songs was playing, and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. You smile as you feel his warm body pressed against yours.

“Our hearts are free, so tell me what’s wrong with the feeling,” he says in your ear.

“I’m a flower, you’re my bee,” he says, swaying you back and forth.

“What’re you doing,” you laugh as you turn around in his arms.

“Singing, duh,” he deadpans. “You’re not the only one with the vocals,” he says while grabbing your hand and leading you to the open area by the dining table.

“Dance with me,” he says.

You raise your eyebrow at him, slightly confused since he rarely slow dances with you. “Are you sure?” You asked.

“100%,” he says, pulling you into him and resting his hands on your lower back while you're wrapped around his neck.

“I want real love baby, oooh don’t leave me waiting,” he sings, swaying you back and forth. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode as you hear him singing a song that is so special to you.

“I’ve got real love maybe, wait until you taste me, I want real love baby,” you sing back, staring lovingly into his soft eyes.

“There’s a world inside me, got the preacher's music, just it for a minute and gone,” he sings back, taking your hand and giving you a little twirl. You felt at ease in the moment. It was just you and your boyfriend dancing around in your home, away from prying eyes and interlopers’ glances. A special memory just for the two of you to forever remember.

You sway around to the song for a few more moments, laughing at the scene and softly pressing kisses on each other's lips. “I’m in love, I’m alive, I belong to the stars and sky,” you say, singing one of the last lines of the song before pressing another kiss to his lips.

As the song ended, you wrapped your arms around his neck a little tighter and stuffed your head into the crook of his neck. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked, rubbing your back slowly.

“Dancing with me. That was romantic and sweet,” you smile against his neck.

“I should do that more often then,” he smiles.

You lift your head out of his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re romantic enough, trust me. It’s just nice to have these spontaneous moments of intimacy. Keeps me on my toes,” you giggle, walking over to take the garlic bread out of the oven and turning the stove off.

“Well, another spontaneous moment is on its way. Why don’t we eat dinner at a candlelit table? I have some candles in the cabinet I can set up,” he says as he goes over to the drawer to take out a few candles.

You shake your head, heart fluttering at his sweet gestures and ideas, and shoot him a grin. “Sounds perfect,”.

Joe was always doing little things like this throughout your relationship and you adored it. Whether it would be random flower deliveries to your house or thoughtfully planned dates, he always managed to go above and beyond for you whether it was random or well-planned gestures. He wasn’t like any other guys you dated. The tough shell he had on the outside was not at all like who he was deep down, and you were lucky enough to see it all the time.

You plate dinner as Joe gets the table ready, lighting a few candles around the table and turning the lights off when you sit down. The warm glow of the candle made a cocoon around you two, protecting you from the darkness that flooded your surroundings.

“You’re too far away,” Joe says as he looks at you from across the table. He takes his chair and scooches it around so that he is sitting next to you, rather than across.

“That’s better,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you pick up your fork and dig into the delicious food.

“Mmm, you did so good with this chicken,” you point out. “Can’t cook my ass,” you laugh as you take a sip of your water.

“I learned a thing or two from you,” he says, taking another bite of the pasta.

“Mm, well whatever you learned paid off because damn, this is good,” you say, chewing on the well-seasoned and cooked meat. You grab your glass of water, take a sip of the cool beverage, and remember something you wanted to talk to Joe about.

“So this is my first official official off-season with you,” you say, putting down your water and looking up at him.

“Yes it is,” he says, putting his fork down and looking at you.

“So how does this work? Since usually I’m not with you for the entirety of the time you have off”.

“Usually I have some training during the early months and some events to go to each month. OTA’s are in May, but we have time before that and camp,” he replied.

“Ah, right right,” you nod.

“Since you’re with me now, you’re definitely coming to the events with me,”.

“I’d love to. Someone has to keep you company,” you say, grabbing his hand and rubbing the soft skin.

“For real. I hate going to like half the events I need to go to because I don’t like talking to randos for hours on end. If you’re there, I can just stick with you for the entire event,” Joe laughs.

“I’ll have to come up with an escape route for each occasion,” you joke.

He lets out a soft laugh before continuing the conversation, “We’ll be taking obvious trips to LA and New York so you can do your thing and I also have training in LA so it works out. As for vacations, we should prob get on planning those out,” he adds. “I was thinking of a trip to the Keys like we did last year, while we’re in LA we can rent a house in Malibu for a little, and I was thinking we go to Italy in April for a week and maybe Greece if you’re down,”.

You stay quiet for a few moments, still processing how he’s already thought everything out. Joe didn’t really go out of the country for vacations, and you’d learned that about him pretty early on. So him suggesting these vacations to you took you by surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise.

He notices your wandering facial expression and your quietness. “You alright?” He asks, sitting up in his chair.

“I’m amazing and this all sounds like a dream,” you smile. “You’ve really thought everything out, especially with these trips. I didn’t think you’d wanna go somewhere so far,”.

He pauses for a few seconds to collect his thoughts, “Now that you’re in my life, I want everything to be well thought out and serious. I love you a lot and I want you to be as happy as humanly possible,” he says, his body language telling you everything you needed to know. “You like traveling and I don’t want you to give that up for me. Maybe I just needed the right person to go with to enjoy it, and who better than my favorite person,”.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode into a pile of pink dust at the thought of how much he cared about what you wanted. “I think if I was happier than I already am, I would actually explode,” you joke. “But seriously, this is perfect,” you say looking around the room. “This house, this dinner, these vacations, and you,”.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he says. His eyes are filled with joy and adoration. Joe was truly happy with you and you with him. None of his previous relationships had made him feel so complete and comfortable. Something about you made him see what forever could look like, and he loved what it looked like.

After a few more minutes of talking about off-season plans, you both wrap up your dinner, you blow out the candles and Joe clears the table. You put the leftovers in the fridge as Joe loads the dishwasher. After you’re done, you’re standing in the kitchen, the look on your faces mirroring the tension that was building in the room.

“Soooo, whatcha wanna do now?” Joe asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Hmm, I know it’s night time but people workout at night right?” You innocently tease.

“You wanna hit the gym? Right now?” He asks, very confused.

“Not that kinda gym silly,” you say as you walk closer to him. “I think we should go to the gym upstairs, ya know the one with the comfy bed? I think we need to do another rep of our favorite workout,” you tease as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Ohhhh,” he realizes as a smirk appears on his face. “I think you’re right. I’d hate to miss a workout. It’s not good to break routine,” he says as his hands move down to cup your ass.

“Well then, let’s get to it,” you say as Joe hoists you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

Joe’s soft lips meet yours in a fiery and sloppy kiss as he starts to lead you to the stairs, but you pull away so he can see them and not fall because you were kissing him. You move down to his neck and start to suck on the soft skin, marking him up and leaving a few pretty purple spots that’ll be visible in a few hours.

You’re so caught up in pressing kisses on his neck that you don’t even notice that you’ve made it into the bedroom. “Wait, I didn’t change the sheets from this morning,” you say, moving back into his view. Your fingers find themselves in his hair again, softly scratching his scalp.

“Already ahead of you,” He laughed. “I changed them after I showered,”.

“Could you be more perfect,” you ask, pulling him into another heated kiss, one you both grin into. He lowers you down onto the soft sheets before pulling away to take his shirt and sweats off. “Damn, straight to it?” you question.

“I need you so yes, straight to it,” he says, giving you a heated look. He threw his clothes to the side and kneeled on the bed so that he was hovering over you. You let out a squeal as Joe quickly pulled your shorts and panties down, throwing them to the side along with your shirt which you had been in the process of removing.

He leaned down and started pressing kisses along your collarbone, cupping your breast through your bra at the same time. “Mmm, Joe,” you moan, your eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to compose yourself.

His hand navigates further down as he ghosts his fingers over your soaking folds, teasing your clit while he continued to kiss your collarbone. “Joe, I need you so bad,” you whispered, squirming in your bed in an attempt to find pleasure.

He lifts his head from your neck and gets off of you, leaving you cold and bare. “Take it off,” he nods, referring to your bra.

You quickly reach for the clasp and unhook it, slipping off the straps and throwing it to the side. You feel his intense and lustful eyes looking you up and down, the only thought in his head was that you were the hottest and most angelic girl he had ever seen.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. You immediately reach back out for him and cup his face, pulling him back down so he is once again on top of you. Your mouths moved at a relentless pace, kissing each other hungrily as his hand cupped your breast again. “Joe,” you moaned as you threw your head back into the pillow, breaking away from the kiss.

He moved down, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses in between your breasts and all around your belly, which as he knows, is where you’re most ticklish.

“Joe,” you laughed as he continued to press kisses all along your stomach. “Something wrong?” He asked in between kisses. All you could respond with was continuous laughter and squeals, making him oh so incredibly happy.

After he finished attacking your stomach with kisses, he moved back up to your lips, pressing his against yours again. He sucked on your top lip and you could feel his erection poking at your thigh.

“Mmm,” you moaned into the kiss. You could feel the cold air of the room against your core, which was soaking with your arousal, just begging to be attended to. His hand gripped your waist tightly, almost as if he was never going to let go.

He could feel your impatience by the way you were kissing him and squirming underneath his hold, and it was driving him crazy. He pulled away from the kiss and looked you in your soft eyes before moving back down to your neck, this time sucking the spot under your ear that drove you mad.

“Shit,” you whimpered. He moved to gently nip your earlobe before moving up and whispering, “You might not be able to walk after this,” into your ear.

You bit your lip as he went back to kissing the spot under your ear. He was driving you insane with every kiss, every touch, every word that came out of his mouth.

“I look better and feel better when I’m well-fucked anyways,” you boldly replied, causing him to immediately come out from your neck.

“Oh really?” He says as you stare at his swollen red lips.

“Mhm, something about the endorphins, oxytocin, and post-sex afterglow I get just works for me,” you smirk.

“The afterglow part for sure,” he says as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Not sure about the hormone part since that part should be in you,”.

“You know what else should be in me?” you smirk as you brush his unruly curls out of his eyes.

“What?”.

“You,” you say, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose.

He lets out a chuckle, “She knows what she wants,”.

“Damn right, she does,” you say, moving your arm to the side to dim the lamp a little.

Joe slowly lines himself up with your slick core, one hand guiding himself and the other on your waist. You feel a little pressure down below as he starts to slide in. You were still a little sore from this morning and from earlier, so a little pain was still present. He noticed you wince a little and immediately stopped.

“No, No, keep going,” you moaned.

“If it hurts at all, just tell me to stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” he coos.

“I’m fine,” you smile as you lift your legs to wrap around his waist, pushing him in closer.

He gives you a nod as he continues to slide into you until he reaches your hilt. “Joe,” you moaned as you turned your head to the side, closing your eyes because of the slight sting.

Joe snapped his hips forward, causing you to turn your head back to face him. The first thrust being so hard took you by surprise. He set a relentless pace early on as he pounded into your core, countless whimpers and moans leaving both your lips.

“Fuck, Joe,” you screamed as he continued to fuck you senselessly. The pain you felt for a few seconds turned into pleasure, all because of him.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he groaned as each thrust shook your body. Sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room and you two felt yourselves getting lost in each other. With every thrust, he moved deeper and deeper into your core, his cock slamming against your cervix, making you moan with delight.

“Right there,” you smile, closing your eyes and letting him work his magic.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. You started to buck your hips against him, matching the pace of his rough thrusts. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, your fingers scratching his back which was surely leaving red marks. One of his hands cupped your breast, his thumb rubbing circles around your nipple.

“J- Joe,” you whimpered. “I love you,” you moaned as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His grip on your waist became tighter as his other hand moved to the other side, now gripping you fully. He lowered his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, but he breaks away when he feels you clench around his cock, signaling you were close.

“God, you are unreal,” he moans.

“I’m so- I’m so close,” you struggled to say. Your legs started to burn as he continued to thrust into you, sweat dripping from both of your foreheads.

“Cum for me, Baby,” he says as he ruthlessly slams into your core, your entire body moving against the bed as he took control. At this point, there was not a single thought in your head and you were quite literally being fucked stupid by your boyfriend. A few seconds later, you felt the band in your belly snap as you clenched around his cock. You tugged at the strands of his hair as you came around him as he was still pumping into you.

“Joe!” you screamed into his neck as you rode out your high. A few more breathless moans escaped your lips as you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm. He kept pumping into you, reaching his climax a few moments later. He gripped your thigh with his right hand, his left still on your waist, as he filled you with hot spurts of his cum.

“Y/N..” he whimpered, stuffing his face into your neck. Your hands rubbed his lower back as he slowed his thrusts, pumping every last bit of cum into you before collapsing next to your tired body. His arm layed across your belly, holding you close, as you spent a few seconds catching your breaths. You stared up at the bedroom ceiling, a content smile on your face as you realized that you were in your shared bedroom right now, in your shared home, and with the love of your life wrapped around you. This really was your life, and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

“I love you so much,” he panted, breaking the silence.

You turned your head to meet his tired yet still filled with love eyes, “I love you even more,”.

An hour later, you both are wrapped up together in the bathtub, soaking up the warm and soothing water.

“This feels soooo good,” you say as you lean back against his chest. “I seriously don’t think I can walk so you might have to carry me out of here like you carried me in,”.

“Sorryyy,” he laughs, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulder. "At least the post-sex afterglow is doing its thing,".

"All thanks to you," you smile.

"Still, Sorry," he says, taking his hand and threading it through his hair.

“It’s okay, I know you always live up to your word, and you did say I wouldn’t be able to walk after that sooo,” you shrug.

“Live up to my word?” he questions.

“Mhm,” you reply, looking up at him. “You told me when we met that this was going to be different, and it is. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and you lived up to your word by making sure that we were different than the other relationships we both had,”.

“Go on,” he says, rubbing your arm.

“You told me that we would do this on our own terms, and we have. The public barely knows about us and you built a wall that shields us from everyone’s unwanted opinions, you lived up to your word,”.

“Y/N-,” he started to say. Joe was melting at your words. Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did and the way you spoke about him assured him that you felt exactly as he did. He truly loved you more than anything.

“And then you told me you loved me, and you’ve shown me that every single day I have spent with you. And now I get to feel that and see that every day. You lived up to your word,” you finished.

Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and flipping you around so your legs were settled around him. He pulls your head into his neck and presses delicate kisses to your forehead.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says with each kiss.

“I love you too,” you giggle. “I can’t wait for more days like this with you. This is everything I’ve ever wanted and more,”.

“I’m glad I could give it to you,” he says.

You fall into his chest as his arms settle around your waist, holding you close to him. You spend a few minutes in that position, hearing each other’s heartbeats and pressing delicate kisses to each other’s skin.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the entire world,” you say.

“It’s easy to be the best boyfriend when I have the best girlfriend in the world,” he smiles.

There was no place you’d rather be right now than here. You were happy, you felt at home, and you were in love. And you would get to feel the same thing the next day, and every day after that.

–The End–

Part 3

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

458 notes · View notes

writersdrug · 9 months ago

Text

The Good Friend

Chapter 2. Favoritism

Summary: Johnny discovers his purpose in Ghost's experiment.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, stalking, suffocation, mentions of blood, drugging, psychotic behavior, obsessive behavior. Do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

It was the lack of control – the lack of having a life in his hands, the lack of having someone beg for their soul. Ghost had gone almost two months without hearing it. That was Johnny’s reasoning for his behavior.

Ghost believed he had saved you – that’s what he said to Johnny. He rescued you from that dingy, roach-infested flat; the sleazebag neighbor would have snatched you up if Ghost didn’t get there first. Your job was draining, the turnover rate so high you were constantly picking up slack. Father dead, mother remarried and living in a different country, and no siblings. Your friends were your coworkers, who didn’t care about you when you were clocked out – and the bartender in the local pub you frequented, but he certainly wouldn’t miss you (he called you an under-tipper, however untrue it was).

So, he did the reasonable thing: he shoved his way into your flat while you were in the shower, sobbing about the stress of your job and your pitiful, little life (you really are a crybaby, aren’t you?). Waited patiently in the front closet as you tried to cheer yourself up, lighting that sickly-sweet candle, pouring a glass of wine, and settling on the couch with a copy of “Animal Farm”. Was nearly going to change his plans and pounce on you then and there, until you finally put the book down and placed your glass in the kitchen, padding back towards your room with a weary face.

You didn’t wake easily. It had taken almost a minute of Simon plugging your nose and mouth with his thick fingers before you started flailing. A knee to your pelvis did a good job at keeping you still, and it wasn’t much longer before you were out like a light again. It was easy to carry you to the truck, still wrapped in your blanket, looking all peaceful and dreamy, besides the tears on your cheeks (that made you look sexy, in Ghost’s opinion). And don’t worry, he made sure to grab some of your things for the long run. He’s willing to keep some knickknacks of your previous life if it helps you settle into your new one.

Johnny listened to each word Ghost said, filtering out your screams as he had stitched you up. Now he was processing it – his lieutenant had kidnapped a civilian.

He’s still kneeling in front of you, head in your lap as he battles with himself. He had to stitch you up – it wasn’t even the wrong thing to do. Either you would have bled out, or Ghost would have killed you himself. You should have been taken to the hospital, but Ghost wasn’t having it. Soap had to shush and beg you to stop crying as he patched your headwound – “stop cryin’, Bonnie, please? It’ll be over soon, you’ll be right as rain, I promise ye. Know it hurts ye, but I cannae have ye bleedin’ all over yerself, aye?” – now that you’re not dripping blood onto your lap, he’s got his head there, trying to catch up with his hammering heart.

“Come n’ wash your hands, Johnny.” Ghost calls from the kitchen.

Soap lifts his head; you’re still crying, much less now that there’s not a needle tugging at the skin of your forehead, but you’re still choking on your tears. You look down at him, your lip trembling as you suck in a breath.

“Please don’t go-“ you sob, looking down at him with earnest. Your voice is hoarse from crying – the fight is nearly drained out of you. “Please… he’s going to kill me-“

“He’ll nae kill you.” Soap says, gently grabbing the sides of your face. “I won’t let ‘im. I’m goin’ to clean up myself, then I’m gettin’ ye a towel and a glass o’ water, how’s tha’ sound?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, already up and in the kitchen when you protest with a whine. Johnny wants to be the saint here, keeping both you and his friend safe and out of trouble (as much as he’s able). There’s just one problem, something that has him feeling the weight of shame in his gut – you’re so pretty when you’re crying, fat globs of tears spilling down your cheeks as you look at Soap with recognition and familiarity. You think of him as your savior, just waiting for the perfect, opportune moment to snatch you up and carry you to safety. Admittedly, he hasn’t thought of an escape plan yet; he hasn’t had a moment to think about it, but he hasn’t tried, either. He’s not a monster, he’s just… not ready to be the hero.

“She’s warmin’ up to ya.” Ghost says, leaning against the counter as Soap washes his hands of your blood. “Already callin’ out to ya for help.”

Soap takes the moment to try and redeem himself. “She’s in pain.” He states bluntly, not meeting Ghost’s stare.

“I’ve got somethin’ for it. Might help ‘er finally sleep, too. She kept complainin’ ‘bout the basement bein’ too cold n’ dark-“

God, of course he keeps you in the basement.

“I dinnae want any part o’ this. Ghost.” Soap finally snaps, flicking his hands to get rid of the water. “That poor girl should nae be ‘ere. Ye need help, man.”

Ghost smirks. “’Course I need help – n’ you just helped me earlier. How can you say ya don’t want any part of this, when ya just helped stitch ‘er up?”

“Ye said ye’d kill ‘er!”

“You still could’ve left, Johnny.”

Soap huffs angrily. “Feck off. I’m not doin’ this, LT.”

Ghost glares at him for another moment, then scoffs. He grabs his Percocet prescription off of the counter and leaves the kitchen, shoulders tense with ire. Soap sighs, rubbing his hands on his thighs. He opens up the refrigerator and pours a cup of water from the pitcher within.

He needs to think. If he takes you out whenever Ghost isn’t watching – if such a moment ever were to happen, considering the way the lieutenant guards you like a hawk – and if he brought you to the hospital, or even just set you free… Ghost’s life would be over. He’d go to prison. At this point, Johnny might also – he was only trying to save your life when he had stitched you up, but that alone shows participation. He didn’t call the police right away, which would have been the right thing to do. He can’t even call Price, which is who he usually goes to when he needs to complain about him. He wouldn’t risk Simon’s freedom – he wouldn’t risk letting him get too far beyond his reach. He needs him.

He hears you gurgling and gagging in the dining room: he spins around to see Ghost, holding you by a fistful of your hair, two of his thick fingers shoved down your throat.

“Simon!” Johnny barks.

“Swallow.” Ghost commands, looking down at you with a cold glare. You sputter and choke around his fingers, until your lips seal over them and your throat bobs.

Soap rushes over in an instant and pushes Ghost back. He smacks the glass full of water onto the table. Ghost caps the lid to his prescription pills and stuffs it in his sweatshirt pocket.

“Feck is wrong wit ye, feckin’ bampot?!” Soap growls. “How many did ye give ‘er?!”

“Jus’ a few.” Ghost mutters, staring at Johnny. His eyes display authority, as if he’s giving him an order.

Finally, Soap gets it. He understands. Why Simon bothered to get him involved in the first place, what exactly he’s trying to get Johnny involved with – he’s the mediator. You’re the experiment, Ghost is the figurehead, and Johnny’s the one trying to make sure you don’t perish in the process. He’s the comfort shield, the one you’ll deflect to when Ghost is being too rough. Place a source of comfort in the cage, and you’re bound to reach for it when escape isn’t an option.

Soap is seething with anger – he didn’t want this. He was furious that Ghost had roped him into such a fucked up situation – but he hates that he can get himself out, but he won’t. Not at the lieutenant’s expense. Unfortunately for Johnny, Ghost knows that his sergeant’s loyalty is solid and strong, and he’s using it to his advantage.

Soap growls, staring daggers into Ghost’s own, smug expression. He then turns to you, cupping the back of your head. “’S alright, Bonnie- jus’ tilt yer head back, got some water fer ya-“

You sob, though you offer no resistance when he touches you. “What did he give me?!” you cry, fear and resignation written across your face. You’re steadily becoming more and more tired, too exhausted to put up a fight anymore, but you know to ask the important questions.

“Jus’ some pain killers.” Johnny replies quickly, offering a tight-lipped smile. He nudges the glass against your lips, and you instinctively part them to drink in the water. “Gonna make yer head feel better. Cannae have ye sufferin’, aye?” The words are sour coming out of his mouth, but this is what he has to do. He’s the buffer between you and Simon, balancing his lieutenant’s damage and your wrecked emotions.

Ghost hums in approval when you gulp down the water. Your eyes flit to him at the sound reverberating through his chest, but you’re decently not panicking and screaming, with Soap in between the two of you.

“She likes you.” Ghost comments, folding his arms over his chest.

Johnny doesn’t respond – he has nothing to say, and everything to say all at the same time. He’s got to figure out how to keep the peace around here, and it’s clear that Ghost isn’t has no intentions of making it easy for him. But, he did get one thing right – you do seem to be warming up to Johnny, and the sergeant doesn’t know if he’s thrilled or repulsed at that fact.

Next ->

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @t-virusx @liminal-chickenskin @a-sadmilky

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wasitforrevenge · 1 year ago

Text

oh sweetheart pt 3

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 5.4k!!! longest part yet yay

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: dealer! boxer!ellie, weed, alcohol, boxing, kissing, joel is dead in this, talk of abusive relationship, smoking, they’re drunk but eveything is consensual ofc! lmk if im missing anything

summary: you and ellie share a moment and both of you admit it :)

author notes: hi everyone thank you for all the love on this series <<<333 this is a good one! not all the way edited yet but i wanted to post cause i finished it 20 minutes ago! sorry for the wait but i think maybe some smut in the near future ;) requests are open and id love any feedback. thank you for 200 followers and over almost 2000 likes!! this is unbelievable and im so grateful! pls let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!!!

part 3 | part 4

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

finally friday is here, it feels like you’ve been counting the minutes until you see her again. you woke up around eleven am and put water in the kettle to make yourself some tea as you went to the bathroom to get your morning routine done, paramore playing over your speaker in the bathroom. your routine is something you’ve started to build since you moved to try and keep your anxiety at bay, not all the time it works but its a good way to get your day started. you started with washing your face, brushing your teeth, then brushing the bedhead out of the mess you call hair.

a couple minutes later, you hear the kettle hiss and you make your way back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. you picked your favorite mug out of your cabinet and make your tea. leaving the kitchen, you went back to sit on the couch and think about a million different outcomes that would possibly happen tonight when you see her. you wonder if you’re reading too much into the way she talked to you, was she even flirting with you at all? or just being nice? did she just feel bad about seeing what happened outside her gym?

your phone buzzed in the mist of your thoughts on your and you read a text from dina telling you they’re leaving for the gym around 7 and if you wanted a ride. before responding you pulled up the weather app on your phone and decided you could walk there, its a warm summer day out again and by the time the sun fell, it would be cool enough to walk and it was only about 15 minutes from your house, that and leaving open the possibility that she would want to drive you home again.

you texted her back saying that you would just meet them there. you looked at the time seeing its about eleven thirty so you still have a while until you have to leave. you decided you were gonna be productive today. you did laundry and washed your sheets, did the dishes, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and made a sandwich for lunch even thought by now it was 4 o clock. as you were walking around your apartment, you made a mental note to try and find some nice thrift stores around to help you decorate your place. you made your way to your bathroom to shower for tonight.

you love taking long showers, its your guilty pleasure. thanking god that your landlord pays your water bill as you dried off from the shower, put on your strawberry lotion, a big black t-shirt and fuzzy socks to hang around in while you did your hair and minimal makeup. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her tonight. new girl was playing on the tv in your room as you finished the final touches on your face. doing light everything since its hot but still wanting to look nice for the occasion: finally seeing her again.

four episodes later and its 6 o clock so you change into a pair of black levi shorts and a green top. your hair and makeup still looked good from earlier so nothing to touch up but you still triple checked yourself. you wish you could have smoked today to help beat the nerves but you wouldn’t have anything until tonight, smiling to yourself thinking of you and her on the phone both laughing when you asked if she was bribing you. you slipped on your converse, grabbed your bag, and locked the front door behind you and started making your way to ellie’s gym.

you got there around seven and you didn’t see jesses car yet but you did see hers. ellie’s beat up 2000 green honda cry sat in a spot towards the back of the parking lot. memories of you leaning on her window practically admitting you liked when she called you sweetheart and the peaceful feeling of comfortable silence you both held.

you heard someone call your name in the distance to turn and see dina getting out of the car, you were so concentrated on ellies car you didn’t even see them pull in. you made your way over and greeted them with a hug as dina wrapped your arm in hers and dragged you in with her, jesse following behind. you tried to calm your nerves but it just wasn’t working. not nervous about being here, even after what happened outside with the man last time, but of seeing her again. you’ve only spoken to her a handful of times but you thought of her more times than you can count.

as soon as you made it closer towards the front door, it was loud, like the first time you were here. loud people, loud lights, loud everything but now knowing it was ellie’s changed it. jesse held the door as dina went in first and you both followed. florescent lights beamed from above you, shining on the sweaty bodies in the gym. it was just like it was the first time you came. your nerves followed you everywhere, but it was worth seeing her again.

you went in and dina guided you guys to the same table you had last time. you wonder if they sit here every time. you looked around for ellie but you didn’t see her anywhere. you saw her car so she has to be here.

dina and jesse got up to go get drinks from the makeshift bar while you sat and waited for them to bring back your drink. you looked over to them waiting their turn when you heard something behind you.

“hey sweetheart,” she whispered close to your ear, and before you could respond she pulled out the the seat next to you and sat down.

“hey ellie,” you said almost startled. she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a black t shirt and all her tattoos were showing this time. it was almost mind blowing seeing her and you couldn’t even explain what it did to you. you don’t understand why a girl you barely know has this effect on you.

“i told you to call me el,” she said and laughed kindly towards you, “i have the stuff for you” she finished.

“oh thank you, i’d hope so considering that’s the reason i came,” you joked.

“wait you mean you didn’t come to see me?” she said sounding fake hurt.

“that was just a plus,” you flirted. dina and jesse came back to the table with the drinks before she responded to you and they both greeted ellie as they sat.

“hey els we didn’t see you before we ordered the drinks, i can go get one for ya?” jesse asked her.

“nah i’ll wait til the next round, thanks though” she told him. she smiled at you and the conversation started between all four of you, before you knew it an hour and a half passed, you had more three more rounds and just enjoyed your friday night. the match started and you find it so convenient that you can still see the ring from where the table is so theres no need to get up and watch considering its not ellie up there.

you watched for a bit until it was coming to the end, cheering erupted and ellie told dina and jesse that she was going out for a smoke, before she got up, she leaned over to you and whispered “you coming sweetheart?” softly in your ear, her face inches away from yours, then she moved back and smiled. she held out her hand and you held it as she pulled you up with her as you blushed so hard, you swear you turned into a tomato.

your eyes stayed on her hand holding yours and the beautiful moth tattoo covering her arm, not believing that she’s actually touching you again. you followed behind her as she moved with you through the gym towards the door, as you walked out still hand in hand you saw the side of the building, it was the same place she defended you the first time you met her.

she lead you over to a bench that you never even realized was there. your hands broke as you both sat, she went pull out her cigarette pack and the lighter from her back pocket when she noticed you were staring at her still. she smirked as she opened the pack, and surprisingly pulled out a joint. she put it in her mouth and brought the lighter up to it before telling you “its not polite to stare sweetheart.”

you blushed and looked away as soon as she said it. she laughed and she passed the joint to you, you told her you just couldn’t help it. and you really couldn’t, she’s breathtaking. the way her freckles danced across her whole face, her eyes had a small tint of brown circling her iris, the scar on her right eyebrow, the way her lips just sat perfectly on her face. you so badly want to reach out and touch them again.

you hit it a couple times, you are sure your cheeks haven’t been back to normal since you saw her and you wonder if she’s noticed. you passed her back the joint and she staring at you taking in every detail of you too as she brought it to her mouth and took a hit. blowing out the smoke she smirked, and said “i can’t either sweetheart.”

she leaned back against the bench, legs spread a little as she handed you the joint and asked, “so what brought you here besides jesse?” she acquired. you told her about living in brooklyn, above the cafe you worked and how your time spent there wasn’t totally great but the real reason was running from a shitty past, you weren’t ready to tell her specifics but you told her that’s why you left, you had to get away from what happened there but it was more like who. she told you she understood and then she told you “well i’m glad you’ve made your way here sweetheart.”

you don’t know if it was the alcohol or weed but you sat outside on the bench for another 20 minutes, smoking and laughing as you talked about so much: you talked about the tv shows you’re both watching, the albums you had on repeat, the guilty pleasures you both had and what you both did in your free time. you spoke to one another like you’ve known each other for years. it just feels so good to talk to someone like this again.

she learned that your parents live in portland, so moving coasts was a big deal but you felt like you were on auto-pilot growing up and you knew you had to get out when you could, she learned that you dropped out of college two years and haven’t made any plans to go back but you would like to. you told her a couple funny stories about you and jesse growing up and she laughed at them all.

you found out that she plays guitar and that she spends time drawing and journaling. you learn that ellie was adopted when she was 14, she grew up in boston, and she has an older sister named sarah but that she doesn’t come around much anymore since she gotten married. she told you that her dad passed away from a heart attack about a year ago and since then, her and her uncle tommy.

“im sorry to hear about your dad els” you sympathized.

“its okay sweetheart, just fucking sucks sometimes.” she responded softly as she put the joint out next to her and slipped it back in her cigarette pack. instead this time she pulled out a cigarette and lit that this time. she slid it in her pocket before she stood up off the bench, offering you her hand again and said you should probably head back inside.

you grabbed her warm hand and stood up to follow her, you started the walk towards the side door but before she opened it, she turned around to you and faced you.

“hey sweetheart?” she asked.

“yes els?” you waited for her to continue, her hand still covering yours.

“im glad you came sweetheart, this was nice, i mean as nice as it gets sitting on the side of this place,” she laughed softly, you felt like she was closer than ever but maybe because you just wanted her to be, “you know, id love to do this again.. and maybe play you something on my guitar.. if you want.” she said almost nervously, feeling the urge to look away from you.

“i would love that els.” you said, looking up from staring at your hands together to smiling in her face. you cant believe she asked you, part of you prayed she would, you knew there was a connection here. she realized it too. your eye contact never faded as you stood here.

“great, im looking forward to it more than you know,” she told you sweetly. she let go out hand and you felt slight disappoint in your heart as you assumed she was going to turn around and open the door and this moment would be over. instead, she brought her hand up to your face and let it rest on your cheek as she brushed her thumb over it. the touch of her warm hand sent sparks through your body this time and you couldn’t be bothered moving as she grew closer to you.

“you have no idea how much i wanna kiss you right now.” she whispered, from only what felt like two inches away from your lips. fuck, you thought silently. she was so close to you, you could feel her breathe as she spoke.

“please do it.” you practically whined, you couldn’t take this anymore. all you wanted to do was feel her lips on yours. after you spoke, you felt her thumb move from your cheek to brushing your lips softly. the drinks you had definitely brought out your confident and the want you had for her.

“oh sweetheart,” she purred towards you, “how badly i want to but it has to be more special than this.” she said moving her thumb back to your red cheek.

“just as long as it happens el,” you responded, breathing heavier as your nerves grew in anticipation.

she nodded as she slowly moved her hand off your face and brought it down to your hip and gave it a squeeze, still smiling at you as she reached to open the door and let you through in front of her.

you walk back into the gym and went to find jesse and dina. you saw jesse at the bar and ellie went over to him, telling you she was getting more drinks. you went over to dina at the table and took a seat next to her. you asked her how the match went and she told you same as always and nothing crazy this time.

“you guys were out there for a while, whats up with that?” dina asked while smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“dina…” you laughed, “we just smoked and talked for a bit.” you replied to her.

“sureeee that’s all, we see the way you look at her!”, she squealed, “and the way she looks at you, it just seems pretty obvious.”

you laughed and told her that nothing happened yet but you did admit to her that you wanted it to.

“stop we knew it!” she laughed loudly and hit the table in excitement. you pulled your hands to your face that was full of embarrassment.

“what do you mean you knew it, was it obvious?” you gasped. your eyes darting towards ellie at the makeshift bar.

“to me and jesse yes.” she told you still smiling over the fact that her two friends maybe starting something new soon.

as you went to reply, the drinks were on the table, jesse and ellie were back already at the table pulling their chairs. the conversation between you and dina came to a halt as you all started talking. you all sat, conversing and finished your last round by the time it hit around 11 pm. you were getting tired and you were definitely drunk after all the rounds of drinks everyone bought. the matches ended an hour ago and you guys were the last few people left besides the lady behind the bar and a couple stragglers paying their tab and chatting.

“hey i think me and d are gonna head out,” he said looking over to dina, who was definitely feeling all the drinks she had, he laughed and said, “this one needs to make it home into bed. can you make it home okay? i can take you now if you need” he asked talking to you.

“no i’m gonna take her home.” ellie cut in before you could respond. you looked at her and smiled as jesse told you to text when you both got home safe. he helped dina up and they made their way to the door. your eyes followed til they left and then you turned to ellie, who was already staring at you.

“that okay sweetheart? that i take you home again?” she asked smirking towards you.

“yeah els, that’s okay.” you blushed as she stood up and put her hand out for the third time tonight. you connected your hands again. touching her had your skin was burning up. you followed her into a back office. paperwork, receipts, and random things littered the room. as you looked around and saw a decent couch, a safe in the corner and a coffee area on a little table and a large desk with folders and boxes of things you didn’t know.

you watched as ellie disconnected your hands to go over to pick up her backpack from the side of the couch and then she grabbed a jacket she had hanging over the deck of the chair to the desk, she slid it over her shoulders then grabbed a piece of paper, writing something non legible from where you were standing. she smiled when she turned towards you and held her arm out motioning to the door for you guys to exit.

the stragglers were gone and the bartender bid ellie goodnight as she walked out the front door. you walked the distance of the gym and made it to the door with ellie, she leaned over and turned the lights off and then held the door opened for you.

you told her thank you and she nodded towards you, “i think we should walk, it’s not far from your apartment.” she spoke looking towards you for confirmation as she turned and locked up the gym for the night.

“that’s okay but how are you going to get home without your car?” you asked. you didn’t want her walking home alone either, you knew she could handle herself but still, the thought made you worry.

“i’m only 5 minutes away from you actually so its not far, ill be back for my car tomorrow.” she told you. you nodded and both of you continued to walk the sidewalk in a comfortable silence next to each other. you glanced up at the sky, noticing the stars and the way the moon beamed over the city. it was so much cooler now than it was earlier and you moved to brush over the goosebumps that covered your arms. ellie noticed your movement and took off her jacket. you turned when you noticed what she was going and told her, “no its okay we’ll be there soon i don’t need it.”

“sorry sweetheart, got to make sure you stay warm.” she smirked as she put it over your shoulders and watched as you put your arms in. you smiled to her as you readjusted it and continued the walk to your place. the smell of her engulfed you and you’ve never felt so comfortable.

“its so beautiful.” you whispered, “and quiet, new york was never like this. they don’t lie when they say the city never sleeps ya know?” you finished.

the city you moved to that you wish you could escape from. the shitty and abusive relationship you wish you could leave behind. the things you tried the most to forget. you never spoke about it, you just ran. the city you wished had better memories connected with it. but now all you want is to create new memories.

when you moved across the country, you told yourself that you’re not getting into anything here because you know you need to heal from the those years of abuse and insecurity so the last thing you expected was to meet ellie and end up feeling this way about her. you don’t want this to happen and you ruin it because you aren’t okay but with her, you feel like you could be okay one day.

“i could only imagine, boston was a busy place too but not the same, it always is quiet here.” she chuckled softly.

“i love it, things finally seem calm now.” you smiled as you looked her. she took in the sight of you in her jacket and she loved it. she can only imagine seeing you wear her t shirts… or nothing at all. she shook the thoughts from her head but she just couldn’t help it. you were the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. you were breathtaking. she couldn’t believe she’d met someone like you in this shitty small town.

the town where her dad and her moved, and the memories of them together haunted her. now that he was gone, she knew a piece of her was missing. things were incomplete without him. he was all she thought about, the guilt of what happened and how she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

the only time ellie wasn’t thinking about joel was when she was thinking about you, she was grateful that she met you. she didn’t know what this was going to turn into but she hoped it would be something. she sees the effects she has on you and she wishes she really knew how to communicate with you that she feels the same way about you.

you continued the walk in a comfortable silence, both of you wrapped in your thoughts of each another and eventually made it to the front of your building. you turned to face her with a smile,“here i am,” you spoke softly to her, not wanting the night to come to an end.

“here you are, thank you for letting me take you home sweetheart, call it peace of mind,” she admitted.

“thank you for walking me els… do you want to come up?” you said without a thought. you didn’t know if this is was the alcohol talking but you know you didn’t regret it when you said it and you wish that’s what you could blame it on but you knew you wanted this even sober.

“if you want me to sweetheart” she smirked as she responded.

you stepped closer to her as you looked at her, only a couple inches away from her face, watching her eyes move from your eyes to your lips. you knew you both could feel the tension.

“please just say yes.” you sighed wishing you could feel her lips on yours already.

“okay sweetheart, lets go.” she pulled away but connected your hands and it took you a second to recognize that she agreed. you turned around, suddenly nervous about the fact that she’s going to see where you spend your days. you opened the door to the lobby, and ellie held the door as you both walked in. she followed you up the stairs by the front, and you made your way to the front door as you held ellie’s hand in one and used the other to pull your keys from your bag.

you unlocked the door and you brought ellie in with you before the door was shut and you were locking it. you took off her jacket and put it on your coat rack and turned to look at her.

“okay it’s kind of a mess so i’m sorry but-“ you started before she cut you off.

“sweetheart, your place is practically spotless, you should see mine.” ellie laughed.

you laughed as you pulled ellie over to the green couch that took up a lot of your living room but it was a dream purchase and you loved it. you told ellie to take a seat as you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed some water for you both. as you were walking back towards her, she was digging around in her backpack. as you placed the waters down and took a seat, she pulled out weed in a jar and handed it to you.

“here this is yours.” she said.

“oh thank you! i totally forgot, do you want to smoke now- fuck i don’t think i have anything to roll with.” you told her as you went to open the windows in your living room.

instead of saying anything, she reached back into her backpack and pulled out a jar of already rolled joints.

“i came prepared.” she laughed, “and you won’t owe me anything for that.” she said, motioning to the stuff she gave you as her hands were cracking open the jar of pre-rolls.

“ellie- no i’ll give you the cash,” but she shook her head no and brought the lighter to the joint between her lips.

“no, it’s on me, don’t worry about it.” she responded as she took a hit.

“do you give other people weed for free?” you asked, looking at her as she was smoking while sitting next to you on the couch. you wish you could stay like this forever.

“only pretty girls that i like…” she said sweetly as you held eye contact as she handed you the joint.

“oh so you think i’m pretty?” you teased her as you took a hit.

“sweetheart, i think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.” she told you. you instantly blush and look away from her, trying not to choke on the smoke you held in your lungs.

“thank you els, i think you’re beautiful.” you said to her. when you looked up, you saw her cheeks tint lightly as she grabbed the joint you held out to her.

“thanks sweetheart.” she said as she put the joint down on a cup at the table you’d been using as an ashtray and she brought her hand up and held your cheek like she did earlier. you couldn’t help yourself as you nuzzled your face into her warm hand. your eye contact only made the tension in the room worse.

“you really are beautiful… sweetheart, can i?” she asked as she looked down at your lips. you nodded and as she came closer, your lips just barely brushing, as she asked, “i need to hear you pretty girl.”

“yes please els- please just kiss me already.” you begged.

her lips were on yours before you could even realized this was actually happening. your lips moved slow together at first but you couldn’t help yourself from deepening the kiss as ellie brought her other hand up and tangled it in your hair as you moaned, her tongue slipped into your mouth, both of you tasting the weed and alcohol you consumed.

one of your hand rested against her chest and the other gripping her arm as you melted into the kiss. both ellie’s hands were in your hair now as your tongues continued to fight for dominance but you let her win and moaned again and she swallowed it as she kissed you.

ellie pulled your leg over her lap so you straddled her, never breaking your lips apart. your lips continued to move in sync as you grinded against her. her hands on your hips moving with you. your lips stay connected until you broke the kiss to come up for air and rested your forehead on hers.

“you okay sweetheart?” ellie panted as she caught her breath too.

“yes els just need a second.” you said as your eyes stayed shut while you tried to control your breathing. you couldn’t believe that you guys finally kissed. the tension was killing you both and now it’s finally happened.

“hey it’s okay, take your time sweetheart.” ellie said as she rubbed a hand along your thigh at a comfortable pace, brushing the cloth from your shorts as she moved it. she brought the other one up to your cheek and lifted your head to look at you. you looked tired and ellie didn’t want to take full advantage of you after you guys had been drinking and smoking all night.

“hey sweetheart, lets get you to bed, we’ll finish this another time i promise.” she said sweetly as you mumbled an “okay els thank you,” and moved off her lap to sit back on the couch. ellie stood up and offered her hand. you stood up and walked both of you to your bedroom.

you moved to sit on the edge of your king sized bed and ellie stood in front of you still holding your hand as you asked her if she wanted to stay the night because it was late and you didn’t want her walking home.

“sure sweetheart i’ll sleep on the couch, and only for your peace of mind.” she chuckled, thinking back to the conversation earlier.

“els we can share the bed, it’s okay, i’ll keep my hands to myself.” you joked and she laughed.

“i don’t think i’d be complaining if you couldn’t but i’m okay on the couch.” ellie insisted.

“els please just lay with me.” you said looking up at her as she moved her hand to rest on your cheek again.

“okay sweetheart.” she finally agreed.

you smiled up at her and you took ellie’s hand from your face and guided her into the bathroom connected to your room. she watched as you bent down and opened the sink cabinet and grabbed a toothbrush. you turned around and handed it to her with a smile. you guys brushed your teeth and then went back into your bedroom.

ellie stood here as you moved across the room to your dresser, and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from your drawer and handed them over to ellie. she told you thank you and you smiled at her. ellie walked into the bathroom to change and you walked back to the dresser. you stripped yourself of your shirt and bra before throwing on a different oversized tee and changing your underwear. you didn’t even realize you were soaked after what happened on the couch.

ellie watched you as she leaned against the bathroom door frame as you untangled the sides of your underwear after you pulled them up.

“you’re perfect”, she thought in head before speaking out loud. “thanks sweetheart.” you turned around when ellie spoke, sending her a smile before you moved to your side of the bed, you grabbed the duvet and moved it so you both were able to get in your bed.

you and ellie laid facing each other in a comfortable silence as you were both growing incredibly tired. you felt your eyes starting to get heavy and felt ellie’s hand brush your hair back from your face so you kept your eyes open to look at her.

“el?” you whispered.

“yes sweetheart?” she spoke quietly back to you.

“i really like you… i don’t know if this is too early but it just feels right.”

“i feel it too sweetheart, i like you too so don’t worry,” ellie said softly, hand still holding your face, “now get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning pretty girl.”

“goodnight els.” you whispered.

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