#... it kind of only references a small part of the chapter

[mildswearingat4am]

Ah, the eternal struggle: do I go with the chapter title that's accurate, or one that's less relevant but more funny

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 5 Part Two

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You and Joel go to a Shibari class together; an innocent date, or is it?

TW: age gap (Joel 45/reader 22), reader does have some descriptors so more of an OC. Reader has longer hair and Joel can lift her. Mutual pining, kissing. Spoiler triggers below the cut in red.

WC: 8.2k

AN: Ok fiiiiiinnnneeeeee I couldn't wait any longer and I left you all on kind of a cliffhanger. As always, thank you to my lovely @lotusbxtch for reading and encouraging and helping me grow. Thanks @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69 and @joelmillerisapunk for being my lil cheerleaders. @for-a-longlongtime thanks for stoping me from working on that bull rider series LOL. Ok, enjoy this slowly because I haven't even STARTED chapter 6 yet, so I doubt it will be out until late October. Dividers and banners by the oh so talented @saradika-graphics

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: complete sensory deprivation (tied down, blind folded and has hearing blocked), multiple orgasms, denial

Joel

Joel has tried to keep his distance since referring to tonight as a date. He left another large tip for your clean this week and then made sure he was as busy as possible to stop himself from going home to see you. As he coaxed you into drinking the orange juice and the water he kept hearing “it’s a date” over and over again in his mind, and he’d cringe internally. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you had leaped out of that bed and ran home. The thought of you wanting him in that way is ridiculous. Not only because he’s over twice your age, but you came to him for help with building self confidence and for an escape, and then he went and said something so fucking stupid. 

He shakes his head and pulls up his emails, trying to distract himself for what feels like the one hundredth time. Of course he wants to date you, he’d be crazy not to, but he can’t blur those lines. Furthermore, even if there was the slightest chance that you felt the same way he can’t risk breaking your heart the way he’s broken so many others.

She’s going to break yours, old man. Not the other way around.

Wednesday has been absolutely crawling. Time almost mocking him with how slow it’s ticking by. As he goes over the list of tonight's guests, Tess knocks on his small office door at the club.

“Hey,” she says, plopping down in the arm chair across from the desk. “You coming tonight?”

“Of course. Looks like a good turn out. Did the instructor make it in ok?”

“Cap picked her up from the airport yesterday and got her all settled at the hotel. Do you think you’re going to need me tonight?”

Joel cocks an eyebrow at her. He’s known Tess since she was ten. Her and Tommy are the same age, Joel being two years their senior. Aside from a few months when Tess and Tommy were sixteen, the three of them have been inseparable ever since. Tess was usually the undeclared leader of the group due to her bossy nature, but she kept the Miller brothers out of trouble most of the time. 

“What’s wrong, Tess?”

“Nothin’,” she crosses her arms across her chest. “I am the planner, you and Tommy are the personality. I’m fine to stay behind the scenes for this one.”

“You’ve been acting strange since the poker night.”

She rolls her eyes at him. She’s probably the only person ballsy enough to do that to Joel besides Tommy, but Joel’s almost convinced his little brother is more dumb than ballsy. “I’m fine, Joel. The staff is all in good morale, and that’s my department. Remember?”

Joel just stares as she continues, lowering her voice to mock his. “I need you to be the people person. Hire them, train them. I’m not patient enough because I’m a big scary dom who will just want to spank them for not listening. I also can’t plan anything because I have a man brain.”

“Hilarious,” Joel deadpans as Tess laughs at her own jokes. “I’m being serious though, are you sure you're ok?”

“Yes, you don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m actually a little gutted I’m gonna miss it. Tommy told me there’s been a very pretty young lady hanging around you lately.”

Joel puts his reading glasses on with one hand and pointing to his door with the other. “Out.”

You

Joel referring to tonight as a date has been on loop for the last few days. He has this amazing way of shutting off your brain and then leaving you with so many new questions. Either way, when a few more college letters came over the last few days you convinced yourself that right before leaving for the shibari-demonstration-slash-date was the best time to open them. 

Odette and Jamie sit on the couch across from you as you slide open the first letter. The thick eggshell parchment stamped with the Yale logo pops open easily. You close your eyes as you open the paper, the only sound in the room is the thundering of your heart behind your ribs. 

You peel your eyes open and read out loud. “We regret to inform you that you have not…” your voice falls off, fingers shaking as you put it back in the envelope.

“Hey, we expected a few no’s,” Jamie says gently, always the optimist.

Odette takes the other approach, “Their fucking loss, bunch of stuffy old cunts! Next!”

You laugh at the juxtaposition of your friends' responses and reach for the Harvard letter. “We regret to inform you…”

“Keep going babe,” Jamie says softly.

You pick up the bright white Columbia letter. “We regret to inform you…fuck.” You feel the defeat start to creep in, like thick morning fog. It’s suffocating, choking all the happiness and excitement you had for tonight. 

“What the fuck is wrong with these schools!” Odette says, snatching the letters up so she can check for herself. “Do the Toronto one, Canadians are supposed to be nice.”

“I can’t open anymore,” you say as your head falls back into the sofa. The fog starts to spread through your body, shutting you down inch by inch. You know you have to open the rest. You’ll spend the rest of the night wondering what they say if you don’t finish them. “You do it, Jamie.”

She shuffles in her seat uncomfortably. She’s not the kind of girl who likes to disappoint others; she's bright and happy but at this moment she’s the only person that you can take bad news from. As if she can read your thoughts, she grabs the University of Toronto letter. The sound of the envelope popping open slices through you. She clears her throat as she opens the paper and then reads aloud the same sentence you did. The letters from Duke and Notre Dame follow the same painful routine. With each rejection your stomach swirls, nausea building on top of self doubt and anxiety. 

Six out of the eight universities you applied to have turned you down; Berkeley and the University of Austin are your only chances left at reaching your dreams. The silence in the small rental unit has you on edge, so much so that when your phone vibrates beside you you jump. A sunset beach photo from your last trip to California is the background from a text from Cap telling you he’ll be at your doorstep in about twenty minutes. 

“I gotta finish getting ready,” you say, dragging yourself to the bathroom to touch up any makeup and brush your teeth.

“Babe?” Jamie says, following you down the hall. “You wanna stay here instead of going to that mixer?”

The reminder of the lie sends a new wave of nausea through you. Tonight you became a law school reject and an even bigger liar. Don’t forget that you’re also falling in love with an unattainable man, says the glittery pink box. You mentally lift a single finger in its direction, it usually doesn’t turn on you like that. 

“I need the distraction.” You say, deciding that that’s not really a lie.

Your friends look at you with sadness in their eyes and even though you’re sad too, you wish you could tell them about Mister Miller and the club. You know they’d be excited about whatever this thing is and it would really help to have someone to decipher all the moments that live in your mind.

“It’s a date”.

When you walk through the large door from the lobby and into the club, you’re welcomed by a completely different atmosphere. It’s not all dim lights and sexy music like it normally is; instead the overhead lights are on and all the people are dressed in regular clothing or athletic wear and not the sexy outfits they’d normally pick to come here. Joel is no exception, dressed in dark wash jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. You catch the glint of his gold ring while he’s engrossed in deep conversation with a blue and purple haired woman along the edge of the dance floor. As if you’re his due north or the other side of his magnet, after just seconds of being in the same room as him, his eyes collide with yours. He mouths an ‘excuse me’ at the woman without looking away from and his long legs eat up the distance between the two of you. He meets you just before the bar and immediately wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to the nape of your neck, silently guiding your forehead to his strong chest.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” You love how easily he can read you, but you hate that this is the second time this week that he’s seeing you like this. You know you have moments of weakness, but you don’t let anyone see that and you DEFINITELY don’t inconvenience others with your weakness. 

“Hasn’t been my best day, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” You don’t want to dump all of this on him now, not when he looked so excited when you said you’d attend tonight. 

“Ok, I’m here for you if you want to talk about it though. You don’t have to deal with this on your own.” His lips come to the crown of your head and you breathe him in letting his ash and leather scent break down your walls. 

“I didn’t get in,” you mumble and he holds you tighter for a brief second before his hand moves to your chin and tilts up to meet your gaze.

“All of them?” he asks gently but something akin to anger flares in eyes for just a second. 

“Six of them. I haven’t heard from two.” His thumb feels like heaven as it runs along your jaw.

From across the club the blue and purple haired woman, who is now on the stage, claps her hands. “Good evening, everyone! I’m Starr. If you and your brave partners could start making your way to the floor, we can get started right away!”

“Do you want to leave?” Joel says, his warm coffee and chocolate eyes dancing around yours. No one looks at you like that; no one ever asks what you want. This is one of those looks that you wish you could talk to your friends about.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I want to be here with you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave without me. Do you want to go somewhere else together?”

You step back and grab his hand, his fingers thread through yours as if you do this everyday, as if this is normal, and you pull him towards the floor. He stands behind you, an arm wrapped protectively around your middle, similar to how he did the first time you went through the voyeur room. Starr introduces herself and her wife and then begins explaining rope safety and terminology like rigger and rope bunny, before launching into a step by step on tying a beautiful star harness across her wifes clothed chest. The two women hand ropes to the person who will be doing the rigging and as the rope lands in Joel’s hand your pussy flutters at the realization that you’re about to become Mister Miller’s rope bunny. You knew that coming here tonight, even if it did include lying to your friends, would help you feel better. The disappointment of being rejected is slowly replaced with an excited anticipation of learning something new with a man who has done nothing but choose you since laid your eyes on each other.

Starr projects step by step instructions up on the back wall of the stage and Joel clears his throat behind you as he begins. The sound of the rope running through his hands as he folds it in half sends a shiver up your spine. You try to distract yourself by clipping your hair up and out of the way. 

“Arms up,” he rasps, and places a light kiss on the soft curve of your neck as he wraps the rope around your ribcage, just below your breasts. You purposely wore a tight t-shirt and leggings tonight. If anyone asks, you’ll say you just assumed it would be easier to be in something form fitting rather than loose, but the truth is that you did some research on Shibari classes and it was recommended to wear clothing that was tight to the body. As he walks around you to make the first diagonal cross of your chest he says, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You lock your eyes with his as he loops back up, crossing the rope over your other shoulder and walks behind you. “Yes, at least not yet.” 

“Alright,” he says softly, pulling the rope back through the first band he made. “What do you want to talk about then?”

Your daughter. Your wife. The guitars and books of lyrics. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Do you like me or do you like like me? How do you feel about an age gap romance? Your brain races with a million things you could ask, and maybe would ask on a date. However, this is anything but a date, right? A dom and sub don’t date, there are strict rules. He tells you what to do, you do it. You don’t date.

The silence between you two feels like it’s lasted forever, you flinch as you ask the first thing you can think of. “How old are you?”

“Almost forty five. It says that on my profile, sweet girl. For someone who likes research…” His voice trails off. Is he flirting?

“I refuse to look at it in case you try to pawn me off to Tommy again,” you tease. You bite your cheek to hold in all the questions you want to ask as he chuckles behind you. You lift your arms as per the next slide and he brings the rope up towards your armpit as you settle on a neutral topic. “Baseball,” you say flatly.

Joel laughs silently as he walks around your body, the rope coming across to your other armpit and he’s behind you again. “Baseball?”

“Ya, it’s America’s favourite pastime.” Joel's fingers feel warm through the fabric of your shirt as he continues to work the ropes. 

“Ok, so what do you want to discuss about baseball?” He wanders in front of you again, following the instructions perfectly.

You shrug a little, lifting your arms again as you follow along with the slides. “Did you ever play?”

Starr circles around the two of you, “Great job, Joel. You ok, honey? Not too tight anywhere?”

You shake your head no and then you and Joel get lost in each other again. “Yes, I played for most of my childhood. I was pretty good too.”

You chuckle, “Why am I not surprised.”

“What?” he says, half laughing.

“Seems like Joel Miller is good at everything,” you say lightly, almost in admiration. He’s behind you again, feeding the ropes through themselves. The back looks beautifully intricate, and you can see other couples getting frustrated before either Starr or her wife comes and helps them. You continue, “Let me guess, you were like a big all-star pitcher or something?”

“No,” he answers.

“What position did you play then?” You glance down at your chest at the star shape across your chest, the rope scrapes gently on the exposed skin of your neck with the movement. It’s stunning, exactly as the demonstration and the picture. Yep, Joel Miller is good at everything. 

A new voice joins your conversation, “Best first baseman the school has ever seen.”

You crane your neck over your right shoulder towards the source; Tommy. You clench your molars when you see him with Jade; the beautiful icy blonde woman that Joel had tied to his desk the first time you met him. Joel shifts uncomfortably as she flutters her lashes at him. “As I was saying,” Joel huffs in his brother's direction before turning his attention back to you. “I played first base and Tommy was the back catcher. Our mom pretty much put us in any sport she could afford to keep us out of trouble.” 

“That’s kind of fascinating,” you say, looking back towards the stage and trying to get back into the safe little bubble you and Joel have created. 

“I dunno about that, sweet girl.”

The combination of him using that nickname and the feeling of his fingers on your body cause another shiver to roll up your spine, and suddenly it’s just the two of you again. It’s so easy to get lost with Joel, every ounce of that fog from earlier has dissipated. He’s like the warm morning sun, chasing away all the thick haze that coated you in the darkness. “I think this is a safe nickname space only, Sweet Cheeks.”

He swats your bum gently eliciting a giggle to pass your lips before getting back to weaving the rope in and out along your spine. “Careful. Now why is it kind of fascinating?”

“I mean, Tommy played at home plate, you played at first base.”

“I don’t know where you’re going here, Freckles.”

You smile over your shoulder at Joel. “Well, don’t you see the connection? You don’t have sex with your subs, Tommy does. He goes to home plate, you stay at first base.”

Joel arches an eyebrow at you as you flash him a cheeky smile and then he lets out a laugh. A real laugh that sounds like it’s coming straight from his stomach. His big beautiful smile draws up his cheeks causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. The sound is almost enough to make you weak at the knees. “I swear to god, Freckles, I love the way your brain works.”

The rest of the group finishes off their harnesses and Starr begins the next part, explaining now how to tie the arms around the biceps and secure them to the harness. They hand out the ropes again and you reach behind yourself to criss cross your arms and grasp your opposite elbows. Just as Joel begins folding the rope over in his hands, Jade speaks.

“She sort of hit the nail on the head with that one, Mister Miller.” Envy flares in your eyes as she steps towards Joel, leaning into him. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ve missed you.”

You glance towards Joel, expecting to see him looking angry but his soft eyes meet you with guilt written all over his face. You watch his throat as he swallows hard and the happy, sparkly bubble you built bursts and the fog returns. Your heart drops to your feet, it was too good to be true, you knew it was too good to be true and he almost had you fooled. You don’t think, you just act, you need to get away from this space and all these people as bile rises in your throat.

Your feet feel heavy as you walk quickly toward the voyeur room, slipping past the closed sign that's propped up outside the curtain that conceals it. Darkness surrounds you, the rope harness feels like it’s smothering you as you try to take deep calming breaths. A flash of light from the otherside of the curtain fills the room as someone follows.

“Go away, Joel.” You say quietly, trying to force air past the lump growing in your throat. 

“It’s Tommy.” He says, flicking on a dim light and noting the way you’re pulling at the rope closest to your throat. “Let me untie you so you don’t hurt yourself.”

You step back, a wall slamming down around you. Tommy raises his hands, “Please, just let me untie you so you can breathe.”

You spin slowly, giving your back to him and he approaches. His fingers pulling and working the ropes and the irony of him removing knots as you start to mentally tie yourself up in them is enough to make you nauseous. You retreat into your mind, looking for that stupid box. I fucking told you! You practically scream at the shadow you know it’s hiding in.

“Try to slow your breathing for me,” Tommy says softly as the rope begins to loosen and fall away from your body. Tonight felt too normal, too comfortable. You started to feel like maybe Joel was feeling the same way you do, but now you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face with yet another reminder that you are not enough. Six out eight universities and the man you completely misread. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” It doesn’t come out self deprecating or angrily. Just as if you’re stating a fact, similar to how you’d say you like the colour green. 

“No, this is on me.” The rope falls away from your body and you step away, spinning to face Tommy. “I shouldn’t have said yes when she asked me to bring her here tonight. I assumed Joel had ended it before they were in Europe.”

“What?” You breathe out in disbelief. Even though you can see the rope in Tommy’s hands, it still feels like it’s around your throat.

You wander towards the nearest couch. All those pictures, all those flirty texts and she was there the entire time? You hear your mothers voice again, ‘You might be the smartest one in this town but the real world is going to eat you up and spit you out.’ Nothing has felt more true, especially today. Six schools rejected you, selecting smarter shinier applicants and now the same thing is happening with Joel. You knew you didn’t hold a candle to her, he wanted you to go with Tommy so he could keep her, didn’t he?

‘It’s only you.’ His desperate voice from the day in his office comes out of the shadows of your mind. But it’s not only you. If he didn’t end it with her then it’s her too. You’re constantly in competitions that you have no business being in. 

“No, not ‘they’. Not like that. They were there for different things, not together,” Tommy’s voice has a hint of panic. “...I’m really fucking this night up, aren’t I?”

Just then, Joel and Jade come through the curtain. “Sweet girl….”

“No,” you say, cutting him off with a wave of your hand. You want to yell and scream and ask him what was with all that “it’s only you” bullshit.

“Baby, please, just listen to me.” Joel kneels in front of you and you stand up. His hands come to either side of the couch, keeping you there. “Please?”

You can feel his eyes on you but you keep staring straight ahead, the curtains of all the rental rooms are drawn shut. “Please just go, Joel.”

Jade steps into your line of vision and you can feel the jealousy twisting at your stomach. She’s fucking beautiful. Long icy blonde hair that looks silky to touch, slender limbs and a perfectly symmetrical face. Her make up is done to perfection, and to top it all off she was kissed by an angel in the breast department. 

“I’m sorry. I left the country a few days after I saw you for your birthday celebration. I went to Germany to get married and I wasn’t coming back.” Her eyes go soft for a second as she looks down at her bare left ring finger and then back to you. “Clearly I didn’t do either of those things. I haven’t spoken to Joel and I just assumed our regular time slots still stood.”

Even without looking down, you know Joel hasn’t looked away. From the moment you met him, you’ve been able to feel his gaze on you. It’s one of the things you like so much about him, the way he looks at you. You feel warm and seen, and most importantly, safe in his gaze.

Tommy clears his throat gently and you glance his way. “Ending things with a sub is tricky. It has to be done in person. I know Joel better than anyone else, he ended things with everyone else. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me for this, but he’s crazy about you and he’s only ever looked at one other person the way he looks at you.”

“Tommy,” Jade's voice cracks as she says his name. “I think you should untie me so I can leave. I really am sorry, to all of you.”

You watch the two of them disappear back into the main area of the club before you finally allow yourself to look down at Joel. His eyes are big and soft, he looks so vulnerable. Is this real though? When you think about how easily he can slide on his dominant mask you aren’t sure what you can and can’t trust, and that’s really fucking horrible considering trust is the most important thing between a sub and dom. He could be lying, he gains blow jobs and doing whatever else he wants to your body by keeping this up. 

But what does Tommy gain from telling you what he just did? Tommy has no skin in the game here.

Joel  

His heart is flying wildly behind his chest, blood coursing through his ears. He never thought he was going to see Jade again. Neither of them talked about it really, but after that session that you walked in on she canceled the next one and told him she was moving to be with her fiance in Germany and was getting married. He continues to look up at you; the ever growing pinch in his neck be damned, he’s not looking away. Even at this angle you manage to take his breath away. It feels like hours have gone by when you finally speak.

“I thought it was only me,” it comes out as a whisper and immediately shatters the little bits that were left of his composure. 

“It is, sweet girl. I promise you it is.”

“I want to believe you,” your voice is so calm. He doesn’t deserve you being calm right now. Or does he? You came into this very methodical. Maybe these are just sub-dom transactions to you.

“What can I do?” He says hopefully. “I’ll do anything you need, sweet girl.”

You let out a shaky breath and he can see the wall building behind your eyes, that fun goofy girl who isn’t afraid to crack a joke is slowly locking herself away. He prepares himself for you to tell him this is over, or that you need time. He reminds himself that this was always going to end in heartbreak for him, so may as well get it over with now instead of when he’s fully in love with you, before he’s learned how those warm walls of your pussy feel against his cock. Because there really will be no coming back from that if that happens.

As he tightens the muscles in his core, physically preparing for the metaphorical blow to the gut he watches your long lashes flutter shut and when you open your eyes again the wall is gone. The shimmering pools of the eyes he’s enamored by are back and relief washes over him. 

“Nothing, Mister Miller,” your voice is saccharine sweet. “Trust is the most important thing between a sub and their dom. I can’t let my own anxiety ruin this, but I might just be a bit guarded until I’ve calmed all those thoughts.”

He whispers your name, biting back a groan as your hands meet his hair. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby girl.”

“I know. So am I. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. It’s just…”

“No, you can be jealous. I told you one thing and -.”

You tug at the strands of his hair and shush him. “I’m not done,” your voice is stern. Joel isn’t used to hearing your tone like that and he suddenly feels his chest swelling with pride. This sweet bubbly person in front of him is morphing into a confident badass. That’s probably the exact tone you’ll use in boardrooms or courtrooms when other lawyers try to talk over you and he can only hope that one day he’ll get to witness that. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous, but I really like the way I feel around you. It’s selfish of me, but I’d like to keep feeling like this for the few months I have left here before I leave for law school.”

Selfish. He lets that word wash over him. The most selfless person he’s ever known is worried about being selfish? No, he thinks, she deserves this. Hearing you say that you’re leaving makes him feel like his chest is caving in on itself. He’ll deal with the inevitable heartbreak when you leave him. He knows those rejection letters were hard on you, but he helped you to feel better and he’s going to hold on to that and give you that for as long as he possibly can. 

Your fingers release his hair and he watches you walk the few steps to where the rope Tommy untied for you lays on the floor. He licks his lips as you bend to pick it up, eyes trailing over the delicious curves of your ass. “It would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You turn, walking back towards where he’s kneeling and holding the ropes out to him you say, “Is the workshop over?”

He stands up, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the rope. Electricity tingles up his forearms at the feel of your soft skin. Your body is so close to his that he can feel your soft warmth radiating against him. You being at this proximity immediately put him at ease.

“No, there’s a bodysuit tutorial right now,” he says. You nod, stepping around him. Suddenly, Joel grabs your elbow to stop you, lowering his lips to your ear, and lowering his voice to that gravelly tone he knows you love, he rasps, “I should punish you for letting another dom untie what’s mine.”

You smirk up at him, “I’d like to see you try, Sweet Cheeks.”

You

Joel works silently around you and you lose yourself for a bit in the events that unfolded tonight. Joel has knelt in front of you before, but never like that. The sad, helpless look in his eyes, the slight slump of the shoulders. He was submitting to you, and when your fingers met his scalp, he leaned into your touch. The way his body melted at your touch was intoxicating. He wasn’t Mister Miller in that room tonight, he was Joel, and the dichotomy of this man is astounding. 

After about thirty minutes of Joel twisting, turning and pulling he has your upper half tied into a zigzagged bodysuit of rope. Joel steps in front of you and bends slightly to reach between your legs. When he brings the rope between your thighs and as he feeds it through the bottom of the chest piece, the seam of your leggings brushes against your clit. You jolt at the contact, your cheeks flushing crimson as Joel's eyes meet yours in a flash of onyx and honey. He begins shaping the bottom part of the bodysuit, bent in front of you the entire time and locking eyes with yours every time he tugs the ropes into place. 

You glance nervously around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction. You expected this night to be fun and silly, the way a date should be. And it was for a while, but now it’s taken a very erotic turn. The blush of your cheeks warms down your chest and neck as you hold off on what could be a very vocal orgasm in front of a room of people who you don’t necessarily want to witness it.

Joel finally finishes the body suit and moves to stand behind you, his patchy facial hair brushes the shell of your ear as he whispers, his voice full of gravel, “Hands behind your back, my sweet girl. We aren’t done.”

A shiver races up your spine and your arms fly back. “So eager,” Joel says softly, grazing his teeth along the lobe of your ear, adding gasoline to the small fire that’s been building between your thighs.  

You’re sure the arm restraints only take about three minutes to complete, but it feels like hours. The three knots that lay around your wrists, forearms, and biceps keep your posture nice and tall, and your breasts pushed up through the body suit. Once he’s finished, Joel spins you to face him, and that rope works its way in between the lips of your now absolutely soaked pussy. You squeeze your thighs together, the soft expression on his face only intensifying the growing ache. He’s such a fucking tease, you think, and now he’s looking at you as if you put the stars in the sky. Finally, his dark brown eyes settle on yours and he gives you a closed lip smile.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“I jus’ thought that I’d go all caveman seein’ you like this,” he steps into you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tugging on the rope near your waist, which jiggles the rope that has you on edge. Joel’s voice lowers, this next part just for you to hear. “But you just look so beautiful.”

He tugs up on the rope and pleasure courses through you as you gasp quietly. He gives you that sexy smirk that makes that dimple carve into his cheek. 

Yep, he’s a fucking tease. The little box says, confirming your thoughts. 

“You like that, sweet girl?”

He tugs again and your forehead falls to his chest. “Please, Mister Miller,” you whisper into his expensive cotton t-shirt. 

Starr interrupts the two of you, but you can’t peel yourself away from Joel right now. The slightest move of that rope might make you explode. “Well, based on that reaction I’d say you tied it just right, Joel.”

“Thank you for coming, Starr. I’m sure we’ll host one of these again soon. Tommy is by the bar, he can help you kick everyone out.”

“Joel,” she says, a slight hint of amusement in her now hushed voice. “Your rope bunny is on the verge of having an orgasm, go.”

With that he hoists you over his shoulder and walks towards the door that leads to the private rooms. “Fuckfuck, I’m gonna -” you whisper into his broad back and squeeze your thighs tighter as Joel walks. 

The second the door shuts, separating you from the others Joel puts you on your feet and jiggles the rope around your waist. “Come, baby.”

You fall into him for support, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you up as stars blur your vision. “That feel good, my little rope bunny?” 

“Yes - oh god, yes.” Your arms pull at the ropes restraining them behind your back and you can’t hold it anymore. Your orgasm practically slams through you as you gasp and moan into Joel's broad chest. “Fuck, Mister Miller.”

 “You’re so beautiful when you let go for me. I’ll never get sick of watching you like this.” He continues to work the rope as your high crests and your legs start to go weak and boneless below you.

“I can’t…p-please Mis - Fuck.” Joel lifts your lax and quivering body over his shoulder again and makes his way to his room, placing you at the foot of the bed, spinning you and pushing between your shoulder blades until your chest meets the mattress.

“Spread your legs,” he commands and you listen, moving your feet to be shoulder width apart. He wraps two cuffs around your ankles, and attaches them to the bottom of the bed posts before doing the same to the ropes around your arms. You’re trapped, stuck bent over the end of the bed and even though you’re fully clothed under all of these ropes, this is easily the hottest thing you’ve ever done. “Fuck me. How are you so goddamn sexy even when you’re fully clothed.”

You hear Joel’s footsteps around the room, gathering whatever he has decided to use on you tonight before you can feel him behind you. “Sweet girl, I do believe I read that you would be interested in sensory deprivation. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

“Do I have your consent to blindfold you and then have you listen to music in noise canceling headphones?”

Fire erupts in your stomach, your core pulsing at the thought of him doing whatever he wants to you. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

A silky black blind fold slips over your head, Joel's large body covering your back. “What’s your safeword?” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“Stegosaurus.” Just once you’d like that to not leave your lips in the whiny, desperate tone it does when he asks you that question. 

“Good girl,” he praises before the plush headphones cover your ears. All you see is black, all you hear is soft decorative piano music, and all you feel is the warmth of Joel over your buzzing skin. There’s not a single thought in your mind, everything is silent. This is what you need and you start to worry that you’ll become addicted to the way Joel makes you feel everything while thinking nothing. 

The warmth of his body disappears from you and you whimper at the loss. Your eyes clench closed as if that will help you be able to find him. A thin, pulsing vibrator hits the back of your thigh and you jump. Joel's large hands rubs your opposite hip and every muscle relaxes under his touch. The vibrator pulses softly as he moves it up your thigh, tickling along your hip, and then down the other leg. You can’t hear the sounds that you’re making but you’re sure they’re desperate, needy gasps.

After teasing your arms Joel slips something small and hard between your body and the rope that’s been torturously teasing at your clit before you feel him pull away. You adjust so your forehead is resting on the mattress before it dips with the weight of him sitting beside your head. His warm fingers wrap around your neck and he kneads the muscles.

“Mmmm, thank you Mister Miller,” you hum. 

Whatever Joel slipped against your clit comes to life, a dull vibration that is sure to be your undoing has you attempting to arch your back, but you can’t move. Your breathing quickens, short little puffs of air passing your lips. 

“I’m gonna come,” you murmur quietly, or at least you think it’s quiet since you can’t hear yourself or anything else. Joel’s strong fingers continue the delicious swirling patterns up and down the sides of your neck as you begin to shake. “Oh god - I’m so close!”

Just as you’re about to slam head first into another orgasm the vibrating stops and Joel’s fingers disappear from your skin. “No,” and this time you know it wasn’t a whisper or a whimper.

The mattress jostles and then you feel Joel behind you again. A hand comes to one of yours, coaxing it out of the fist you’ve apparently clenched before doing the same to the other. The vibrating starts stronger this time and both his hands come to yours, his thumbs massaging at your palms. It doesn’t take long this time before you’re right on that edge again.

“Fuck, Mister Miller. Puh-please don’t stop!” Your legs start the familiar shake that happens right when you’re about to tip over the edge and he doesn’t follow your wishes. The hand massage stops, quickly followed by the vibrator being switched off. You groan in frustration and he lays a quick, sharp spank over your legging clad right ass cheek. “Hnnng - sorry.”

You can’t be certain, but based on the warm puffs hitting your core you’re pretty sure he’s knelt down behind you. The vibrator comes to life again, stronger than the last two times and his hands work at massaging the muscles along the back of your thighs. This is torture; wonderful euphoric torture and as much as you want it end, you also don’t ever want him to stop making you feel this way. 

You let your eyes flutter open behind the blindfold, it’s still just as dark but you see that little pink sparkly box. The one that’s overflowing with emotion for Joel. You should push it back into the shadows or light it on fire, but instead you let it come out of the shadows completely. You see your hands reaching for the lid just as the white hot pleasure in your core gets close to the breaking point.

“Please please…Mister Miller - fuck!” You whimper and whine as it begins to burn hotter and then it’s gone and it feels like the air is being sucked forcefully out of your lungs. 

“Nonono, I can’t. Please, I need you..” Joel's large body is across your back in a second. The hard bulge in pants pressing against your ass and the memory of how good he felt and tasted in your mouth the last time has saliva pooling under your tongue. You swallow hard as one of the padded ear pieces is lifted from your ear.

Joel’s voice is deep and gruff as he says, “What do you need, my sweet girl?”

The little box of feelings vibrates at him calling you his and you kick it back into the shadows. “I need to come, Mister Miller.”

“That right? How bad?” He says teasingly before placing a feather light kiss on that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“So bad. Please, it hurts, Mister Miller.” You are pouting into the fluffy sheets, a completely whiny mess, and you realize that you’re always a mess for him. Be it a horny or depraved one, a whiny or a pouty one, he doesn’t care and if anything you think he likes it that way, likes you that way. “I want to hear you. I miss your dirty talk, please, baby!”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I should spank you until you can’t sit tomorrow for calling me anything but Mister Miller. You know that, right?” 

“I can’t think straight. I’m sorry, just please. Please!”

He whips the headphones off of you and the vibrator hits at an intensity you have never felt before. Your pornographic scream fills the room. His large body above yours intensifies everything that was already killing you.

“That what you need, huh?”

You cry out and try to say yes but you’re sure it’s all just an incoherent mix of sounds at this point. 

“God damn, baby girl. You should see yourself right now. All tied up in knots that I made. The way your leggings hug the curves of your hips and soft, creamy thighs. You’re going to be the death of me one day.”

Tears start to flow behind your blindfold as the pleasure almost becomes too much, you haven’t come yet, and at this point you aren’t sure if you’ll survive it if you do. You have half a mind to ask Joel if an orgasm can physically split you in two because that is how you feel right now. 

“I’m - oh god - I’m…” You try to form the words but you can’t. 

One of Joel’s hands slips between his front and your tied up arms, his hand wrapping tightly around yours. His lips come to your ear as whispers. “I got you, sweet girl, just let go for me.”

“Need to see you,” you say between gasps of air and the pleasure begins to burn in your. 

Joel peels the blind fold off. You blink him into focus, his warm eyes searching your face. “Let go, you’re ok.”

As per usual, it’s his words that seem to be that final push and you let your orgasm consume you. It starts as a cold spark, a shiver up your spine and then heat flushes through every since cell in your body. You moan and writhe beneath Joel who whispers your praises like a prayer. Talking you through the intensity of the feeling. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you’re sure your panties, leggings and the rope are ruined.

“I can’t!” You gasp and Joel slows the vibration to help you ride out the decresendo of your orgasm. As the jolts of your body slow, he follows suit; the vibrator going to a dull blip and eventually nothing. Joel's thumb traces soothing patterns on the hand he’s still holding between your bodies. You take a deep and shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“Are you ok, angel?” he asks quietly and goosebumps somehow spread along your too hot body.

“Better than ok,” you say with a small smile.

Joel’s lips meet yours, soft and pliant and so full of passion. Your eyes shut as you part your lips for him and when your tongue strokes gently against his he lets out a small whimper that causes your pulse to leap. Mentally, you grab a bigger box, stuffing it with the realization that you’re falling for this man. But you will deal with that later, right now you just need to let yourself have something that is for, well… yourself.

Joel 

He breaks the kiss, even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he knows that by breaking this kiss it’s only going to mean you going home sooner.  “I need to get you out of these ropes and get some sugar into you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as his nimble fingers work to undo your restraints, then the intricate knots that bind your arms, and lastly the bodysuit. He really did think you looked stunning all tied up. He didn’t plan for this night to go the way it did, but when he saw the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes glazed over he couldn’t resist giving you what he knew you needed. He stays close, one hand protectively on your hip as you crawl onto the bed. Once he has you seated, he pulls a fuzzy grey blanket out from a basket beside the night stand and then opens the small fridge to grab you an orange juice and water.

He cracks the top of the orange juice. “Drink this for me, please.”

He watches your eyes do a quick half roll but you don’t fight him, fingers just barely grazing his as you take the juice from him. “I had fun tonight,” you say between sips as he walks to grab the coconut oil. 

Joel stands beside you. “So did I, sweetheart. Arm, please.”

You take the orange juice in your left hand and give him your right. Both of you watch as he puts oil on the few pink marks the ropes left behind. “Do you think I should change my safeword?”

He lifts one eyebrow at you and as he tends to your other arm says, “Why do you ask that.”

“I don’t know. It’s just…well, originally that little dinosaur on your coffee maker seemed so out of place. It intrigued me. Your home is beautiful, but the parts you let people see don’t give away any hints about you, except for that little dinosaur. But now that I know the whole story, it just seems too special of an item to be tied to what we do.”

“I don’t think we need to change it. You’re right, that little stegosaurus is special to me.” He sits sideways on the bed, grabbing the empty orange juice container and handing you the water. His jaw flexes once before he continues, “But so are you. I love that you felt a connection to that part of me. Ultimately, it’s your safe word, sweet girl, so you can make it anything you want, but I think it’s perfect for us.”

The soft look in your eyes as he speaks is almost enough to kill him, and when your lips twitch up ever so slightly at his words he knows he’s done for. He shouldn’t fall for you, especially since he’s sure there’s no way you’d ever feel the same way, but he can’t not fall for you.

Your name passes his lips with a nervous tremble, because he knows that what he’s about to say next is going to be his undoing. If you say yes to this next thing, if he continues spending actual time with you, he’s done.

“Ya?” you say before sucking your bottom lip through your teeth.

“Friday night is the five year anniversary party for the club. It’s a black tie event for all the VIP guests. Would you like to accompany me?”

He watches as your eyes land on your lap, your lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile. When your gaze floats back up to his, your eyes give you away. Try as you might to hide your expressions with him; he'll always know when you’re happy based on the glitter of your eyes.

“I’d really like that, Mister Miller.”

His forehead meets yours. “This might be a Sweet Cheeks moment.”

Thank you soooo much for reading! Remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for future chapters xo.

Next Chapter

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Yokai Harem Character Guide

Introducing some of the characters Reader will encounter throughout the story. Get to know your monsters in this handy reference booklet!

Fun fact: The names of the characters are quite literally chapters from ‘The Tale of Genji’, one of the earliest existing novels written in the Heian period by noblewoman Murasaki Shibiku. Kiritsubo and Murasaki are your closest companions and bear the names of the main female characters of the story. (They’re men. A little irony.)

The list will be updated as more characters are revealed:

Abe no Nakamaro 阿倍 仲麻呂

Descendant of famous onmyōji Abe no Seimei, Nakamaro rapidly built his own reputation using the powers of yokai he'd captured across the country. His binding powers have yet to be deciphered. It is believed only his own blood can break the contract forged with the legendary beasts.

Known for his ruthlessness, Nakamaro was feared by humans and demons alike. His commissioned portraits often depict him surrounded by dark clouds - a signature detail - emphasizing his evil nature.

As you progress through your journey, you will be plagued by many flashbacks of his cruel deeds. It's almost as if your own hands are tainted by the blood of the yokai standing before you. You vow to free the beasts and prove you are nothing like the vile creature dwelling within your soul.

Kiritsubo 桐壺

The first yokai you encounter. Despite his intimidating appearance, he is the kindest of the group. He is tall and very muscular, with short, straight horns, long silver hair and glowing amber eyes. When he smiles you can spot his sharp, prominent fangs. He has multiple scars on his back, reminiscent of old punishments.

He is a dragon spirit, although his true powers remain unknown. Nakamaro always kept him close and was particularly strict with him, hoping to unlock his dormant potential, to no avail. He begins to show improvement once he embarks on his journey with you. It seems that his desire to protect his new owner was the secret all along.

Kiritsubo is extremely clingy once he gets to know you better. You're kind and patient and nothing like the famous onmyōji before you. He almost can't believe you're part of his reincarnation. He will follow you around everywhere, like a loyal dog, and might be overly touchy sometimes. He can't help it.

Murasaki 紫

Murasaki is the second yokai you meet. He is tall and slender, with long black hair and imposing horns. His deep crimson eyes hold a lot of resentment towards you, or rather whoever lies within you. Despite this, he always holds a disciplined posture and acts very well-mannered.

He used to be Nakamaro's right hand. He is considered to be the most skilled among the legendary yokai. A master of the sword and possessing unmatched intelligence, he served both as an advisor and bodyguard. Always cold and calculated, he rarely shows any hint of emotion. He seems to be quite sarcastic and arrogant.

He doesn't interact much with you in the beginning. In fact, he's most annoyed by the idea of partnering up with a weak human like you. He offers to train you with the sword and teaches you spells and prayers. Despite his complaints, he always protects you from any danger. As you spend more time together, he slowly opens up and might even show signs of attachment.

Suma 須磨

Suma is the biggest of the legendary yokai, towering over everyone with his gargantuan frame. He has bright red hair and large bull horns, with robust features and fierce eyes. He has many tattoos covering his body, going all the way up to his chin.

Suma is a worshipped guardian of war. He lives for battle and is said to reward bravery and courage. Despite this, he has a very approachable personality. He is loud and easygoing, rarely showing signs of distress. He uses a spear when fighting, although he prefers his bare hands. Brute strength is his specialty.

He finds it hilarious that the feared Abe no Nakamaro has been reincarnated into a small girl. He will often joke around with you and challenge you to playfights. When borrowing his powers, you are able to display impressive feats of physical strength. He likes watching you fight and encourages you to train.

Yuugiri 夕霧

Yuugiri is a mysterious yokai. He is pale with rather feminine features, appearing androgynous. He is very elegant and well spoken, although both Kiritsubo and Murasaki have warned you to be wary of him.

He is a serpent spirit, sly and manipulative. He is known for tricking humans and devouring their souls, yet very few can tell his true nature. He is incredibly charismatic and many people fall in love with him, meeting their early demise.

You cannot read him and therefore keep your distance. His twisted smile never leaves his face. He is very interested in you and while his reasoning might be superficial in the beginning, he does become rather attached and tries to prove his honest feelings to you.

Warning: Spoilers ahead!

Sekiya 関屋

One of the yokai that has remained by Abe no Nakamaro's side, in his resting tomb. He is the one that kept his presence concealed, casting a barrier around the temple for the entirety of his master's slumber.

His main power is casting barriers. Sekiya is the one that guards the entrance and guides you towards the onmyōji for your battle. Once you defeat Nakamaro, he joins your group.

He is very reserved, shy and insecure. He cannot fight properly and often bemoans his lack of purpose. Like Kiritsubo, he falls in love with your kind nature and clings to you, hoping to be of use.

Sakaki 榊

The other yokai to guard Nakamaro's tomb, Sakaki has been tasked to keep his master alive.

He has the ability to heal and even revive under certain circumstances. After your fight against Abe no Nakamaro, he offers to heal your fatal wounds and joins your group.

Sakaki is rather gloomy and depressed by nature. He has an unhealthy obsession with death and often makes grim or unusual remarks. He considers you his muse and will sometimes write unsettling poetry dedicated to you.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Sweetheart

Evan “Buck” Buckley x shy!fem!probie!reader

summary: you and Buck spend a day by the pool with the rest of the 118

word count: 1k

part one part two part three part five

The sun shone down on the pool of that belonged the apartment building where you and Buck lived. The two of you had invited the rest of the 118 and their families over for a pool day which was a lot to get your building to agree to.

You were sat on one of the loungers with a book in hand, occasionally looking up to see what Buck was up to. He was in the pool playing a game with Jee-Yun, Denny, and Christopher and you couldn’t help but notice how sweet and gentle he was with them.

He felt your gaze and turned to look at you, giving you a small wave, which you returned before going back to your book. You had gotten so invested that you hadn’t even realized he was hovering over you until you felt water drop onto your chest.

You looked up at him, shielding your eyes from the sun and he was just smiling down at you, nothing but admiration in his eyes.

“You wanna get in?” He asked, leaning down so that his face was hovering above yours.

“I don’t know, I think I’m good,” you held up your book.

“Oh, so you prefer your fictional boyfriend over your real one?” He raised an eyebrow and your eyes went wide. He had never referred to himself as your boyfriend before. At least, not to you.

“No,” you replied as you flipped the page. “I’ll get in once I finish this chapter.”

“Fine,” he said as he moved your legs so he could sit down then put them over his lap. He wiped his hands off on your towel then grabbed your sunscreen before putting some more on your legs to make sure that you didn't get burnt.

"Read to me then," he said as he finished rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.

"I um-I can't read this to you," you told him, and he furrowed his eyebrows

before wiping his hands off then reaching for the book. 

“Why not?” He asked as his eyes skimmed over the page, a blush creeping up on his face as realized what you were reading. “Is this…porn?” He asked in a whisper so the others couldn’t hear him. 

“I mean, that’s not exactly what it’s called, but sure.”

“Fine, I won’t make you read it. Not now, anyway. You can read it to me later,” he winked, and you felt your face get hot. Maybe reading something like that wasn’t the best idea, but that was the only one you hadn’t read a billion times. You knew that it had those kinds of scenes, but you at least thought that they would be later so you could read them in the comfort of your own home and not around other people, especially not your coworkers. 

“It’s a deal,” you winked back. “Let’s get in,” you told him and he grabbed your hand, helping you up from the chair. 

You walked a little fast to keep up with Buck and neither of you noticed the giant puddle of water. Your feet slipped in it and before you could stop yourself, you were falling face first onto the concrete. Thankfully, you had put your hands out to catch yourself and they had taken most of the fall along with your knees that had been scraped up when you collapsed to the ground. 

Everyone gathered around you and Buck and Eddie helped you to your feet before helping you sit in one of the chairs at one of the tables. It stung, but you hadn’t been hurt so badly that you required help from all the members of the 118. 

Buck pulled out a first aid kit from his bag and set it down next to him as he knelt in front of you. He grabbed an alcohol wipe and wiped down your hands and knees before putting on some antibiotic gel and finishing up by putting on some bandaids. 

“You okay?” He asked, trying to gauge your reaction from the look on your face, but he knew that you never showed how you felt. That was one thing that you were really good at.

“I’m fine, Buck,” you assured him. “It was just a little fall.”

“As long as you’re sure.” 

“I am.” Eddie could tell that Buck wasn’t aware of how much he was smothering you and could see that you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the attention you were getting.

“C’mon, Buck,” Eddie helped the man to his feet. “Let’s go get y/n a lemonade, okay?” 

“But-”

“Buck,” Eddie warned. “Lemonade.”

Eddie pulled Buck over to his own table where he reached for his bag, pulling out one of the lemonade pouches he had brought for Christopher, knowing that his son wouldn’t mind if Eddie gave it to you. 

He eyed Buck who was staring at you with a worried look on his face as he watched you laugh with the other women of the group. God, he was so in love with you that it made him sick sometimes. He just wanted to shrink you down and put you in his pocket so he could protect you at all times. Especially during calls when you were separated. He would page you on the walkie so often that he actually had his privileges taken away. 

He had never felt that way about anyone before and he was treading into unknown territory, but he was having a great time. He had never felt so comfortable with someone before and could have definitely seen himself being with you for the rest of his life. That brought a wide smile to his face as he continued to watch you, a giggle falling from your lips as you played with Jee-Yun who Maddie had set on your lap. You were tickling her and the both of you were in a fit of giggles as you did so. You were sweet and beautiful and good with kids? Was there anything that you couldn’t do? At that point, Buck didn’t think so. You were just so perfect and he felt like the luckiest man alive to have been chosen by you. God, he was so down bad. 

Eddie nudged Buck and held the pouch out to him which he took. He made a beeline for you and held the drink out to you, feeling his heart swell as you looked up at him with the most grateful smile. You put the straw inside the pouch and took a sip. 

“Thanks, honey,” You smiled up at him and his heart warmed at the term of endearment. Watching you share your lemonade with his niece, he didn’t think he could love you anymore. Maybe one of these days, he’d finally get the guts to tell you. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he replied, pulling a chair to sit next to you, watching you with such admiration, knowing that you were the only woman for him. He didn’t want anyone else. He just wanted you to be around forever. And he figured that if he played his cards right, you would be.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 22 || The Anime References

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, smut, & a teeny-weeny drop of angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——GOJO SATORU WAS ALMOST TOO stunned to speak. He knows he just gave you his consent to do whatever you want but he was not mentally prepared for you to request such a thing.

Since when were you into that kinda stuff? Have you always been? Why do you even want to tie him up? So many questions run through his mind after your words hit his ears.

Nonetheless, his answer is a quick, "Sure." Then, he swallows down a deep sum of air to collect himself, "But uh... can I ask why you want to tie me up?"

You smile and lean away from his face, moving your hands over his arms and slowly pulling them off your body, "Cause' I know how much you like touching me." You explain.

Gojo smirks slightly, "So then, is this your form of punishment or somethin'?"

His arms are drawn off of you completely before you move them over his head again, crossing his wrists over one another and holding them there. "Yeah," You whisper, kissing him on the cheek, "After all, you said I could use you."

Gojo chuckles, "R-Right..."

With a smile, you lift yourself from sitting on him and carefully get off the bed. You didn't have the whole thing planned out or anything and you were just going to go with the flow based on how you felt. Gojo stayed put, arms up over his head, watching you walk around your dim room in search of something.

After a couple of minutes, you find a strip of abandoned ribbon that'd come off of one of your dresses some time ago. It was long enough to wrap around his wrists and you already knew he wasn't going to try breaking out of it so it's not like you needed something extremely strong.

The silky fabric of the ribbon was bright baby blue, the color ironically matching Gojo. You chuckle at the irony as you head back over to him and move to straddle his body once more.

Gojo watches with wide eyes as you hold yourself up and tie his wrists together above his head. You decide to knot the ribbon into a pretty little bow, smiling at the cuteness of it despite what you plan on doing.

"Pretty color," Gojo comments quietly.

"It's not too tight, is it?" You question just in case.

He tries to part his wrists from one another and then shakes his head, "Nope, it's perfect." He then looks up into your eyes, "But y'know... we should establish a safe word just in case."

You blink, almost embarrassed that you didn't think of that after being the one to suggest this entire thing. "Right uhm... well, you're the one tied up so..."

Gojo glances off to the side to think, taking only a few seconds before he shrugs, "Red."

You gradually ease yourself down from standing on your knees to sit on his lap again, "Red?"

"Mhm..." Gojo hums.

"So if I get too rough or..." Your voice softens, "If you grow uncomfortable..."

"I'll say red."

A sigh is let out from you as you shut your eyes and begin to worry, "Are you sure you're okay with this-"

"Sweetheart, what part of my body is nothing more than a tool for you, did you not understand?" Gojo cuts off, the look in his eyes serious.

You understood it perfectly well but, you were hesitant since using someone isn't exactly something you're fond of-- after all, you're not him. With a sigh, you give him a nod and ease yourself back into your mindset.

A little more small talk occurs as you make sure he's not uncomfortable, having never done this kind of thing before and wanting to be safe. It's only his wrists tied up but you can't help but feel anxious anyways.

Gojo assures you with gentle whispers, telling you over and over that you can use him as you see fit and he tries his best to talk you through all of your worried questions.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you finally grow comfortable with the situation again, your lips are right back on his.

It's a heated kiss this time and Gojo quickly regrets allowing you to tie him up. There was so much precum leaking from his cock that he could feel the slight mess he was of himself within his boxers. He didn't expect to get this turned on by being restricted but he was.

Each time you pulled away from his lips to breathe, Gojo would chase after you desperately, never wanting the kiss to end. He's so clearly not used to being the one with no control so it takes him some time to get used to it.

It's cute how he pushes himself forward to meet your lips once more, how he lets out quiet whines every time you kiss him passionately or aggressively, and so very sexy how he'll groan into your mouth every time you roll your hips and grind against his cock.

His head tilts in the opposite direction of yours, teeth moving to tug on your lower lip in an attempt of keeping you close to him. You end up prying away from his mouth anyway, another messy string of saliva keeping the two of you connected.

Your hands slide down the man's body while the two of you pant for lost air and you soon grab ahold of the bottom of his t-shirt, quickly working the item up and over his head. It's discarded before you start touching his abs and feeling him tense up beneath you.

Your lips make contact with his neck and Gojo groans again, "Fuck," He breathes.

You begin to suck on the area just under his jaw and watch the way he squirms beneath you, his movement making you grin.

"S-Shit." Gojo chokes out, "Not there-, agh..."

You pull away slightly, "Hm? Why?"

He's glad you aren't looking at his face right now because it's bright red, embarrassment overwhelming him before he utters out the words, "T-That's..." Gojo's voice gets smaller, "Where I'm weak-"

You cut him off by sucking on the area he's referring to, hearing the way he moans softly and feeling how his cock twitches beneath you.

"G-God-," Gojo choked, tipping his head further back and allowing you more space to kiss him, despite being overly sensitive.

Your mouth works to leave a dark mark on the male's pale skin, sliding down to kiss and nibble on other parts of his neck before you consider yourself satisfied.

When your head pulls away from his neck, you move to take the sweater he gave you off. Gojo's eyes widen as he sees your body for the first time after so long, quickly noticing faint love marks and bitemarks in various places.

Choso had quite literally left his mark on you after the multiple times you slept with him, hickeys decorating different parts of your torso. Hell, there's even a bite mark on your shoulder that Gojo notices.

Clearly, you'd slept with Choso more times than you told Gojo you did. That fact quickly makes the man beneath you so very jealous. He doesn't even care if he shouldn't feel that way-- seeing visual evidence of you with someone else makes his heart hurt.

As if he wasn't the one who forced you to do so anyway...

You grin at how Gojo's eyes go from one mark to another, happy to show evidence of you receiving pleasure from someone who isn't him. And what makes it better is that he knows it's Choso who left these marks on you, having been aware that you never let anyone else leave anything on you.

Even so, the marks on your body are in the act of fading away since it's been some time since you've been with Choso.

"Gojo," You whisper, earning a glance from the male.

"H-Hm?" He hums. His face was so flushed and his entire body felt like it was on fire, "Yes ma'am?" He utters in response.

Even his voice was affected by all the kissing and taunting, now having a raspy little pitch to it.

"You said you missed me, right?" You ask as you move your hands behind your back and unclip your bra.

Gojo doesn't miss the way you sensually take the item off, allowing your breasts to spill out in front of him. The sight only makes his dick throb violently beneath you.

"Mhm," Gojo ends up humming in response to you.

You tilt your head before lifting yourself up a little, your hand moving down to his sweats, "Tell me what you missed about me."

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to do so, words falling off his tongue immediately when your hand touches his bulge. "Hah... A-Alright," Gojo breathes out.

Your eyes are on him while you soon work his bottoms off. Gojo struggles to begin when your hand goes into his boxers and you work his cock out, length slapping against his abdomen. You can't help but smile at the sight of his wet member, eyeing the precum oozing out of his tip and slipping down along his shaft.

Saliva builds up in your mouth as you stare, pulse after pulse felt from in between your legs.

"I-I uhm..." Gojo inhales sharply, "Fuck, where do I even start?" He chuckles wearily.

Your eyes are glued down to his dick, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth as you move only your index finger to roll around his tip. "Wherever you want," You reply.

Gojo tries lifting his hips into your touch, "Shit, okay... I missed your face," He begins, swallowing down any sounds of his that threaten to pour out. "Y-Your voice... Hah, I really missed your voice..." He emphasizes.

"Awwh... go on..." You taunt, moving to toy with his erection by giving him only one gentle stroke.

"Mmgh... U-Uh, your-" You suddenly spit down onto his tip, causing Gojo to straight up whine. "A-Ah... your mouth, fucking hell..." He groaned throughout his little noise.

Your body is seated slightly on his thighs as you begin to torture him by slowly jerking him off. "My mouth?" You echo.

"Mhm," He whines again, "M-Missed feelin' you too."

"Yeah?" You say cooingly.

Gojo feels the way your hand squeezes his tip and he can't help the moan that leaves him, "O-Oh fuuuck." He shuts his eyes and tries lifting his hips into your hold.

You smirk, "You're weak here too, huh?" Your words were said to mock his earlier statement, clearly making him worse beneath you.

"Only when you touch me t-there..." Gojo almost whimpers, "I'm only w-weak for you..."

You rotate your palm around his tip while stroking his length, feeling yourself soak at the state you've reduced this man to. "Really? What's so special about me?" You whisper.

"E-Everything," Gojo choked, his jaw dropping in reaction to your hand movements, "Fuckin' everything, I swear..."

"Mmh..." You hum lightly.

Your hand gives him one last pull before you remove it from his cock, causing Gojo to tip his head back and pant. You move to simply pull your panties to the side, now feeling so needy for friction.

The man beneath you almost cums when you simply hover over him, maneuvering his cock to rub in between your wet folds.

"F-Fuck," Gojo curses, "P-Put it in... Please, fuck I c-can't take this..." He begs desperately.

You smile and ignore him, just barely pressing yourself down and not even allowing his tip to enter you. Instead, you drag him against your sex over and over, the sensation dizzying you with arousal as his needy tip slips over your clit.

"Hah... What?" You ask as if you didn't hear him the first time.

"Please put it in," Gojo whined, "Needa' be inside you s'fucking b-bad..." He slurs out, his eyes watering.

His expression is so desperate for you, the sight only adding to how wet you are. You continue your teasing anyway, rolling your hips in a circle around his tip, "Beg a little more and maybe I'll put in."

"Ha-ah... S'that what you want?" Gojo scoffs heavily, "W-Want me to fuckin' beg?"

Technically, he already was begging but you thrived off hearing him like this.

"C'mon... a-at least the tip?" Gojo pleads, "Please?"

You clench around nothing due to the sound of his voice. "One more time f'me." You utter.

"P-Please." Gojo moans, "Pleease, fuck..." His eyes are so teary and he's simply hazed with lust and desperation, "Please-, a-ahh... please let me be inside y-you." He whimpers.

You quickly folded under the sound of his begging. Gojo has never been so whiny and needy like this for you before so you found yourself a complete mess in between your legs, liquids from your arousal dripping down onto his cock.

"You're not gonna cum inside me as soon as I put it in, are you?" You ask him, tilting your head.

He knows he wants to and it'll be difficult not to do such a thing when he's already leaking like crazy. "M-Mhm..." He hums.

You start to lower yourself, allowing his tip to just barely push into you, "Words." You order.

He smiles, just barely, "...N-No promises," Gojo sighs, "Aagh... feels l-like I'm gonna cum right now..."

You frown, "C'mon now, don't disappoint me..."

"I'll h-hold it..." He breathes, "Just... please, just fuck me."

Your eyes skim over his flushed expression, seeing how his chest rises and falls rapidly due to his heavy breathing. His teary blue eyes are stuck on your face, refusing to look down at your actions.

"You're so cute like this, y'know..." You sigh, trying not to moan while you finally sink a mere inch down onto him.

"Mmmh... A-Am I?" He hums.

You nod, your gaze diving back down to your actions as you see how much of his cock you have left to sit yourself down on. You'd forgotten how lengthy the male is, swallowing nervously while you look at the sight below.

You're worried you may not be able to keep up this dominant act of yours. You continue anyway, sliding down inch by inch until you get about halfway. Gojo's eyes flicker and his lips remain parted.

You look him dead in the eyes and purposefully clench around his length, watching the way he literally chokes on air.

"Oh c-c'monn... y-you can't expect me not to cum when you..." His jaw drops and a heavy breath leaves his throat, "f-fuckin' squeeze around me like that..."

An innocent smile graces your face, "If you cum without my permission, I'm only gonna make things worse for you."

"I w-won't." Gojo says, "You're jus' makin' it hard for me not to."

You chuckle slightly at him in response before adjusting yourself. Leaning back, you move both of your hands behind you to hold your body up and then sit yourself all the way down on his dick. Gojo moans all too loudly in relief, the sound filling the air of your room.

One of your hands flies back in front of you as you place your hand over his mouth. "You're so noisy," You point out, your voice coming out softer than you would've liked. "Be quieter f'me..."

Gojo shakes his head, knowing won't be able to. "Can't," He just barely mumbles out beneath your skin.

You feel him whine against your hand, his breath warm against you. "Yes you cannn." You whisper encouragingly, "C'mon Gojo..."

He shakes his head for a second time and closes his eyes, pressing his lips into your hand and kissing you. "C-Can you call me Satoru? P-Please," He begs desperately.

You sigh, "Promise not to be too loud 'nd maybe I will."

Gojo suddenly licks your hand and just barely opens his eyes, his pretty eyelashes moist with the way he was on the verge of pleasureful tears. "I promise," He breathes out, his lips moving against your palm, "P-Promise not to be loud..."

You retreat your hand from his mouth, "Alright then..."

Your arm moves behind you once more, leaning yourself back before you roll your hips forward and feel the way his cock twitches inside you. This is the type of sex you expected to have last night-- the type of sex you needed.

You pick up a steady rhythm of grinding over Gojo with the tip of his dick nice and snug up against your cervix without him having to do much. The male grits his teeth and his eyes flicker as you begin to ride him slowly. He tries to keep his gaze on your face, watching the way your lips part and you moan ever so slightly.

Your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth as you struggle a little to keep your noises in. Feeling his cockhead knock around your insides, sliding against your walls in all the right ways is only dizzying you with pleasure.

Gojo was able to keep himself from looking at the entire lewd sight in front of him up until he saw your arm move in his peripherals. His eyes mistakenly drop down to the movement and he watches as you move two fingers over your clit, his breath hitching at the sight.

He wishes he could've done that for you instead but given the restraints, all he can do is watch you satisfy yourself and feel the way your wam cunt clenches around his girth. "Fuck," He curses under his breath.

Your hips suddenly lift a little and then ease back down, giving both of you more pleasure than expected. You moan a bit more than you expected yourself to and Gojo... he almost blew his load.

His head rests against the headboard and his eyes roll back, "W-Warn me next time b-before you-," His words are cut off as you ignore him and simply repeat your action, lifting yourself up and easing right back down. Gojo whimpers again, as quietly as he possibly can, "M'gonna c-cum..."

You lean forward and pull yourself almost all the way up, only his tip left inside you, and then drop yourself right back down. "N-Not yet," You stammer out to him.

Nothing you prepare him for the struggle he begins to face as you start bouncing on his cock. Every time he feels your soaked walls slide back down on his cock, he swears he's another second close to spilling his seed inside you. And of course, you make it worse by moving to messily kiss his exposed neck.

Gojo's arms twitch within the restraints, wanting nothing more than to move you away from his neck for just a second. "Fu-uck... p-please..." He begs, not even knowing what exactly what he's begging for.

You continue your movements, using your muscles to ride his cock and please yourself. Your breath is warm against his neck as you eagerly rub two fingers over your clit, "Mmgh... f-fuck... please what, Satoru?" You moan softly.

The aggressive twitching of his cock is felt as you question him. Gojo lets out another whine, the sound going straight to your core. "L-Let me c-cum..." He moans, sudden tears rolling down his cheeks.

No one has ever made him feel like this before. He's not sure if it was the restraints, the way you kisses, nibbled, and sucked on his neck, the way you rode his dick or the way you said his name but, Gojo was losing his mind trying not to release.

You move to that sensitive spot right under his jaw and suck at his skin before speaking against it, "...Lemme hear you b-beg again," You stammer slightly. It was difficult for you to speak one hundred percent properly with how deep inside you his cock reached.

"H-Hhnngh.... P-Please..." Gojo croaks out, "Please let me cum... c-can't hold it anymore... please... I-I'll do anything, fuuuuck... please."

You moan against his neck as his words go straight to your pussy, causing you to only clench around him even more. "A-Anything?" You smile slightly.

Gojo sucks in a deep breath, the sound close to a sniffle, "Yes. Any-, ngh... t-thing..." He sighs.

You move to his ear, "Delete the video of me."

He shakes his head, "I already d-did..." Gojo finally tells you.

That information makes your cunt throb for some reason as if the sound of freedom from that stupid list turned you on. "L-Liar," You huff out, not yet fully believing him.

"M'not lying..." Gojo suddenly sniffles, tears of struggling pleasure rolling down his cheeks, "D-Deleted it a long-, ah... t-time ago...."

You lean away from his ear and slow your pace a little, staring into his teary eyes. "Mmgh... really?"

He nods, "Mhm..."

Your arms wrap around his neck and you near his lips while humping him slowly, the pleasure making your eyes flicker. He wasn't the only one who was close. "So... hah, are you finally l-letting me go?" You whisper.

One of your hands slides up into his hair, feeling his white strands in between your fingers. Gojo shakes his head, "C-Could never let you go, sweetheart." He claims, not exactly referring to the list anymore.

You swallow and furrow your brows, your gaze traveling between his left and right eyes in search of an explanation, "Fuck... What do you mean?"

He pants, letting the desperation for his release and his emotions get the absolute best of him. Gojo unintentionally peers up into your eyes longingly, choking out something all too emotional, "I love you too much to do that..." He cries out, the look in his eyes completely serious and vulnerable.

Your jaw drops and your hips stutter in movement, "W-What?"

"I love you," Gojo repeats, swallowing afterward, "L-Love you s'much..."

"Satoru..." You flash him a confused look, "Y-You don't mean th-that..."

He nods his head, his eyes struggling to remain on yours, "I do. I s-swear, m'so in love with you-, fuck..."

You breathe out a heavy pant, trying to wrap your head around his sudden confession. There is absolutely no way your blackmailer is in love with you. Surely he's just saying this because he... maybe he's confused? He can't love you, it doesn't make sense.

Gojo leans forward and kisses you, breaking you away from your panicked thoughts, "C-Can I... ha-ah, nngh... Can I..." He trails off, struggling to voice his request.

You know what he wants anyway so you simply nod, permitting him to finally release. Gojo's eyes roll all the way back as he finally cums inside you with an unintentionally loud groan.

You're still stunned by his confession, a mixture of confusion and arousal fighting within your mind. Part of you is too into the moment to really process what he said but the other part of you was just left in disbelief.

Something inside you feels all mushy and you unconsciously voice out a soft, "Can you say it again?"

You can still feel him releasing into you, painting your insides white with his seed while you continue. "I-I love you," Gojo stammers, his eyes slowly going back into place.

"Mmgh... Y-Yeah?" You smile for some reason and reach your orgasm unexpectedly.

There's a mess where the two of you are connected but you don't care. Not only is Gojo still hard after his release, but you have no desire to move away from him.

After one last look of longing, the two of your lips connect. You both moan into each other's mouth as you press your body flush against his. The rapid beating of both your hearts can be felt against your chest and his.

Soft smacks, mixed with moans and whines slip into the sex-induced air. Gojo's arms continue to twitch as you make out with him, feining for the feeling of your skin against his fingertips. He wants to run his hands along your waist, your hips, hell, he even longs to roll his thumb over your clit.

So badly does Gojo want to please you even more.

You drag your lips away from his, leaving only a little bit of space between you and him, "S-Satoru," You call out, your gaze hazy, "T-Tell me you didn't mean that."

He smirks tiredly, "I can't."

You shake your head in disapproval, "You can't love me."

"Why not?" He sighs. "Hm?"

You peck his lips again, "Cause' I hate you..."

He chuckles against you while you part your lips over his. Your tongue enters his mouth and he accepts it happily, his cum-covered cock nestling inside your warmth.

"No..." He speaks between kisses, "You don't."

You groan into his mouth and he tries not to smile against you, "I do."

"Liar," He argues.

Your lips disconnect and you frown, "You know I do."

"Then," Gojo swallows, "Why do you kiss me like that?"

"You're a good kisser." You reply.

He raises a brow, "Why'd you fuck me like that?"

"You make me feel good, sometimes."

"Alright," He scoffs, "Last one; why... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Satoru, you literally just told me you love me. How the hell am I supposed to look at you?" You utter in disbelief.

He shakes his head, "Definitely not like that."

"And what is that, exactly?"

He grins, "Like you feel the same-"

"In your dreams." You cut off.

"Sweetheart... it's okay to love me too y'know."

"Fuck you." You fire at him.

"You jus' did."

You release a groan, annoyed by his claims now that he's returning to his normal state. "And I'm gonna do it again if you don't shut up." You threaten.

"Oh, I'm definitely not shutting up now." He flashes a charming yet fucked out smile, "Fuck me again please."

Your cunt squeezes around him, "...No."

"Mmgh... Or you can keep doin' that." He shrugs, "I like the way you keep my dick warm."

"You talk too much y'know."

"Shut me up then," Gojo challenges.

With a roll of your eyes, you move a hand to the side of his face, your thumb sliding to his lip, "Open," You order.

Almost like a well-trained dog, Gojo obediently parts his lips for you. With a smile, you slide your thumb into his mouth, "Now," You lean closer to him, "Be a good boy and keep quiet, okay?"

Gojo chokes around your finger and he blinks, his cock twitching within you.

The feeling makes you smile, "You're into that too? Shit... how many kinks do you have...?"

He sucks on your thumb eagerly, his eyes low but directly on yours. The man shrugs as if to answer you and you chuckle.

Slowly, you pull your finger out of his mouth and switch to replace it with your middle and ring finer. Gojo raises his brows, wondering what you have planned inside that head of yours.

After a few gentle thrusts of your fingers into his mouth and slips along his tongue, you draw them out with a loud pop leaving him.

Your torso then leans back again and Gojo gets a full view of your body, watching as you take your fingers that are covered in his saliva, and slip them down to rub slow circles around your clit. He lets out a deep hum while watching.

"That's so sexy. Fuuck..." Gojo voices out.

You smile before rolling your head back and moaning softly, "Aah.. is it?"

The male bites his lip and suddenly grinds his hips up into you, catching you by surprise as his cock presses against your insides. "So fuckin' sexy." He utters.

He then looks down at how he looks inside you, wanting to press against the bulge his dick creates against your skin so badly. A whine leaves those pretty lips of yours and Gojo smiles.

"Look who's being loud now?" He taunts.

"Shut up." You reply.

He chuckles, "Whyy? Teasing you is funnn."

"I'm s-supposed to be the one teasing you." You stammer suddenly as he works up a little pace below you, trying to match his slight thrusts to the movement of your fingers.

"You still can... But c'mon, you gotta let me tease you at least a little bit." He says, flashing a cheeky little smile.

"No, I don't."

His expression sinks into a pout, "But you like when I tease you."

"I do not..." You deny.

"Yeahh you do."

"You're so annoying."

"Am I?" Gojo tilts his head and narrows his eyes, his sights set on the way your folds spread around his member, "Even when my cock is stuffed inside you, I'm still annoying?"

Your breathing stutters, "G-God, shut up..."

"Nah, I don't think I will." Gojo hums, softly rutting his hips up into your sopping hole. "You should see the way you creamed around me."

"That was you... n-not me."

"No, sweetheart." He smiles, "That's you."

"It's not-"

"Listen to it." Gojo interrupts.

You blink, "W-What?"

Gojo's hips continue to steadily fuck up into your cunt, the sloppy wet sounds hitting your ears. "Hear that?" He taunts, grunting slightly, "Hear how messy you are f'me?"

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, "Shut up-," The tip of his cock rams into this dizzying spot inside you, making you choke, "F-Fuck..."

"Y'know if you untie me... I'd be able to fuck you properly." Gojo suggests.

"No..." You tell him.

He groans frustratedly, deciding to just quietly watch you work to get yourself off for a second time. His hips continue the steady push upward, constantly giving you friction and making you feel good, even if only a little bit.

After a few seconds, your head rolls back into place and you notice the way his rose-tinted lips are parted and his eyes are downward. With a swallow, you try to go back to what he said earlier, "Satoru..." You call softly.

"Hm?" He hums, his eyes remaining down.

"Did you mean i-it?"

"Mean what?" He sighs.

You rub over your clit a bit faster and he tries to match your pace as best as he can, "...Are you really... mgh, in love with me?"

He tips his head back and smiles, "Terribly so, yes."

"Hah... and, I don't have to finish the list right?" You ask.

He freezes. Gojo almost forgot that he told you he deleted the video of you, quickly regretting admitting that to you. "U-Uhm..."

You frown at his hesitance, "Satoru, please?" You whine.

He grits his teeth and looks away from you, "I... You still have t-to finish it..."

You're not sure what you expected and you don't even want to ask why-- already having an idea of what his next form of blackmail would be. After all, you did fuck a professor and for a man who wasn't scared to go to jail, you're sure he's not scared to expose that information.

So, you simply shake your head in disbelief before lifting yourself. For a second, Gojo thought you were about to hop off him but you catch him off guard by plopping all your weight back down.

"H-Holy-," His eyes go wide, "F-Fuck, sweetheart... m'sensative-," He whines.

Your hand suddenly moves to his face and you force him to look at you as you ride him aggressively, "Good." You breathe out to him.

Gojo quickly falls back into that whiney state from earlier. "P-Please, wa-ait..." He chokes out.

You continue anyways, your eyes tear due to the pleasure and the situation, "I r-really fucking hate you, y'know that?"

He moans, "Th-Then... why're you still, aagh... fucking me?"

You scoff, "Cause' that's all you're good for." You utter meanly.

He sighs and the sound of your skin meeting his every time you sink down on him fills the room. The noises are wet and sloppy due to how hard the male came inside you and the entire thing is creamy where you're connected.

"Nnngh," Gojo moans, "I'm s-sorry..."

"You don't mean it," You fire back, trying your hardest not to moan along with him, "You.. mmh.. Y-You never do."

He let something slip abruptly, "W-Wish I c-could tell you everything, sweets..."

Your brows furrow at that.

Are you missing something here?

What else is there for him to tell you? He's blackmailing you into sleeping with people he owes favors to. What more is there to that story?

Too caught up in the act of pleasing yourself, you brush his comment off for now, deciding to come back to it when his cock isn't stuffed inside you.

With that, Gojo continues, "...I-I promise I'll..." He hesitates to finish. "I'll help y-you get with-, agh... I'll h-help you get with Choso." He suddenly promises to you.

Your movement stutters at the mere mention of your crush, a moan pouring from your lips. "Mmgh, really?" It's not the best promise in the world and you'd much rather he just drop the list but-- you suppose it makes up for something.

He nods his head, "Yes... I swear..." Gojo says urgently, "I-I'll make sure he never finds out about the list and..." Your cunt tightens around him suddenly, "Oh f-fuck... I'll uh... m-make sure you guys get t-together." He finally gets out.

Your eyes narrow and your orgasm grows near, "You swear?"

"S-Swear it on my love for you-," Gojo claims. If only you knew how deep that affection really went, "Swear on my life." He whispers.

You grit your teeth and sigh out a heavy, "Okay."

It's not perfect but, for now, you suppose that's a decent enough promise to encourage you to finish the list. Though, you were never truly worried about Choso finding out about the list so it was kind of odd that Gojo mentioned it in the first place.

That, and once you finish the list, you already know Choso's going to accept you into his arms-- you wouldn't need help with that. But, something about Gojo's promise felt needed. It felt like something you had to accept or else things would get worse.

You are unsure of what this underlying emotion it was that you were feeling but there was just something about his promise. It felt different than his last one, it felt more severe.

This severity that you felt was something that you'd figure out much later but as of now; you wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck and continued your acts until both of you came undone for a second time.

Whatever it was you felt about that promise of his; it was important.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (9/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex scene with Alys from the past, smut, the angst, description of a drug overdose, murder by shot in the head, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After everything that had happened, according to his suspicions, all hell broke loose: Daemon's anger over the fact that they had dared to kidnap and imprison his daughter was great. Helaena, Daeron and his mother stayed in the house almost all the time under the supervision of their bodyguards, so that the unpleasant consequences of what was happening would not reach them.

Daemon's gangsters tried to forcibly take over what was rightfully theirs: brothels, clubs, restaurants, however, they were met with resistance, as they had no intention of moving from their place and giving them anything.

The comical thing was that, although the law was on his side, Daemon could not use the help of the police: their discovery of how widespread the money laundering and drug smuggling was would have given them all life imprisonment, and the premises would have been seized by the State for as long as the prosecution considered it good for the case.

For the first time in years there were real shootings and on several occasions, had it not been for his reflexes, a bullet would have pierced his arm or leg when he was just walking to the car park or leaving the club.

Despite what common sense would dictate, he didn't feel terrified: on the contrary, some part of him wanted a challenge, a release, anything that would make him stop thinking about what he had done to her.

He couldn't forgive himself for showing her weakness, for crying in her presence like a small child, for begging her forgiveness only to find after a while that he missed her, that he had suffered through their separation and the fact that he had lost her.

One part of him wanted to forget her but the other ached to prove to her that in some fucked up way he could change.

To become a different kind of monster, one that wouldn't devour her, but protect her.

He planned what he wanted to do with meticulous care, as if he were going off to war. He knew that Larys Strong was preoccupied with what was going on, thinking they were focused on Daemon, he meanwhile was lavelling between them, trying to pick up customers from both sides.

He was like a disgusting snake whose head he wanted to trample on, but mostly because he dared to threaten her.

He wanted to make sure that this piece of shit would disappear from the face of the earth.

He initiated the only person in his industry he trusted, namely Alys, into his plan.

"Why?" She asked, smoking a cigarette with him by the wide-open window in her flat, sitting in her smart black shirt and trousers, her luscious green irises staring at him anxiously, letting out a mouthful of smoke.

He took a drag, looking blankly out of the window, at the townhouse across the street, seeing her face then as she lay numb in the toilet, and then as she lay in his bed, after he gave her the sleeping drug himself.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling an unpleasant constriction in his chest indicating that he was remorseful.

"He was the one who gave my niece the rape pill." He sighed, tilting his head back, spreading himself more comfortably in the chair with a loud creak of wood.

Alys stared at him in silence for a long time, her cigarette slowly burning out between her fingers.

"I met her. Your niece. A few weeks ago in the Red Sun pub." She hummed, taking another drag, not taking her eyes off him.

He knew she had noticed that something flashed across his face at the mention of her – involuntarily he turned his head away and swallowed hard, clenching his free hand into a fist.

Alys chuckled under her breath, blowing smoke out of her mouth straight at him as she spoke her next words.

"Daemon showed her what you did to Robert."

He stared ahead, fiddling with the packet of cigarettes lying on the table in front of him, feeling his heart in his throat.

So that's how she found out, he thought with regret.

"How did she react?" He asked involuntarily.

"The poor girl was in shock. Her uncle turned out to be less understanding than she might have thought." She muttered, leaning forward, resting her body weight on her elbows.

He couldn't look at her, afraid she would see what he so desperately wanted to hide from her.

"Was that her name that you accidentally blurted out then?" She asked, making him feel an unpleasant squeeze in his throat and a burning wetness under his eyelids.

The prove that she was right.

The nights with Alys had been simple: they'd taken care of business and then fucked. They knew they were both broken: what they were doing had warped and deformed them as individuals, and by giving each other intimacy they were simultaneously comforting each other in their misery.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, tilting his head back, his hands clenched in her hair so tightly that he heard her hiss from between his thighs. Her nails dug warningly into his hip, signalling him not to overdo it.

He couldn't believe how good she was at sucking cock, with what ease her tongue rolled around it's delicate, pink head while clamping her lips so that she squeezed it with each of his thrusts deep into her warm throat.

He was aroused by her directness, by the fact that she only wanted to satisfy and be satisfied, exactly as he did.

"– stop – 'm close –" He exhaled as he felt his erection begin to throb vigorously and twitch deep inside her mouth, causing her to let him out with a loud, perverted click of her saliva.

His manhood was all red and pulsing, glistening from his precum and her wetness, pleasant warmth in his belly.

Alys wasted no time in pulling her black lace panties off her legs, allowing him to turn her onto her stomach as usual. He positioned himself between her thighs, spreading her soft, full buttocks like a fruit, sinking into her warmth with a loud sigh of relief.

Only then, when he couldn't see her face, he was able to close his eyes and sink into his most sickening, dark fantasy.

As he slid slowly into her, in his imagination he could see the terrified, hot look in her eyes, her sweet lips wide open, her soft, fleshy cunt clenched around his swollen erection, throbbing with longing, making him run out of breath, her hands simultaneously pushing him away and holding him close.

"– Aemond – no, no, we can't – we can't –" His niece mewled in his mind, whimpering softly and innocently, afraid that someone would hear them, that her brothers would find out what he was doing to her, how greedily he was opening her slick walls on his fat cock again and again, unable to stop.

"– oh baby –" He mumbled.

He heard another sound too, a lower one – Alys moaned feeling him involuntarily quicken his pace, thrusting deep between her leaking, convulsing folds. Frustrated, he clamped his hand in her hair, pressing her face harder against the duvet, not wanting to hear her now.

He had never kissed Alys or any other woman. When they tried to do this, he felt only disgust and turned his head away – the act seemed to him too tender, too intimate, and on top of that, it reminded him of her, the taste of her lips, her warm breath on his face, her sweet scent.

For this reason, too, he never stayed up all night or went to sleep with the women he fucked: their arms, their embrace was not the one he longed for, their words, their skin, their fingers, their faces, their hair, everything was different, different, different, foreign, distant, repulsive.

Alys knew.

She felt it subconsciously.

"– are you thinking about her now? – " She breathed out, making him involuntarily bite his lower lip and groan throatily, his hips began to slam against her ass faster and faster, bringing him closer with each thrust to fulfilment deep inside her.

She didn't know her identity, but she knew she existed and that he wasn't able to forget about her.

"– would you like her to be so fucking wet for you? – to take you in so easily? – for her little pussy to clench around your cock? – to come inside her? –" She exhaled, and he groaned, imagining that she wanted it, that she craved his cum deep inside her pretty, innocent body, slamming between his niece's thighs like a mad.

"– u-uncle – uncle, uncle, uncle, oh God, oh my fucking God, please –" He heard her vulnerable whines, feeling a squeeze in his testicles, hot wave of pleasure ran through his lower abdomen and stomach.

"– f-fuck, Rhaenys –" He mumbled and came with a loud gasp, feeling her spasming cunt begin to clench against his twitching erection, along with him going through the wonderful relief that shook his body.

He froze, panting loudly and opened his eyes only to see that Alys was grinning wildly.

She was proud of herself.

She loved to torment him.

"– Rhaenys –" She said after him, intrigued, without shadow of regret or pain on her face. "– what a pretty name –"

"– 'm sorry – forget about it –" He mouthed, completely panicked, sliding out of her with a loud click of their moisture, feeling his heart pounding like a mad in fear.

He thanked God that it wasn't her real name.

"– why? – tell me more about her – it's touching in some way that you are so deeply in love with her –" She hummed, turning onto her back.

He quickly zipped up his trousers, for some reason unable to look at her bare body now, furious at her remark.

"Fuck no." He growled.

Alys twisted in her place, surprised.

"Aemond."

"I don't want to talk about it. That's not why I came here." He said in frustration, grabbing his Tshirt, putting it aggressively over his head.

She sighed heavily, leaning her back against the bed frame, looking at him intently.

"You are adorable when you are mad."

He looked at her, seeing in her eyes that she knew she'd hit the nail on the head and ran his hand over his face.

"Have you fulfilled your fantasies with her? Then, during your father's birthday. After all, he invited your whole family." She sneered, cocking her head.

He shuddered, looking at her shocked and horrified, feeling like a little boy caught in the act.

"Don't be ridiculous. If you don't want to help me with what I came to you with, just say so." He hissed too quickly, too angrily and too helplessly, and the corner of Alys' mouth twitched in a grin.

"Did you stop talking to her when her mother married Daemon through a conflict of interest or because you knew that as an uncle you shouldn't moan your niece's name during your climax?" She asked, and he felt his lips part in a shuddering, uneven breath.

"You betrayed that poor little girl even though she gave you everything you wanted."

Her cold, mocking words stayed with him all night: she didn't give him a clear answer as to whether she would help him, but she let him know that she didn't intend to interrupt him.

She had no love for Larys Strong and would benefit from his disappearance herself.

Although the plan was different, more complicated and sublime, he drove straight to Heavenly Beach.

You betrayed that poor little girl even though she gave you everything you wanted.

When it was all over, he decided that his success had been determined by the effect of the surprise: when he walked into Larys's office, he greeted him with a smile, standing up, apparently wanting to offer him something to drink and ask what he was coming to him with.

The bodyguard didn't even think to take his gun away from him.

He was just his grandfather's faithful dog, nothing more.

And yet, when he pointed it at his head and simply fired, shooting him right in the forehead, Larys seemed surprised and staggered backwards, falling numbly like a heavy wooden puppet to the floor.

He fled through the back exit, the door by which the bar staff were leaving for a cigarette, and although he hoped that one of the shots he heard behind him among the screams would reach him, it did not.

Apart from the shattered rear window of the car and the wrath of his grandfather, no other consequences of his act reached him.

"Do you know what you did? Larys was filling our pockets with money."

"And also emptied them." He hissed, watching as Otto paced around the room while he sat in his chair, pleased with himself as never before.

For some reason he felt a sense of pride.

"You are a fool. You did it out of a private desire for revenge. You acted rashly and thoughtlessly. You have failed me for the last time." He said in a manner from which he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Aegon will take over the whole business, not you."

When he finally returned to his flat he felt rage and relief, disappointment and euphoria at the same time, feeling like he had completely lost his mind.

Vhagar watched him from across the room, seeing him throw things off tables and cupboards, afraid to approach him, her tail tucked under her belly.

He had killed him for her.

He sacrificed himself for her.

He lost his inheritance for her.

And she was not with him.

He felt in that moment that he loved her and hated her at the same time.

The dreams in which he killed Larys again and again came back to him every night, making him wake up drenched in cold sweat: he saw in them how he gouged out his eyes, how he cut off his limbs before her eyes, listening to her screams and her cries, her pleas for him to stop.

By having his grandfather reduce his role to the bare minimum of collecting money and handing over goods, he could finally concentrate on his studies during the day. To his surprise, sinking into the thick textbooks she had brought him was liberating, as if a new, previously unknown part of the world had opened up to him.

He was going to attend the exam.

He hoped to see her there.

He filed the documents in person and, as he was leaving the University, he spotted one of Daemon's bodyguards smoking a cigarette in the car park from a distance.

They had been watching her the whole time.

Good, he thought.

He knew that if anyone saw him there Daemon would take her out immediately and that was why he had to be more careful.

On the day of the exam, he felt like a small child: even though he knew what he had to prepare for and had gone through specific chapters many times, standing with a group of young people peering at his face and scar he felt alien, even though he hoped it would be different.

Even when he tried, he couldn't fit in, blend in with the crowd.

To his surprise, he found the exam itself trivial: too simple for his taste. He recognised that he had surely made some mistake when reading the questions, that there was something tricky about them, that he would make a fool of himself.

However, reading what he had written again and again he thought he had given the correct answers and just gave up, walking out of the room, dismayed and disappointed.

He felt like he had been pierced by lightning when he saw her standing in the corridor, looking at him with her mouth wide open. He felt a pleasant heat in his chest at the thought that she had come, for him, just for him, and then he looked to the side and saw who was standing next to her.

His hands clenched into a fist as her ex-boyfriend reached out to him, fumbling some sort of goof about how nice it was to meet him, pretending to be open and welcoming.

His niece saw immediately the danger that lurked behind his furious expression.

"Thank you, Robb. Will you leave us alone?" She asked him in a trembling voice.

He thought she had only taken him with her for safety, as she was afraid to come to him alone, and affectionately concluded that she was a wise girl.

"Are you sure?" Her ex asked her, making him feel his jaw clench in rage.

"Didn't you hear what she said?" He sneered harshly, throwing him a look full of boredom and disapproval, wanting to show him that he was losing patience.

He had done his part and there was certainly nothing more between them, so he could fuck off.

Robb clearly didn't like the tone of his voice.

"I'm not talking to you, mate." He said in a way he didn't like, but all it took was a movement in his direction for his niece to stand in front of him, looking straight into his face with her big eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

"That's enough." She said. "Aemond is having a hard time. Forgive him. Sometimes he doesn't know how to behave. He won't hurt me. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed hard, looking away with his heart beating fast, feeling the hot shame spread across his lower abdomen.

He won't hurt me.

When Robb finally left them alone she shook her head with an expression on her face as if she regretted coming to see him at all and turned, startling him by going the other way.

"It was a mistake."

"– no – no, wait –" He moved behind her, immediately grabbing her arm, pulling her closer, as close as possible, smelling her body and her hair again, the scent of vanilla filling his lungs.

He let his hand embraced her waist, pressing his forehead into her temple, wanting to take refuge in her, feeling thirsty for her presence, her words, her warm gaze full of understanding.

"– are you two together again? –" He whispered involuntarily, wanting to be sure that this bastard was no longer a threat to her, that he didn't have to worry about him hurting her again.

He swallowed hard when he heard her cold laughter full of frustration, feeling a stinging discomfort in his stomach.

"– do you want to tell me how you know who I'm dating and when? –" She asked drily.

Why did she avoid answering?

Why did she speak in this way?

"– do you love him? –" He muttered, and she shook her head, furious, trying to push him away.

"– I hope you'll pass – let me go – let me go, I said –" She growled, but he clamped his hands on her back and snuggled her body into his, sinking his nose into her wonderfully soft, warm cheek, feeling how his erection reacted with an aggressive, joyful pulsing to her closeness.

How was he ever going to let anyone else have her?

How would he ever get over it?

There was no way back now.

"– I killed him for you –" He whispered and felt her stop resisting him, her whole body frozen in stillness.

He sighed quietly, leaning in, his lips swollen with desire as he began to place wet, hot, lingering kisses on her face, her jaw, her neck with every word he spoke.

"– I killed him because he threatened you – because he wanted to hurt you – I want you to be safe –"

He felt her hands tighten on the material of his shirt as a quiet cry left her lips, and he, feeling an involuntary desire to protect her from this suffering, cuddled her face into his neck, wanting to hide her, to bury her deep within himself, to be her stone fortress in which she could hide.

"– I'm not pregnant –" She whispered in a way from which he froze.

There was no satisfaction or relief in her words.

She was sad.

This revelation, the thought that some part of her wanted this child as much as he did, caused his full lips to place a tender, drawn-out kiss on her temple.

"– I know – the doctor told me – we just have to try again –"

We just have to try again.

He couldn't believe how easy it had been for him to say that, to accept that he was sick, that he had just told his own niece that they should fuck again, because that way they would perhaps have the baby they so wanted.

His life had reached such a level of absurdity that it no longer seemed impossible to him.

He heard her draw in a loud breath, shocked by what had left his mouth.

"– do you hear yourself? – after what you did to me? – after how –" She mouthed, choking on her own tears, however, instead of pushing him away she snuggled into him tighter, clasping her hands on his back.

She sought her comfort in him, in her tormentor, because he was the only one who understood what she was going through.

There was something simultaneously beautiful and tragic about this, he thought.

He had destroyed her.

"– shhh – I'm here, baby –" He hushed her, stroking her hair and her back as if she were a small child, pressing his face against her temple, wanting to show her that he was there for her and that this would never change.

His words written on a piece of paper then, in the hospital.

I will always watch over you.

They both flinched and moved away from each other when her phone began to ring and it appeared that her father's bodyguard who had been waiting for her had begun to grow impatient.

"– n-no – no, I'm on my way, I was talking to the professor – I'm sorry –" She muttered with difficulty, terrified, making him feel like locking her in his embrace and never letting her go.

She was so sad, so tired, so vulnerable.

He knew, he felt, that they would both experience true relief, true rest only in each other's arms, in the tight union of their hot, sweaty, naked bodies.

"– wait a few minutes before I go so they don't see you –" She said, leaving him alone, not bestowing a single glance on him.

And then her ex-boyfriend humiliated her in front other students, saying some bullshit about her lack of self-respect as he watched them from afar.

As soon as she was out of his sight he walked up to him – Robb looked at him horrified and took a step back, wanting to run away.

"I feel like smashing your skull for what you dared to say, but I won't do it for her sake. You will never speak to her that way again. What's more, you won't speak to her at all, or I'll make your face no longer beautiful. Do you understand?" He asked, and Robb nodded quickly, looking at him with big eyes.

"One ill-considered word from you. One look from her colleagues that I don't like and that reveals to me that you told someone about it, and your life will become very, very difficult. Mate." He sneered and sidestepped him, heading for his car, seeing that his niece and her father's bodyguard had driven off.

When he got back to his flat he thought he felt strangely calm: the thought that she had come to see him, that she still cared about what would happen to him, who he would be filled him with contentment and satisfaction.

He was not indifferent to her.

She could not hate him.

Vhagar, though uneasy in his presence for days, that evening approached him of her own accord wagging her tail. Though he did not usually do so, he allowed her to jump onto his bed, his broad hand stroking her large head. She licked his fingers, sniffing them beforehand with curiosity and he thought with a smile that she had smelt her scent.

"I saw her today, Vhagar. I saw my little girl." He hummed, scratching her behind the ear, letting her big furry body lie beside him on the bedding.

And then she called to him, furious and indignant, demanding an explanation.

Something about the way she spoke made him think she was charming when she was angry, surprising him with her directness.

However, this made him the one who wrote to her every day from then on, sending her pictures of Vhagar, and although she did not write back to him, he was happy.

He knew that she read his messages and thus he was able to convey his feelings to her, making her realise that there was not a moment that he did not think or miss her.

And then he found an envelope in his letter box with the University's logo on it, and for the first time in years he felt an almost childlike excitement as he ran up the stairs to his flat, thinking that maybe things were finally going to change in his life.

He felt his hands all trembling with emotion as he pulled a piece of paper from the inside and began to read, his heart in his throat when it became clear that his dream had come true.

He had passed.

He got into University.

He didn't know why he called her right away, walking back and forth across his room, smiling like a fool because he had made it, made it, made it.

"Aemond, you can't call me. Is something wrong?"

"I got in. I passed the exam." He said immediately, feeling euphoria, feeling joy, feeling satisfaction.

He wanted to experience it only with her, because only she could understand him, only her words, her appreciation, her joy could give him what he wanted.

"I'm proud of you. I really am." She confessed finally making him feel like bursting into tears, feeling for a moment he ran out of words, his heart pounding like crazy.

"Let's meet to celebrate. Please."

"No."

"Just for a moment. In a public place, in a restaurant, in a café. Wherever you want, wherever you feel safe." He begged, needing her now, her warm gaze, her hand clasped over his, her closeness, her, her, her.

"I can't, Aemond. You know I can't. I will always support you, including about your studies, but after what has happened I can't trust you." She confessed in a trembling voice.

He swallowed hard, feeling with shame that he had turned all red with emotion, and nodded his head, thinking with despair that he understood what she meant, feeling empty.

"– forgive me – I had no right to ask you to do this – it was a mistake resulting from my selfishness – thank you for everything –" He said.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled out in pain, but he hung up, or she would have heard his uneven, heavy breath, the effect of the tears that ran down his face and of which he was so ashamed.

How could he have been so naive to think that she would forgive him?

Would he forgive her if she did the same to him?

He tore up the card the University had sent him, thinking with regret that the sight of him in that building every day would bring back memories she wanted to forget.

He decided that there was no point in her seeing him, that he should respect her request, even though she did not at all want him to give up his dreams for her.

She was more understanding than he deserved.

Although he had never, ever done so, that evening he pulled out from his cupboard a syringe with the drug liquid he had given her that day when she had come to him at his request, wanting to help him.

He only used this narcotic in small amounts when he needed to fall asleep quickly, but this time he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up at all.

He squeezed his forearm with a special rubber band to make it easier to find the right vein under his skin and jabbed the needle into it, letting more of the drug into his system than ever before.

He thought he wanted to know how she felt then.

He imagined her terror, the one when, feeling him still deep inside her, she realised that he had tricked her, betrayed her, that he would do what he wanted with her and her body.

He felt like crying when everything around him blurred, when Vhagar began to bark, nudging him with her wet nose, licking his face. He, however, was only able to breathe, thinking that he was so monstrously tired, his body numb and heavy, as if it weighed hundreds of tons.

It seemed to him that it might have been months or even years before his mind began to awaken: the indistinct light of the lamps around him blinded him and irritated him at the same time, the loud beeping at his ear drove him mad, the stinging discomfort in his wrist seemed unnatural to him. He muttered in displeasure, twisting around, unable to fully open his eyes or rise, feeling dulled and frazzled.

"– no – lie down –" He heard his mother's voice, who had apparently risen from her chair, her familiar hand touching his arm. "– it's okay –"

"– what's going on? –" He choked out, feeling unpleasant anxiety and discomfort, everything around him seemed to be spinning.

"– you overdosed, Aemond –"

He spent the next few days in hospital, trying to recover under the watchful care of his mother and his sister.

He didn't know why he felt disappointment at the news that neither his grandfather nor his older brother planned to visit him, thinking he had acted like a small child merely seeking attention, why he thought they would care about his condition.

He didn't think much of it though, because as soon as he unlocked his phone, he saw three messages from her.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do, what to reply to her words, proof that she still cared about him, even though he didn't deserve it.

That same evening, when his mother was long gone from his side, she called him, making him feel euphoric and terrified at the same time. When he answered and put the phone to his ear he was silent, his heart deep in his throat.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly, her voice full of uncertainty.

He swallowed hard, feeling somehow touched by her behaviour, by the fact that she wanted to talk to him despite what he had done to her.

"Exactly as I deserve." He confessed with shame.

"Did you… really want to do this?" She muttered in a trembling voice. He shook his head and laughed under his breath.

"No. I wanted to see how you felt that day."

Something in his words, in the way he said them made her draw in a loud breath.

"Your suffering is not my desire, Aemond. You hurt me, but I don't want revenge. I just want… to stop feeling this unbearable pain in my heart that I have felt in my chest for eight years."

So many unspoken words and feelings slipped through their fingers.

"I regret it so much. I told my grandfather that I didn't want him to involve you, but he said that if we didn't, someone else would want to take advantage of Daemon's weakness for you. And I believed him. I thought that Larys will actually try to do something to you again, but only now do I understand that it was a simple lie that I easily accepted to justify myself. Fuck, I'm so ashamed, baby, I really am."

He mouthed with difficulty, burying his face in his hand, feeling warm tears of shame run down his cheeks, trying to calm his heavy, ragged breath.

"My father took everything from me. I did these fucked-up things to other people for nothing. I mutilated them for nothing. The only thing he left me is the property by the sea, the same one where I lost my eye, as if he had made a mockery of me. I was so lost. I still am."

She was silent for a moment, as if wondering what to respond to his words.

"What do you want, Aemond? Truly. Be honest."

He swallowed hard, feeling that this was one of the most important moments of his life and he couldn't fuck it up.

"I want to study and see you once in a while. In a public place, so that you feel safe."

"And that's it? What about your family? About your business?"

"My grandfather limited my influence and responsibilities after I shot Larys without his knowledge. He no longer trusts me and doesn't assign me important tasks."

She fell silent again, making him feel like he was going mad with the uncertainty, his heart in his throat.

"The University Library." She said finally, and he grunted quietly, trying to calm himself down.

"I don't understand."

"We can meet in the University Library."

"Really?" He asked hopefully, feeling his heart beat harder, hot with excitement.

"Only there and for a short time. Once in a while. If I find out you did something to hurt me or my family, you'll never see me again."

The next day she agreed with him that they would meet in a side area of the library: it was nearing the holidays and most people were either outside or in the main reading room, so she decided that no one should notice or bother them there.

Fifteen minutes in which she was going to help him prepare for his first class, nothing more.

Nevertheless, in his mind it was his chance to prove himself and get things right.

To regain her trust.

He wanted to buy her a bouquet of flowers, however, standing in front of them he had no idea which ones to choose.

What if she doesn't like cut flowers, only ones in a pot?

Should he even hand it to her in the library?

He ran his hand over his face thinking that his deliberations were idiotic and only showed how desperate he was.

Then, however, he decided that instead of a flower he would buy her a strawberry lollipop: since she used strawberry gloss she must have liked the taste and could at least eat it, and he could hide it in the pocket of his trousers.

With this little gift, he turned up at the agreed time, feeling like an excited little boy, all hot and frisky with emotion. Indeed, he spotted her in the back of one of the rooms, sitting on the floor on special large pillows, leaning against the wall with a volume in her hand, bookcases all around her.

She had chosen a place where they would not be seen.

She flinched at the sight of him, her shoulders raised in a defensive gesture, as if frightened by his presence.

"Hi." He mouthed, not knowing what more he could say, his heart pounding like mad.

She blinked and sighed loudly, as if trying to calm herself, her gaze at once warm and watchful.

"Hi."

He walked slowly over to her and pulled off his jacket, laying it on the windowsill, sitting down next to her on one of the cushions, into which he literally sank because of how soft it was.

"I brought you my notes from first year. Read them, if you can't decipher something, I'll try to guess what I wrote. They'll come in handy for you before semester exams." She said immediately, as if afraid of silence or what more he might say, handing him some of her notebooks.

He nodded and took them from her, pressing his lips together, seeing that she had gone back to reading her lecture without looking at him.

"Thank you." He said, unable to do anything other than stare at her, at her shiny dark hair, at her gentle face, at her long eyelashes, at her floral dress fastened at the front with big white buttons.

They were both quiet, but despite the silence, broken only by her flipping the pages, he could feel the tension between them, her figure focused and prepared to flee.

He didn't know why he did it, but he slid a little lower and laid his head on her shoulder, just as she had done back then, during that holiday, reading the book about the Mighty Vhagar with him.

He heard her swallow hard and take a deep breath as his arms tentatively embraced her at the waist, cuddling into her like a small child.

He felt her twitch, her chest began to quiver as if she felt like crying. Feeling this, he stroked the side of her waist, his lips placing a gentle, reassuring kiss on her soft, fragrant skin.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– I have a gift for you –" He said, dreading what she was about to say. She involuntarily glanced at his arm as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and took out a rose-shaped lollipop.

"– I didn't know what kind of flowers you like, so I bought one like this – the sales lady said it has a strawberry flavour –" He explained and she swallowed hard, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a wide, sad smile on her face.

This sight broke his heart.

He pressed his forehead to her temple as she took it shyly from his hand, spinning it between her fingers, staring at it as if he had given her something precious, a ring or a necklace.

"I'll eat it later. I don't want to get the books dirty now. Thank you, that's very kind of you." She said softly and he nodded, his hand involuntarily from her waist rising to her face, letting his fingers run over the warm structure of her skin.

He felt her body relax slightly and they both let their bodies lean back a little, spreading out more comfortably on the large, soft pillows. He swallowed hard as she pressed her head against the hollow of his neck, as her hand lay uncertainly on the spot where his heart was beating.

He locked her in his embrace, kissing lazily the top of her head, feeling that he was completely hard, that he wanted her more than ever, knowing that he couldn't have her now, that he might never feel her like this again, but it didn't matter anymore.

She was with him, in his arms.

"Several of my father's men are dead. They were shot on your grandfather's orders." She whispered, and he swallowed hard, looking up at the ceiling, playing involuntarily with the curls of her hair between his fingers.

"I know."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No. My grandfather restricted my field of action after we called the emergency services when you…"

He didn't finish and closed his eyes, seeing her again in the bathtub filled with blood.

They were both silent for a moment, taking comfort from their closeness – her hand ran over his sternum, making a pleasant shiver pass through his body.

"If your grandfather tells you to kill Daemon or my brother. What will you do then?" She asked quietly in a trembling voice.

"I will tell him to do it himself. The times when I was his dog are over and he knows it. He has no idea what to do with me. I'm out of his control." He sneered, sighing heavily, feeling suddenly tired and weary. His niece twisted and raised herself up on her elbow, looking at him with concern.

"What's your plan?" She asked, and he hummed under his breath, sliding his fingers from her neck between her breasts, playing with the buttons of her dress.

"I want to start acting on my own." He said cautiously, watching her reaction carefully. He saw that she tensed all over, looking at him warily.

"What do you mean?"

"If you think there's a way I could escape this world, you're wrong. Even Daemon didn't escaped it, he simply gathered his most trusted people and expanded his influence. I want to do the same, and I will start by taking over Heavenly Beach. Since Larys is dead, chaos has reigned there, and I intend to take advantage of it. Many of my grandfather's people don't like the vision of them having to work for Aegon in the future. They neither respect nor fear him." He said lightly with some kind of pride and mockery, running his fingers up and down her sternum with a smirk.

She had a penknife under her bra.

She shuddered and swallowed hard as he tapped his finger on the spot where his watchful gaze had spotted its shape, pretending he hadn't meant to keep his hand on her breast at all.

"– wise girl –"

"What do you intend to do with my step-father?" She asked in a trembling voice.

He hummed under his breath, looking curiously at her chest, slowly cupping her plump breast in his fingers, thinking how wonderfully it fit the shape of his hand.

"Nothing. I won't attack him first. For you. He has nothing to do with Heavenly Beach." He said softly, spreading himself out more comfortably on the cushion, feeling a pleasant warmth in his belly at the sight of her hand clamping down on his wrist, as if she wanted to simultaneously push him away and draw him to her at the same time.

"– stop – someone will see –" She muttered, looking around quickly to make sure they were still alone in the room.

"I want it back." He whispered. "I want what we had during that summer."

He heard her swallow hard, shocked by his confession.

"I…God, after all, you know it won't work. We can't. No one will accept it, no one will understand. We'll be miserable again." She mumbled pleadingly, feeling his hand move from her breast to her neck, burying itself in her warm, bare skin, her cheeks pink with emotion, her gaze hot and hazy.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand it. What I desire is fucked up, like my whole person. But I want you to know that what happened between us… then, when my father died. It was real. I've never felt more alive and fulfilled than then, being deep inside you. You were so warm." He said, brushing her soft face with his thumb, looking at her beautiful, puffy lips, the taste of which he longed to feel again so much.

"Aemond." She mumbled in embarrassment.

"I don't care how wrong it is. I don't care about morality. I've done far less moral things to other people. Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins." He confessed, burying his fingers in her smooth, dark hair, the tips of their noses touched as he made her lean towards him.

"Someone might say it's disgusting and wrong, but I only care about what you want. I don't give a shit about others. What they will think of me, whether I live by their rules or not. What can they do to me? Mock me? Fear me? They are already do. It's not about me, it's about you. I don't want to ruin your life." He said, shaking his head, watching her reaction, her eyes grew wide with shock, her lips parted in heavy, deep breaths.

The sight of her bursting into silent, helpless sobs broke his heart: his mouth began to place quick, lingering, loud kisses on her beautiful, rosy face, all swollen with tears.

"– please – please, I don't want you to cry because of me –" He muttered in pain, feeling his voice tremble with emotion, stroking affectionately her head and neck.

He pulled her body closer to him, wanting to embrace her, protect her, hide her from the pain that tormented her so much.

"This is just too much. I wish I could be a child again. To go back to that sea. To fall asleep next to you in that room. I wish I could feel again the peace I felt then. Your presence next to me. But I can't have it." She mouthed, choking on her own tears, making him press his lips together in pain.

"You have it. You have me. You always had."

She froze, looking at him with a hot, hazy look that made him want to take her in the middle of the library.

However, he decided that he wanted and should do something completely different.

"Do you like me?" He asked as one of his hands ran up and down her bare thigh, while the other was slowly stroking her head. She looked at him in silence for a moment and nodded uncertainly, trying to calm herself down.

He thought she looked like a small, terrified child.

"Very much?" He continued and she nodded again, breathing loudly through her mouth.

He smiled involuntarily, cupping her cheek, hot with emotion, in his hand.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Her eyes got big, her eyebrows raised high as she gasped loudly, shocked by his question.

"This time I'm aware of what I'm asking for. What I want. And although I should, I'm not ashamed of it. I have wasted eight years that I could have spent with you, no matter how much we would both have suffered during that time. I want to suffer with you by my side now." He whispered, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear, looking affectionately at her beautiful, gentle face, all pink with emotion and tears.

"I wish I could trust you, but I don't know if I can." She muttered, making him feel a squeeze in his stomach.

"I know. I'll wait as long as it takes." He said, brushing her cheek with his fingers, wanting to comfort himself and her.

She nodded, sighing heavily, as if she had given up and stopped fighting.

"You can only embrace me and hold my hand. No kisses on the lips and don't try to take me." She muttered.

He chuckled under his breath, feeling as happy as a small boy, cuddling her whole body into his at last, feeling her pleasant warmth, her scent, her closeness.

"Very well." He hummed, placing a warm, gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.

He saw her frown and grinned widely, cocking his head.

"Your nose is not your lips, is it? Just as your cheeks. Your jaw. Your neck. Your shoulders." He whispered, brushing his full lips over each of the places he mentioned, leaving wet, hot marks on her bare skin. He sighed as he felt her fingers clench on his back, her soft breasts pressing into his chest.

He got his girlfriend back.

______

Author's note: When we started dating, my husband brought me bouquets of lollipops because I don't like cut flowers and I could at least eat this. I think it's such a sweet idea!!!

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

.           .           .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away. 

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

.           .           .          

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.” 

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

.           .           .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

.           .           .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual.  So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

.           .           .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

.           .           .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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[liveyun]

EYES LIKE STARS | 2

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🫧

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 13k+

warnings. (for this chapter) angst kinda. . . tbh, slight nsfw (nipple play, wet dreams), mythical creature reference, uhh kinda post nut clarity but also not so? , scene of drowning/possible near-drowning, parental neglect / toxic parenting, flashbacks, anxiety / panic attack 😬, our girl is learning to heal ❤️‍🩹, A NEW CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED 👀, some light-hearted fun and bickering, not proofread cause im tired byee it’s like really 3:15 am, “english isn't my first language,” the last part tho. . . . . . .

flash backs are highlighted in italics.

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There’s a very small line between fear and curiosity.

The silence of the ocean isn’t like any you’ve known before. It’s thick, hurled down with a stillness that presses against your ears until you’re sure that you’ll be crushed underneath it.

The water stretches endlessly in every direction, dark and silver, the colour of ink spilled beneath a dim moon. It laps against your skin as if testing you, as if inviting you deeper. You float weightlessly on the surface, arms outstretched, as though surrendering yourself to the vastness of the world. But this surrender—it isn’t frightening. No, it’s rather. . . soft. Gentle.

The water laps at your skin like a soft caress, welcoming you, inviting you deeper into her embrace.

You’re truly floating—and for a moment, it feels like surrender. Like peace. The kind that numbs your bones and soothes the chaos inside you.

And you can’t resist. You’ve never been able to resist the pull of the sea. And you don’t think it would be the first time you’d be able to do so, too.

The horizon looks like it’s shimmering — blurring where the water meets the sky. Stars scatter above, their reflections rippling across the surface like a thousand tiny lights dancing just out of reach, sprinkled on the vast sky like dust particles.

Why are they so far away from you ?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear a thump. A faint hum that lingers, a low, hypnotic sound that pulls you closer. It’s as if the ocean itself is singing — a song only you can hear, a melody that fills your chest with a longing you don’t understand. A yearning which feels similar to the feeling of being homesick. It feels like silk, easing the tension from your muscles; it feels like coming home — though you don’t know why.

You sigh.

You sink deeper, arms brushing against the cool, endless expanse. It feels refreshing — cool. The water cradles you, and yet, it feels like something more. Like someone more. There’s a presence here — intangible, unseen, but there nonetheless. It circles you, watching, waiting. You feel the eyes on the back of your head, but it’s not unpleasant or something closer to.

The touch comes without any warning.

It’s a gentle pressure against your arm, light and delicate, almost as if it’s barely there. At first, you think it’s the current, or you’re just hallucinating, but it’s too precise, too careful, too textured. You freeze, breath catching in your throat, but the touch doesn’t retreat. It lingers, tracing along your skin like a very delicate caress. A voice whispers through the water, soft as the tide, as clear as the waters. It’s familiar, achingly so, but you can’t place it, no matter how hard you try. It’s almost like you’re squinting your eyes to look at a distant image better, but you cannot.

The sound curls around you, weaving through your mind, like how tendrils of a plant wraps itself around its support. And for a moment, you think you’ve recognized it — think you know who it belongs to.

It traces along your arm, delicate as a breeze, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your eyes snap open, scanning the dark water around you, but there’s nothing. Only the vast, endless sea, and the sparkling waves. And yet, you can feel it— him —there with you, unseen but present, lingering just out of sight.

What was he?

The touch returns, sliding up to your shoulder, and this time, it’s more certain. More real. It trails down your spine, igniting something inside you that’s both comforting and terrifying and . . . arousing? Your breath catches in your throat, heart stuttering as you try to make sense of the sensation as goosebumps prickle all along the expanse of your flesh. It’s intimate, overwhelming — like the sea is alive, drawing you into something deeper, something you can’t escape.

But do you really want to, though?

The question flits through your mind, and without even thinking, you lean into the touch, letting it guide you further. The water swirls around you, cool but not cold — its surface now shimmering with an ethereal light that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The stars overhead blur, their reflections weaving through the waves like a dream. And then, you feel it — his breath, warm against your ear. The voice is clearer now, low and resonant, like a gentle plea. A delicious shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, as you feel your eyes close again.

You feel him — his nose rubbing against the expanse of your neck. A hum escapes your throat at the sensation when the slope of his nose rubs against the sensitive underside of your jaw, and then, you feel it.

Your stomach swirls with pleasure.

You hear him whisper something in your ear. Softly, almost like soft silk brushing against your skin— and though the words are foreign, you understand them. Not with your mind, but with your soul.

Don’t look.

The warning seeps into your bones, a quiet plea wrapped in something more dangerous. You’re afraid it’s all too much, too intense. You cannot understand the sensations in you — the bubbling heat in your stomach and the ringing bells in your head. But you can’t help it. You have to see. You have to know who he is.

Slowly, as if fighting against the pull of the ocean, you turn your head. You know he is behind you. The water parts around you, thick and heavy, slowing your movements as if the very sea itself is trying to stop you.

Don’t look.

The words echo in your mind, louder now, edged with desperation. But it’s too late. You’re already searching, eyes scanning the dark water, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. The one who’s been pulling you deeper, holding you close, whispering words of praise so sweetly that you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart.

You reach out, and you feel your hand trembling as it cuts through the water. And then you see him—just a shadow at first, a silhouette drifting through the water, a figure submerged in the hues of the darkness. He’s close, so close, but still just out of reach. You squint, straining to make out the details, but the sea keeps him shrouded in darkness.

You cannot see him.

The moment your fingers brush his form, a jolt of electricity shoots through you, a pulse of energy that sets your nerves alight, a type which makes the heat in your belly intensify.

He’s solid, real, but he doesn’t move. Just hovers there, watching you with an intensity that makes you want to squirm endlessly.

The figure moves closer, the water parting around him, and your pulse quickens. You can’t make out his face — yet again — but you can see the outline of him now, clearer than before. Broad shoulders, a lithe, sinewy body tapering to a narrow waist. His movements are smooth, fluid, as he floats, his arms very delicately holding your waist.

When did he get so close?

And then you see them—the scales.

They glimmer faintly beneath the water, catching the light in shades of deep violet and silver, fading into skin as he draws closer. The scales ripple down his torso, shifting into skin that is smooth and supple, as though he exists somewhere between the human world and something far more ancient. His long hair drifts around him, dark as midnight, curling into waves that fall across his bare chest — though the details remain elusive, just out of reach, like a blurry portrait.

You feel his hand— which feels slightly slimy and rough in texture, move up your waist, stroking your skin. His touch is cold, electrifying — and you feel your sanity leave your soul when his knuckles brush against the swell of your breasts.

Your pulse spikes, and you suck in a breath. You cannot go this far, even if your body is screaming to him to end what he’s started. His hands keep on stroking the exposed skin of your waist, delicately and tenderly, like he’s working you to the oblivion of endless pleasure, because why the hell is this arousing you so much?

You’re already breathless by the time you scramble to get a hold of his wrist which feels rather cold to touch before it gets too far away beyond your control.

He doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he leans into your touch, his skin warm and soft beneath your fingertips, though you can still feel the faint ridges of scales beneath the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He feels real. He feels alive. You are exposed and vulnerable in his hold.

The ocean swells around you, and the hum in your ears grows louder, more insistent. He shifts, his body turning towards you, and finally — finally — you see his face.

Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, plump, soft lips which are curved in the faintest of smiles. His eyes are unbelievably dark, pupils abnormally wide and endless as the sea — lock onto yours, and you feel like you’re drowning all over again, and yet they feel like they’re glowing like the scales on his skin, a blunt, gentle glow. They draw you in, pulling you deeper into a whirlpool of emotion you can’t name, can’t understand, don’t want to understand. There is something very familiar about him which you cannot exactly pinpoint. But before you can even think of something else, you feel his thumb brush against the peak of your nipple.

Gods.

You moan, a high pitched one which you didn’t know you were capable of making, hands flying to his arms, leaning in submission. Your eyes close themselves as you feel a spark of pleasure travel straight to your clit with each flick of his fingers, and you nearly tremble in his hold.

This can’t be happening.

But the pleasure, it’s so intense — you are torn between your own desire, your own curiosity. It’s just too much for you, and a needy whine escapes your lips when you feel him pinch your nipples gently, twisting the bud in his hold. You squirm, feeling your centre pulse and ache with need, and you hear a small chuckle from his side.

You’re just so close to succumbing to this pleasure. You’re almost ready to voice out your inner thoughts, your need for him, but your body freezes when you hear him.

“Will you run away?”

The question hangs between you, low and velvety, his tone both teasing and somewhat serious. Your eyes fly open as your brain finally acknowledges the voice, his words wrapping around your heart like a vice. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. Your throat is tight, your lungs burning as though the air has been stolen from you.

He cocks his head, the faintest hint of confusion flickering in his gaze. His hand reaches for you, fingers grazing your arm as though testing your reaction, unsure of your response. But there is something else in his gaze, something that stirs a memory long buried beneath the surface.

Him.

It’s him.

You know him. You’ve always known him.

The realisation crashes into you like a wave, and your breath hitches. You gasp, twisting in his hold as bells ring in your head again. You cannot be doing this. You feel his hands move from your chest to your shoulders, a small tap on your blade as a sign of concern, interrogation. His touch is oddly warm, gentle, but there’s a hesitation in the way he holds you now, a question in his eyes.

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why you’re pulling away. His brows furrow, and you can see it in his eyes—he thinks you don’t want him. He thinks you’re afraid of him.

“Will you run away again, like you did tonight?”

Huh?

The question sharpens, the confusion giving way to something more desperate, more exposed. His grip tightens, but not in a way that traps you, but makes you feel oddly seen. His hands caress your shoulder blades, as though he’s pleading with you, silently asking you to stay, to tell him that he isn’t the reason for your fear.

But the truth is — he isn’t. Not entirely.

Your heart races, your mind swirling as fragments of memories begin to unfold. You see flashes of a different ocean, a younger version of yourself pulling someone from the depths. Water in your lungs, panic in your chest, eyes burning — and a boy — struggling to breathe. Your hands shaking, his eyes wide with fear, and your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And then . . . . nothing.

Silence.

But now, here he is again.

You twist in his grip, again, afraid of the lack of your words, the silence which stretches forever alongside the soft waves of the ocean, and his hauntingly pitch obsidian eyes — your body reacting on instinct, and the moment you do, his expression crumbles.

His confusion turns to hurt.

He pulls back, just a fraction, his gaze clouding with uncertainty. He doesn’t understand. He thinks you don’t want him. He thinks you’re running from him . . . again. His lips stretch to a snarl, and you catch a glimpse of death lining the inside of his mouth.

The water grows heavier around you, your eyes widening as you beat the water around you as you feel like you’re drowning. Being pulled down all of a sudden. The stars overhead dim all of their light as the weight of the ocean presses you down as his voice echoes once more, softer now, filled with a quiet kind of sorrow.

“So you are going to run away.”

Your lungs burn, your vision blurs, and the ocean swells around you, pulling you deeper into its embrace as you feel yourself immersed, despite your attempts of resistance. The ocean feels like a thousand knives stabbing you all around, unlike the soft blanket of comfort you felt a few moments ago.

The siren’s eyes are the last thing you see, his endless gaze filled with a longing that tugs at something deep inside you — something you’ve kept hidden for far too long.

He doesn’t even attempt to save you as everything goes black.

And then you wake.

It’s all so dark once again. Except, there’s no ocean around you, and you’re sitting on your bed in the middle of the room.

It takes you sometime to adjust to the darkness in your room — the moon is barely visible through the slits of your closed windows, and yet it feels like some sort of hallucination — almost as if your heart is going to burst. Your throat is cracked up as you gulp down on your own saliva, feeling each second passing by killing your throat as the moisture travels down your throat.

Your skin is damp with sweat, hair sticking on your face like some sort of icky school glue. And for a moment, you can still feel the ocean around you, his touch lingering on your skin.

When you recover a bit, you notice that there’s an undeniable discomfort in between your legs — your underwear sticking to your core, soiled, and slick coating your inner thighs as you cringe.

You had a wet dream. Like a fucking teenager. Or, a mixture of something arousing and horror. Was there any specific label to it? Possibly not.

You feel the wrath of shame wash over you as you duck your head down. Why him and why exactly. . .

But it’s gone—just a dream, a memory that slips through your fingers like sand, confusing you all again the more you think of it with each passing second. There are a flurry of questions in your mind which feels way too overwhelming to answer, ponder about, and you feel a splitting headache slowly spreading in the back of your head.

Yet, a question stands out the most amongst all. His voice, low and haunting, still echoes in your mind.

Will you run away again, just like tonight ?

The sea has always been your solace.

It was a vast, open space that offered more comfort than the people crowding your life ever did, or ever could. You sit at the edge of the beach, far enough from the others that their voices are nothing but distant clatters, but close enough that you still feel the spray of the waves on your skin. It feels soothing — yet warm as you bask in the slightly hot weather. The sun is high in the sky, yet all you can focus on is the steady rhythm of the ocean, like a quiet lullaby which rocks your body to a peaceful slumber. You draw idle patterns in the sand, your fingers trailing through the grains as your mind drifts, far from where you are, far from everything.

You’ve never liked being here, atleast, not with them.

The smiles, the laughter, the way everyone seems to fit in so seamlessly—everyone except for you. No matter how hard you’ve tried, you just couldn’t. The latest magazine in your school library had that little “self care corner”, which was fascinating, but absurd to you at first, but it’s been a matter of a few weeks since you’ve been following it. It says that you should be grateful for your blessings and try to improve yourself first before you justify why you feel so wronged and hurt. “It’s a hard pill to swallow”, were the exact words, and you do realise that heck yes, they were.

You had tried so many ways you could improve yourself, with some help from the limited internet access you’re provided from your computer. It said that regular journalling, walking, or activities which overall help you in reflecting on yourself and your thoughts assist in healing. But all that it ever did was make you feel like a bitter fool who had nothing to do but to complain all the damn time, without even putting in the effort to do anything.

So you’d tried putting in the effort. You’d tried mingling in with your friends and classmates. You’d even tried to actually be in the same room as your parents and be involved in whatever they were.

In the end, all that you were met was a cold, dead end.

You felt like you were pretending to be someone who you could never be. You were quite literally pushing yourself off the edge of the ground trying to fit in while others — he — shines without effort. Jungkook has always been at the centre of things, his laughter louder, his smile brighter, his presence bigger than yours could ever be. You just felt like another blurred character in the background who acts like a prop to enhance the overall photo.

And you hated it, hated how you couldn’t stop noticing him, couldn’t stop being reminded of all the ways you fell short.

You kicked the spare pebble nearby you, frustrated at having him in the centre of your thoughts again. One of the many things that the small self care centre had taught you was that nothing other than your own thoughts can hurt you as much as others, and it’s solely your own thoughts which can bring you happiness. So you try and keep your chin up high, trying to think of things which aren’t the constant nagging and pleading of your own parents about how you are no longer a star student and nothing can help you improve now, reminding you why you’re content to stay in the background itself.

But the ocean never judged you. It never asked anything of you. It just was — vast, open, endless, inviting. You can feel the familiar tug in your chest, the pull toward the water, a place where you could lose yourself if only for a moment, and forget everything which pesters you so much.

It’s that pull that keeps you grounded as you sit alone. That, and the nagging feeling that something is off. At first, you don’t pay much attention to it.

Why would you?

You’re used to being ignored, used to being an afterthought. But there’s just something in the air which feels odd, something unsettling that has your senses prickling, your chest tightening. You tell yourself that it’s nothing. You’re just anxious, that’s all. You don’t need to be involved, don’t need to care. Let them handle it. You’re done trying to be a part of something that always leaves you feeling more isolated.

And then, you hear it.

A splash. Sharp and out of place. It’s followed by a frantic noise, like someone struggling, thrashing against the waves. You freeze, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You tell yourself it’s not your problem, that it’s probably nothing.

But deep down, you know better. Something is wrong.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You rise to your feet before you can even think ; your eyes dart across the water, scanning the waves, searching for the source. And that’s when you see him.

Jungkook.

He’s far from the shore, too far. His arms are flailing, desperately trying to keep himself afloat. The water pulls him under, and for a terrifying second, he disappears beneath the surface. Your eyes pop out, your pulse spiking up violently as you feel your chest tightening. For another moment, you see his head poke out of the violent waves, his arms still struggling, and in another, you lose sight of him. It feels like your whole body has been frozen, your limbs refusing to move despite your mind screaming for otherwise.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. You’re on your feet, the sand slipping under your soles as you sprint toward the shore. You should hate him. You do hate him— or at least, you’ve convinced yourself of that.

But none of that matters right now. Not when his head breaks the surface again, his eyes wide with fear. He looks at you, a flicker of something — hope, maybe — crossing his face even in the middle of his panic and terror.

You hate that look, hate that it stirs something inside you, something that makes you pause for just a second. But you don’t let yourself think about it.

You don’t have time for that.

You dive into the water, the cold shock of it hitting you like a slap to the face, but you don’t stop. The current is strong, pulling you back with each stroke, but you push against it, swimming toward him with everything you have. You hadn’t realised that it’s been that long since you’ve been engaged in any other physical vigorous activity, or is it just the fact that the current is way too strong that the resistance it offers to you nearly stops you from gliding forward.

The water is blurry, your eyes stinging with the saline as you swin forward to locate him.

When you reach him, his body feels heavier than you expected, his limbs weak and movements uncoordinated. He’s coughing, choking on seawater, his breaths ragged and desperate. For a second, his weight drags you down, and you both sink slightly under the water. Panic rises in your chest, but you force it down.

You’re not going to let him drown. Not today.

With every fibre of strength left in your being, you push yourself forward. The moment your hands hold his arm, you pull him close. You feel a strong sense of electricity run through your whole arm, but you ignore it. You hook your arm under his, pulling him closer to you, and you start swimming back to shore. Every stroke feels like a battle against the ocean, but you don’t stop. His body presses against yours, his breathing uneven as he clings to you, and despite everything — despite how much you want to hate him — you don’t let go.

What’s more important is to save him, and that’s all what matters now. His weight feels heavy in your arms as you drag him toward the shore, your calves crying with the stretch and your arms cramping with exerted strength already lost, but that’s not your priority.

“I got you”, is all that you can offer as a silent statement in your head, your main motive being taking him to the shore safely.

By the time your feet touch the sand, your muscles are screaming, but you don’t care. You haul him out of the water, your breaths coming in sharp, painful gasps. The waves crash behind you, but all you can hear is the sound of Jungkook’s coughs, his chest heaving as he gulps down a mouthful of air.

You collapse onto the sand next to him, your arms trembling from the effort. For a moment, neither of you say anything.

He’s still recovering, his eyes closed as he lies on his back, his chest rising and falling unevenly. You feel the thrum of your own exhaustion settle in, but more than that, you feel that of the silence between you.

After quite some time, he’s just silent as you are, sitting up in a somewhat upward position as you. The sun fades away to shadows, and the waves feel stronger as cool winds blow from the shore, touching your feet in a gentle fuzzy wash. The clouds overhead dim further as you crane your neck up, indicating rain.

You’d nearly lost him.

What could’ve happened if you hadn’t heard him back then?

Your heart clenches at the thought and you feel even more exhausted mentally than physically thinking of the probable possibilities of your thoughts. You look at him — his profile silent and calm as he watches the waves dance in the distance. He looks deep in thoughts, still a bit ragged.

Your heart skips a beat out of nowhere.

And then, without thinking, you reach out and pull him into a hug.

It’s not something you planned, not something you would ever admit to doing if anyone asked.

But at that moment, it felt right.

His body is warm against yours, smelling like the soft saline ocean, still damp, still buzzing. And despite the lingering taste of salt on your lips and the sting of exhaustion in your muscles, you hold him tight. Your heart pounds in your chest as your brain threatens you to process something scary, as scary as a life without him. But with him in your arms, you feel better.

Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s something else. You don’t know, and you’re too tired to care.

Before you can feel anything more, though, the sound of running footsteps breaks through the quiet. Your parents. His parents. They come rushing over, calling his name, their voices frantic and full of worry.

“Jungkook!” It’s your mother. You watch her as she runs to the boy, panic settled in her features with dark, teary eyes as she grabs him by his shoulders, checking him for any signs of injuries. You watch silently as her tears stream down her eyes, shaking.

She doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“Your dad saw you struggling in the sea. Oh, my dear child, we rushed to you right there and then! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s parents fuss over him, their hands gentle as they check him over, making sure he’s okay. Your own parents linger nearby, but as usual, it’s him who gets all the attention. You stand there, dripping wet and still trying to catch your breath, but it’s like you don’t even exist.

“I think he needs to see a doctor! His skin is way too cold to touch!”

Oh.

You let go of him, pulling back just as they all hover around him, some sobbing, some worried, and once again, you find yourself shoved into the background.

It’s Mr. Jeon who finally acknowledges you, his eyes warm with gratitude as he hands you a towel. Oh. You’re caught quite off guard, you’re being honest — not when you feel his affectionate gaze at you and a warm hand pat your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “You saved him,” his voice is full of kindness. Like the kind which always feels like a far echo to you. His eyes were always gentle, the kind which made you feel oddly at ease. “We owe you a lot, child.”

“It’s nothing,” You nod, but there’s no satisfaction in it, even if you’d try to feign some. You did what you had to do, and yet, it feels like nothing has changed. There’s a churning feeling in your tummy, one that makes you feel fidgety and anxious again, like all the emotions you hate mixed into one. Selfishness, greed, envy. Afterall, he was in danger. He deserves to be treated and taken care of; you were just a rescue.

However, it just feels so. . . you cannot name it. You’re still the one left behind, still the one who doesn’t quite blend in.

As you watch them lead Jungkook away, his movements clumsy and sputtering, you can’t help but feel the familiar sting of resentment rising in your chest. He’s alive, he’s okay—and yet, you can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you do, you’ll always be the one on the outside looking in, trying to blend in, like how oil does with water — but is it ever possible?

The feeling in your stomach is so ugly that you physically have to fight the urge to kick the sand.

You turn to face the sea once again, lost in the ocean of your own thoughts as the sky growls with thunder.

But what you don’t notice, is the way his eyes follow you as he’s led away. There’s a flicker in them, a quiet gratitude, a longing that he wanted to show you. He wants to thank you, to reach out and pull you back into the hug you’d given him so freely, so sincerely that he’d felt like his world had stopped for a few minutes. But the words stick in his throat, each step feeling like a tug away from you.

You don’t see the way his gaze lingers over his shoulder as he looks at your retreating figure. How he watches you with something deeper.

Something silent, before the tide of people pulls him away from you once again.

The kitchen feels too quiet this morning.

The sound of coffee dripping into the carafe snaps you out of your thoughts, its steady rhythm grounding you in the early morning quiet. The aroma of brewed coffee does little to clear the fog of your tired brain, because once again, you’d failed to get even an ounce of sleep. All you could do was toss around endlessly in the bed. The sheets felt warm, the pillows felt warm, and everything inside your thoughts were so warm you felt like you were getting grilled in your own thoughts.

With no BBQ sauce, though.

But finally, finally when your eyelids had felt too heavy to be kept open, your body clock had decided that it was time to get up.

You sit at the counter, gaze drawn to the espresso stone — an indulgence you’d bought in a phase of believing that rituals like brewing coffee would help settle the storm of your mind. But right now, it does little to nothing.

You’d always preferred instant coffee anyways. Easy, quick, and effortless. Call you lazy or whatever, but let’s be real, who the fuck has the allat energy to do that stuff when it’s the first thing you need in the morning?

(Some real coffee lovers might be giving you the stink eye, but well.)

You absolutely respect others who have, though. But you’re okay with warm water and a sachet of instant coffee. It doesnt taste quite as authentic, but it does work.

Or maybe you were just habituated.

What surprises you is that your parents were awake, but they didn’t come to wake you up this time. Not like before, when the first sound of life in the house was your mom’s footsteps hurrying up to your room. Now when you woke up, it felt like you weren’t even present in the house — perhaps you just expected much more than you should have.

The rich, dark liquid pools into the pot as you stare down at the counter, a knot of emotions tying in your chest. It’s strange, the way time has moved here — everything looks the same, but it feels unfamiliar. The tension that used to live in these walls, seeping through the cracks of their arguments and filling the spaces between your breaths, has softened.

For once, they're not fighting.

You don’t know what to make of that.

You close your eyes against the wave of discomfort that rises in your chest, refusing to let yourself spiral again, but it lingers, just like the faint bitterness of over-brewed coffee.

The morning light is soft, creeping through the windows, and you let your fingers trace idle circles on the countertop, waiting for the espresso to finish. Something about the silence feels unnerving. Not the comfortable, soothing kind though, but the kind that crawls into your bones and makes you hyper-aware of everything — it suddenly dawns on you that you weren’t awakened by that alarm of your phone.

Your phone.

A flood of memories flash right in front of your eyes, remembering him, holding it in his hands while you trembled like a fool and fled from him, again.

You’re so stupid.

You close your eyes. Fuck. Those eyes, those eyes. You were never successful to run away from them, even if he was in a state where he didn’t recognise you. They made you feel exposed, like a deer caught in headlights.

And suddenly, that touch, which is still so prominent in your senses, washes over you. The dream — his touch—lingers like a shadow on your skin, and you’re ashamed of the warmth it stirred in you. Confused, even. Your fingertips twitch, an involuntary reaction to the memory of the way the siren’s — Jungkook’s — hands had roamed over your body in the dream. The way his voice had sunk into your bones, asking, Will you run away?

The question was more than a dream. It was a reminder. And it makes your stomach churn.

You feel a shiver run down your spine.

No. You shake your head, you definitely will go insane if you think about it anymore. You try to shake it off, breathing out a sigh. It’s just a dream, you tell yourself. Get over it. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, inhaling deeply as if the scent could calm the knot in your stomach. There's no running from your thoughts this morning — no distractions, no excuses, and certainly no phone to hide behind. It hits you that without it, you’re forced to confront the very things you’ve been avoiding.

The what-ifs, the what-nows.

You just hope that the bitter coffee would ground you, but it doesn’t.

You take a sip, but it’s scalding, and the sudden burn against your lips yanks you from whatever you were lost in. You wince and place the cup back on the counter, feeling oddly betrayed by something as simple as a morning routine. Without your phone, you’re left feeling vulnerable, like your connection to the outside world has been severed.

You are definitely not a chronically online person, but a few instagram reels certainly do not feel as shitty as the coffee you’ve just made yourself.

You sigh. You wish that you did not rely on your phone for nearly every detail and necessities needed, and you seriously wish you had written down all those log in passwords and passkeys in a diary or something like that. They contain email IDs which you genuinely do not remember, and those unfinished drafts of that novel which you were working in. . .

Argh. You already feel the slight throb develop in the back of your head. There’s a sting behind your eyes, which you blink away. What the fuck ? You cannot lose your shit over such a mundane thing. You’re an adult, and you have enough cash to buy yourself a new phone. (What stings you is the fact that you definitely didn’t need one, but you are petty enough to not get the. . . err, lost one back.)

Anyways, you’re lucky enough to have a laptop with you, and if you can remember correctly, you do have your important e-mails registered in it and hopefully, you can do enough to not lose all your precious details.

(You feel silly as hell.)

But a small part of you trusts that Jungkook wouldn't mess with your details, right? He wouldn’t snoop through your life. . . would he?

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. There’s no point in obsessing over it. Trust him, you tell yourself, even if it’s easier said than done.

— — — —

As you settle down in the living room, laptop perched on your knees, you try to throw yourself into work, your fingers moving swiftly across the keys.

So far, you’ve been successful in logging out of all the devices and recovering your passwords, and you thank the technology for that. Although, those small manuscripts are something which you feel like are in the point of no return. The soft hum of your parents moving about the house barely registers at first, until you glance up and see them together, not at each other’s throats like they usually are.

They’re seated together, your father’s profile hidden behind the newspaper he’s so absorbed in reading, and your mother silently sipping on her tea.

How long have they been like this?

A flicker of surprise ripples through you, followed by an unfamiliar feeling you can’t quite place. They’ve been civil for the past few hours. No shouting, no being on each other’s throats anymore. Just... quiet, almost peaceful.

The same kind of quiet that you once craved for as a child.

You shift in your seat, a strange discomfort setting in as you observe them. It’s unsettling — this lack of chaos between them, and you wonder if they’re simply pretending for your sake. Ha. As if they would actually care.

You push the thought aside, not wanting to linger on memories of their constant arguments, of how they never seemed to notice you slipping through the cracks while they tore each other apart. Now, it feels like they've forgotten those days, moved on without you. But you haven't — If they didn’t bother then, why now when you are now just a temporary guest here?

The past has always found a way of sneaking up on you.

Suddenly, your father calls out your name, breaking the silence. His eyes are casted directly on you, his reading glasses slipping down a bit from his nose as he folds the newspaper he’d been reading to keep it back on the table. “The Jeons have been asking about you,” he says, his voice casual but pointed. Your hands freeze over the keyboard, and your heart skips a beat. “They’re very enthusiastic on hearing that you’re back.”

You force yourself to breathe, but the air feels thick in your lungs. Of course, they are, you think, trying to keep your expression neutral. They have always had maintained the image of that perfect neighbour next door, and this is no exception. However, a plethora of words rises to your throat, unsolicited. Is Jungkook with them?

The question burns on the tip of your tongue, and for a moment, you nearly let it slip. But before you can, your mother re-enters the room, carrying a tray — the rich, earthy scent of doenjang-jjigae fills the room, cutting through the tension like a warm breeze. You hastily cough, swallowing the words back, silently grateful for the interruption.

Although you’re now looking down at your laptop, you feel your father’s eyes flicker towards you, and the weight of his narrowed gaze, knowing he hasn’t missed the hesitation in your response. You are well experienced in this sensing emotions from your parents, and you know your father is suspicious. Let him be. But he says nothing more, choosing instead to focus on taking off his glasses and stretching a bit, preparing himself for his first nourishment of the day.

The silence stretches between you again, but at least for now, he doesn’t press the issue.

You exhale softly, your heart calming from the near slip-up.

A miss is as good as a mile.

That old fear of speaking in front of your father —cof saying the wrong thing, of upsetting the him — surges briefly, but you realize it’s not fear anymore. Not really. You’re no longer scared of him like you were as a child. His glare doesn’t topple you over the edge, and it barely has the same effect it did some few years ago.

You’re just not interested in talking to him, in engaging in a conversation you know won’t lead anywhere.

You can only offer a tight smile to your father as a response.

However , his words swirl around in your head, stirring up old emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s like some sort of a bitter nostalgia ; you’d run from him once already, bolted out of the cafe without looking back. And now, with this reminder that he’s close, that meeting him is inevitable, you feel a wave of fear rise inside you.

Fear, and something else.

Excitement ?

The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Why would you feel excited? You don't understand it. You’re supposed to hate him, aren’t you? For being perfect, for being everything you weren’t. For caring, even when you didn’t want him to. For not recognising you. Why? Why?

But there’s that small, rebellious spark inside you, one that flares at the thought of seeing him again. Those memories of seeing him so close creeps up your neurons like an surge of electricity, and you feel your heart pick up it’s speed again. Despite the fear, despite the confusion, you can’t deny the tug of anticipation. That sort which confuses you so much, that you feel like you’re someone really crazy.

No. You push the feeling down, gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles turn white. You shouldn’t be excited. You should be running again, like that voice in your head keeps whispering, urging you to flee before it’s too late.

Run away. Before he gets too close, before he sees you like this.

But you won’t.

Not this time.

You’re done running.

Even if your heart is racing, even if you’re terrified of what will happen when you see him again. You’ve been running for so long, without ever getting to catch a break — and you do not want to keep running away anymore. You are no longer a teenager, and you have to learn to face your challenges, although, this one is something which rather than being a challenge, feels like something which your whole life has revolved around so far.

You have let yourself suffer for consequences which you never were a part of. You have blamed your misery on someone, who was just as misunderstood as you were. Perhaps, that’s where the list of your flaws begins.

You won’t let yourself fall apart again. You are strong enough to face the storms which threaten to sweep you away. You’ve spent too long building these walls around yourself, and you won’t let him tear them down.

Not yet.

Your bottom lip gets a break from the non-stop nibbling upon hearing the empty bowls clink on the table, your mother chatting idly as she serves the food, and you nod along, though your thoughts are still tangled elsewhere completely.

You should feel relieved, thankful for the quick distraction, but instead, you feel like a thin thread is holding everything together, and it’s just a matter of time before it all unravels.

But when the first morsel of the warm strew hits your tastebuds, it was then when you realised that everything else can wait, but the food cannnot.

You were literally starving.

— — — —

Some things are easier to forget, even if they don’t deserve to be.

The park is quiet, the sound of leaves rustling in the soft breeze filling the humble air. It somehow feels like a place from another world — quiet, peaceful, as if it’s untouched by the dilemma that you’re trying to avoid. It’s funny, how this same peace stretched in between the coats of your house, yet you felt suffocated there, almost as if you weren’t meant to share that with your parents.

You sit on a weathered bench, legs curled beneath, pulling the collar of your coat closer as the cool, crisp autumn air brushes against your skin. Auburn leaves fall in slow spirals, collecting at your feet, a reminder of how everything changes — even when you’re standing still, despite how it felt like nothing had changed.

Perhaps, it was just you, or your home.

It felt fuzzy. Like the fuzz which collects at the rim of a carbonated drink when you shake it too hard. It was raining and was hot enough to feel sweat trickle down your spine just yesterday, and now. . . you feel like it’s about time you treat yourself with some mooncakes.

Speaking of which, you think red bean paste ones are slightly overrated, but you enjoy the taste as much if someone offered them to you for free.

You absently flick through the pages of a book you found tucked in a small “self-care” corner of a bookstore. The name of the corner had absent mindedly brought a smile to your lips, amazed at how this word was used so openly now, compared to that small section neatly tucked at the corner of that magazine you used to be so fascinated with.

The book. . . well, it’s not a bestseller, and it’s not something you’d normally pick up, (neither did anyone seem to, given the layer of dust the shopkeeper had to sweep away before handing it to you,) and you’ll be slightly embarrassed to admit that the name of the corner solely made you buy that book.

Well. . . now, you’re just thumbing the corner of a slightly dog-eared page idly, zoned out.

You turn the pages, but the words don’t really . . . stick. How could they, when your mind keeps wandering back to how everything feels so . . . lost? Like you’re floating aimlessly, without a map, without a clue as to where you’re supposed to be. Life has been a series of steps you weren’t ready to take, choices you weren’t prepared to make ; yet, you kept on running till you either bonked your head on the dead end or just chose the wrong path where you had to bear with the terrible consequences.

It sucks how even your gut feeling sometimes betrays you.

And all of it, every bit, feels like a puzzle that’s been missing pieces for longer than you’d care to admit.

You know why you’re here — not just in this park, pretending to care about a book on self-care, but why you’re avoiding the bigger thing. You’re avoiding them. The Jeons. The meeting that’s looming over you is like a storm you can’t run from. You knew your father did want to press over the topic after breakfast, but it was you who dodged it. You’ve been running long enough to know that much. But today… today, you’re trying to take your time, trying to convince yourself that maybe this is the moment you stop.

Stop running, stop pretending that running away would fix you and your problems.

But it’s hard. Hard to stop, hard to breathe, when every step forward feels like it’s pushing you closer to the one thing you’ve been trying to escape.

Your eyes flick down to the open book in your arms. Right.

You wanted to take your time, to clear your mind, and so may it be so. You’re not even a page down, when your mind registers a small paragraph.

Your eyes scan over the words again.

“Healing isn’t about erasing the past. It’s about living with it, the scars not a sign of weakness, but survival. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting—it’s choosing peace over pain.”

Your fingers tighten on the edges of the page ; the self-care corner — the memories, the dream which you unlocked — everything you’ve been trying to run from, to “heal,” just feels . . . unfinished. And maybe that's because there’s no real way to let go of what still owns parts of you.

“Let it go,” it reads. As if it’s speaking directly to you. Let go of the things that have been holding you back. Your childhood , the nights you spent wondering if things would ever change. All the times you wondered what it would’ve been like, if you’d tried a bit harder. If you were a bit more perfect.

A deep breath.

You shake your head, trying to focus on the book again. It’s helping you realise something — you deserve to heal from your trauma, even if you weren’t the one causing it.

You close the book, your hand hovering as if touching the cover could give you answers you’re not ready to face.

You let out a shaky exhale as you close your eyes.

Someone sits down beside you.

The weight shifts slightly on the bench. At first, you don’t pay much attention to it, lost in the haze of your own thoughts. It’s just another stranger. Who’s passing through this quiet park, like the leaves that have been falling, spiralling down without asking for permission.

But then, there’s a subtle tug, a familiar feeling in the air that makes you want to turn your head. Maybe you’re just as curious to see, to subtly eyeball if they’re enjoying the calm of the fall too.

You hesitate, staring down at the words. For a moment, you think maybe you should keep staring. But your curiosity gets the better of you.

You glance over and pause. Dark eyes meet yours, and it takes a second before the recognition sets in.

“Oppa?”

Yoongi.

Your eyes lift from the page, and there he is, looking almost too casual, like he belongs in this quiet moment. You notice his glow-up immediately — the way his features have matured, how his hair — darker than how your memory recalls, falls effortlessly across his forehead, styled beautifully to part in the middle. There’s just this quiet intensity in his cat-like, sharp eyes.

Yoongi, as you know, is Jungkook’s elder cousin on his mother’s side. He’s always had this quiet, reserved aura about him. Back then, he was already on the brink of adulthood, 18, and intimidating in a way only someone as mysterious as him could be. Maybe it’s that confidence in the way he still holds himself, the way he seems so sure of everything around him.

He would seem to be very distant at the first glance to anyone, but you know he’s anything but that, given that you always felt like he was that older brother you’ve never had.

And it’s no exception when instantly, his wide, gummy smile breaks through. It’s the same one that used to make you feel at ease back then. A smile so cute, rare, and warm, it could melt the deepest of glaciers to exist. Without warning, he reaches over and ruffles your hair affectionately, the way he always used to. You blink, a little stunned.

He wasn’t exactly known to be the physically affectionate boy, back then, though. . .

“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice low, careful. Somehow you feel like it’s grown even deeper with a very prominent rasp. You can tell he’s not asking the surface-level question. He’s asking how you’re really doing, but without pushing you to say more than you’re ready for. And for that, you feel grateful.

Yoongi always knows what to say, and what not to.

“I’m . . . okay,” you manage to reply, though the word feels heavier than it should. Your voice sounds peculiar to you, but you guess that’s alright. What’s even the point of lying, though? “Just trying to figure some things out.”

He hums thoughtfully, nodding. Leaning back on the bench, his eyes scan over the park as if giving you time to find your words. “That’s good. Figuring things out is important.”

You nod, feeling a little relieved that he doesn’t bring up the fact that you’ve been gone for so long. He’s always had a way of avoiding the obvious, instead focusing on what matters now. You think back to how, in the earlier stages of his career, he always seemed to have his head on straight. If you’re not wrong, you’ve heard some seniors even gosip about how he was known to be the “campus bad boy”, which often confused you. How can a person so warm be called so?

The mixtape he released back then was proof of that, though — a reflection of everything he’d held back until he was ready to speak. His emotions came out through his art, something he was so passionate about, something you admired him for.

Anger, resentment, and hope.

You remember how those emotions warped themselves in his music, his first mixtape he released. Core hip-hop music, all produced by himself solely.

“I saw your mixtape,” you blurted out, not knowing why you’re bringing it up now. “It was… amazing.” You just wanted to let him know, although it feels like you’re a bit too late. It’s been nearly about six. . . maybe seven years, but each time you plug in, you feel like the memories are just as fresh as they were.

He chuckles softly, the sound a little shy despite the confidence he wears so well. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure anyone really listened.”

“What do you mean?” you gawk at him, wide eyed. “Is Min PD, the very famous AgustD saying this by himself?”

He smiles again, a soft laugh escaping him as he rubs his hands together. His skin seems flawless, you notice.

“I mean, of course. I appreciate my fans always, but I feel like the mainstream nowadays is pop music rather than old school hip-hop.”

You nod, licking your lips. Shit. You should’ve brought your lip balm around. “I do understand people indulging in trends, but I do believe that there are people who enjoy hip-hop just as much. For me, it’s like a whiff of fresh air. And I assure you — that your music feels just the same. I, myself as a fan, agree.”

His eyes softened — but they were never pointed to begin with. But before he can say more, there’s a flicker of something playful in them — a hint that makes your heart skip a beat. He taps his phone absentmindedly, then glances over at you again, that quiet smirk tugging at his lips.

As if he’s thinking something else.

“I sure am happy to know that there are others who share the same sentiments as me.”

His phone buzzes in his hand.

“Oh, right…" His tone is too calm, and you already know something's up before he even finishes. “I may have invited someone.”

You blink. “Invited someone?” Your voice comes out slower than you intend, the curiosity now gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Who?

But Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ask more. He stands up in that lazy, casual way of his, stretching like this is just another day, looking more like a cat stretching after their afternoon nap than a human being. His hand comes down to ruffle your hair again, the affectionate gesture almost pulling a smile from you despite the growing curiosity in your chest. He doesn’t answer you.

Instead, he just smiles that wide, gummy smile one more time before shrugging. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

You watch his retreating figure appear smaller and smaller in the distance as he walks away, hands in his pockets, relaxed and slow.

You’ve always known that Yoongi’s energy was different.

It’s not something you actively think about, but it lingers at the edges of your memories now that you’ve seen him again after a long time. He’s always been on the softer side, quieter — the kind of presence that fades into the background unless you’re really paying attention. Where Jungkook burned bright, a whirlwind of energy and easy charm, Yoongi was like the stillness after a storm — steady, unfazed, but undeniably there.

It’s funny, because despite those differences, Jungkook and Yoongi were close.

You saw it back then, how Jungkook would practically cling to him, always teasing him, always pushing at his boundaries whenever they both used to be together. Yoongi, for his part, would act annoyed, shrugging off Jungkook’s arm or swatting at him with that deadpan expression of his. But you knew better. You’d watched enough to see that he never really minded. Jungkook could be relentless with his affection.

Yoongi pretended to dislike it, there was always that hint of a smile lurking beneath his protests, amongst Jungkook’s giggles.

Sometimes, watching them together made something tighten in your chest — not quite jealousy, but something close. It wasn’t that you wanted what they had, but you couldn’t help feeling envious of how easy it seemed for them. The way Jungkook would wear Yoongi down with his stubborn warmth, and how Yoongi would eventually crumble, letting Jungkook in even if he’d never admit it.

That kind of bond was something you’d always wondered about — if you’d ever have someone like that, someone who wouldn’t mind your presence no matter how much you tried to push them away.

It’s an odd feeling.

Later that evening, you sit in the quiet of your room, the familiar isolation wrapping around you like a protective cloak. You’ve been actively hiding up here after you got back from the park, avoiding too much interaction. Not because anyone cared to ask where you were or what you were doing. It was more because you felt like you needed some time alone, yet, you feel like you’re alone. Your parents barely noticed, too caught up in their own world. Your mother had the formality to ask why won’t you join them for lunch, and thankfully they did not pry any further.

At least you got to have some quality time with yourself while you had the fancy lunch, which you would admit was a bit heavy on your wallet.

It made your hiding feel almost useless, but somehow, staying in your room brought you a small, bitter comfort.

You rub your eyes, feeling the strain on them for continuously typing for an hour. Your neck hurts, and your fingers feel frozen. You’re trying your best to remake the lost manuscript you’d drafted, and you don’t think this new version is anything close to that.

Sighing, you open your laptop again. It’s truly so tiring — but you guess you were a bit productive today, and that’s okay. Your finger hovers over the doc file, contemplating if you should continue any further — but ah, you’re just so tired. Even just thinking of typing a few hundred words would give you a headache. So you just let it go and log into Instagram — the only way you can connect since your phone is still missing.

A notification catches your eye. 1 new notification.

? Eh. . .?

Your notifications are always empty. Just once or twice from instagram that a celebrity has posted and you gotta catch up, which you don’t. Or a reel suggestion. Or people to follow, so this new notification brings a frown to your brows. What could it be?

Your heart jumps slightly when you see the sender.

dboy93_ : 2 new messages

Is that . . . — no way. He’s still using that same old instagram ID which he was forced to make as a dare back when you were in highschool? No way. Couldn’t be. You click on it, curiosity pushing through the haze of everything else.

dboy93_: Yo. This is Min Yoongi (edited)

dboy93_ : Sorry for leaving so suddenly earlier. Something came up

You stare at the message for a second, a slow smile hanging on your lips, then slowly type back.

you: it’s fine

you: ur still using this old ID of yours? 💀

Your eyebrows touch your hairline when you see the typing bubble bounce up immediately at the corner. You did not expect him to reply this soon. . .

dboy93_ : Ya who’s gonna bother making a new one anyway

dboy93_ : I was hoping that you won’t be mad at me for leaving that soon.

you : it’s fine, i understand

dboy93_ : Let’s meet again. I’m thinking of a café this time?

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion. Is he suggesting a—

dboy93_ : More time to catch up, plus we have some friends here for holidays too

you : ah, so like a reunion party ?

you : sounds good yo. count me in

dboy93_ : Will send you the location soon then

you : but when?

dboy93_ : Today, evening at 7?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a while. Keeping yourself occupied sounds kind of very nice, especially when you’re being promised a good time with a few more faces. It’s not like you’re the busiest person, anyway.

you : super. i’ll be there !!

dboy93_ : Oh and btw, can I get your number? Instagram’s a pain to use for texting

You let out a soft laugh. That’s Yoongi for you. Direct and practical, no hesitation. But what exactly would you tell him? That my phone is with your little brother right now?

you: imma give it to you once i get it back

you : i don’t have it with me right now

dboy93_ : 👍

Well, you don’t know what kind of reaction you were expecting from him, but you don’t know what to make of a thumbs up either.

— — — —

The evening feels lighter.

You’re sitting in that same, slightly odd café you were sitting in roughly 24 hours ago —the warmth inside 134340 contrasts with the cool autumn breeze slipping through the café door, hurling you to an unexpected sense of peace.

Very contradicting to your emotions yesterday.

For once, your thoughts don’t feel as heavy. It’s funny how something as simple as an Instagram text from Yoongi earlier can spark a little joy in your chest. You feel light; especially after that power nap turned to a full nap of three hours. You woke up with a growling stomach and a refreshed mind — it somehow felt like you haven’t felt this free since so long, that you don’t remember when was the last time.

No worries, no stress, no voices inside your head.

You’d sat there in your bed, zoned out on nothing particular. It was only when the alarm clock rang, indicating it was already 6 PM.

You hadn’t put much thought into what you were wearing today, but somehow, it feels like you got it just right.

The oversized cream sweater falls gently over your frame, its soft fabric comforting against your skin. It’s the kind of comfort you didn’t know you needed, the loose sleeves almost covering your hands completely as you absentmindedly tug at them. Paired with a long plaid skirt, whose deep shades of burgundy and brown had caught your attention in your wardrobe, the fabric swaying around your ankles.

You hadn’t planned this. None of it, really.

The tan ankle boots are more practical than anything else, but something about the way they click against the pavement felt just right. You don’t mind the way they match the season’s colours, almost blending in with the fallen leaves scattered at the cafe’s entrance.

You’d even added a light touch of makeup — nothing extravagant, just enough to brighten your eyes and bring a bit of life to your face. A swipe of mascara, a hint of blush, and a subtle nude lip colour that complements the cosy, neutral tones of your outfit. A quick brush to your hair and some setting spray was enough to bring out its natural volume.

You felt good.

Maybe for the first time in a while, you feel like you’re not hiding from the world.

For once, the reflection in the cafe window looking back at you doesn’t seem so far away from who you are. You feel. . . light. Almost like the crisp air itself, fresh and unbothered.

It feels good.

It’s been a while since you felt like this. After your conversation with Yoongi, you weren’t sure if you were ready to step back into a world that once felt so close yet now feels like a lifetime away. But somehow, the lightness in your chest said yes before your mind could overthink it.

Maybe, deep down, you’re starting to believe that this reunion could be good for you.

A small start to something. . .better.

You glance around the café. A soft smile pulls at your lips. It’s not crowded—just a few people scattered around, huddled over books or laptops. Familiar, but not too familiar. It’s quiet enough that yo don’t feel overwhelmed, and for thr first time in days, you allow yourself to just . . . exist.

No pressure. No expectations. Just here.

Your teeth pull at your inner cheek at the small pulsing thought in your head, that your phone is still not with you. The lack of your phone made you realise so many things within less than 24 hours, and you’re trying to not let that small voice gnaw your brain. The idea of him having it — his hands on something that’s been so close to you — feels strange, unsettling even.

You wonder if he’s seen anything, read anything, though the rational part of you knows it’s unlikely.

Still, the absence of your phone leaves an odd emptiness.

Which, you think, is just as good as bad as it can be. Without your phone, you can observe things better. You’d been reading physical copies of books, observing the pattern of how dew forms on grass blades, or even the faintest of noises which tingle your ears right now. Your thoughts never let you actually be present in the moment, always worrying about the future or regretting whatever you’ve done in the past.

No wonder why nostalgia for you feels painful.

But here, with the faint smell of fresh coffee and the sound of pages turning softly in the background, there’s space to breathe. You can feel the thrum of blood in your veins, the soft warmth of your sweater, the smiles on the faces of the baristas as they talk within themselves.

The soft clink of a spoon from a nearby table draws your attention. A few people are scattered about, engrossed in their own worlds — reading books, working on laptops, or chatting quietly. It’s peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like you’ve stepped out of your own life, finding solace in this tiny bubble away from everything.

You absently glance toward the door, the light chatter of passing people blending with the soft music playing inside. You’re early, but that’s fine.

It gives you time to yourself.

— — — —

The café door chimes.

Your eyes immediately dart to the entrace, tilting your head to the side to get a better view. Perhaps they’re here. You glance at the small wall clock adjacent to your table, and it reads ten past seven.

Although it feels like it’s been some time since you’re here, but you don’t mind at all, especially with the small notepad and pen you’ve got on your table.

You’ll never ever be bored as long as you’ve got a paper and pen within your reach.

The first person you spot is Yoongi, his familiar, understated presence immediately calming. He’s dressed casually, in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, his usual laid-back style that somehow makes him blend into every setting, yet stand out at the same time. It’s like he carries his own layer of calm with him, an aura you’ve always admired.

Behind him, a small group of friends follows, out of which some you recognise nearly immediately — despite the course of time. Jieun, her short wavy hair neat and tidy, wearing a comfortable grey sweater, giving her a kind of homely warmth. You’ve known her as Yoongi’s senior, the sweet cinnamon roll. She waves as soon as her eyes land on you, her smile bright and genuine.

It’s been nearly decades since you’ve seen her, and it surprises you that she actually remembers you.

“____ , I didn’t know I’d be seeing you today!” Jieun exclaims, wrapping you in a quick, warm hug. Her perfume is light, floral — the kind that reminds you of spring even in the middle of autumn. “It’s been forever, hasn’t it? How have you been? Oh my, your hair is shorter than how I remember!”

“I’m good,” you manage to let out a small chuckle, returning the hug, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her energy. Of course, you were about sixteen when you last met her. “It needed some trimming. You look super cosy, by the way.”

“Please, I just rolled out of bed as soon as Yoongi told me,” Jieun says with a playful eye roll, though you can tell she appreciates the compliment. “But you, girl. If anyone is looking cosy, that’s you. very autumn-y.” she winks at you, tugging at the fabric on your arms.

You smile, feeling a bit lighter with her friendly banter. Jieun has always had this way of making you feel seen, but not in a bad way. Like she’s genuinely happy to be around you. It’s comforting, even when you don’t really know much about her.

Soobin and Amber join soon after, both nearly squabbling over something. Soobin has grown much taller than you recall, and has that same, cocky grin that you remember from old times. He isn’t that younger than you, though you’ll say that you do know him a bit better.

Amber, on the other hand, is quieter, more reserved, but her eyes light up when she sees you, and that’s enough to make you feel welcomed.

“Someone needs to explain to this guy that he still owes me from last time,” Amber says with a mock-serious tone as she puts her bag down, pointing at him. “You’re not getting away with it this time—”

“What did I even miss?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Ping-pong match,” Soobin grumbles, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “And I don’t lose that easily. Amber’s just cheating.”

“I did not cheat!” she pokes her tongue out at him. “you just suck at it.”

Soobin crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow at her. “Oh, really? That does not take away the fact that you’re short—”

“What does ping pong gotta do with height—”

“Alright kids, enough bickering.” Yoongi’s voice is deep as he pulls out the chairs for them to sit, his tone hinting at boredom, but that small smile which hangs on his lips tell a different story. Yoongi is the last to sit down, taking the seat next to you with his usual, relaxed ease.

You notice only now that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much non stop. He throws a knowing glance your way, as if to say, I told you so.

“I didn’t know you all still hung out,” you say, genuinely surprised as you glance at the familiar faces, memories of late-night study sessions and frequent game sessions surfacing. “Feels like it’s been years.”

“Not as often as we used to,” Jieun admits, picking up the menu book excitedly. “Life kind of got in the way for a while. But we try to meet up when we can, honestly. But you, Miss Vanishing Act, you need to show up more often.”

You make an embarrassed noise at the back of your throat, but you can’t help but laugh softly. “Yeah, I’ve been... around. Just not here.” You have missed out on a lot in your years of running away, and perhaps this regret would settle down sometime later.

“Good to see you’re still alive, noona.” Soobin teases, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Hyung here told us you’d be joining today, which was like a bomb drop for all of us. I’d believed in winning a lottery more than you coming back. Trust me, I was nearly convinced into thinking that he’s pranking us.”

“That’s Yoongi’s fault,” you reply, rolling your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “He dragged me out of hibernation.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Well, I didn’t drag you anywhere. Just gave you a little nudge.”

By the time the barista returns with your orders, Yoongi looks a bit too amused at a conversation turned argument at which Amber is losing despite Jieun backing her up. They are nearly arguing about the best ramen places in town, and eventually, Soobin claims victory based solely on the fact that he knows the owner of one of the shops. Jieun listens with a bemused smile, her face acting as the subtitles to her thoughts inside her head, while Amber looks like a second away from throwing hands on the guy.

You are too busy to pass your own opinions enjoying their show.

“By the way,” Yoongi suddenly says, his voice cutting through the chatter after taking a quick glance at his phone. “One of our friends is running late.”

Frankly, right now, you’re not too concerned. You’re here, with people who’ve known you for years, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can let yourself relax. You cannot be bothered when you’re actually enjoying yourself after everything.

“Well, that’s their fault. Missing some nice beef between friends.” Amber adds, giggling soon after taking a sip at her own joke.

However, you don’t catch on that look the younger lad throws at the older.

Amber taps you lightly on the shoulder. “So, are you gonna tell us what you’ve been up to, Missy?”

“Hell yeah, spill the tea,” Jieun adds, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes, excited. “What’s been keeping you so busy?”

“You’re no longer sleepy now that you’ve got tea to listen to, huh?” Your eyes are narrowed at her, but you dont mean any real bite behind it.

You take a deep breath, ready to dive into whatever story you feel like sharing.

For once, the world outside this little café can wait.

.

You’ve been laughing, genuinely laughing, for the first time in what feels like ages.

(You hate how old it makes you sound, but that’s true. Well, partially true, because it felt like you’d almost forgotten what laughing was for a while.)

The café is lit with conversation, laughter weaving in and out of the cosy hum. Amber is now dramatically recounting a disastrous karaoke night, her hands flailing as she tries to reenact Soobin’s epic failure to hit the high notes, the man in the question trying his best to convince everyone at the table that something so horrible as enacted did not happen. You’re laughing so hard you almost forget the strange sense of unease that’s been creeping up on you.

But there’s something unsettling in the back of your mind. A feeling you can’t quite shake off, a prickling touch.

You glance at Yoongi, who is watching the others with quiet amusement. But every now and then, you notice his eyes flickering to the entrance, a fleeting glance that makes your stomach churn slightly. He’s done that way too many times by now for it to be a simple glance.

Why does it feel like he knows something you don’t?

You shift in your seat, brushing off the feeling. Maybe it’s just being back here, surrounded by familiar faces after so much time has passed. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying so hard to be present, to let yourself enjoy this moment, even when there’s a part of ypu still trying to tug you to where you once were.

But that feeling in your gut doesn’t go away.

The café door chimes again.

You don’t look at first. You’re too focused on keeping the conversation going, on pretending you’re not hyper-aware of every sound, every movement around you. Jieun is asking you something about your recent work, her voice bright and curious, but your attention is already drifting, already far away by now.

The air shifts, like a current pulling you toward something.

Or someone.

You glance up, and your heart stumbles.

Jungkook.

oh.

He’s standing by the door, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

Your heart drops to your ass.

The world seems to blur for a second, everything fading except for him, and the heat of his gaze.

He strides toward your table easily, almost as if it’s something he does everyday. His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, his black leather jacket snug around his frame. He looks like he belongs anywhere he goes, and yet right now, it feels like he’s stepping into a space you’ve tried to keep sealed off.

The conversation around you falters. Jieun stops mid-sentence, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook with a slight frown.

Soobin is the first to break the silence.

“Look who decided to show up,” he quips, though his voice sounds distant in your ears. “You’re half an hour late, hyung.”

You can’t tear your gaze away from Jungkook, even if you feel like your nerves go haywire. It’s like he’s pulling you in, even though every instinct in your body is screaming for you to look away, to pretend this isn’t happening.

Is this really happening?

No. No. This cant’t be happening, can it be—

Jungkook’s eyes flicker briefly to Yoongi, and there’s something in them. Something you can’t quite understand. But when his gaze returns to you, it’s sharper, more focused, almost. . . . fierce. Almost like he’s found the last piece of his missing puzzle.

You nearly flinch.

He doesn’t sit. He stands just behind the empty chair across from you, his hands in his pockets, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel like your heart is refusing to beat anymore.

“I think I might have something that belongs to you.”

His tattooed hand slips into his jacket, pulling out your phone — the same one which you dropped down yesterday.

But it’s not the phone that sends a chill down your spine.

It’s the way he’s looking at you.

a/n : i’m so sorry, for 1) taking this long to release this part, and 2) the ending 😭 i promise you guys the next part would actually be a bit more interesting, but i wanted this series to have themes of self healing and recovery too. as always, your feedback is always appreciated and fuels me to write more and more. as always, here’s the anonymous feedback box for you !! 🌹💜

[finniestoncrane]

Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 1: A Bombshell, word count: 3.5k exposition time!! cooper's recent divorce has hit hard, personally and professionally. vault tec have made it impossible for him to find work in any movies so he's turned his talents to porn to make some money. as horrible as he thinks his day is though, his future is only going to get worse (reader shows up next chapter) request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: age gap reference, angst, oral sex, pornography

From the corner of the small, hideously decorated set, Cooper watched the skeleton crew work to clean things up after the last movie wrapped just an hour before. His skin began to crawl, a shudder rolling through his body, as he considered the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone take away dirty sheets or bring in clean ones since he arrived. 

And he was expected to fuck in these conditions. It was a living nightmare.

Trying to lighten his mood, he murmured what was supposed to be a positive sentiment.

“At least it’s not snuff. Way my luck’s going, wouldn’t that just be the cream on top of the pie.”

Cooper looked up to the ceiling, shielding his eyes from the bright studio lights which provided a familiar, albeit less high-end warmth than he was used to. He was working though, so he couldn’t complain too much. A paycheck meant he wasn’t out on the streets, the hot sun beating down on his face instead. And he had to face facts; the snap of some powerful fingers and he could be out on his ass at a moment’s notice, fired even from a gig like this. 

No prospects. Vault Tec had made sure of that not long after he’d confronted Barb. She’d gone straight to her bosses, that panel of cruelty he’d listened in on, and their retaliation, preventative measures to ensure they could continue on their journey of annihilation, had been swift and immeasurably evil. His reputation was ruined, the earth in which he’d grown and nurtured a career scorched, much like they intended to do with the rest of the world. Any upcoming opportunities, any interest that anyone held in him, gone. 

They’d been thorough, efficient. News reports, gossip between housewives, notes passed across the desk during auditions. They’d made sure he’d never work again, not in anything worth while, of course, holding his earnings hostage. And when he thought that was all they could take from him. His life, his money, his house, his wife. They had come for more. Armed Barb with the best lawyers money could hire and then offered him the worst deal. 

His silence in exchange for some brief, supervised moments with his daughter. Something about alcohol abuse, a half-truth at most, but enough to convince the judge. 

It felt cruel to him, that he was put in a position where he had to choose between Janey and the rest of humanity. A shitty thing to do to a man, that’s what he thought of it. And a shitty choice to make. And a shitty decision when he threw altruism to the side and secured the rest of humanity’s fate. He was just as complicit as they were, really, if he thought about it too hard. Which of course, he did. Each night as he struggled to sleep in his apartment. But whatever time was left, he reasoned that he might as well spend it being as happy as he could, even if that was only for one day a month when he was allowed to see Janey.

What was it? Two days ago he'd taken her to the zoo? So almost another month until he saw her again. A month of work. Blood, sweat, and tears. So much sweat.

He let his gaze fall down, taking in his body. Wrapped in a robe, nude underneath it, primed quickly by the makeup artists who seemed to only be making sure that his body hair was tidy and he wasn’t going to sweat too much during his part. Neatly trimmed pubic hair and strategically shaved nipples wouldn’t save him from that though. This was his third film, and each time his nerves, his guilt, his unrelenting shame as he drove his cock into the expert, very formal, professional cunt of whoever his co-star was, it was certain that he’d be sweating copiously only ten minutes in. 

“Coop? Hey, Coop! Howard! Keep your head in the game. Both of ‘em, heh.”

Now he was being bossed around by the lighting guy, someone whose name Cooper had forgotten already. The snorting laughter echoed in Cooper’s mind, bringing him firmly back to reality from his daydreaming. It was more mindless worrying than daydreaming, really, but it was the only reprieve he got these days, and now it seemed he couldn’t even find a moment of peace for that. 

Daydreaming suggested something positive, thoughts filled with desires or nostalgia for days gone by. But there wasn’t a single remaining vestige of his former life that he was happy to cling to, all of it tainted with soured memories and terrifying future prospects. And knowing what he knew, he still had to keep going. He had to pretend like nothing was wrong. A fake smile plastered on his face despite the mess that he was in. 

“Howard? Come on, man. Pull it together.”

The lighting guy was calling on him again, and this time he had the gall to look at Cooper with an impatient, furrowed brow. 

“You know they used to call me Mister Howard.”

“And they used to say I looked young and fresh faced, shit changes, man. You coming or what?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Keep your pants on… at least you get to.”

He knew he shouldn’t be so flippant, but his patience had worn thin over the past few months. Now that there was nothing to be charming for it was no longer second nature to him. He was rude, cold, and found he was losing himself. Deep down, there was a voice scolding him. Telling him to be thankful that when there were no more studios with their doors open to him, that he was at least able to find some places willing to hire. And while it was a lot less glamorous, he should still be grateful. 

But it was hard to feel that way when his new profession was clouded by his own insecurities.

Cooper was well aware that he wasn’t by any means experienced when it came to the world of sex. His first foray into anything of that nature was with his highschool sweetheart on prom night. An unfortunate experience that taught him nothing and ended up igniting the spark that ended that first love. Then there was Barb. He’d met her in college and they’d been together until their bitter divorce. A single one night stand between then and his current career, and that was his sexual history summed up neatly.

It always struck people as funny when they learned about his very short list of sexual conquests. He was Cooper Howard. Charming, charismatic, handsome, famous. A verified heart throb. But he was woefully unsure of what to do with that reputation, and always had been. While other stars would flirt with fans or interviewers or even directors to get a little bit more attention, Cooper was never able to offer anyone anything but a genuine and pleasant smile and maybe at a push, a mischievous wink to accompany his signature smile. He wondered how much of it had to do with the fact that he only had eyes for Barb, but even when she had pushed him to ‘play the game’ he’d still found himself unable to. 

Now, all of a sudden and based on a perception of him that was built upon years of good PR, he was thought of as some kind of casanova, and expected to act as such. He had to act like the kind of guy who charm the pants off a woman, with very little plot to back that up, and who could fuck for thirty minutes solid in front of a crew and without cumming too soon,

Interestingly, at least to Cooper, they had told him that would be the hardest part. Stamina. The suspension of orgasms. But he found it all too easy, mostly because there was never a point where he felt any kind of deeply sexual attraction to his co-stars. Much the same as his previous acting roles, he’d always viewed it as a job. It would be inappropriate to have any other feelings. The women he worked with now were beautiful, skilled, talented. But Cooper wasn’t in love with them, and he found that made it hard to coax an orgasm out of him. Luckily, that seemed to suit his new bosses pretty well. He was handsome, a known commodity, and could last a while before they worked him up to his big finale, even if they had to cut the cameras while they waited for him to get to it.

“Alright, Howard. Robe off, let’s see that cock.”

Sighing, his eyelids closing as he tried to separate himself from his actions, Cooper shrugged off the robe that covered his body, letting it slink to the floor and pool at his feet. Despite the heat, his skin still prickled as it was exposed. Nipples hardening, hairs standing on end. 

“Can we get a little enthusiasm, Coop? Like your other movies?”

Cooper muttered under his breath.

“You can get the same enthusiasm when I’m getting the same paycheck.”

“What was that, buddy?”

“I said, where do you want me?”

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Ok, Phoebe’s gonna be on her back, that ok, doll?”

“Of course!” 

“Perfect… so, you’re gonna be here. We’re doing missionary first, then maybe we cut to some doggy style. Remember, eyes away from the camera, and make sure that whatever you’re doing we can see those genitals. They’re the real stars!”

This was his life now. His body getting first billing above his soul under whatever lewd title this was going to be given. 

“Mr Howard? I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan. I watched your movies as a kid, you’re like, my dad’s favourite star.”

His co-star, Phoebe, if he remembered correctly, was laying on her back on the bed, waiting for him. Her big, green eyes were wide with excitement. She’d been a fan. And when she was a kid. Looking at her now, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed how young she was. Barely pushing her early twenties, fresh-faced, keen, full of hope. 

How would her dad feel about him now? Would she mention this? Talk about meeting Cooper Howard, but skirt around the exact details? Or would she brag? Maybe it was just him who had a disdain for this line of work. He certainly didn’t judge anyone else on the set. Only himself. 

“Uh… thank you, darlin’. Always nice to meet a fan.”

Phoebe giggled, a sweet sound that made his heart sink. She spread her legs wider, eyes flitting down to his cock which he was stroking slowly in a bid to get it stiff. 

“You ready to go?”

“I’m ready! Mr Howard?”

Cooper looked down in dismay, his flaccid member refusing to play along. A stubborn diva, it turned out. 

“Is… is there something wrong, Mr Howard? Is it me? I’m so sorry, you must be used to much bett-”

Cooper’s natural empathy, at least the last reserves of it, were pulled out of hibernation as Phoebe began to blush, embarrassed at what she perceived as her inability to turn him on.

“Oh, no, darlin’. This is a ‘me’ problem. You don’t worry about it at all, ok?”

He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, all lust evaporating as he comforted her, smiling back as she beamed appreciatively to him. 

“God damn it, ok, let’s get Harv in, he can do his scene with Phoebe, that ok, doll?”

“Oh for sure! I’m good to go.”

“Perfect, you’re an angel. You, Howard. We can shoot the exposition scene just now. Go to wardrobe and get your outfit.”

Oddly thankful, even though he was embarrassed at his inability to perform, Cooper headed to the small room where they held the small wardrobe for cast members. The exposition scenes were his favourite to shoot. Of course, they were poorly written, and his co-stars weren’t exactly professionally trained actors. But it at least felt like old times. Lines to memorise, a character to portray. And limited sexual encounters for him to fuck up.

Besides, it was porn, and he was the star. Which meant there was a lot more wooing. A lot more women, various actresses playing a myriad of characters, all of whom were seemingly desperate for Cooper’s cock, whatever role he happened to be playing. Once the exposition was out of the way, he had to fuck. But these scenes? He got to be enticed, which always made it a little easier on him. He might have even been looking forward to it today. A stroke to the ego, among other things. A boost to his confidence, and a little physical comfort to stave off the looming spectre of complete loneliness.

When he sifted through the rack and found his name on a plastic covered bundle, however, his brief glimpse of joy was stolen away. 

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close enough. The deep blue shirt, bright, golden yellow detailing. And the hat. Not identical, but anyone watching would know that he was supposed to be portraying his old self. A cowboy, the Cooper Howard people knew and loved.

On the table behind him, he rifled through the ‘scripts’ until he found the one with his name scribbled on the top. Ten lines, some room for ad-libbing. All of it cowboy themed. Pulled directly from his movies, albeit changed a little for the sake of copyright infringement. 

He couldn’t do it. 

But then he remembered Janey. How badly he’d wanted to treat her, to spoil her. And how little money he had left after alimony. And how expensive the rent was at his new apartment, which was overpriced, disgustingly decorated, and didn’t even allow pets. 

Maybe everything would be ok in the world. Maybe he’d go on living, get to see retirement, see the world flourish, the wars end. Maybe, Vault Tec and Barb would see the light, change their ways. Maybe it was all for nothing. 

So maybe he better get his shit together and start making some money, so that what was left of his future wasn’t so abysmal.

“Put on a smile and go get your cock sucked, Cooper. Not the worst day in the world, really.”

WIth a sigh of resignation, he chose to listen to his conscience, the little voice that steered him in the right direction, and put on the suit. The material was a poor quality, some cheap polyester deal, ill fitting, too baggy for his frame. And the hat was clearly something from a cheap party supply store. But as he looked in the mirror at himself, he could push away the feeling of seeing a ghost and focus on the positives. He looked almost like himself again.

“Mr Howard? They’re ready for you.”

The polite knock and the soft voice of the only runner on set came through the door, and Cooper exited, surprising the young man in the corridor.

“Oh wow.”

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just… you look like you did in your movies. I’m a little bit starstruck.”

“You gave me my coffee this morning.”

The runner looked to his feet, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to explain himself.

“Yeah, but that was… now you look… y’know?”

Trying not to be impolite, Cooper pushed past him, muttering under his breath.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Back in what the director insisted on calling “the studio” despite it being a hastily fabricated sound stage in the middle of some tacky, shared ownership mansion in the hills, Cooper was met by a new woman who introduced herself as Veronica, before quickly telling him that everyone called her Ronnie. He smiled, clutching her hand between both of his in that confident way he used to greet fans, smiling at her as she bit her lip and smirked. It was a flirtatious look, one that gave him a bit of a boost as he subtly eyed her up and down and judged her silently.

“She definitely likes you… and she’s not too bad to look at herself. Look at you, seeing the positive side of things! Well done, Cooper. Well done.”

He made his way through the first few lines, trying his hardest to maintain a look of arousal as his co-star clumsily worked through hers, emphasis and inflections all over the place, the puns not quite hitting right the way she was delivering them. But he could forgive it all as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Well, I have to give you something for saving me from those bandits, kind sir… maybe this will be enough to repay you.”

She was adept at unbuckling his belt, repetition and muscle memory aiding her, and he could feel his erection stirring as she pulled his flaccid cock free from his pants and began to stroke it. 

“Now, ma’am… that won’t be necessary…”

Cooper’s voice trembled over his words as he took his semi-erect cock from her and began stroking it slowly himself to keep the erection building. 

“... I did what any good man would.”

“Then let me do what any good woman should.”

He cringed hard at the line, but luckily, the grimace was covered by his mouth dropping open as Ronnie took his cock in her mouth, sliding her lips over the tip with a gentle ease that made him forget momentarily how terrible his life was at that point. 

Her tongue slid over the tip, teasing over the slit and collecting his pre-cum with a satisfying moan that vibrated through him, tingling over the sensitive nerve endings. Cooper was able to sink into it, some of the muscles in his back loosening as he let himself go. Something so satisfying about the way she held him, one hand on his testicles, the other stroking his shaft as he lips puckered around his head. 

Cooper wanted to show her. Not that she was doing anything wrong, she was doing a better job than anyone else had. Ever. But he wanted to guide her, to ease her throat over his length, to breathe through her nose as he filled her mouth, to show her how he liked it. He kept himself to himself, however, putting his fingers in the belt loops of his pants so they couldn’t reach for anything before he could stop them, like the back of Ronnie’s head to down to her round, firm breasts, or even letting his fingers trail over her-

“Cut! For fuck’s sake.”

“Just as things are looking up…”

Cooper’s attention was focused on the director who sat lazily in his folding camping chair. All of him reacted to the interruption, the disruption of his genuine pleasure, finally, for the first time in who knew how long. Tense, irate. And not in the mood.

“Alright, alright… I thought this was gonna be a one take situation, but geez, Howard. If it’s not one thing, it’s the other with you! You got lines to be getting through, imbecile! How you got hired before, I’ll never know. If it wasn’t for that wife of yours, you’d-”

“Now wait just a damn minute!”

Cooper pulled away from Ronnie, his cock bouncing around as he stomped in a way that might have seemed comical to the crew if he hadn’t looked so intense, filled with complete rage as he shook a pointing finger at the director.

“I am sick of taking this from-”

Everyone was jolted into a panic as a rumble spread through the ground. One burst.

“Can’t be an earthquake…”

The runner had only just come into the room when everything in Cooper’s vision was blocked out by a bright, white light. A quick flare, like a firework, or a flashlight being turned on in a dark room. He could see it still, but smaller, and somewhere on the horizon, down in the city. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Get down.”

It was perhaps the last truly selfless thing Cooper did. The glass landed on them, some people got splintered by the small shards as they fell to the ground. But they’d avoided the worst of it. And he didn’t need to help them. These were not people he cared for. They were people who were cruel, difficult, practical strangers. People who didn’t deserve what Cooper knew was coming.

He thought of that day a lot. Of how he’d had it somewhere in him, a long, long time ago, to offer himself or his wisdom in exchange for nothing, to people who these days he’d sooner shoot in the head before spitting in their cup. 

Bitterly, he indulged himself, hoping that at least some of them were suffering a fate worse than his, if such a thing actually existed. 

“Maybe the mutants.”

There was hardly any time this evening for him to satisfy his desire for revenge with fitful fantasies, however, because he was rudely interrupted by who he expected was yet another customer tapping on his shoulder. A new client who didn’t know the rules.

No touching before payment.

So he turned to politely inform them, and make sure they didn’t forget it next time.

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.”

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [seven.five.]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

— pairing; ot8 (general); 2.03k

— chapter warnings; death, death mentions, murder mentions

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

“Negotiating without your spark behind you is brave, Hongjoong. Many would rather have some semblance of power behind them when they speak,” the Seelie speaks, leaning against the stone pillar.

“Why would I be afraid of your kind in my land?” Hongjoong merely states, arms resting against the small of his back. His gaze flickers to the Seelie’s partner, a dry laugh escaping him. “I desired for a conversation alone, Yeonjun. How hard is that to follow?”

“I am not stupid. You have already killed Beomgyu, no? Why would I enter this putrid realm myself?” His words are filled with venom, eyes narrowing as he looks down at the Unseelie leader. Fearsome gazes do nothing to Hongjoong, only satiating his desire for negative emotions. So Hongjoong smiles, head tilted.

“We have yet to fortify our treaty. Deaths are increasing on both sides - my home territory needs to be moved soon. I cannot have Seelie interrupting while we enter another realm of rowan trees.”

“Afraid?"

“Merely bothered.”

“A bothersome act wouldn’t call for a meeting between us, Unseelie,” he glances back, waving off his partner. The man disappears, leaving the two leaders alone. “You have yet to atone for killing one of my own.”

“I will not allow you to take out any of my spark, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun laughs, his head thrown back to the skies. “I am not a buffoon, Hongjoong. My offer is a small price to pay for what you’ve done to my spark. Give up the human in exchange, and I vow to not interfere with Unseelie unless provoked.”

Hongjoong’s brows furrow, “You want the pet? Why?” His chest aches suddenly, but Hongjoong holds back his expression. What the hell was that?

Yeonjun’s smile only widens. “An Unseelie kills humans, Hongjoong. You wouldn’t have it around if it was not important to you.”

“If she is important to me, why do you think I’d give her up on a whim?”

“This discussion between us is not on a whim. It is either the human, or one of your spark’s lives. Make the decision. And soon, Hongjoong,” Yeonjun steps back, mist left in his wake.

He can feel that same ache again. He was not sure what exactly it was, the strange feeling scratching at his heart. He ignored it at first, pushing through the hallways, determined to finish his duties here so he could go back to his spark.

But then it grew painful.

Hongjoong stumbles as he crosses a threshold, gasping for breath. His fingernails grow, digging into the wooden slabs. Blood spills from his lips, splattering against the floor. The feeling is unlike anything he's experienced, but his body knows. He cannot tell who it is at first, his mind whirling. Until a part of him begins to tear at itself, ripping his heart from the inside out.

San.

“No.” He pushes past the pain, the phantom of a gaping hole in his chest. He hasn't been gone that long, how could this happen? Why isn't Hongjoong there now? His speech is stuttered as he stands, the air swirling in front of him. His incantation is slurred but he manages after a few seconds of struggle. The cloud flickers in and out of existence. He steps through just as it appears, body shifting into the garden of his home.

He does not see much at first.

His eyes flick up to the porch, a massive gap presenting itself to him. Glass shards are scattered across the wood. He thinks for a moment that he arrived in the aftermath, until shouting surrounds him. His steps are quick, hand out in front of him as he rips the doors from its hinges with quick incantations. The first thing he sees is Yunho and Yeosang in the midst of a fight with witchlings.

Little time passes between him watching the fight and tearing the witchlings apart, limbs dropping to the floor violently, blood splattering against his cheeks. The remaining creatures disappear from sight, leaving the solemn echoes of the hallway. Yeosang struggles to his feet, pushing past Hongjoong and falling to his knees in front of San. The wound on his body has not healed in the slightest, limp in Yeosang's arms. Hongjoong can barely stand as he looks at the sight, but he must. He looks around, entering your room.

Glass is scattered across the floor. The same scene he saw from the ground, the hold the size of the creatures, looking back at him. Wind rushes into the room as he makes his way forward. You're nowhere to be found and after a brief headcount, neither is Wooyoung. He cannot feel the loss of him, so he presumes that he is taken along with you. He runs his bloodied fingers through his hair, thoughts elsewhere.

Grief is not something he can let himself process now. He has to save Wooyoung. He has lost one, he cannot lose him too. Hands dig into his shoulder and turn him around. His eyes move up. Mingi's cold gaze on him. His eyes are vacant, mind elsewhere. Waiting for a command from his leader. Hongjoong’s lip trembles as he tries to speak, lids shutting. He cannot grieve for him right now. They rely on him, rely on his strength to pull them through. To save who he has left. He takes only a couple of seconds to pull himself together, sadness swallowed momentarily.

“Do you know where they came from? If the kumiho had something to do with it?” He asks Mingi.

“I–”

“Is that all you can say?” Seonghwa enters the room. Tears stain his cheeks, moist, tired eyes meeting his. He can feel the exhaustion through their spark’s connection, the feeling forcing Hongjoong to stagger ever so slightly. “San is dead, and that's all you can say?”

“I cannot afford to let myself grieve, Seonghwa. I have to save Wooyoung –”

“San… he…” Seonghwa rubs his face. “He sacrificed everything, everything to be with us. He turned against his own kind, forced himself to feast on tortured souls. He gave us his all, his life, and all you can say now is that you cannot grieve? Not even for a moment? Yeosang can barely hold himself together in there, your spark is hurt, and you cannot afford mere seconds to acknowledge the dead body?”

Hongjoong cannot respond. He cannot let himself wallow in sorrow. Not when there is so much to do. He dismisses Mingi with a small nod, letting him leave the room. Seonghwa's anger only grows at the silence, stepping forward. His fist grips Hongjoong’s shirt, knuckles digging into his chest.

“You are selfish, and you are pitiful. I am amazed that San even wanted to be with us when he saw you.”

Hongjoong reaches up, his fingers brushing against Seonghwa's chin. Seonghwa allows him to cup his cheek, grip loosening on his shirt. “You can say what you need to say to me after, Seonghwa. Would you like me to sink into my grief or help find Wooyoung?”

Seonghwa pushes his hand away, his anger only rises. “All you’ve ever done is care for Wooyoung and no one else. Even in death we are not enough for you, never the first thing on your mind.”

“Enough,” Yunho enters the room, glancing between them. His clothing is soaked in gore and blood, footwear sliding against the wooden slacks barely holding the floor together. Wounds cover his body, slowly healing. Mingi shadows him, gaze turned back to Yeosang’s grieving, hunched over figure only a few strides away. Jongho sits next to him, hand resting on his trembling shoulder. “We’ve lost so much already, we cannot lose each other and ourselves too.”

Hongjoong could have stopped the conversation long ago and demanded that Seonghwa stand down. Any other Unseelie leader would have barely acknowledged the death at all – likely twisting their face in disgust and burning the remains without thinking twice. It is what he has been taught, what has been passed down to him. But right now he cannot. He cannot just send San away without giving the others some time to accept what has happened. Give himself time to accept the cold, empty look in his eyes.

“How did this happen?” Hongjoong asks again, this time to no one in particular.

Seonghwa leaves with a flicker, Yunho and Mingi left alone with their leader. “We cannot say. Jongho mentioned something about pixies watching on the edge of the forest, but they wouldn’t summon these creatures. Seelie are incapable of controlling these beasts, especially when we just manifested the shield when we came back. No other majik should be able to penetrate the barrier. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“You think they attacked because I was not here?” Hongjoong looks behind Yunho, blood staining the floor in pools. “Would they have attacked even if I were?”

“It’s doubtful. A spark without its leader is greatly weakened in comparison to when they are here. They might have noticed you were absent and took that chance to attack. Taking y/n away makes sense since she is valuable, removing San–”

They can see how it pains Yunho, his lids tightening as he closes them. He takes a breath, before continuing.

“Removing San makes sense since he is powerful, but I just cannot wrap my head around taking Wooyoung. What purpose does it have – he is not even your second or third. He means much to us, sure, but in retrospect, his position in our spark is not as important.”

“Cruel words,” Mingi mumbles.

“Wooyoung knows how much he is cared for, he’d likely laugh,” Yunho says. “Still, my point remains.”

“Wooyoung is cared for,” Mingi speaks again. “He is important to us. The kumiho cares for him, and Hongjoong cares for him. The leader of all Unseelie favors one in particular. He is a weakness. They, whomever it is that has taken them, must know what they mean to us. They know what we’d do to have them back. It is strategic, Yunho.”

“Can you two give me a moment?” Hongjoong interrupts their speaking. “I agree with everything you are saying, but I need time. Not much, but just...”

“Understood,” Yunho nods. His fingers seek Mingi’s, theirs wrapping easily around each other. Before they leave, though, Yunho turns around. “Shall we do something with San?”

Hongjoong takes a slow breath. “Place him in our memorial chambers once Yeosang is … Do not light the flame yet and do not allow anyone else to. I need a moment to think.”

“Alright.”

They leave him in the room. Hongjoong whispers a spell into his palms, misting himself into his chambers. He locks the door behind him, taking slow steps into the room. It’s as he has left it, papers skewed about, books piled upon one another. The sinking feeling lets itself manifest in his chest, slowly rising up his torso. He slumps into his bed, the smell of rotting flesh enveloping him as he trembles.

He lost San.

It should not have been possible for any being, including Lilith's creatures, to break the barrier. It is what he has set up and has worked for centuries. Nothing should have been able to come in. To kill. Hongjoong could barely look at San’s body, the cold shell of what he once was. You would think that him being an Unseelie would have him used to seeing the dead. He killed his own spark leader, and that affected him less than seeing his mated gone. His teeth dig into his lips, breaking skin as he holds back his own wretched sobs. He lifts himself up from his sheets, gripping the wooden desk as he stands, looking over his work.

His eyes move to the side, caged spellbooks behind metal bars. His finger drags across his bloodied lip before pressing into the rounded button. Wooyoung would be able to protect the both of you himself momentarily. Losing this chance now would only make him lose San. The rusted bars creak open. He reaches for the one book he swore that he’d never use, flipping through the crusted pages until he lands on the spell he needs.

Necromancy.

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 7 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission. 

Chapter 7

Ellie wants to make things official and stop hiding your relationship. 

Word count: 4.4k

CW: *Ellie and reader are both 18*, profanities, sexual innuendo/references 

This is kind of smutty but not straight up smut. More scandalous than usual.  I will mark that part off for anyone who wants to know where it is/skip

You meet Ellie in the science wing after school. It’s very quiet, no one else is around. 

You scan your ID to get into the chemistry lab and it audibly locks behind you, leaving a mischievous smile on Ellie’s face. 

You put your bags down and Ellie grabs you by the waist. “It’s kind of hot in here. Wanna take that jacket off?”

You enthusiastically nod in agreement. “It is hot in here.” The jacket is pushed off and discarded. Ellie helps you hop up to sit on the table behind you. She pushes her leg between yours so she can part them and plant herself there. Ellie tangles one hand into your hair and the other grabs you by the back of the neck to close an already small distance. 

The most recent kisses shared with Ellie have been soft and gentle. But not this one. It’s intense, and far more passionate. She kisses you like an oasis she’s found after being lost in a desert. Ellie holds on like she’s been dying to reach you and never intends to let go. 

You tug at the hem of her shirt and she lets go of you to tear it off before she tries engulfing you in her arms. You stop her, putting your hands on her shoulders to keep her at arm's length. Ellie’s body deserves to be shamelessly admired. You lick your lips and your head tilts to the side. Your eyelids feel heavy. A haze of greedy desire has clouded your brain. All from a punch of lust to the chest. 

Fingertips delicately trace over Ellie, starting between her collar bones, down her sternum and between her boobs, over her toned abdomen. Her skin is hot under your touch and her breath grows heavier as your fingers travel down to the waistband of her pants. Before you go any farther Ellie begs you to let her take your shirt off. You happily oblige. 

Ellie hooks her fingers through your belt loops and drags you in as close as she can. She reconnects your lips, hot and heavy, while her other hand grabs your breast. She massages it, and finds your nipple with her thumb. Ellie circles it slowly and whispers “fuck,” when she feels it harden under her touch.

You see the desire raging in her eyes. She’s biting her lip, her hands running up your back until they reach your bra clasp. 

“Can I?” Ellie pleads breathlessly.

You can hardly answer, only able to squeak out “please.”

Ellie unclasps your bra in one swift motion. She pushes you back so you are laying on the table and climbs up so that she is kneeling over you, straddling your waist. 

***********

Ellie palms one of your breasts while kissing the other, neglecting your nipples at first. You moan as she bites and sucks, definitely leaving a hickey, before she takes your nipple in her mouth. You let out a high pitched gasp of pleasure. Ellie’s tongue swirls around and flicks your nipple as she sucks and you have to bite back your sounds of pleasure. 

When Ellie returns her mouth to yours she kisses you sloppily, too beguiled to take her time. Her hands continue to roam your chest. Your tongues explore each other's mouths. The two of you are so lost in the moment… that is until you hear voices in the hallway. 

***********

You both scramble to grab your clothes. Ellie throws her shirt on right away and bolts to the door to make sure no one can come in. She watches out the window as you try to collect your discarded clothes. 

“They walked past,” she tells you and you let out a sigh of relief. 

Ellie sees you putting on your bra and comes up behind you to clip it. After fastening the bra she kisses you in the middle of your back, at the top of your spine, sending a wave of shivers through your whole body. 

“I want you to know that this is the complete opposite of what I wish I was doing right now,” she mumbles, pointing to your bra after you’ve turned to face her. 

That makes you laugh. “It’s tragic that you are putting my bra back on me instead of me taking yours off.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ellie groans while you put your shirt back on. 

“I really don’t want to, but we should probably do some work. Or at least pretend to. I don’t think anything else is an option at the moment,” you grumble. 

Ellie winces. The both of you take work out and get comfortable, sitting close. 

Ellie leans her head on your shoulder “I guess we shouldn’t do this kind of stuff at school anymore.”

You lean your head on top of hers. “I think you are right.”

“It’s not about being seen together, but the potential for getting caught messing around on school property.”

You perk up. “Not about being seen together?”

“At the beginning I was worried what people would think, but now? Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you? You are the smartest, hottest, coolest girl at this school. I’m sick of meeting up in the bathroom or seeing you for 30 seconds before class starts. I want to be around you as much as I can. But that’s not the only thing I want…” her eyes wander away from you. 

You tilt Ellie’s face towards you with your index finger. “What is it babe?”

She takes a deep breath then blurts out “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

And your breath has been taken away. “Really?” 

Ellie reaches out to hold your face with both her hands. “Yes really!”

She's met with a wide grin. “Good, because I want you to be my girlfriend too.” 

Her expression reads as shock more than anything else, though the excitement is obviously there. “R-really?” 

Ellie’s question is answered with a sweet kiss instead of words. 

There is a bright flush across her face, and stars in her eyes. “Almost failing all of my classes was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” Her words are almost slurred, high on the moment. 

“Probably not the best way for you to have gotten here but that doesn’t matter. For me it was playing that song in gym class. You would have never won a kiss during trivia.” You kiss Ellie again. “The first of many.”

“You really thought you could keep it professional,” she teases and you are too content to tease her back. 

You throw your arms around her neck and whisper in her ear. “I’m so happy that I didn’t.”

When you pull away neither of you could stop smiling, even if you tried. “You going to tell all your friends about me? Show me off?” Ellie asks, her tone as mischievous as ever. 

“Yes, actually. Tomorrow. My whole friend group is going to the game for Jackie. I’ll tell them then. During the day we fly under the radar, and that’s the last time we have to do it.” 

Ellie’s pupils dilate, full of anticipation. “I can finally get a congratulatory kiss from you after my game.”

“In front of everyone?” You question. You had not been expecting such a hard launch. 

She looks worried, thinking that you aren’t okay with it. “Why not?”

“I just figured… I don’t know. I’m me. And you are you.” You bite your lip, wondering if she had truly taken this into consideration yet. 

“Exactly, we are girlfriends, and I don’t care who knows.” Ellie gives you a kiss and then clears her throat. “I was wondering, would you maybe want to get dinner with me after the game tomorrow?”

She’s met with a dramatized gasp. “Space Nerd, are you asking me on a date?” 

Ellie scrunches up her nose and crosses her arms. “I’m trying to but you are calling me a nerd, tutor girl!”

After you take her hands to uncross her arms and they are held tight, a smirk is back on her angelic face, waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry babe. Yes, I would love to go on a date with you.”

Ellie drops one of your hands to punch a fist in the air. “Fuck yeah!”

“Excited?” You ask, squeezing her hand. 

She squeezes back. “More than you could ever know. I’ll just need to stop home after the game to shower and change, then I’ll be all ready for you.”

You fake pout. “But you would look so hot, dirty and sweaty in your uniform!” 

“Funny, babe. I can’t look like that for our first date!” Ellie shakes her head. “But you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll plan it all out.”

Friday is a struggle, trying to suppress the giddiness and excitement. Unable to share your good news, it feels like it’s going to cause an internal combustion. There are text messages back and forth with Ellie all day, you even answer during class. Quite unprecedented. 

That afternoon you sit on the bleachers with Nicole, Melissa, Caroline, and Teresa. Leg bouncing up and down, hands twitching, it’s hard to contain the nervous energy. 

“Will we be getting any commentary from you? I’m sure you’ve studied up now that you are dating a lacrosse girl,” Melissa questions. She knows you well. 

Connecting the dots, without leaving time for you to respond, Nicole exclaims “that’s why I got dragged to that game a few weeks ago!” 

“Actually… she’s my girlfriend now,” you admit, and everyone starts talking at once. 

You put your hands up in the air. “One at a time please!” 

Caroline elbows you in the side. “When did this happen?” She’s clearly upset that this is the first she is hearing about it. 

“Yesterday.”

Melissa crosses her arms, just as annoyed as Caroline. "Why are we just hearing about this now?”

“I wanted to tell you all at the same time, in person.” That seems to remedy how offended they all seem to be, they even look a little guilty for going right into interrogation mode. 

Teresa puts an arm around your shoulders. “So what’s her name? Can we see a picture?” Her words come out quickly, accelerated by all her enthusiasm. 

You clear your throat. “About that… You won’t need a picture. She does play lacrosse. But remember how I said she goes to North? That was a lie. She is from our school. We just weren’t ready to tell people right away.”

Caroline guesses first. “So Abby Anderson? I’m impressed. Now that I’m thinking about it you guys would look good together.”

“It’s not Abby.”

“Who else likes girls?” Teresa asks everyone like she’s a detective. 

“Robin,” Nicole states, “but she has a girlfriend. We know our girl’s not a homewrecker.”

“And then there is a freshman, she is friends with Jackie,” Melissa informs the group. “I’m assuming it’s not her?”

“No ma’am.”

Caroline huffs, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. “Well there must be a girl we don’t know about because the only other option is Ellie Williams, and it’s obviously not her.”

“About that…” you trail off before finishing, seeing the disdain on their faces. 

Nicole gasps. “Holy shit!” 

Teresa grabs your arm and holds it tight, fear in her eyes. “Are you telling me that Ellie Williams is your girlfriend?” Her voice is hushed, only loud enough for the friend group to hear. 

You nod hesitantly, fearing their wrath. Teresa’s grip on your arm tightens. 

“No fucking way!” Melissa scowls, glaring down at the field in Ellie’s direction. 

“Please tell me you are joking!” Teresa begs. When all she gets is a forced smile she drops her death grip to put her face in her hands, which muffles her whining “nope, nope, nope.”

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Caroline growls at you. She has always been fiercely protective. “That girl is the biggest player in this school! She’s going to screw you over! You are way too smart to do something as stupid as this!”

“Ellie’s not like that anymore, she’s changed,” you try to explain but none of them are buying it. All of their faces are contorted into a combination of agony, anger, and anxiety. 

Nicole rolls her eyes. “There’s no fucking way. I’m calling bullshit. She’s just fucking around.”

You anticipated having to defend Ellie, so you came prepared. “I know for a fact that she has changed. Just think about it, when was the last time you heard a rumor about who she was hooking up with? When was the last time you saw her making out with some girl in the middle of the hallway?”

No one has an answer.

“Exactly! You haven’t heard anything because she’s been seeing me and neither of us wanted to tell anyone.” They should know that it wasn’t all Ellie, you had your reservations as well. 

“I don’t know about this…” Teresa shakes her head, still in disbelief. 

“I don’t think that you should trust her,” Melissa advises. 

“Just give her a chance,” you plead. “You don’t know the real Ellie. She’s really great once you get to know her. She is funny, passionate, deep, and so sweet.”

“I would tell you not to do this but I know it won't make a difference.” Caroline sighs, knowing how stubborn you are. “I’m going to question her. Aggressively. 

“Anything else?” You ask Caroline specifically.

“Don’t get mad when I say I told you so.”

The whistle blows and the game starts. Thank god. 

It’s exhilarating to proudly cheer for Ellie, and tell your friends more about her, answering their plethora of questions.

When did it start?

Who made the first move?

Does anyone else know?

And many many more. 

After Ellie scores the first goal of the game she looks right at you, much more obviously than she had last game, and points. Most heads turn trying to figure out who she was pointing to. 

All your friends start freaking out, coming around to the idea of you and Ellie. At least temporarily, you know they aren’t going to let her off the hook this easily. 

They start comparing you and Ellie to Haley and Nathan from One Tree Hill. You have to admit that not only is it accurate, but you absolutely love it. They just about die when they find out she calls you ‘tutor girl’ just like Nathan does to Haley. Your friends had been tense but seeing the way that Ellie looks at you seems to have eased their minds at least a little bit more. 

Ellie plays her best game you’ve seen yet, scoring 7 out of 11 goals, leading the team to victory with a score of 11-6. 

Jackie can be thanked for the other team scoring so many less goals then they could have. She started the game and played just as well, if not better, than the older defenders. She had a very successful varsity debut! 

You wait with your friends for the team to come off the field. As soon as the team is done meeting Ellie grabs her things and makes a b-line for you. 

“Good game, super star,” you giggle nervously. It’s hard to believe that this is really happening. 

Ellie doesn’t reply; she just grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a kiss. When Ellie pulls back you realize that your friends are staring. But they aren’t the only ones, you’ve caught a lot of attention. 

Nicole, Melissa, Caroline, and Teresa’s jaws are practically on the floor when you introduce them to Ellie. They aren’t the only ones. 

Your girlfriend is red in the face, with fear in her eyes. It’s been made clear to her that your friends will need some time to warm up to her, given her reputation. Although her public displays of affection did impress them. 

Ellie has been anxious to meet them. She shakes their hands awkwardly as she is introduced to them one by one, embarrassed to not know the names of girls she’s gone to school with for four years. They all know who Ellie is but she’s only heard their names from you and can finally put them to faces. 

Caroline doesn’t waste a second. “So you are her girlfriend now?”

Ellie nods. “Yes ma’am.”

“You aren’t usually the relationship type,” Caroline points out with surprisingly less attitude than you had expected.

“I wasn’t, but I am now,” Ellie assures everyone. She sounds genuine but you can’t tell if it made a difference. 

Caroline crosses her arms. “We are going to keep an eye on you.”

“You are going to have to earn our trust,” Nicole warns Ellie. 

“And our approval!” Melissa adds. 

Teresa, bless her heart, just looks happy that you got a real life rom-com moment. 

Ellie nods so that they know she understands. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You say goodbye to your friends to save Ellie from being interrogated any further. She’s had enough for one day. 

“I want to introduce you to Joel,” Ellie tells you and takes a deep breath. She bites her lip, waiting for an okay. This is a big deal for her. 

“I would love that,” you assure her, grabbing her hand and her whole body relaxes, mouth turning up into an adorable smile. 

Ellie, holding your hand, leads you towards Joel. He’s leaning against the fence, eyebrows raised, accompanied by a charming smirk. 

“This is my girlfriend,” Ellie motions to you with her free hand like she is a game show host and you are the grand prize. 

“Joel“, he introduces himself and extends a hand. As you shake it you pray that he can’t feel the slight tremble. “Never thought I would see this day,” he chuckles and you feel a little less intimidated. 

Ellie scowls at him but you join along in his laughter. “Neither did I.”

“That’s hilarious, thanks guys.” Ellie’s words are dripping with sarcasm. 

Joel straightens up, no longer leaning on the fence. “Well, I’ve got to get going. It was nice to meet you. Ellie, I'll see you back home.” She gives him a little salute and he waves goodbye. 

Now alone with Ellie, the feeling of being watched intensifies. You take a look around and there are a lot of eyes on you. Basically, anyone that knows anything about Ellie is watching in disbelief. Yes, girls usually flock to her after games and she entertains them, but this is clearly different. She sought you out. “Ellie…” you whisper. “People are looking at us.” 

She lets go of your hand to snake her arm around your shoulders. She squeezes tight. “So what?”

“I’m just… not used to this much attention.” You bite the inside of your mouth so hard it hurts. 

“It’ll die down,” she tries to assure you, however lacking her usual confidence. 

Of all Ellie’s friends that are watching, Paz is the only one brave enough to approach you guys, probably because this isn’t a surprise to her like it is for everyone else. 

“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she says with a big smile. 

You giggle. “But you did help Ellie spy on me in the library, so I feel like we don’t need a formal introduction.”

Paz clears her throat, not having expected the playful jab. You can’t tell that it has made a good impression on her, nonetheless. “Can you imagine what she would have done if I wasn’t there to keep her in check?”

You nod in agreement, still laughing.

“Hey!” Ellie whines. 

“I’m sure you already figured it out, but a few people noticed you two together. The whole team, Ellie’s fan club, pretty much everyone who has been wondering why you’ve been acting so differently over the last month.”

Tightly grabbing onto Ellie, you anxiously ask Paz “what have you heard?”

“Well Abby Anderson is pissed,” Paz starts off with a smirk and Ellie snorts. Paz then turns all of her attention towards you. “A lot of girls are jealous. And mad. Everyone is surprised.”

Being the only one in class to get an A for a lab experiment, accidentally skewing the curve on a test, finding yourself as every teacher’s favorite. That’s the kind of conflict you were used to. Lesbian drama is something you’ve managed to avoid so far. “I just love when people pay attention to me,” you mumble, clinging to Ellie. 

Paz raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t used to it by now?”

Your head tilts to the side, curious, studying Paz’s expression. It had been assumed that she was familiar enough with you, being in some of the same classes and what not. But this is not an assumption that would normally be made about you. “No, I fly under the radar.”

“I know you are fucking with me because anyone who pays any attention knows who you are. You have no competition for valedictorian, number one draft pick for any group project, and the only tutor that’s never let a student fail. Every teacher that uses sample work got it from you. All of that on top of, I don’t know, probably 75% of people in our AP classes are into you. That includes the people that don’t like girls.” This isn’t something you had ever noticed or even considered. 

Ellie hits Paz with a death glare. “You knew about a hot lesbian and you didn’t tell me about her?”

“Beginning of sophomore year you saw her in the cafeteria and said ‘damn she’s hot’ and I told you she was in my AP classes and probably too smart to fall for your bullshit. You had every girl in the school to check off your bucket list at that point, so you dropped it. Junior prom you saw her with another girl and said ‘damn, too bad I didn’t get to her first’. When you told me she was your tutor you couldn’t remember exactly who she was until after you met her in person. Before that I had said ‘she’s really hot’ you said, ‘there’s no way she’s hot, she’s a tutor’.”

Ellie appears to be on the verge of death via embarrassment while you try to bite back a smile. So, she had noticed you. 

Paz continues without acknowledging Ellie’s displeasure. “Seeing you two next to each other, it doesn’t make sense. I can’t believe Ellie managed to pull you. Too hot and wayyyyy too smart.”

Ellie grimaces. “You know what, I think we should get out of here before you talk anymore shit about me.”

“Suit yourself,” Paz smirks. 

Ellie takes your hand and leads you towards the parking lot. 

“What’s our plan, Williams?” Her mood totally shifts, forgetting about everything but you. Now her attitude is that of a puppy seeing their favorite person. 

“I was thinking we could try that new restaurant on Main Street. If that’s okay with you, of course. Otherwise, I have two different backup options.”

“I’m good with trying the new restaurant, it’ll be fun!”

“Perfect! I’ll pick you up at 7:00.”

You step closer to Ellie to bump your shoulder into hers. “I’ll finally get to see if you are as bad of a driver as I think you are. Miss ‘yellow speed limit signs are just a suggestion’.”

“It’s true,” she reminds you.

“And Ellie Williams doesn’t do what people tell her to,” you state the way you would the answer to a math problem. 

“Depends on who it is,” she nudges you with her elbow. “I listen to you.”

“That’s because you like to kiss me,” you giggle, bumping into her again. 

Ellie wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. “I just need the right motivation.”

When you finally arrive at the car you turn towards Ellie to say goodbye and she grabs your hips to back you up against the car. 

At first she just looks at you, her smile lighting up her whole face, especially her twinkling eyes. 

Ellie William’s face is probably the best thing a person could study, which means a lot coming from someone who loves to study as much as you do. She is your favorite subject, you review her over and over, whenever you can. There is a scar in her eyebrow. Her eyes are almost teal in this light, but more vibrant. Freckles are dusted over her nose and cheeks. The gentle curve of her lips. A purple bruise on her jaw from her last game. 

“Pretty,” you murmur. Ellie’s cheeks redden as she playfully rolls her eyes before leaning in to kiss you. 

Your girlfriend’s lips are starting to feel like home. Scratch that, they definitely do. The way that you can feel them on yours, even when they aren’t. How your lips only feel complete when they are connected to hers. And it’s not just the way that Ellie’s lips feel, it’s the way she tastes. It’s become an ever present craving that demands to be satiated. To kiss another girl? Wouldn’t do anything for you. You only want her. 

The gentle hunger behind Ellie’s kiss tells you that it’s the same for her. One never satisfied without the other. There is a level of magnetism between your lips, opposites made to attract and create an electric current. 

Lost in eachother, everything else disappears until a car trunk slams shut, starling you both out of the moment. 

Ellie looks in the direction of the sound and her eyes narrow. 

“Anderson,” she growls.

“Williams.” Turning around to look at Abby, the blonde is scowling right back at Ellie. But when she sees you she licks her lips and crosses her arms, trying to get a reaction. 

You know Ellie well enough that you grab her and hold on before she tries to move. “Don’t,” you whisper. Ellie huffs and returns her attention back to what she cares about most.

Ellie leans you back against the car and boxes you in by extending her arms and planting her hands on either side of your head. You enjoy it too much to be annoyed that her motive is to establish her dominance over Abby Anderson. “I’m assuming that I smell like sweat and my hair is a mess. So I need to go take a shower before you get completely turned off.”

“I don’t think there’s anything that could turn me off from you,” you murmur, lost in her eyes. 

Ellie tucks a piece of hair behind your ear with her free hand. “I made a reservation and I know you don’t like to be late.”

“But you had back up plans?”

“I made three reservations,” she laughs. “So thank you for reminding me I have two that I need to cancel.”

A woman that plans and organizes? That turns you on. “Well I guess I need to say goodbye for now, superstar.”

Ellie gives you a kiss. “I’ll see you at 7:00, babe.”

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @mikellie, @lamolaine, @0pheli4, @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699, @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb, @normalthing111, @3isosoup, @lmaoo-spiderman, @cqliflower, @ellstronaut, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything

(I know most of these aren't even tagging, if you are tagged and it's not working lmk, I can try and fix it!!! I also think some people have changed usernames so if you have, I can replace it!!

[deebris]

The Fractured Bonds

Nolan Grayson x daughter reader (platonic!)

Mark Grayson x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Mark finds himself facing an unexpected threat to his family when Angstrom Levy decides to hold his mother and sister hostage. Despite the family turmoil they've endured and Nolan's departure, he returns to rescue his daughter.

Warnings: Contains scenes of violence, emotional distress and it mentions that the reader was murdered in other realities. The reader is 5 years old. This is just an idea I had a long time ago and kept it stored. This scenario was inspired by Chapter 33 of the "Invincible" comics in portuguese.

Word count: 3.6k

As soon as Mark flew into the house through the window, his heart stopped when he saw you and his mother clinging to each other, as if your lives depended on that embrace. When Eve told him that Debbie had called, but the voice on the phone was a man's, he couldn't help but rush back to you two and imagine that something was wrong, and indeed it was.

At first, he ignored the hideous figure holding you both hostage, but made a point to glare at him with hatred now. His head was larger than that of an ordinary person and the shape of his brain was imprinted around the skull; moreover, the expression on the stranger's face was manic and as furious as Mark's, but there was a kind of excitement shining through.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Your brother's voice was deeper than usual; an attempt to sound more authoritative and intimidating.

"He wanted me to bring you here..." Debbie suddenly began to speak "I-I didn't know where you were. I remembered that Eve had called, I thought maybe she knew." Her voice was faltering, full of pauses between words due to nervousness. And it was while his mother was speaking that Mark noticed her bruised face, with a bleeding nose and purple patches on her arms as she held your small body as protected as possible.

You seemed to be in better physical condition than her, but your injured knee did not go unnoticed, as a thin trail of blood had formed around your calf. In an adult, the wound wouldn't have been a big deal, but your delicate skin stung with the cut, and he knew it hurt because of your sniffles. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. H-he hurt me, he was going to hurt my baby." She said the last part with regret, referring to you, while holding you closer and running her fingers through your hair.

"In fact, I think your son was talking to me." Interrupting his mother, finally that man had spoken, and his tone was cynical, too unconcerned for the taste of the furious Mark glaring at him. As if that weren't enough, he dared to touch Debbie's shoulder, acting as if he had every right to do so.

"Let them go now." Mark ordered him with dangerously calm voice, although the expression on his face was one of pure disgust.

"Not yet." He opened a diabolical smile as he began his ridiculous speech: "I've learned a lot about you, Mark Grayson. Many things. I know how violent you can get when you're angry, like now..." He paused dramatically, as if he needed to emphasize what he was about to say next, and it was only irritating Mark's impatient. "I know you got it from your father."

The scowl on Mark's face deepened as you tried to peek out from your mother's arms to try to understand what was going on, but she pulled you closer to her embrace. "Stay here with mommy, sweetheart."

Both she and your brother hadn't had the courage to tell you what had happened to Nolan; you were still too young, maybe you wouldn't even understand. They both spent the last few months avoiding mentioning your father at home, and when they did, it was in whispers so that you wouldn't start asking questions they wouldn't know how to answer. No child should know that their own father was a superhero killer, let alone that he had abandoned his own family out of sheer moral caprice.

"Did you know that your identity is public in almost forty percent of the realities where you exist, Mark?" The villain continued his taunts, wanting to get to some point. "That's almost half. And that means you're careless."

"Get to the point already." Mark asked, or rather demanded. If this continued, he was sure he would snap. This dialogue was irritating him, but as long as his mother and sister were witnessing everything, he would need to hold himself together until he found a way to get him away from here.

"You see this?" He pointed to himself, referring to his own appearance "I'm a freak... A deformed freak. So I guess it's understandable that you don't recognize me." Then he wrapped you and your mother around his arm in threat, and the grip was painful. "When you saw me before, when you did this to me, I looked much more normal!"

"Oh, god... You're that guy." Realization struck him, widening his eyes as he remembered the past.

"That guy? Is that all you remember of me? That I was that guy?" If that man's temperament was bad before, now it must have risen about twenty degrees with the lack of importance his sworn enemy had given him. "I'm Angstrom Levy! The next time you forget my name, it will be because you'll be dead!"

He was certainly furious, pouring out hatred and continuing to blame Mark for interrupting his inter-dimensional goals, blaming him for his current deformed appearance, repeating that he would always be a freak, even though he had sought out the best surgeons to reconstruct his shattered body.

"The greatest minds in a dozen realities couldn't find a way to fix my brain!" His hands clenched into heavy, tense fists, ready to crush something "And it's all because of you!"

After that, he exploded and everything happened too quickly for Debbie to stop him, and even if she were quick, she wouldn't have had the strength. In moments, you were ripped from your mother, who had taken a punch to the face. Levy held you and stretched one of your arms with the free hand. You hadn't acquired powers yet and were nothing but a child; you couldn't defend yourself alone.

Mark took a step forward, but Levy raised your arm in a strange position, ready to break it. You cried and sobbed desperately due to the intense pain. "Mommy, make him stop! Mark!" You pleaded as he twisted your arm, and irrationally shouted for your brother repeatedly, seeking someone who could come to your rescue.

"Let her go!" Mark was no longer the Invincible, even in his superhero costume. He was just a man trying to protect his family, and he felt so useless and powerless that it was agonizing. Without thinking, he lunged at the hideous villain in front of him, ready to confront him in physical combat at that very moment.

"That's right. I'm right here. Come get me!" And he did, but Mark was taken aback to find himself in a completely strange place. He was no longer in his home; Angstrom Levy had sent him through one of his portals to another dimension.

He watched in shock the weird jungle he found himself in, with mutant dinosaur-like creatures devouring the carcass of another beast as large as they were right beside him. The animals noticed Mark, and suddenly they... Spoke? He heard the beasts mention that it had been a long time since they had seen any Homo Sapiens, obsessed with devouring him. Apparently, he was in some apocalyptic dimension where humans had been extinct by these beasts. He could have ended these animals in seconds, but still couldn't help but feel fear, not for himself, but for you. How would he return to help you?

At home, Debbie had to plead with Levy to return you to her, and with some pity for your cries after he broke the arm, he returned you, allowing you to be comforted by your mother. But he kept you two close to him, with a firm grip on the older woman's shoulder, so he could use you against Mark at any moment.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," she repeated comforting words as she wiped away your tears and rubbed your back gently. Debbie had seen and heard of many cruel villains thanks to her life as the wife of a "hero," but how insensitive would a human being need to be to break a 5-year-old's arm like this? Of course, she knew that even more horrendous things had happened to children in this world, but you were her daughter, and it hit her deeply.

Debbie felt you faint in her lap and panicked. She shouldn't have shaken you the way she did, but in the midst of desperation, the last thing she wanted was to see you silent, with your eyes closed. You passed out from the pain. It's normal, she's aware of that, but it was still terrifying. She was only taken out of her stupor when she heard his disgusting voice again:

"I can't believe you're going to lie to her like that." He drew attention to himself. "What kind of mother are you? How can you say that to her? You're not sure about that." Debbie ignored him, and he took it as a challenge. "I bet you're not even listening to me. Blocking me from your mind, aren't you?" He insisted. "Are you sure you don't want to talk? I could use your company."

He tried once more, but still received no response from the woman. Levy shifted his gaze from Debbie to carefully observe you. He knew the pain must be intense; he should have given up injuring you as soon as Mark passed through the portal, but he preferred to do it as a reminder. A warning for when his brother returned. If he returned. "Let's check on your son. Let's see how well Mark managed to survive this reality."

Extending his hands to summon a portal that glowed green, a figure in his yellow superhero uniform passed through the colorful circle.

"You were going to hurt my sister?" The boy shouted as soon as he saw he was back home, numb with a sense of vengeance.

"Not only was I going to, but I did." The statement made Mark's blood run cold.

"Mark?" Debbie called him desperately to show your state. She couldn't bear to see you suffer. Mark held his mother's gaze, interrupting only to finally notice you, who were motionless. Your arm was in such a unusual and swollen position. Your face, which was once red from crying, now had turned pale, and if it weren't for your shallow breathing, he would have thought you were dead.

"What have you done?" He asked furiously.

Levy made no move to respond, taking you from Debbie's arms once again. "No! Let go of my daughter!" She shouted angrily, completely abandoning her earlier fearful expression. She refused to allow that horrendous creature to take you away from her a second time. Debbie had felt how cold and clammy your skin was, and the more she looked at you, the paler your face became.

"Welcome back, Mark Grayson." Levy said after observing the hysterical scene of the woman beside him unfold with some indifference. "Your little sister here is really cute; I personally adore this chubby face of hers." Mark's throat tightened at the sight of you in the arms of that despicable man, scared with force, and seeing his broken mother in the corner of the bed only made his heart beat harder. "You know, I've encountered her in other realities." His tone was perverse, too cynical. "But unfortunately, those versions of her didn't get to advance much in age compared to this one. Isn't that interesting?"

"You bastard!" It didn't take much intelligence to understand what he meant, and it made Mark's nostrils flare with fury.

"That also makes me wonder what must have happened differently for her to survive longer in this dimension." Debbie moved from where she was on the bed and carefully reached for the bedside lampshade while Angstrom Levy was distracted, but a brief glance at her son made her abandon the idea. Mark discreetly shook his head negatively, implying that she shouldn't do that. "Or maybe I am the trigger for this event here," he pointed out with a smile.

"If you hurt her more, I swear-" Mark said with hatred and tense body, but he was interrupted.

"What? You'll kill me? Of course, you will." The villain stared at him seriously, with some skepticism. "Don't worry. However, her well-being really only depends on you. After all, it was you who let Anissa kill her once, and Conquest, and Thragg... Although the latter was more your father's fault," he stated matter-of-factly while scratching his chin.

He seemed like had finished speaking, but decided that the hero needed to hear more upon seeing the boy's shocked face at the mention of those peculiar names, yours assassins, curiously, all Viltrumites. Levy wasn't sure if Mark was already aware of these people, but what really mattered to him was to disturb the boy. "But it's you whom I want to hurt. I want to hurt you so, so much... Your little sister is very safe, as long as I determine that the only way to hurt you is by hurting her."

Then suddenly he lifted your unconscious body in his arms as he prepared to throw you into a portal. Debbie's heart was in combustion, beating faster than ever as she suppressed a scream. But your brother's temper finally snapped, completely determined to kill him once and for all.

Mark moved forward to stop him, but within seconds, the roof of the house was pierced and him felt something, or rather, someone push him away. He couldn't see much, but he followed his mother's pleas and embraced her, protecting her from the wreckage. His throat tightened at not seeing you, not knowing what was happening, but soon part of the dust began to settle.

Struggling a bit, the boy managed to see his father's back, apparently holding the man, who moments ago was about to send you away, in the air by the neck. He relaxed a little more when he saw traces of his hair resting on Nolan's broad shoulder, finally free from the dangerous clutches. Despite the disturbing events regarding his father, Mark knew he wouldn't let anyone harm you under his protection.

Levy felt himself losing breath, his brain throbbing from the blow he received from a piece of wood fallen from the ceiling. An intense pain hit him as Omni-Man began to bash his head repeatedly against the wall. His skull was now partly mashed into the concrete, and the red liquid that was his blood flowed to the ground.

"If my left fist weren't busy, I'd make you suffer much more," Nolan's thunderous and deep voice sounded intimidatingly throughout the room. "Despicable trash like you should keep your filthy hands to yourself."

Nolan struck one last time as he whispered in a chilling whisper the last words that man would hear before having his skull pushed against the wall slowly, until it crushed like gelatin: "I'll ensure that every version of you that dares to appear here on this Earth, or anywhere in this Universe, has a slow and painful death before laying a finger on my daughter again."

And as the Viltrumite increased the grip on Levy's neck and continued pressing his head against the wall, it seemed like his eyes were about to pop out. The skin that was once brown now split between purple and pink in some spots due to the continuous pressure while him was dying.

Observing the man coldly, Nolan withdrew his hand and took care not to stain you with the blood dripping from his fingers, portraying a much gentler grimace as he observed your sleeping figure. He always found it adorable to see how incredibly tiny you looked in his arms, It awakened an intense feeling of protection. But upon noticing that you were injured, his eyebrows furrowed, carefully examining your broken arm while wondering how Mark had let this happen.

"Father, what-" Mark broke free from his mother, finally finding words amidst the shock, but was interrupted.

"Your sister needs to go to the hospital." His voice was distant, almost emotionless, successfully masking the concern.

Debbie honestly wasn't ready to face the man she had been deceived by so soon, but she couldn't care less when the only thing she had wanted for hours was just to keep you safe and close to her. She avoided his eyes as she anxiously waited for an opportunity to have you back in her arms, and her ex-husband seemed to have noticed. As hesitant as he was, he walked over to her carefully, avoiding showing a more human side of himself to his family, but also not being hostile in his gestures. He surrendered to the act and pressed his lips to one of her temples before putting you in her arms.

"Take good care of her." He stared at his son with some severity. "I can't always be here, I'm entrusting her life to you, Mark."

The boy looked at him with some indignation, as if his father doubted that he would do everything to protect you, but he knew he had been too careless, as Angstrom Levy said he was. Even though he had the strength to defend his little sister, he still found himself vulnerable tonight, almost incapable.

"You don't need to ask for that." Mark was firm, and Nolan nodded satisfactorily. He thought about saying something more, even though he didn't understand why, the last thing he should want is to speak to his father again. Perhaps it was to unload the disgust he still felt, but the health of both of you was a more important matter to him now.

"Go away." Debbie's voice surprised them. She was obviously defeated, too tired for all this, but still found the energy to stand while holding you. "It was the necklace, wasn't it? Are you spying on us?"

Nolan's gaze was hard, trying to hide how his ex-wife's contempt affected him. The months of bitterness he spent in space had changed his demeanor a bit, but he thought it would be less painful for both of them not to hear his regret after all the harm he had caused. He didn't consider himself worthy of his family's pity, although now they considered him a stranger. He knew that Mark and Debbie still harbored a monstrous image of the person he was, and perhaps he really was.

"Aren't you going to admit it?" She asked him again with indignation, seeing that the man didn't make a single move to leave.

The object she referred to was a gift from both of them to you, or rather, from Nolan. He was the one who had the idea of ​​putting the necklace around your neck with the excuse of keeping you safe. He wanted to know where you were and who you were talking to, and the way he found to do that was by projecting this piece with the help of his planet's technology. "I hope every time you hear this little girl mention your name, you wriggle with remorse and agony, if you still have any kind of heart. You were better off away."

She still remembers when he told you: 'Whenever you want to talk to me, just hold your necklace close. That way I'll always be with you.' At the time, it was something so beautiful, something they hadn't thought of doing with Mark, but now it could be different. In your childish mind, it was as if it were magical and a piece of your father would really be with you all the time. But now it stirred disgust in her, she wanted to destroy it.

"Don't take it off, Debbie. Please." Nolan's imposing voice had become softer, almost frightened, and he had finally shown some kind of weakness after so long. "Please." He repeated the plea.

"Mom, maybe it's a good idea to let her keep wearing it. At least sometimes." Mark interfered not for his father, but thinking of you. If Nolan had been able to appear today to save you, he could come to your rescue more often, although the idea of ​​you being in danger again gave him chills.

Debbie hesitated, giving up tearing the necklace off your neck. Knowing that Nolan would be able to experience their day-to-day life bothered her, but she would deal with it later, remembering that you needed medical care. She was very hurt, but her own condition didn't matter to herself as long as she saw you awake and well again. "Mark. Hospital." she announced hurriedly ignoring the fourth person in the room and the bloody scene beside her.

Nolan sighed in relief for a moment, looking one last time at you and Mark, ashamed, but adopting the stone-cold expression he had previously. "Mark, don't let her take it off." He didn't want to sound like that, but the tone of his voice carried a threat. The boy cared little about giving him any kind of response, returning a grim expression to his father as he departed at a thunderous speed through the now-open roof, just as he had come, raising the dust once again.

"Let's go," Mark said gently to his mother, lifting her delicately since you were in her arms.

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: Dormleaders

Heyyyy~ Back with another chapter! Here, this is when they saw your full dragon form for the first time. Now, this chapter is a bit special. It'll be separated into 3 or 4 parts. One for the Dormleaders, one for the vice's + Ruggie and Floyd, another for the first years and a last one for anyone left. I'm also thinking about one for the teachers + Crowley. This one is the Dormleaders. You can take this as romantic or platonic, your choice.

Also, I'm gonna describe what you look like in Riddle's section so I don't have to in others. Just refer back to his section for imagery.

Riddle

He was certainly shocked, that's for sure.

He's only seen dragons in drawings or in the media, and even then they were mostly the mainstream kind of dragons. Ice isn't the first thing people think of when they think of dragons,

You had taken him to a small clearing of trees in the forest behind NRC since there was plenty of space where you didn't need to worry about hurting someone.

You towered over him, and he himself is pretty short so it made the difference even greater.

The usual cold air that followed you had increased in temperature, making it harder for him to be close to you.

Your horns became larger and sharper, like huge icicles. Spikes ran down your back just as sharp as your horns. Your tail swayed behind you and your eyes gleamed a dangerous e/c color.

Despite all this, you showed no signs of being hostile towards him. When he looked into your eyes, he saw a playful glint in them. Like you were studying his reactions and getting a kick out of it all.

He quickly put himself together after the initial shock.

You brought yourself down to his height and placed your head peacefully on the grass in front of him. He slowly made his way closer to you.

Gently, he placed a hand on your head. Despite the cold feeling, it didn't hurt. He sat next to your head and found himself quickly easing into a sense of safety and security. You laid your wings around him, enclosing the space and basically trapping him, but he didn't mind.

You made gentle, humming noises and he found the shaking feeling began to make him sleepy. He no longer was shocked about how you look like this and the drowsiness of his daily activities caught up to him. He curled up in the crook of your long neck.

"Thank you, for trusting me with this sight. I know how you feel, but you don't need to worry around me. Have a good nap, Y/N. I'm not to far behind you anyways."

Leona

You truly are an oversized lizard, huh?

He did whatever he could to keep the shock off his face, and it worked. You would've believed him, if you hadn't known him so well.

He didn't realize, but his tail stayed close to the grass, his ears twitch in your direction. More than a few of his muscles tensed.

He wasn't scared, just weary. He's always wondered what would happen if Malleus got pissed off at him enough to turn dragon mode. Now he just associates the thought with a sense of danger.

You could pick up on this though. You've always had a strange ability to do that when it comes to Leona. Your next goal? Be as non-threatening as possible.

Your tail gently curled around your hind leg, you sprawled your wings out in the grass around you and you brought your body close to the ground.

When he looked at you, he could clearly see the message you were trying to tell him. He understands you can't talk in this form.

He approached you. His muscles loosened when he touch your snout and your eyes closed, showing contentment.

Gently, he ran his hand up and down your scales. The skin on his hands pricked from the cold, a feeling he still wasn't used to.

His ears picked up on the faint hum you made. A smirk found its way on his face, and he didn't try to hide it.

He spent a bit of time petting you. He saw it as revenge for all the times you pet him with no warning. But, much to his demise, you didn't see it as anything spiteful. You quite enjoyed the attention.

"Hm. Fine. I'll stay with you for a while. But that's only because Ruggie won't come get me if I'm with you while you're like this."

Azul

He was...hesitant..to say the least.

He was nervous to see what you'd turn into. That's not meant to sound mean or judgemental, he wouldn't judge you. You don't judge him, why would he in turn?

More so, it's just that he doesn't know how he himself will react and doesn't want to hurt you with a negative reaction.

He knew you were nervous about yourself for a long time. But, you decided that if he saw you comfortable with yourself, he'd become a bit more confident as well.

It took a lot of convincing from you to lead him into the forest clearing. Even more for the Twins not to follow.

Once you two were there and he backed up to give you space, seeing you transform was the most stunning things he's ever seen.

A white mist covered you and a dark shadow on the inside(you) grew and changed shape. Into the shape of a dragon. When the mist cleared, he saw you.

Your e/c colors stared him down. You did what you could not to freak him out, but you didn't have full control of every habit of yours.

He could feel a few flight reflexes kick in. He stayed in place though. (You praised him for that later)

You sat. You kinda reminded him of a dog with the way you sat and waited patiently. Your tail rested motionless, wings calmly at your sides. Your head tilted to the side. To Azul, it was kinda cute. Like looking at a sea guppy.

He stepped closer, but kept a slight distance. You weren't offended, you knew you needed to take things slow. And you knew he was more worried about you than himself.

In an attempt to show him that there was nothing to worry about, you stretched out one of your arms, careful to watch your claws, and held it in front of him. Like how a human reaches out a hand to a scared animal. (Ironic since he was more human than you rn)

He got the message. He approached you and placed a gentle hand on your arm. The cold was somehow a comfort. It sorta reminded him of the cold waters in the Coral Sea. Slowly, he leaned into your touch and found himself calm. All worry faded away and you came close to him and gave whatever your equivalent of a smile is. It warmed his heart.

"I see. I hope none of my actions hurt you. You were very brave to show me all this. I hope one day, I can be like you with myself."

Kalim

He was certainly the most excited to see your dragon form.

He's never seen a dragon before, and The Land Of Scalding Sands doesn't have any legends or stories regarding dragons, so it's been an obscure concept to him.

He, without hesitance, followed you to the clearing in the forest and patiently waited for you to feel you were ready.

He held his breath as you transformed and only released it when he saw you were okay.

The dragon he saw standing in front of him. Blew. His. Mind!

Even before you could entirely orientate yourself he quickly threw himself onto you and wrapped his arms around your long neck, which was barely close enough to the ground for him to reach. (Especially since he's short)

He talked to you about everything and anything for 2 hours straight. He didn't mind that you couldn't verbally respond, it actually gave him enough time to learn what different ques you made meant. You nodded and shook your head for yes or no questions, you flopped your tail when you meant 'maybe', and your wings flutter lightly when you don't know how to respond.

He even learned what the meaning behind certain sounds meant.

"Sorta wish I had seen your dragon form earlier, but better later than never! Right?...I wonder what Jamil's doing right now?" Cue to Jamil who's freaking out because Kalim didn't tell him he was leaving the dorm.

Vil

He had come to know you pretty well. Despite that, he realized that he never actually asked you anything about your dragon form.

He's definitely thought about it, but never wanted to ask you for fear of making you uncomfortable.

When you told him you really wanted to, he worried that you may have been forcing yourself for him. You quickly reassured him that that wasn't the case. He then agreed to come with.

Seeing you morph was beautiful to him.

You were beautiful.

Your beautiful white scales tinted blue when the sun hit them at a certain angle. Your horns glistened with an icy nature, your eyes shone with a slight glaze of white over them. (Rook explained to him how this protects your eyes from the sun)

All he saw was pure, icy beauty. In a way, he couldn't comprehend why you've been self-conscious about how this form looked. Then he remembered how he gets when people comment negatively about how he looks, and how it can take a toll after so long.

He came to a resolve. To make sure you never again see anything negative about your dragon form!

With quick, confident strides, he approached you. Looking up to meet your eyes, he gave you a sweet, caring face.

He then began to fawn over you. His usual uptight behavior fell to allow his more caring side to take hold so that he could make sure you knew just how beautiful you looked. He commented on how well you seem to take care of yourself, your huge size meaning there was more to admire. Your horns looked like you took gentle care of them. Your snout looked adorable to him. The spikes running down your back, were sharp to the touch.

Those are all examples of how he expressed that he saw and took notice of all your beauty.

He sat on the grass in front of you and allowed you to place you snout in his lap as he gently rubbed your head while whispering sweet compliments to you.

"I hope that, never again, do you see anything wrong with your own beauty. And if anyone tells you other wise, just send them my way."

Idia

You want him to leave his room??? Whyyyyy?

He always thought seeing you in your dragon form would be the coolest thing ever. But he didn't think he'd be dragged out of his room by you and forced into the forest.

We couldn't have just done this somewhere at Ignihyde?

Then you transformed, and he no longer remembered why he was upset.

The fantasy loving weeb in him came out and he started to freak out.

He had a split second of hesitation, ice and fire don't mix and he could feel the ice on you, but his weeb took over and he rushed over. He was no longer shy with you.

His mind was going a million miles and hour and he asked you question after question. Until he realized that you couldn't talk. Which honestly bummed him out a bit but he quickly recovered.

Soon, he took to simply admiring you while you soaked up the attention he was giving you.

His warm fingers lightly slid across your cold scales, sending a shiver up his spine every time, but he didn't mind.

It shocked him when you reached out an arm and pulled him close to you. You held him against your side while you curled up like a puppy.

"Um, okay then. I guess we can stay like this for a bit. But, I do still have some games I need to play later, so not all day, okay?"

Malleus

You had zero problems with him. It actually went the smoothest with him.

When you two were having a conversation a while back, he had questioned if you had a dragon form like he did. You had explained to him that you did but you were to shy to show anyone. He had asked why and you told him that after so long of people bad mouthing you about how you look in fae form, you became hesitant for anyone to see you as a dragon.

He talked about his form in an attempt to help you feel comfortable. He also told you that you'd never need to be scared with him because he's just like you. That made it easier for you to get where you are now. Finally ready to show.

You took him to the clearing and asked him to back away so you wouldn't hit him.

The way you transformed was different from his. He created a puff of smoke around him, you made a mist of ice.

Once the mist faded, he quickly took in every detail about you. How sharper your horns are compared to his, your serrated claws. The white and blue tint of your scales while his a black with purple tints. (Well, that's what Lilia has told him.)

He immediately took to feeling your scales and tough skin, wings and tail. You didn't mind, not like you had a lot of feeling in those areas. He's a dragon to, so he knew exactly where he needed to avoid.

You were a lot more different from him than he was expecting. His scales were rough while yours were smooth. Your horns sharp, his rounded. Your wings were more angular and his were longer.

He didn't mean to get as analytical as he did, he was just really curious. After realizing how he was acting he took to talking to you. Unlike others, he could understand majority of your draconic growls and rumbling. You could actually hold a proper conversation with him.

Eventually, you began to get tired. Your eye lids drooped and you struggled to keep your head up. He saw this and told you it was fine to fall asleep.

He actually turned into his own dragon form and curled up next to you, intertwining your tails. Together, you both fell asleep there on the grass.

"I never thought that I would meet someone so like me, even if we are different. Thank you, Child of Dragons, for coming into my life."

[training4theapocalypse]

Thirsty (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: SMUT, Mutual pining, Romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Dubious consent (they are both kind of drunk), Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: Your job restocking vending machines takes you to businesses all over Evergreen - including Fennel Fields where the cute busboy keeps making eyes at you. (Based on this ask by @kpopgirlbtssvt)

A/N: There’s a part where Adrian picks the reader up over his shoulder but he is a very strong boi, I am confident he could shoulder carry any thirsty MF. PS My toxic trait is that I slip a reference to Scotland in literally everything I write.

Masterlist

Tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982,

Chapter text:

The muscles in your forearms ache as you drag your hand cart, stacked with cases of soda and water, up the ramp at the back of Fennel Fields. 

You wheel your final delivery of the day straight into their break room, as usual, and park your cart beside the vending machine, ready to start your restock. You’re greeted amicably by the staff, who know you well enough that they’re not surprised to see you. 

But one particularly familiar face spots you from across the room and practically leaps off his chair. Adrian Chase looks forward to your weekly trip to Fennel Fields, and today he can’t help but notice the glow on your face from hauling your delivery. He wonders what else makes your face glow like that. He bets he could.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, and he blinks at you as if snapping out of something.

“Stranger? It’s me, Adrian.”

You grin. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not but either way, you find it sort of cute. And, yes, Taylor warned you to stop flirting with the hot but kind of dorky busboy because he’s gonna end up catching feelings, but there’s something fun about getting him all flustered and making his cheeks burn.

“I know, Adrian. I could never forget that pretty face,” you tease. He turns slightly pink. There it is. “Thirsty?” you ask.

“Yup, and wait til you see what I got you.”

This has been your routine at Fennel Fields for a few months now. You pick up some speciality soda while you’re delivering beverages across Washington and Adrian brings you something- usually a snack or anything else he thinks you might like.

“Three… two… one.” At the same time, you pull the soda out from your bag and Adrian hands you a small, blue rectangular box.

A cassette tape. Aqua- Aquarium. 

“Adrian! This is so sick- it’s so hard to find tapes these days.” You flip it over to read the tracklist. “I fucking love Barbie Girl.”

“Me too! And I noticed your Walkman, so I thought you could use some more music.” He looks down at the orange and blue soda can in his hands, reading the label. “IRN BRU?”

“This is the weirdest soda I’ve found yet. It’s like bubblegum cream soda but it burns.”

He cracks it open, takes a sip and looks confused. “I think I like it?” He takes another sip. “It’s like my mouth hates it but needs more.”

“I know, right?” You put the cassette in your bag and open the vending machine.

“Thanks for the soda.” He nods at your tired arms as you start loading in your delivery. “Sick forearm pump, by the way.”

“Uh, what?”

“Yeah! You can totally tell you’ve been working on them- they’re huge.”

You raise an eyebrow. It’s probably meant as a compliment, but you’re not sure how you feel about Adrian talking to you like you’re one of his bros at the gym. 

“I mean- not huge! Like normal. But nice. And-“

“Have you seen Taylor?” You decide to step in before he can dig this particular hole any deeper. “I need him to sign for this.”

“What’s up, Cuz?” Taylor appears from around a corner. 

You hold out your electronic POS and stylus, awaiting his signature. “Just need you to sign this, then I’m done for the night.”

“Nice!” says Adrian “You got any plans after this?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you tease him, a small balloon swells up in your chest with excitement. You’ve never been sure whether Adrian’s always so excited to see you because he likes you or if he just really likes soda. 

“Uh, me,  Adrian. Remember?”

“Hey man, what did I tell you about hitting on my cousin?” Taylor gives him a stern look. “Don’t you have a pregnant girlfriend to be worried about?”

You’re surprised, to say the least. The fact that Adrian has a girlfriend (a pregnant one at that) but he still goes out of his way to exchange gifts with you every week is kind of disappointing. It reaffirms your belief that there are no decent men in this town.

“Yes! I mean, no. We, uh, we broke up.”

“Because of the party you tried to throw her?” asks Taylor.

Aw, that’s kind of sweet.

“Uh, yeah, she did not appreciate the abortion party.”

What the fuck?

Taylor signs for the delivery and hands you back the device, giving you a meaningful look- I told you so. The balloon of excitement in your chest feels well and truly punctured.

“But I mean, I’m not hung up on her or anything. I actually dumped her.”

Yup, no decent men alright.

You and Taylor exchange glances. You can practically hear the wet raspberry of the balloon deflating completely. 

“I’d better go. Thanks for the tape, dude,” you say a little more coolly than you’d intended in your hurry to hide your dismay before wheeling your cart out of the break room.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” Adrian’s voice calls from behind you, but Taylor grabs the door before he can.

“I got it, man.” 

Taylor walks with you to the van. You lean up against the cab door in exasperation. Taylor offers you a cigarette which you go to accept, but he retracts the packet.

“Nuh-uh, let’s hear it first.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “You are so full of wisdom, as always, and I will forever heed your dating advice from now until the end of time,” you concede to Taylor, snatching a cigarette. He grins and lights you both up.

“Y’know what the weird thing is? I don’t think he ever had a girlfriend.”

You exhale a puff of smoke in surprise. “What was that about then?”

“I dunno. I caught him out here celebrating one night, and he made up a weird abortion party story. I think he was really out here dancing because Peacemaker came into the restaurant-“

“Peacemaker?! Jeez, isn’t that guy in jail?”

“Musta released him. But I think Adrian was being an excited fanboy and got embarrassed when I saw him. Dude’s a serial liar- I thought he’d come clean if I asked him about it in front of you.”

You lean your head back against the van. “Where are all the decent men in Evergreen?” You lament and start rhyming off, counting on your fingers. “They’re either obsessed with capes, racists, racist capes or racists who are obsessed with capes!”

“Well, speaking of capes, it’s getting dark. You better hit the road before you run into that nutcase, Vigilante.”

“Yeah, or the escaped gorilla,” you laugh, stubbing out your cigarette. 

“Put that in the trash or you’ll end up with a bullet in your head for littering.”

“I’ve charmed my way out of worse situations. Besides, maybe he’ll be the one to sweep me off my feet.”

“Vigilante? Or the gorilla?”

“Honestly, at this point, I’d take either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following afternoon, your delivery route sends you off down the highway. It’s not a glamorous job, stocking vending machines at different businesses all over the place, but it’s easy, and you can listen to your own music. It takes you all across this little corner of Washington, and the more you see, the more grateful you are that you get to live in this beautiful, rocky state.

Even if there isn’t a single eligible man to be found on your entire route. You still feel a little crestfallen thinking about Adrian Chase. Why was he so intent on lying to Taylor yesterday? How deep does his Peacemaker obsession go if he was that embarrassed?

You pull up to the back of the Glan Tai bottling plant on the outskirts of Evergreen, put on your headphones and turn on your Walkman. You want to keep a low profile because the clients are much weirder here than the rest- Adrian Chase excluded.

They weren’t always like this. The facilities manager at Glan Tai was a friendly old man - Clive- who let you use their bathroom, and gave you filter coffee from a polystyrene cup to ease your two-hour journey home. Until one day recently, Clive wasn’t so friendly anymore. New management, you expected.

Head down, you drag your cart through the service entrance and make your way to their storage room. Aqua blasts in your ears as you wheel your way along the corridor. There are loud bangs and the ground vibrates slightly, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary in a site with heavy machinery. 

You get to the room where they keep the IT equipment, files and vending machine and start unloading. You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder and pull your headphones down around your neck.

“Oh, sorry Clive, I didn’t see you-“ 

You freeze, icy fear spreading through your veins as you find yourself face to face with - you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me - the escaped gorilla from the zoo.

You scream. Loudly.

Two people burst into the room, startling the gorilla. It backs away from you. For a second, you think they’re factory workers running to your rescue. But they slam and bolt the storage room door shut behind them.

“No! Unlock the door!”

They whip around and point their guns at you. You drop the case of water you’re holding and hold your hands up in surrender.

One of them, you recognise from the news. A man in a black and teal suit, armed to the hilt, with his face almost entirely obscured- except by a red visor covering his eyes.

It’s him. It’s Vigilante. And a blonde woman you don’t recognise. 

He lowers his gun and nudges hers away from your direction.

“Shoot her before she kills us both!” snaps the woman, irritated. 

“She’s not a butterfly,” says Vigilante, his voice muffled behind his mask. “I know her.”

He knows me? How?

“I’m just delivering water, I swear!” You beg her, looking between them. 

Just then, the gorilla appears from behind the shelves and launches the blonde woman across the room.

An involuntary yelp of shock escapes you again and the gorilla returns its attention to you. Thinking fast, you tip your cart forward, and the giant ape trips up on the cascade of cans and bottles.

“You didn’t think to tell us there was a gorilla in here?!” Comes the annoyed blonde woman’s voice from behind a broken table.

“I was preoccupied with the guns in my face!” 

The door to the storage room is blasted open and another woman bursts in, followed by none other than Peacemaker.

Adrian would lose his shit right now, you think to yourself.

Peacemaker looks at you through the eyeholes of his helmet “She’s clear, Adebayo” and the other woman lowers her gun. The gorilla gets up. “Oh shit!” says Peacemaker as it sends a swipe in your direction, sending you tumbling off your feet and onto the floor.

You cower in the corner as they fight the gorilla. Vigilante stabs it but it bats him away easily and does the same to the woman called Adebayo. Peacemaker launches himself onto the gorilla’s back but the beast throws him off onto the hard floor.

“Die, human!” 

Did that gorilla just speak? What have you gotten yourself into?

The gorilla raises its fists, ready to crush Peacemaker, when a man with an oddly patchy beard runs through the door, chainsaw in hand and proceeds to kill the gorilla, sawing it almost in half and sending blood splattering everywhere. 

A small winged creature crawls out of the dead gorilla’s mouth. The blonde woman gets to her feet and shoots it casually. What the…? Was that some kind of parasite?

The gunshot leaves your ears ringing but hearing your name whispered in your ear brings you back to reality. You blink stupidly at Vigilante, who is now crouched down inches from your face and you try to make out his eyes through the red visor. You know those eyes. But how? How does the mass murderer of Evergreen know you?

He hooks his arms under yours, lifts you to your feet and wipes the smattering of blood off your face. Your heart is racing as you continue to stare at him silently, dumbfounded. You know you should be scared of this masked man, who’s wanted on multiple counts of murder. But here he is, claiming he knows you, making sure you’re okay.

“What do we do with her?” asks the bearded man with the chainsaw. 

“Who, me?” you try and sound nonchalant. “I didn’t see anything. I’ll just get out of your beard- hair! I mean hair.” You go to put your headphones back over your ears but the blonde woman rips them off.

“Hey!” Vigilante steps between you and her. “Look, she’s cool. She says she didn’t see anything, so she didn’t”

“How do you know she’s not a butterfly?” she challenges Vigilante.

“X-ray helmet,” interjects Peacemaker. “No butterfly in that pretty little noggin.” He winks at you and Vigilante bristles, folding his arms in an irritated sort of way.

“Listen, I’ve got like four more deliveries today so…” You trail off as your body starts to go on autopilot. There’s an awkward silence as they watch you bustle around, stacking the blood-covered cases of water and soda back onto your cart.

“She’s clearly in shock,” says Adebayo, more gently than the blonde. 

“Hey, let me help you with that,” says a muffled voice from behind you.

‘Hey, let me help you with that.’

In the exact same cadence as yesterday. 

“A-Adrian?” you say hoarsely and you turn back around in time to watch Vigilante drop the case of water. “Adrian Chase?!” you repeat, your voice slightly hysterical. 

“No!” says Adrian unconvincingly but at the same time Peacemaker says:

“Godammit Vij. How does she know you?”

Adrian groans in frustration. “She delivers drinks to my job too!”

“That settles it- she’s a witness and she knows Vigilante’s identity. Adebayo, you need to end this. Don’t make her beg for her life like the other guy,” commands the blonde woman, clearly in charge of the team.

“Nonononononono,” Adrian stands in front of you with his arms folded. “No way. I am not letting you kill her.”

“That’s an order, Adebayo. Vigilante- move.”

“Wait,” says the guy with the beard. “She might actually be useful, Harcourt.”

Harcourt raises her eyebrows. “Well?”

“We’re looking for other leads, right? Other places where the butterflies are?” He looks at you. “Hey, water girl. Does this company have any other locations?”

“Y-yes,” your throat feels dry.

“Can you tell us where they are?” he asks.

“Will you let me live if I tell you?”

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans. “Fine. But we’re gonna need to figure out what to do with her to keep her from blabbering.”

“C’mon, she already said she was cool!” says Adrian.

“And you trust her?”

“One hundo percent.” He gives you a reassuring thumbs up.

“I wouldn’t trust his judgement,” says Peacemaker and you immediately feel faint. It must be obvious on your face because he backtracks. “No! Not that we should kill her! Definitely not. But Adrian would trust any hot girl. We can’t just let her go.”

Harcourt pinches the bridge of her nose as she thinks. 

“Vigilante,” she says finally. “I’m telling Murn that water girl is your responsibility. You’re going to keep her with you 24/7 until the mission is over. Any fuck-up, if she does or says anything that jeopardizes our objective, she’s dead and you’ll be doing black ops in Belize. Got it?”

“Cool, got it!” says Adrian enthusiastically, as if that isn’t the most horrifying thing he’s ever heard.

“Wait, don’t I get a say in this? I have a job! I have people who will be looking for me.”

“Do you want to cooperate or do you want to die?” 

“Which one do you wanna do?” asks Adrian.

If you hadn’t already figured out that Vigilante was Adrian Chase, that would have been the dead giveaway.

A few moments later, Adrian is leading you by the hand back through the factory to where your van is parked while you cover your eyes with one hand. He had suggested it after your knees almost gave way when you saw the pile of bodies at the door. And he liked that you had rejected Peacemaker’s offer to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you out.

“Oh, no… Clive,” you whisper, making the mistake of opening your eyes and seeing the old man crumpled on the floor, next to the coffee machine. You cover your eyes again.

“Watch you don’t slip in the blood here,” says Adrian gently, guiding you to side-step.

You groan. You think you might puke. 

“I can’t believe you killed all these people,” you whisper, wishing you could disassociate from this whole thing.

“We didn’t, not really- I promise. I’ll explain on the ride home.”

Harcourt instructs Adrian to drive your van, following theirs back to Evergreen. When you’re both out of earshot and in your van, Adebayo sits in the driver’s seat turning to Harcourt, Peacemaker and Economos. “Isn’t it kind of weird seeing Vigilante like this?”

“Like what?” asks Economos.

“Like, compassionate, sweet… not all hell-bent on murder?”

Peacemaker shrugs “He’s like this all the time. You should hear the way he talks about this other girl, his friend Taylor’s sister, or cousin, I think. He’s just a sucker for anyone who’s nice to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, you’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, waiting for Adrian to finish up in the shower.

On the drive to their headquarters, Adrian had explained all about their mission and how an alien race called ‘the butterflies’ had taken over the bodies of (and, therefore, killed) all those people in the factory long before Adrian’s team had arrived.

At headquarters, you had told them everything you knew about your clients at Glan Tai and had given them the coordinates for their other delivery location- a small farm thirty miles north of the factory. Murn seemed to be satisfied with your intel and approved of Harcourt’s plan to have Adrian keep you under close surveillance. Great. 

Adrian grabbed his go-bag from his Sebring and drove the two of you in your van back to your apartment, where you immediately ran to the shower, to try and rid yourself of all the negative feelings from today.

He now appears in your living room, fresh out of the shower in a pale blue t-shirt and jeans, looking much less out of place than when he was in his full combat gear. But he still stands awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself. 

“Thirsty?” you ask him. “I’ve got wine.”

“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

You find two wine glasses and place them on the coffee table. He sits on the edge of your couch. “What am I gonna do, Adrian?” You open up a bottle of red wine and start pouring. “I could barely stand seeing all that shit at the factory. Do you really think I’m gonna kill you?” You slide a glass towards him and start filling your own. 

He looks down at the wine but doesn’t touch it. You raise your glass. “To forgetting the worst day of my life.”

“The worst day of your life? Today was awesome!” He looks genuinely surprised that you’re not sharing his elation. “We killed a ton of butterflies, and now thanks to you, we know where they keep their cow.”

It’s a sentence that wouldn’t have made sense to you a few hours ago. And you hate that it does now.

“We’re saving the world,” he continues. “And you helped!”

You push his wine glass closer to him. “To saving the world, then.”

He takes a sip and screws up his face. “Do you have any beer? Ooh, or soda!”

“It’s in the van. And most of it’s covered in blood now.”

“Then this is great,” he says, a little too politely. 

“If you’re not used to it, the first glass tastes like acetone,” you tell him, draining yours. “But the second one…” You pause, pouring yourself another. “The second goes down real smooth.”

Adrian copies you and gulps down the red wine. You refill his glass, and he takes another sip.

“The second one isn’t so bad, actually.” He sounds surprised. 

You sink down on the couch next to him. “So now what?” you ask. He looks confused, so you elaborate. “What do you usually do with hostages all night?”

“You’re not a hostage!” He looks offended. “I’m more like your bodyguard.”

“Oh yeah? Who are you guarding me from? Your friends?”

He looks up over his glasses in thought. “Well, just Harcourt. And Murn. But it’s mostly to keep you safe from the butterflies.”

You take another drink of wine. Studying his face, you think he’s telling the truth. He really doesn’t consider you to be his hostage. As you look him over, you realise you’ve never noticed how curly his hair is before- he’s normally wearing that dorky little Fennel Fields hat. 

You’ve always thought he was cute in a wholesome kind of way but now that he’s out of his work uniform, you can appreciate that he’s, like, ridiculously, conventionally handsome. You wonder if he knows it. You wonder a lot of things about Adrian, especially now that, come to think of it, everything you know about him is probably a lie to keep his secret identity hidden.

“Truth or dare?” you blurt. 

“What?”

“Go on.” You gesture towards him with your glass. “We’ve got a long night. I want to find out more about you. Adrian. Vigilante.”

He looks excited. Maybe it’s the prospect of playing a game, or maybe he’s just happy someone wants to know more about him. Both sides of him.

“Truth then.”

“Does your pregnant ex-girlfriend exist?”

He groans and leans his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “No. I was just trying to cover how stoked I was that Peacemaker was out of jail.” 

You laugh, but your eyes linger on his exposed neck and the way his Adam’s apple moves when he talks.

He turns his head to look over at you through his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t think Taylor likes me.”

“Taylor likes you just fine,” you lie, sipping your wine.

“Truth or dare?” asks Adrian.

“Truth.”

“Has Taylor ever told you that you shouldn’t date me?”

“Ugh, fine. Yes. He told me not to give you my number.”

“Why?!”

“If you want to ask a follow-up question, then you need to take a drink. That’s the rule.” He does so- quickly. “Okay, fine. He says he doesn’t trust you because you’re always lying about things, and it kind of annoys everyone because you’re a bad liar.”

“Everyone?! I thought we were talking about Taylor?”

“If you want to be liked and have a secret identity, you need to be a better liar.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” admits Adrian, twisting the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Your turn, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

He thinks for a couple of beats. “I dare you to finish your drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“It was the only dare I could think of that wasn’t a sexy dare.”

The newly formed idea of Adrian asking you to do something sexy for him makes you pause. Warmth pools deep in your tummy as watches you, waiting. God, why does red wine always make you feel so slutty? You raise your eyebrows over the rim of your glass, and you drain the rest of the liquid. “Why don’t you want to give me a sexy dare?” you ask, setting your glass down.

“I dunno, don’t you think there’s kind of a power imbalance?” 

“That’s true. You are my bodyguard after all.” You nod contemplatively. “And I guess it would be awkward since you need to stay here for a few more days.”

“Oh, I meant-” Adrian cuts himself off. What he really meant would sound incredibly childish now. 

You get up from the couch to retrieve another bottle of wine from the breakfast bar that separates your kitchen from your living room. “Go on, what did you mean?”

“No, I meant what you said.” 

No, he didn’t. What he meant is that you have all the power because he has such a huge crush on you. And the way the wine is going to his head, he’s not sure he trusts himself to give you a dare without it having an ulterior motive. Adrian watches as you twist the corkscrew into the bottle with precision. Your chest jiggles in your tank top with the recoil of your arm extracting the cork, and it makes Adrian blush bright red. He discreetly adjusts himself in his jeans.

You bring the new bottle of wine over to the couch and sit down cross-legged, your back leaning against the armrest so you can get a better look at him without constantly straining. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this, you think, as he gets comfortable, changing position so he can look at you too. In the soft light of your living room, you can make out that his cheeks are pink again. “Does wine usually make you flush like that?” you ask. 

“Uh, I wouldn’t know. Can wine do that?”

“To some people, yeah. For me, it just makes me feel kinda sexy.” You clap your hand to your mouth, watching Adrian’s eyes widen. “Ugh! Sorry, I wouldn’t have said that if I hadn’t had two glasses already.” You scoff and shake your head. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

The wine is making you feel bolder. “Have you had sex in your Vigilante costume?”

“Today?”

You almost choke on your newly poured drink with laughter. 

“Okay, that answers that question. In which case, I have a follow-up,” You take a sip, pointedly. “What’s Vigilante’s favourite sex position?”

“Oh, uh…” Adrian thinks back to when he last had sex as Vigilante, with Amber and Peacemaker a few days ago. “Any, I guess.”

“Any? C’mon, you picked truth!”

“It is the truth! I don’t take my mask off, or my suit if I don’t have to. So it always feels the same. Fun, I guess, but sorta uncomfortable. Funcomfortable.”

You smile and rest your head on your hand, elbow leaning on the back of the couch. “What about Adrian?”

“Is that another follow-up question?”

You acquiesce and take another drink but before you can even swallow he says “Missionary.”

“Boring,” you tease but he doesn’t seem fazed.

“It’s not. Not when you really like someone anyway. Missionary is fucking great - when you can kiss them, hold their hand, stare into their eyes…” He pauses, his green eyes burning into yours. “Boring is not being able to even taste someone because of my mask.”

You realise you’ve been holding your breath. You look away and exhale slowly, trying to steady the growing arousal burning hot, deep in your pelvic floor. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-” When you raise your head again, he’s still looking at you intently. “I just realised I haven’t been fucked like that in a really long time.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah right! I bet you go on tons of dates.”

“I do,” you admit with a tilt of your head. “But did you know that like 90% of women don’t orgasm on a one-night stand?”

Adrian’s eyebrows knit together “That doesn’t sound right. Women always cum when I-”

“That’s what all men say, Adrian. But honestly, I don’t think a man has made me cum in, like, the entire time I’ve been single.”

“I could,” he says, matter-of-factly. It’s not a boast, it’s a simple statement. 

Honestly, you're not sure if it’s the alcohol or the vivid image you have of Adrian making you clutch at your bedsheets and moan his name, but something’s making the blood rush to your face and other parts of your body that you’re still desperately trying not to think about. 

“I’ll do it right now if you want?” 

He’s asking if he can try to make you cum as casually as if asking if he can help you restock the vending machine. It’s bolder than you’d expected from the shy busboy. Then again, you’d never expected him to be Vigilante either… maybe you should review all the preconceptions you have of him.

Your abdomen clenches. Fuck, you can feel how hot and sticky your underwear is as he blinks at you behind his glasses, waiting for your response.

You look at his face hungrily, eyes lingering on his lips, now stained with red wine. “Adrian, listen. I’m sure you’re very good, blah blah blah. But I just… I don’t want to set you up for disappointment. It’s kind of hard to make me cum.”

“Let me give it a shot. And if I can make you cum, you let me take you on a date.”

You stare at him, feeling your chest pounding as you contemplate his offer. There’s something about his voice that’s so sincere and so fucking desperate for you, your brain can’t think of a reason not to say yes.

“Truth or dare?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Truth.”

“Do you want me to go down on you? I’m really good at it.”

Yes! You want to scream- already stupidly soaking fucking wet at the mere idea of it. 

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut and nod. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Yeah?” His tone makes you think that he wasn’t really expecting you to say yes.

“Yes, Adrian.” You laugh in disbelief. “If you make me cum, you can take me on a date.” He grins and you shift inelegantly, not sure how to proceed. “So… how do you wanna-”

Adrian pounces on you before you can ask the question, his red-stained lips crashing against yours. You kiss him back- hard. You’re thirsty for him, you realise, as you taste the alcohol mixed with the slightly metallic taste of his saliva. You want to drain him, drown in him.

He groans when you grab the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. He can’t believe that you’re kissing him like this- like it’s you who’s been pining after him and not the other way around.

You pause, lips barely touching his. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” you whisper.

“You- you have?”

“Adrian, I spend half my week trying to find you new kinds of speciality soda just so I have an excuse to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawns on him. All this time he just thought you were really, really into soda. 

Adrian gives you one last deep kiss and pulls away. He gets on his knees on the floor, and the sight of him there, with his hands on your hips and his body between your legs, makes your cunt clench. You bite your lips in anticipation.

His fingertips hook the hem of your sweatpants. “Can I take these off?” You lift your hips, permitting him to remove them.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your pussy.

“Adrian…” You mumble, suddenly self-conscious. Exposed. You try to bring your knees together, but he places a hand on each of your thighs, holding them firmly open. 

“You’re wet already,” he says, in a self-satisfied sort of way that makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “When did that happen? Was it when I said I’d make you cum?”

You shake your head. “When I was wondering what kind of sexy dare you wanted to give me.”

He grins “I wanted to dare you to take your top off.” He traces a finger along your hot, wet folds. You gasp, feeling the calloused texture of his fingertip brushing up and down against your skin.

“Like this?” You lift your tank top up and over your head, tossing it aside and then you squeeze your tits together. 

He sits on the floor, lips parted slightly in awe. You feel like he’s looking at you like you’re the most-

“You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Now you really are embarrassed but before you can respond, he dips the finger that was sliding along your folds into your pussy. You bite your lip to stifle the vulnerable, blissful sigh that leaves you.

“It’s okay- you can moan for me.” He reassures, pushing a thick finger in and up. You feel your walls squeezing around him in response. “God, you’re so tight around my finger.”

“Fuck-” you plead, as he teases you, gently stroking your g-spot. His lips haven’t even touched you yet and you already feel like you’re having to consciously stop yourself from cumming.

“You needed this, huh?” he asks and you watch as he kisses your inner thigh, sucking the sensitive skin there. You have to look away- just the sight of his jaw muscles moving as he traces his tongue along the crevice where your thigh meets your body almost sends you over the brink.

“Adrian, I’m- fuck-” After all your warnings about how difficult it would be to make you cum, you’re are shamefully close already- and Adrian knows it. Everything below your waist is hot and shaking and swollen as his finger curls up inside you, tapping rhythmically. 

“Wait not yet- I’ve got to taste you. I want you to cum on my tongue.”

Warmth envelopes your clit as Adrian opens his mouth and slowly glides his tongue over the bundle of nerves there, tasting you for the first time. He barely moves at all but you’re so close that just the pressure of his mouth on you sends the crashing wave of your orgasm rolling across his hot tongue. Your back arches and your walls clamp down around his finger. 

He lets out a groan, sending pleasant vibrations across your clit. 

“Shit, Adrian-”

Blinding lights appear somewhere between your eyelids and the centre of the universe. Your thighs tense as the pleasure shoots through your body, your pussy flooding his mouth between your legs. 

When you finally stop twitching he removes his tongue from you, giving you a moment’s respite. 

“That was, like, really easy,” he smirks as you run your hands through your hair in disbelief. “I didn’t even have to take my glasses off.”

“I’ve never-” You try to catch your breath, blinking at him. You’re not sure you’ve even made yourself cum that quickly before. “That’s never happened -so fast- ever.”

“I shoulda asked what two orgasms would get me.”

“Literally anything. Do whatever you want with me-” you babble, staring up at the ceiling. You pause to look down when you feel him remove his finger from inside you. 

And he takes off his glasses, ready to make you a fucking mess.

It’s the singular hottest action you’ve ever seen anyone do in your entire life- Adrian Chase is going to be the end of you.

He hooks his arms behind your knees, lifting your ass off of the couch and pulling you towards him. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, mesmerised by the way your chest still heaves in the aftershock of your orgasm. Adrian buries his face between your legs, delving his tongue between your lips and exploring your entrance.

He pulls back for a second “I knew you’d taste so fucking good.” 

Fuck. 

You watch as he sucks on two of his fingers and sinks them deep inside you, up to his knuckles. When you repeat his name over and over, he answers by flicking his tongue over your clit.

You gasp at the sensation and grab a fistful of his thick, curly hair. His tongue rolls gentle circles around your clit as his fingers work in and out, softly stretching your pussy. Adrian takes his time now and it’s agonising. 

For so long he’s been having sex as Vigilante. Adrian’s missed this, the freedom of having his mask off. Of taste. And he can’t believe that it’s you that he’s devouring. 

Fuck, and you could lie here like this forever, just enjoying him exploring you, like he wants nothing more than to make you gush all over him and cry his name again. Normally you’d feel under pressure to perform, to give him that second orgasm he’s so determined to draw from you, but the way he’s taking his time, lazily swirling his tongue in circles, and curling his fingers into you makes you dissolve into a puddle.

“Fuuuck,” you whine helplessly, feeling the familiar sensation of you losing yourself, the heat that’s been slowly building deep in your core threatening to boil over. “Can we do this, like, the whole time you’re here protecting me?” Your eyes try to find his but he’s staring at your tits. His other hand is on your hip, fingers not quite stretching up towards you - as if unsure what the boundary is on touching you when it comes to this silly little deal you’ve made.

You pull his hand to your chest, encouraging him to squeeze you. He moans needily between wet, sloppy licks. The sound of him being so turned on just from touching your body, when you haven’t laid a hand on him yet sends ecstasy searing through you.

And it comes, whipping through your core and cracking like thunder. You squeeze your thighs around his head and he lets you set the pace, as you grind yourself wildly onto his tongue, his lips, his chin. Adrian groans in encouragement when you grip the back of his head, his fingers still pressing into your g-spot as you press yourself against his mouth. 

You cum hard again, your rocking hips eventually shuddering to a halt as he gives you a few last long, slow licks. The faint prickle of embarrassment you feel from letting yourself come undone like that vanishes when you see Adrian’s face light up, his lips swollen and sticky, totally enamoured by your now slightly dishevelled appearance. 

His mouth looks irresistible. You slink down off the couch to join him on the floor so you can kiss him desperately. Fuck, why did you ever listen to Taylor? You needed this. Needed him. You taste the sweet, salty juices on Adrian’s lips and on his tongue.

“I’ll admit-” you breathe, pressing your forehead against his. “- you’re like really, really fucking good at that.”

“Told you.” He leans on the couch and gets to his feet. “So, where’s your bedroom?”

“Uh, down the hall, across from the bathroom. Why?”

“Two orgasms and I can do what I want with you. Deal’s a deal.” Before your brain can catch up, he hoists you to your feet and over his shoulder, making you squeal involuntarily with delight.

Oh my fucking god.

Adrian slaps your ass and carries you through to your bedroom, tossing you onto your bed where you burst into a fit of giggles. He smells warm and clean, like your favourite shower gel he must have used earlier. He crawls on top of you and plants tiny kisses all over your lips, your cheeks, your nose- every inch of your face and neck peppered with his affection. 

He pulls off his T-shirt and - Jesus Christ, he has abs. But you also notice his torso is covered in scars and bruises, the evidence of his double life painted across his body. A streak of white scar tissue here, a purple welt there-

“Don’t girls usually ask about all these injuries?” You ask, tracing your hand down his chest.

“I usually keep my suit on.” He shrugs.

And that’s when you realise- he doesn’t just happen to have sex as Vigilante. He only has sex as Vigilante. You feel a pang of understanding, thinking about the way he so wistfully described missionary earlier. You’re the only one who’s seen him like this. Both sides of him.

Adrian undoes his belt buckle and looks down at you lying spread out of the bedsheets in front of him, still flushed and glowing. He knew he’d be able to make you glow like that.

He pauses. “Do, uh, do you have a condom? I wasn’t expecting to…”

You find a condom in your bedside drawer while he undresses and then you help to put it on him as you kiss the small trail of dark hair below his belly button. He’s big- bigger than what you’re used to. You’d really, really like to suck it, you think. But Adrian has other ideas. He guides you back to lie on your pillows and climbs on top of you.

Wanton anticipation bubbles over inside you, you sigh needily as he kisses your neck and brings his calloused hand between your legs again. He slides his fingers into your folds and you hear the wet sounds of him rubbing your slick on his cock. It’s greedy but you’re already impatient for him- you want to cum for him again.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks into your eyes. “You okay?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Fuck me- please.”

The way you plead makes him twitch- he can’t take it anymore. The erection he’s had since you opened that second bottle of wine is throbbing. Adrian’s hips press into you and you feel his cock pushing through your folds, into your centre. A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel him filling you up, the walls of your pussy struggling to accommodate him.

Watching your reaction, he double checks “Sure you’re okay?” 

You nod. Because it aches - but in the best kind of way. 

“Good,” he says. “Because you feel so good. Your pussy feels so fucking good around me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. Fuck, he has such a slutty little waist, you think to yourself as he grinds into you, pushing deeper, the head of his cock pressing into your g-spot. You slip your hand between your bodies to touch yourself and he moans quietly in your ear.

“Oh my god, yeah. Fuck, rub your clit because I’m not gonna last long.”

He clasps your other hand, fingers intertwining with yours- half holding it, half pinning it to the bed. Your body writhes under him, leaning your head back into your pillows and he takes the opportunity to suck at your freshly exposed neck.

“You look so good taking it so deep like this,” he groans, tilting his head down to watch his cock slide in and out of you. “I can’t believe I’m fucking inside you.”

Everything he says makes the hairs on the back of your arms stand up. You feel so, deliciously full- the indecent slapping and squelching noises as he picks up pace and pounds into you only makes you wetter.

Your legs squeeze around his waist as your whole body tightens like a spring coiling, ready to be released. The friction of his body moves yours, driving you into your mattress, and putting even more rhythmic pressure on your fingers against your clit. 

“Adrian, I’m- ah, fuck- I’m gonna cum again.”

“Fuck, look at me. I want you to cum when I cum. Let it all out for me.”

You try and keep eye contact with him while bliss rockets through your body as his hips slam into you harder. It spreads from your centre right down your legs, now in a vice-like grip around him. You curse his name incoherently, your pussy tightening and releasing as you cum around his cock. 

“That’s it- fuckfuckfuckfuck-” His full weight collapses on you as he empties himself. You feel Adrian’s cock pulsing inside you as he groans your name and comes to a halt.

You both lie there for a few moments, Adrian breathing raggedly into the crook of your neck, his heartbeat and yours pounding against each other. Your euphoria is interrupted only briefly when he pulls out of you and disposes of the condom. 

Adrian returns to your bed and pulls you into his chest. 

“I am never listening to Taylor ever again,” you say, face pressed against his pectoral muscles.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, unless…” You tilt your head up to look at him. “You still want to take me on a date right?”

“Are you crazy? Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nevermind.” The dating scene in Evergreen has sucked so hard for so long, your first thought was that he might not want to see you again.

He grabs your face with both hands, trying to drum sense into you. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for months. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Adrian plants a kiss on your forehead.

Maybe there is a decent man in this town after all.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 7

Summary: As the party dies down the avengers spend some time bonding and peter joins them for the team bonding.

TW: Alcohol (that’s it I think)

Words: 2196

A/n I finally found time to write again and so I present to you this band new chapter \(>u<)/. Enjoy. Also, I know I said I would post it as one long chapter but … ig I lied? We are getting to the secret reveal soon. Only about one or two more chapters until we find out what the Parker’s are hiding. I’m so mad cuz I wrote the next chapter, but it didn’t save so I have to rewrite it which is why I’m just posting what I have here and why it’s taken so long sorry guys.

After you were led around and introduced to some more people Wanda and Nat led you back to the small area from before with a couple couches. By now the party had begun to die down with most of the guests, or who peter referred to as Stark Industries NPC’s, leaving for the night.

As you settled on a couch with the others it was now just the team, most of which you had been introduced to by now. Some introductions had been rather short but yo were working with these people so you would defiantly have time to get to know them better. Some of them you would be even living with.

The night had been a success for the most part. Earlier Thor had arrived along with his promise of asgaurdian liquor. After consulting with JARVIS it was confirmed that your metabolism was a match to Steve’s meaning you could stomach the god’s alcohol without getting poisoned.

This had of course led to you getting properly drunk or at least on the way to it, for the first time since the bite. Unfortunately, Nat had caught onto your plan rather easily and cut you off much to your displeasure.

Now with the team spread out across the couches, most with a drink in had or some assortment of fruity cocktail the banter had picked up as the music had died down and the guests all left.

“So, spider-kid whats your story?” Bucky asked and you adjusted your position on the couch suddenly feeling a little nervous with all eyes now on you. You felt a hand squeeze yours as you looked over, seeing wanda giving you an encouraging nod from where she held your hand beside you on the couch.

“Not much different to Peter.” You said.

“But somewhat different, right?” Sam said.

“Well … yeah.” You shrugged. “Same old spider bite, different powers, different life choices.” You said with a vague noncommittal shrug.

“So, where you been all this time?” Steve asked in a kind way.

“Queens.” You shrugged. “Small apartment, big rent, crap job until I started my own business, then I was planning on moving but you guys decided to level my apartment block to save people.” You shrugged.

“Sorry about that.” Steve said.

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” You grinned sipping the soft drink Nat had given you instead of alcohol.

“Hey, I let you live here, didn’t I?” Tony said with a grin.

“But you did kind of destroy all her stuff Mr stark.” Peter said from where he had snuck in and sat down unnoticed.

“Hey, you're not supposed to be at these.” Tony said. “And I bought her new stuff.”

“Its just the team Mr Stark nobody else is here. Can I stay please?” Peter begged looking at you to back him up and pouting when you threw your hands up.

“I don’t know May said no alcohol.” He begun and suddenly May piped up making stark jump.

“Its fine Tony, just don’t give him any and keep an eye on him.” She said from where she was sat with pepper.

“Jesus woman. I forgot you were here. Don’t scare me, I have a heart condition you know.” Tony said as somewhere in the background sam continued laughing at him.

“Pepper said I could stay the night, and we could have a girl's day tomorrow.” May said grinning.

“Sounds like some shenanigans I want nothing to do with. I assume it will be at my expense.” Tony said sounding amused.

“Of course.” Pepper said.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” May added.

“I’ll drink to that.” Nat said and raised her glass.

As everyone took a swig of their respective drinks you realised why peter liked it so much here. It was a family. A real family. Sure, May did her best and you would always have a special bond only blood could give but this was the goofy family you never had.

“Wait so I’m confused, is she an avenger or not?” Clint asked seemingly asking the question on everyone’s mind.

“Can I answer that one Mr Stark.” Peter piped up.

“Sure kid.” Tony said.

“Welcome to the team Y/n/n.” Peter said with a big grin.

“Really?” You asked feeling this was all very offical.

“Damn right kid. We’d be stupid to not add another spider to the team.” Steve said with a smile.

“Plus, I already made you a suit. Ai and all.” Tony said.

“Thanks, tony.” You said with a big smile plastered across your cheeks.

“I have just one question…” Sam said with a shit-eating grin.

“What is it Mr Falcon?” Peter asked missing the look on Sam’s face.

“Who’s stronger?” Sam finished looking curious. “We already know spider boy is stronger than capsicle. But what about the other spider?” A few nods went around the room before Bucky spoke up.

“Arm wrestle.” He posed and you looked over at peter, flashing him a grin as he slouched in his seat.

“Ok.” You said and peter nodded.

Everyone crowded around the coffee table as peter and you sat down on the floor face each other.

“Standard rules. Ready?” Steve said as both you and peter positioned your arms on the table. Steve placed his hand over your clasped fists.

“Don’t break the table this time.” May said loud enough for people to hear and peters cheeks heated up while you snickered.

“3… 2 … 1… go!” Steve let go of your hands and straight away it begun leaning towards a win for you. Peters arm was shaking as he tried to fight back. With barely an inch between peters hand and the table the position flipped.

You were sure people had placed bets by now. Nat and Sam were cheering you on while Bucky had yet to forget the incident at the airport and placed his bet on peter.

You were on the defence now, with peter bringing your hand almost back up to the midway point. As it began to tilt in a bad direction for you with a burst of strength you slammed peters hand down on the table winning the match. Sam cheered and Nat smirked.

Standing up and brushing off invisible dusty from your lap Nat came to your side and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“My victor. Thanks for the easy twenty I just made.” She said and your cheeks were blazing as you retreated to your seat from earlier as everyone went back to their places.

“But can the spider's sister also lift the hammer?” Thor boomed as he patted your brother's shoulder while peter smirked. Everyone knew peter could wield the magical asgaurdian hammer.

You looked at Thor with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Is that a dare big man?” You asked with a grin curling up the edges of your lips.

“And if it is lady Parker?” Thor asked with a challenging tone.

“Well, if it is I never back down from a dare.” You said the look on your face never faltering.

“Then it is a date lady Parker.” Thor said removing his hand from Peter’s shoulder and clapping them together and rubbing his hands in anticipation.

“Ready to look like an idiot spider boy?” You asked looking at Peter who was starting to loose his confident look. He knew you had a heart of gold.

By now all eyes were on you, Peter and Thor.

“Alright pointbreak I put two hundred on the girl spider.” Tony said.

His words catching you off guard as you took a sip of your drink making it go down the wrong way as you choked and coughed. Making a few people laugh.

“Dollars?” You exclaimed once you got your breath back.

“No, I meant seashells.” Tony sassed rolling his eyes.

“I’ll take that.” Bucky said. “I say she can’t get it to budge.”

Soon there was a chorus of voices as everyone places their bets. Tony had, at some point, gotten Jarvis to start taking notes of who bet what and how much.

Once all the bets were done all eyes turned back to you and Thor.

“Alright lord of lightning.” Tony began, “where’s the magic screwdriver.”

“One second.” Thor boomed. Holding out his hand the sound of breaking glass came from across the compound before the hammer smashed through the wall and slotted perfectly into Thor’s open fist.

“Thor! I told you to stop doing that.” Tony said as he dispatched the iron legion to fix the hammer shaped holes in the walls.

“Apologies Stark it appears I have forgot again.” Thor said looking sheepish and slightly tipsy from the alcohol he brought from his home realm.

Before anyone else could complain about the new holes in the wall Thor places the hammer down on the table. Peter’s smirk began to waver at the look of confidence on your face. Yet internally you were nervous. Were you about to make yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone?

Taking a deep breath you attempted to steady your nerves. Thor brandished a hand in the direction of the hammer, inviting you to pick it up.

Steeling your nerves and steaming the quake in your hands you reached out and brushed your hand over the cool leather that the handle was bound in.

Taking a breath, you wrapped your fingers around the hilt and gently began to tug. The hammer moved as if it weighed nothing more than a few feathers. A collective noise halfway between a cheer and an audible groan came from the spectators as people either made or lost money on the events of the past few seconds.

You tossed the hammer lightly in the air as it spun a full three-sixty before you caught it again by the hilt.

“Lady Parker congratulations are in order.” Thor said looking giddy as he found another person who could wield the hammer. You had a wide grin on your face feeling pretty special for once.

“Why exactly?” You asked not entirely aware of the legend that surrounded your actions.

“Oooo she don’t know.” Sam said before Bucky lightly slapped him to get him to shut up. Sam glared at Bucky as he rubbed his arm, Bucky however seemed unaffected as he shrugged unapologetically at Sam who poked his tongue out at Bucky who pretended not to see.

“Well, lady Parker, they say those who wield the hammer are fit to rule Asgard.” Thor said and you looked excited for a second before groaning.

“What is it?” Wanda asked feeling the slight annoyance and hesitation rolling off your psyche.

“Ew…” you muttered shivering dramatically.

“What?” Nat said reiterating Wanda’s earlier statement.

“I don’t wanna be eternally ruling alongside my little brother. He’d probably need to be babysat the whole time.” You whined making everyone chuckle while peter looked offended.

“I don’t need babysitting.” Peter piped up.

“Kid I had to put an AI in your suit to babysit you after a building fell on you. She’s not wrong.” Tony said and Peter frowned.

“Hey, you gave me one too.” You protested.

“That’s to help you, it doesn’t have snitch programs in it.” Tony said smirking at Peter.

“Yeah, plus I use Jarvis to babysit Tony.” Pepper said smirking over the rim of her wineglass as she took another sip.

“What?!” Tony spluttered. “Hey Jarvis! Is this true?”

“No boss.” Jarvis said not missing a beat.

“I programmed him to say that.” Pepper said adding her two cents.

“It that true j?” Tony asked again.

“No boss.” Jarvis said

“Liar.” Tony grumbled.

May and pepper giggled as they clinked glasses, those two always seemed to be causing trouble. They had gotten quite close after Tony had reduced peppers hours for stark industries, claiming she worked too much and needed more time to “have a life” as he put it.

Naturally Pepper had taken to spending more time with May whilst Tony mentored Peter which had resulted in their wine and cheese club that met whenever Peter came over for his mentorship with Tony. Natasha was known to join on occasion as she knew everything that happened in the tower and would never say no to expensive and more importantly free wine. Wanda joined but it was few and far between that she frequented the club. Often, she was busy doing her own thing and lately she had been too busy spending time with you.

Your only concern was May telling Pepper about … things and then pepper telling Tony who would no doubt end up telling everyone in the tower. For now, you just wanted things to be normal, or as normal as they could be right now.

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