#I could see his fingers dancing on the keyboard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

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No More Misunderstandings

Summary: You have a big crush on Spencer, everyone can see it except for Spencer himself.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Tech Analyst fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: crushing, (un)requited feelings, bad communication, Spencer trying to flirt, gay Elle, Rossi not Gideon, happy ending, Elle is out but reader doesn't know

Word count: 9.4k

a/n: if this man ever asked me to hang out i would say yes in two seconds flat

main masterlist

Every day, you settled into the hum of computers and the soft glow of monitors that painted the walls of the BAU's technical analysis hub, affectionately dubbed the "bat cave" by those who knew it best. Your role as a tech analyst found you working side-by-side with the brilliant and bubbly Penelope Garcia, a woman whose personality was as colorful as her wardrobe. Despite the comfort of being shrouded in the semi-darkness of your tech-laden sanctuary, a certain type of light seemed to elude you—the spark of acknowledgment in Dr. Spencer Reid's deep, thoughtful eyes.

You harbored a crush so palpable that even the air in the room felt charged with your nervous energy whenever Spencer was near. However, your shy demeanor cloaked these feelings in a veil of secrecy that somehow, miraculously, Spencer himself never managed to pierce through. Everyone else on the team had noticed, from the knowing smiles of Derek Morgan to the gentle teasing of JJ, but Spencer remained blissfully unaware, his attention often drifting towards Elle Greenaway with an intensity that tugged painfully at your heart.

Penelope, ever the observant friend, never missed a beat. "Oh, honey," she would whisper, "it’s like you’re sending Morse code with those blushes and he’s living in a blackout."

Her words were gentle, tinged with humor and affection, yet each jest felt like a pinprick to your already tender sensibilities. Whenever Spencer visited the bat cave to discuss case details or gather information, your heart raced as you tried to provide him with everything he needed without tripping over your words or, heaven forbid, your own feet.

"Hey, Spencer," you would start, your voice a careful mixture of professionalism and the warmth you couldn’t keep at bay.

"Hello," he would respond, his eyes scanning the screens filled with data. His focus was razor-sharp, dissecting information with the same precision he used on everything but the emotional currents swirling around him.

Each interaction was a dance. You would inch towards openness, leaning in to catch a whiff of his cologne or to appreciate the subtle shift of his hair when he ran his fingers through it in concentration. But as soon as he glanced up, those hazel eyes like windows to an enigmatic soul, you would recoil slightly, cheeks aflame, words retreating as quickly as they had dared to emerge.

Later, as the screen showed live feeds of the team moving through their environments, Penelope would nudge you gently with her elbow, her voice low and teasing. "You know, if we had a dollar for every time you fumbled around that man, we could retire and buy an island in the Bahamas."

You’d offer a small, embarrassed laugh, grateful for the low lighting hiding the worst of your blush. "I just... I don’t know how to act around him, Penelope. What if he doesn’t..."

"Feel the same?" she'd finish for you, her tone softening. "Sweetie, the heart’s a funny creature. It doesn’t play by the rules of logic that Spencer loves so much. But who knows? Maybe one day, he’ll surprise you and actually look up from those case files and see what’s right in front of him."

The comfort in her voice was soothing, yet each day ended the same—with you watching Spencer, Spencer watching Elle, and Penelope watching over you, a guardian angel clad in technicolor, armed with an arsenal of jokes and just the right words to keep you smiling through the uncertainty.

—

The day had been rolling along as usual in the BAU's bat cave, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards providing a steady backdrop to the glow of computer screens. Penelope had excused herself for a quick bathroom break, leaving you alone amidst the towers of technology. Just as the door clicked shut behind her, the shrill ring of the phone sliced through the quiet, startling you slightly. Calls from the field were usually Penelope’s domain, her cheerful voice a soothing constant for the team. Today, it seemed, you would have to step into her shoes.

“Y/N speaking, what can I do for you?” Your voice wavered slightly, anxiety bubbling up as you prepared for your usual toggle through databases and security feeds.

When Spencer’s voice responded from the other end, a different kind of alertness prickled across your skin. “Hi, Y/N, we need to cross-reference known associates of the unsub with recent flight records. Can you pull up the lists and cross-check for any matches?”

Your heart thumped erratically, his voice weaving through the receiver like a familiar song that never failed to stir your soul. You tried to maintain a steady tone, hoping your voice didn’t betray the sudden nervousness that his presence, even just over the phone, incited. “Sure, Spencer, just a moment.”

As your fingers danced across the keyboard, the professional mask you wore each day slid comfortably into place. You were adept at your job, a fact that never faltered, even under the weight of your emotions. Quickly pulling up the necessary records, you began the process of cross-referencing, your mind briefly detached from the flutter in your stomach.

“Looks like there’s a match. Michael Davidson, on a flight from Atlanta to D.C. this morning,” you reported, a trace of pride threading through your words at the efficiency with which you’d located the information.

“Great, Y/N. Thanks,” Spencer’s voice came through, a hint of relief palpable even through the static of the connection. His appreciation, simple and straightforward, filled you with a warmth that went beyond professional satisfaction.

Hanging up, you let out a breath you’d been holding. Penelope chose that moment to breeze back into the room, her presence as effervescent as ever. Catching the tail end of your smile, she quirked an eyebrow playfully.

“Spill the beans, buttercup. You look like someone just handed you a golden ticket,” she teased, settling back into her chair.

“It was just Spencer needing some quick info,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant as your heart continued to beat a staccato rhythm against your ribs.

Penelope’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling with unspoken understanding. “Oh, just Spencer, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, trying to brush it off casually. “Derek would never betray you by talking to me,” you teased, hoping to steer the conversation away from your flustered feelings.

Penelope’s eyes sparkled even more as she winked at you. “Oh, he’s allowed to have side pieces, my love. I’m a generous goddess.”

You burst out laughing, your nervousness momentarily forgotten as Penelope’s playful banter eased your tension. “I’ll let him know you said that,” you shot back, turning back to your screen, trying to focus on anything other than the residual warmth from talking to Spencer.

Penelope, never one to let you off the hook easily, leaned in closer. “Should I let Spencer know he isn’t allowed to have any side pieces then?” she asked, winking at you again, her tone as sweet as honey but with a hint of mischief.

“Penelope!” you gasped, feeling your face flush all over again. The blush you thought had faded returned with a vengeance as you turned away, hoping she wouldn’t see just how red you were.

She laughed, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m just saying, babe. The boy’s got options, but I think we both know his best one is sitting right here.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as you let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just doing my part to make sure he doesn’t miss any signals,” Penelope sang, tapping her keyboard lightly, her grin as wide as ever. You couldn't help but smile too, secretly grateful for her teasing. After all, it was these moments that made the crush a little more bearable.

—

During one of Rossi’s famed pasta-making sessions, a relaxed atmosphere filled his spacious kitchen, with the rich aroma of tomato sauce simmering on the stove and the sounds of laughter mingling with soft Italian music playing in the background. Rossi, the consummate host, guided everyone through the steps of making the perfect pasta dough, his hands moving with the ease of long practice.

You found yourself stationed next to Spencer, who was diligently kneading a mound of fresh pasta dough. His hands, beautiful and dexterous, worked the dough with a precision that was mesmerizing. The veins on his hands stood out, accentuating every deliberate movement, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by the fluidity of his motions. It wasn’t just his intellect that drew you in; even his seemingly mundane physical actions had a way of catching your undivided attention.

Derek and JJ, who were partnered up on the other side of the kitchen island, caught your fixed gaze and shared an amused look between them. Derek’s smirk grew as he nudged JJ, whispering loud enough for you to overhear, “Looks like someone’s more interested in the handwork than the handiwork.”

JJ chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she joined in the teasing. “Yeah, I think Y/N’s planning on writing a thesis on the manual dexterity of certain geniuses.”

Flustered, you tore your eyes away from Spencer’s hands, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You attempted to focus back on your own portion of dough, which had begun to stick to the counter more than it should. Spencer, oblivious to the exchange, looked up and noticed your struggle.

“Hey, you need to dust a bit more flour on the surface,” he said, his voice gentle, unaware of the reason behind your distraction. He reached over to sprinkle some flour on your dough and then on the countertop, his fingers briefly brushing against yours. The brief contact sent a pleasant jolt through you, further flustering you.

Rossi, ever the observant host, noticed the playful dynamic and decided to rescue you from your embarrassment. “Alright, everyone, let’s focus on the art of pasta! Y/N, why don’t you help me with the sauce?” he suggested, giving you a knowing smile as he handed you a wooden spoon.

As you helped Rossi stir the simmering sauce, carefully blending the herbs into the rich, aromatic mixture, you couldn’t help but cast furtive glances across the kitchen. There, Hotch had taken up the spot you vacated next to Spencer, now deeply engaged in the art of pasta making under Rossi’s enthusiastic instruction. While Hotch was methodically following Rossi’s guidance, Spencer’s attention occasionally drifted.

Across from them, Elle was rolling out her dough with a confident flourish, laughing at something Hotch had said. You caught Spencer's eyes as they met Elle's, a shared glance of amusement passing effortlessly between them. The ease of their silent communication was stark, their smiles syncing in a moment of private jest that seemed to exclude the world around them—including you.

That simple, silent exchange felt like a punch to the gut. The laughter and camaraderie around you suddenly seemed a bit dimmer, a bit more distant. It wasn’t just jealousy that twisted in your stomach—it was the aching realization of how much could be said in a single look when there was a real connection; a connection you feared might never form between Spencer and yourself.

You turned your attention back to the sauce, the spoon moving mechanically in your hand as Rossi continued to chat about the nuances of Italian cooking. He didn’t seem to notice your distraction, caught up in his culinary passion. But inside, your thoughts were swirling as tumultuously as the sauce you stirred.

Trying to shake off the sinking feeling, you focused on the positives—the laughter of your team, the comforting weight of the wooden spoon in your hand, the delicious smell that filled the kitchen. But despite the festive atmosphere, a part of you remained reserved, quietly nursing the tender hope that maybe, just maybe, one day Spencer would look at you with the same warmth and understanding he so effortlessly shared with Elle. Until then, you resolved to keep smiling, keep stirring, and keep hoping.

—

The BAU briefing room felt unusually empty without Penelope's vibrant presence, Elle's keen insights, and Derek's charismatic confidence filling the space. With them on vacation, the dynamic had shifted, and you found yourself stepping into roles that stretched beyond your usual behind-the-scenes expertise. The weight of Penelope's responsibilities now rested squarely on your shoulders, a challenge you accepted with both determination and a hint of trepidation.

As the team gathered for the briefing on the new case, Hotch turned to you. "Y/N, could you walk us through the case description and the current leads?" His voice was calm, authoritative, yet imbued with a supportive undertone that did little to ease the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Nodding, you stood, remote in hand, feeling every pair of eyes in the room settle on you. Public speaking was not your greatest fear, but it was hardly your favorite endeavor—especially not with Spencer's intense gaze locked on you. It was as if his eyes were a pair of spotlights, illuminating not just your words but every minute reaction and emotion that flickered across your face.

As you began to outline the case, detailing the patterns and possible psychological motivations of the unsub, Spencer's scrutiny never wavered. His stare was not judgmental nor dismissive; rather, it was analytical, perhaps even a bit curious, as if he were trying to read the nuances of your presentation, to understand not just the facts but the person delivering them.

"Based on the geographical profiling and the behavioral pattern, we believe the unsub may be operating within a ten-mile radius of downtown," you explained, pointing to the map projected behind you. Your voice steadied as you delved deeper into the analysis, the familiar terrain of data and evidence providing a solid foundation beneath your initially shaky confidence.

Spencer's focus, rather than rattling you further, began to foster a sense of resolve within you. You found yourself speaking more confidently, your nerves tempered by the realization that this was still your team—your family in all but blood. They weren't here to judge; they were here to listen and to learn from what you had to offer.

As the briefing wrapped up, Hotch nodded in approval. "Good work, Y/N. Keep us posted on any updates from Garcia's systems until she returns."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Glad it was over, you were already preparing to scamper back to your office when you heard a voice that sent a familiar shiver down your spine.

“Y/N?” Spencer's voice, calm yet inquisitive, caught your attention.

You spun around to face him, trying not to let your fluster show. “What’s up?”

“Can you put the map back up on the screen, please?” he asked, already standing by the large projection screen.

“Ye–yeah, of course.” Your fingers fumbled with the remote as you quickly reactivated the display, bringing the map back onto the screen.

“Here,” Spencer said, still not looking back at you. “Come look at this.”

You walked over to stand beside him, your eyes inadvertently drawn to his long fingers as they traced paths along the map, pointing out specific areas. The same hands that had mesmerized you earlier were now gliding over the screen, drawing you into his thought process.

Spencer started talking about the geographical profile, rattling off information with his typical rapid-fire brilliance. But what took you by surprise was how he spoke to you—not as the team’s tech analyst, but as if you were another profiler, someone he wanted to consult. This was new, and it left you momentarily stunned. He’d never done this before.

“Spencer?” you asked quietly, your voice barely audible in the spacious room. He hummed in response, still focused on the map as he tugged thoughtfully at his bottom lip—a gesture you’d come to adore and envy.

“Why are you asking me about this?” you continued, your curiosity growing along with your nerves. “Why not Rossi? Or Hotch?”

Spencer paused, finally turning to face you, his eyes filled with the same focused intensity he usually reserved for solving cases. “Because you see things differently,” he said softly. “You have a different perspective, and that’s valuable. Sometimes it’s not just about profiling. It’s about how we approach the data, and you… you understand patterns in a way that’s unique.”

His words caught you off guard, but they filled you with an unexpected warmth. You weren’t just the tech analyst who plugged in the data—they saw you, Spencer saw you, as part of the team, as someone with valuable insights.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you held his gaze for a moment longer than you intended. “Thanks, Spencer,” you whispered, trying to suppress the blush creeping up your neck.

He smiled, a small but genuine curve of his lips, before turning back to the map. “Now, what do you think about this area here?” he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for you two to be collaborating like this.

For once, you weren’t just lost in thoughts of him—you were part of the conversation, and it felt good.

After you felt you'd helped all you could, you excused yourself back to your office, ready to sink back into the more solitary part of your work. However, Spencer seemed to have other plans, as he walked alongside you, his footsteps synchronized with yours, indicating he wasn't quite done talking. His expression was one of mild concern, a usual precursor to his deep dives into various subjects.

As you walked, he continued to unravel his thoughts about the case, tying loose ends and circling back to previous points with a precision that was nothing short of impressive. It was typical of Spencer to thoroughly dissect each aspect of a case, often taking tangential routes in the conversation that surprisingly led right back to the main topic, a testament to his prodigious mind.

However, as engrossed as he was in discussing the case, his next words veered sharply from the professional to the personal, catching you completely off guard and momentarily stalling your mental gears. The shift was so sudden that it took a moment for you to register what he was actually asking, pulling you out of your case-focused mindset and into a more introspective space. This unexpected question not only showed his human side but also reminded you of the depth of his observational skills, not just in work but in personal matters as well.

"How is Felix, by the way?" Spencer asked, an innocently curious tilt to his head as he regarded you, his pace slowing slightly.

"What?" The name jolted you, an echo from a past chapter of your life you hadn’t opened in ages, and certainly not one you had expected Spencer to know anything about. You blinked, momentarily confused, trying to piece together the leap in conversation.

"Felix? How are they?" Spencer repeated, his interest seemingly piqued by your reaction—or perhaps just his natural inclination toward thorough understanding.

You paused, standing now in the doorway of your office, the background hum of computer servers providing a soft soundtrack to this unexpected moment. "Um, I don't know," you admitted, still trying to navigate the strange turn the conversation had taken.

"Oh, I’m so sorry, did you two separate?" Spencer’s tone was filled with genuine apology, his face reflecting concern.

You managed a small, somewhat awkward laugh, finding both the absurdity and the sudden intimacy of the conversation slightly overwhelming. "Well, yes. A long while ago." Your response came out lighter than you felt, the surprise of the question making your heart race for reasons other than your usual nervousness around Spencer.

As Spencer absorbed your response, his expression remained unreadable, a common trait when he was deep in thought or processing information. He nodded, perhaps filing away the conversation for later reflection, before excusing himself with a polite but somewhat distant farewell. His departure was quick, efficient, the way he typically transitioned back to work, yet it left a trail of questions in its wake.

You watched him go, a blend of relief and curiosity mingling in your thoughts. The inquiry into your personal life was uncharacteristic of Spencer, who usually maintained a strict boundary between professional and personal discussions, at least when it came to initiating such topics himself. The interaction lingered in your mind, an outlier in the usual pattern of your interactions.

"Maybe it's because Elle isn't here," you thought silently, turning back to your computer.

After leaving your office, Spencer quickly texted Elle to update her that you were no longer seeing Felix, contrary to their assumption. Elle replied enthusiastically with two thumbs up, urging him to ask you out soon or she would take the opportunity herself.

—

Throughout the week, with Penelope, Elle, and Derek away, the dynamic at the BAU shifted noticeably. Spencer seemed to step out of his usual reserved demeanor, engaging more frequently, particularly with you. His attempts at conversation often appeared to teeter on the edge of something beyond mere professional interest, though it was so subtle that it often flew under your radar.

Tuesday morning, Spencer leaned against the counter, watching you struggle with the temperamental coffee machine that had decided today was the day to revolt. "You know, statistically, manual coffee presses have a lower failure rate compared to electric ones," he commented, a slight quirk to his lips.

You glanced at him, chuckling lightly, "Is that so? Maybe I should switch, then."

"Yeah, and they make better coffee. Maybe I could show you how to use one sometime?" His tone was casual, but there was a tentative note to it, almost hopeful.

As the coffee machine finally sputtered to life, producing a somewhat decent cup of coffee, Spencer’s offer lingered in the air, subtly altering the atmosphere between you. His suggestion about the manual coffee press had been light, almost playful, but it carried an undercurrent of personal interest that left you unexpectedly flustered. Despite this, you masked your reaction with a casual nod, trying to maintain an even keel.

"Sure, I could always use better coffee," you responded, your voice steady despite the slight quickening of your heartbeat. You focused on fixing your coffee, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar, using the mundane task as a moment to collect your thoughts.

Spencer watched you for a moment, perhaps sensing the shift in your demeanor but respecting the boundary you subtly enforced with your nonchalant reply. His smile was gentle, not pushing further, as he too turned his attention back to preparing his own drink.

Wednesday at lunch you sat in the break room flipping through case files, Spencer slid into the seat across from you with his own lunch—a homemade sandwich seemingly crafted with meticulous care. "I read somewhere that sharing meals can enhance group bonding and individual rapport," he began, looking directly at you with an earnest expression.

You looked up, smiling at the factoid, you loved hearing Spencer talk. He was always so endearing. "That sounds about right. Food does bring people together."

"Maybe we could test that theory. There's a new Thai place nearby that’s supposed to be great," he suggested, his voice smooth but slightly hurried.

"That would be an interesting experiment," you agreed, your thoughts inadvertently glossing over Spencer's subtle personal invitation. Instead, your mind wandered to the social dynamics of the team, or perhaps more pointedly, the possibility of Spencer going out with Elle without having to extend a direct invitation—an idea that stoked a twinge of jealousy, burning in your stomach like an ugly green monster.

Spencer nodded, his expression shifting subtly as he detected the undercurrent of your thoughts, interpreting them as disinterest in a personal outing. He tried to mask any hint of disappointment, maintaining his typical composed demeanor. Internally, however, he wrestled with the sting of what felt like another missed connection, another attempt at reaching out quietly rebuffed.

"It would be a great way to explore some new flavors... maybe just the two of us first, to see if it’s worth recommending to the team?" His tone was measured, carefully modulating between casual and sincere, revealing his hope that this might pave the way to a more personal connection between the two of you.

Despite his clear wording, your mind twisted his intentions, clouded by the assumption that his ultimate aim was to impress Elle upon her return. This idea gnawed at you, the thought of being potentially used as a stepping stone in Spencer’s strategy to engage Elle more personally. It tainted the sincerity you might have otherwise perceived in his proposal.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you responded, trying to mask your feelings with a nod and a polite smile. "Testing it out sounds sensible... then we can tell Elle and the rest if it's good." Your voice carried a hint of forced cheerfulness as you inadvertently redirected the focus back to Elle, reinforcing your misinterpretation of Spencer's motives.

Spencer noticed the subtle shift in your tone, the slight stiffness in your smile. He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his features as he tried to gauge whether his message had been misunderstood. "Yes, of course," he agreed, his voice faltering slightly as he picked up on your emphasis on Elle. Disappointment edged into his heart, sensing a barrier he hadn't anticipated—one that perhaps wasn't his to cross just yet.

He nodded slowly, offering a gentle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll send you the details later then," Spencer added, stepping back to give you space, his mind busy piecing together where the conversation had veered off track.

Thursday while you were digging through old case files in the archives, Spencer wandered in, ostensibly looking for a book. He lingered by your side, helping to shift the heavy tomes. "You know, there's this book on cognitive science I think you'd really like. It talks about pattern recognition and emotional intelligence in ways I think you'd find fascinating," he offered, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you a different file.

"Sounds intriguing," you responded, your attention still partially on the file in your hands. The hint of a smile played at the corners of your mouth, touched by the realization that Spencer was not only paying attention to your interests but was actively thinking about ways to engage with you on a more personal level.

"I could lend it to you. We could discuss it over coffee?" Spencer's suggestion came with a hopeful undertone, as gentle and tentative as the expression in his eyes.

Your reaction, however, was immediate and unexpected—a sudden choke on your spit as his words caught you off guard. A brief fit of coughing ensued, and Spencer's concern was quick to surface. He reached out instinctively, placing a comforting hand on your back with a gentle touch. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

The unexpected contact made you jolt, a reflexive response to the sudden intimacy of his touch. Realizing your reaction, Spencer quickly withdrew his hand, a flash of disappointment crossing his features as he stepped back, giving you space.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you managed to laugh it off, though your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You tried to smooth over the moment, still recovering from the unexpected cough and the even more unexpected contact.

Spencer's response was gentle, a soft nod accompanying his words. "It's okay, I'll, uh, see you upstairs," he said, stepping back with a hesitant smile. His decision to not press the coffee invitation further reflected his respect for your comfort, but inwardly, he felt he might have missed his opportunity for the day.

As he turned to leave, the brief contact and your embarrassed reaction replayed in his mind, leaving him wondering about the right approach to take next time. His intentions had been straightforward, but the execution hadn't gone as smoothly as he hoped. The way your eyes had widened, the laughter that followed the cough—it all suggested a mix of emotions that he couldn't quite decipher.

Watching him walk away, you felt a pang of regret. His retreat made you realize that your reaction might have been misinterpreted as discomfort, rather than the surprise and nervous excitement you actually felt. The idea of discussing a book over coffee with Spencer genuinely appealed to you, and you wished you could convey that without the awkwardness of the moment overshadowing it.

Gathering your thoughts, you considered reaching out to him later to clarify your interest, maybe even suggest a specific day for that coffee. The day hadn't gone as either of you planned, but it wasn't over yet, and perhaps there was still a chance to turn it around.

Friday afternoon as you both waited for the elevator, Spencer tried again, this time a bit more directly. "Did you know that the probability of meeting someone compatible is surprisingly high within work environments?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to steady the rapid thumping of your heart. "Really now? I guess we’re in the right place, then."

"Yes, exactly," Spencer agreed, a bit more eagerly than you expected. "It’s like... finding the right piece in a puzzle."

"Like solving a case?" you asked, your voice shrinking with uncertainty, afraid that, once again, he had someone else in mind—someone who fit into his world effortlessly, maybe a profiler like Elle.

"Yeah," he smiled warmly, his eyes soft as they focused on you. "Just like solving a case."

Your heart cracked a little at his words. You interpreted the metaphor differently, convinced he was searching for someone like the other brilliant profilers on the team—someone you believed you could never be. With a forced smile, you said quietly, "Well, looks like you need a profiler-shaped puzzle piece then."

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as you stepped into the elevator. He stood there, frozen, not understanding the weight behind your words or why you seemed so distant.

As the elevator doors slid shut, he replayed the conversation in his mind, his heart sinking as he realized something wasn’t connecting. He had been trying to tell you, in his own way, that he was interested in you, that you were the piece he was talking about. But somehow, despite his best efforts, the message kept slipping through your fingers. Why weren’t you getting it? Why did every attempt seem to fall short?

Spencer watched the elevator descend, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He had been so certain of his feelings for you, and yet, with every attempt, it felt like they drifted further away, lost in the unspoken misunderstandings between you.

—

When the freshly bronzed trio returned from their vacation, Spencer, seemingly on edge, wasted no time in seeking out Elle, his face etched with a mix of hope and frustration.

“So? Did you do it?” Elle asked eagerly as soon as they were within speaking distance, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Did she say yes?”

Spencer’s response was laden with disappointment. “Every time I try to ask her out, she thinks it’s a friendly suggestion, or—or she even mentioned you one time like I was thinking about you!” He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, clearly puzzled by the recurring miscommunication.

Elle couldn’t help but laugh slightly, though her lips were closed, trying to mask her amusement at the situation. Spencer, on the other hand, whined in annoyance, “What?” He genuinely didn’t understand what he was missing.

With a fond smile, Elle prodded further, “Reid, how did you ask? And what did she say?” Her voice was gentle, coaxing him to unpack the details.

Spencer recapped all the moments from the past week—the coffee machine incident, the lunch invitation, the casual chat in the archives, and the awkward elevator conversation. Each retelling showcased his subtle, cerebral approach to what he thought were clear invitations.

“Oh, boy genius,” Elle said teasingly once he finished, her tone light but her words cutting to the heart of the issue. “I think I see the problem here.”

“What? What is it?” Spencer asked, desperation and confusion in his voice.

Elle placed her hand on his arm, a gesture meant to be comforting but one that did not escape your notice, intensifying the ache in your heart. “She thinks you’re interested in me!” Elle revealed, her insight sharp.

“Why would she think that?” Spencer asked, his bewilderment evident. The connection between his actions and your perception seemed utterly foreign to him.

Elle’s explanation was straightforward, “Because, Spencer, every time you make an attempt, it’s so subtle and wrapped in layers of intellect that it’s easy for her to miss the romantic intent.”

Her words seemed to pierce through the fog of confusion surrounding Spencer. The realization that his attempts at expressing romantic interest were getting lost in translation—or rather, lost in his own intellectual approach—was a revelation. He nodded slowly, the gears turning as he processed this new insight.

“Plus, if she’s mentioning me and no one else, she must think you’re looking for ways to take me out!” Elle added, emphasizing her point with a light chuckle, though her eyes remained sympathetic to Spencer’s plight.

The weight of Elle’s explanation settled heavily on Spencer. It dawned on him how his interactions, though well-intentioned, might appear to others, especially to you. His style, inherently analytical and often indirect, had inadvertently sent the wrong signals, steering your thoughts towards a narrative where he was interested in Elle rather than clarifying his feelings for you.

This misunderstanding struck a chord within him. Spencer had always prided himself on his communication skills when it came to the nuances of unsubs and case theories. Yet, here he was, stumped by personal emotions and interpersonal communications that veered off course.

“Okay, so... I’ve been too subtle,” Spencer acknowledged, almost to himself as much as to Elle. “And she’s misreading the subtlety as disinterest—or worse, interest directed at someone else.”

Elle nodded, squeezing his arm gently. “Exactly, Spencer. You’re thinking like a profiler trying to decipher hidden meanings, but sometimes, directness is key. Maybe it’s time to just tell her how you feel, plainly and clearly. No puzzles, no hints.”

“But—but what if she’s not interested?” Spencer stammered, the creeping sense of insecurity wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. His confidence from earlier was starting to erode. “I mean, she did turn me down on multiple occasions,” he added, his voice softening with self-doubt.

Elle sent him a playful glare, her expression one of disbelief. “Be serious, Reid,” she said, her tone firm but affectionate. “Everyone here can see that she’s into you. Ask anyone.”

Without giving Spencer a chance to stop her, Elle raised her voice, calling across the room, “Hey, JJ!”

Spencer's eyes widened in panic, his face flushing. “Elle! No!” His voice cracked as he tried to stop her, but it was too late.

JJ approached the two of them, a curious smile on her face as she looked between Spencer and Elle. “What’s up, you guys?” she asked, her easy going demeanor not yet aware of the situation she was about to walk into.

“Do you think Y/N is into anyone? Should we set her up?” Elle asked with a mischievous smirk, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

JJ’s reaction was immediate—she burst into laughter, glancing between Elle and the now-mortified Spencer. “Are you kidding?!” she laughed, unable to believe the question was even being asked.

“No! Do you have anyone in mind?” Elle pushed, her smirk widening as she kept the act going.

Spencer looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, his mortification plain as he stood there frozen. His mind raced, desperate to find a way to steer the conversation away from himself. But JJ, still chuckling, fixed her gaze directly on Spencer, her expression turning to amused confusion.

“Spencer? Duh! She’s basically in love with you!” JJ declared, her blunt response leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Spencer blinked in disbelief, his mind stumbling over the directness of JJ's words. "W-What?" he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.

JJ just shook her head, laughing softly. “Reid, it's so obvious. Trust me, you should ask her out.”

"Right," Spencer exhaled heavily, the weight of his nerves tangible in that single word. His eyes followed JJ as she walked away, her knowing smile and shake of her head a clear sign that she was rooting for him.

Elle, observing the entire interaction, turned back to Spencer with a look of determination. “Do you believe me now? You just need to be blunt,” she said firmly, reinforcing the advice with her unwavering gaze. Her stance was one of staunch support, wanting to push Spencer past his habitual overthinking.

Spencer nodded, feeling a bit more fortified by the support of his colleagues. Elle’s insistence on being blunt was exactly the nudge he needed. It was clear that subtlety had not served him well in this arena, and it was time for a change in strategy.

—

Throughout the week, Spencer made several more attempts to ask you out, each time with a bit more directness than the last, but somehow the message never quite landed. Each time deepening his frustration and your oblivious disappointment.

Spencer joined you at the coffee machine again, a site of many a casual encounter but today, he was armed with determination. "I was thinking," he began, carefully measuring his words, "that maybe you and I could try that new café downtown this Saturday."

You smiled, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, your mind on a deadline you were close to missing. "That sounds like a great break from work. It’ll be good to get the team out and about. Should I send an email to everyone?"

Spencer’s heart sank a little. "Uh, well, I meant more like a... never mind. Yes, let’s get everyone involved," he conceded, hiding his disappointment.

In the midst of discussing a particularly complex case, Spencer tried to weave in a personal invitation as naturally as he could. "And after we wrap this up, maybe you’d like to join me for dinner? I know a place that’s quiet, great for discussing... cases."

You nodded, focused intensely on the case details. "Oh yeah! I already told Pen I’d grab dinner with her after the case, do you want to join us?"

Spencer’s heart sank just a bit as he adjusted his glasses, a gesture that had become a telltale sign of his internal resignation. His intention of a quiet dinner, meant to create a private space for you and him, vanished with your invitation to Penelope. Still, he managed a smile, not wanting his disappointment to show.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone light and cheerful. Inside, however, he was strategizing his next move, wondering how he could ever convey his feelings without the constant backdrop of the team.

As the day progressed, his mind kept circling back to the conversation. He appreciated your inclusiveness—always making sure no one felt left out, a trait he admired deeply. Yet, he couldn’t help but wish for a moment where it could just be the two of you, away from the dynamics and distractions of the team.

As you both walked to the parking lot after a long day, Spencer decided to be as clear as he could. "I enjoy spending time with you," he said earnestly. "I was hoping we could maybe go out this weekend, just you and me. What do you think?"

You paused, turning to face him with a puzzled smile, unaware of the mounting frustration behind his calm demeanor. "Sure. What do you want to do? I heard of a nightclub that's supposed to have a disco on Saturdays, we could see if everyone is interested?”

Spencer’s patience, worn thin from repeated attempts, finally faltered. “That doesn’t really sound like my scene,” he replied, a note of desperation creeping into his voice as he motioned between the two of you. “Could we go somewhere more subdued? Just us?”

The simplicity of his request, paired with the intensity of his gesture, made you pause. "You want to hang out? With just me?" you asked, a hint of confusion lacing your words.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice echoing a bit louder than he intended in the quiet space between conversations around you. His hands were in the air, a gesture of his exasperation and earnestness. Realizing how his reaction might have seemed, he quickly lowered his hands and softened his tone. “I mean, yes, I would like to spend time with you. Just us. Maybe somewhere quiet where we can talk. Just... talk.”

Your heart was beating so fast you could barely contain it, “Just the two of us?”

The realization struck you fully now, the words "just the two of us" hanging in the air, tinged with possibility. Spencer nodded, his eyes earnest and hopeful, watching for your reaction.

"Yes, just the two of us," he confirmed, his voice steadier now, filled with a quiet intensity. His gaze never wavered from yours, as if trying to convey all the sincerity he felt directly into your heart.

Your heart raced with the understanding of what he was asking, the implications of this simple request suddenly reshaping the narrative you had constructed in your mind about his feelings. The thought that Spencer, with his brilliant mind and shy demeanor, wanted to spend time alone with you, not for a case discussion or team outing but for something personal, sent a thrill of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation through you.

"Yeah, Spencer," you grinned, your heart still racing but excitement slowly overtaking your nerves. "That sounds nice. Um, I'm free Saturday."

"Saturday works for me," Spencer nodded, his own smile broadening with quiet confidence. "I'll call you?"

You nodded quickly, almost too eagerly, but you didn’t care. "Yeah, mhm, that sounds perfect."

For a moment, you both stood there, a shared anticipation buzzing in the air between you, neither wanting to break the connection just yet. When Spencer finally turned to leave, you found yourself smiling uncontrollably, the prospect of Saturday lingering in your mind, a warmth spreading through you that hadn't been there before.

—

Your excitement about the upcoming date with Spencer bubbled within you, yet you chose to keep it close to your chest. The thrill of it all felt so fragile, like a dream you didn’t want to jinx by sharing too soon with the rest of the team. This cautious optimism marked your days, turning ordinary moments into a series of hopeful glances at the calendar as Saturday approached.

Meanwhile, Spencer found himself seeking counsel from Elle, who was all too eager to lend her expertise, not just on potential date activities but on the more intimate aspects of dating as well, particularly women. Knowing Spencer’s limited experience—his only kiss having been with Lila Archer during a particularly intense case—Elle took it upon herself to offer some advice.

“Okay, Spencer, listen,” Elle began, her tone both serious and sisterly. “If the moment feels right and you think you want to kiss her, make sure you read her signals. It’s all about mutual understanding and respect, right?”

Spencer nodded, absorbing every word. Elle continued, “Make eye contact, see how she responds. If she seems receptive, maybe lean in halfway and let her meet you the rest of the way. It’s a two-way street.”

“Halfway,” Spencer repeated, mentally noting the advice. Elle’s directness and her willingness to discuss these details without any embarrassment provided him with a strange comfort.

“And, Reid, just be yourself. You’re a great guy. Let that show,” Elle added, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Spencer felt nerves and gratitude at Elle’s advice, it was straightforward and practical, and helped ground him. He trusted her judgment, appreciating her sharing of her personal experience, especially when it came to navigating relationships—something he found infinitely more complex than the most puzzling cases.

—

The phone call on Saturday morning added to the bubbling excitement of the upcoming date. Spencer’s voice was clear and a tad nervous, which you found endearing. He promised a unique experience and asked you not to wear black, a request that piqued your curiosity and set your mind racing with possibilities. What kind of place would require such a specific dress code? The mystery only heightened your anticipation.

You quickly texted him your address, along with a playful note about your curiosity regarding the attire guidelines. Spencer replied with a simple smiley face, keeping the details of the date under wraps, which intrigued you even more.

As you prepared for the evening, you chose an outfit that was comfortable yet charming, avoiding black as instructed. The time leading up to Spencer’s arrival seemed to crawl by, each minute stretching longer than the last. You found yourself glancing at your reflection, adjusting your hair, and double-checking everything, ensuring you were ready when he arrived.

Finally, the sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Glancing out the window, you saw Spencer stepping out of his car, looking around with a nervous excitement that matched your own.

As you stepped outside, your nerves fluttered slightly, but your smile was genuine when you saw Spencer waiting by his car. Waving shyly, you greeted him, "Hi, Spencer."

Spencer looked up, his eyes lighting up as he took in your appearance. "Y/N, you look great," he breathed out, his compliment wrapped in a warm smile that seemed to ease some of the tension between you.

"Thanks, I like your cardigan," you replied, noting the soft, well-worn cardigan he wore that somehow made him look even more approachable and endearing.

His smile widened at the compliment, and he seemed to relax a bit more. "Thanks! It's an old favorite," he admitted, holding the car door open for you.

As you both stepped into the cozy, softly-lit space filled with the gentle sounds of purring and the occasional meow, Spencer immediately began sharing interesting facts about cats. “Did you know that ancient Egyptians considered cats sacred and even had a goddess named Bastet who was depicted as a lioness?” he said, looking into your eyes as you walked past a playful tabby.

Your response was a mix of admiration and amusement. “I didn’t know you were an expert on ancient cultures too,” you teased, feeling comfort and excitement as Spencer chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the opportunity to share his knowledge.

While playing with a particularly friendly cat, Spencer used the opportunity to flirt in his unique way. He gently lifted the cat, holding it out towards you. “It’s interesting how animals can facilitate social interactions, isn’t it? For instance, it's been found that people are more likely to engage in conversations in the presence of animals. They act as social lubricants.”

You laughed, reaching out to pet the cat and feeling a bit flustered by his proximity and the way he looked at you when talking about social dynamics. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you needed a furry wingman for our date?”

Spencer grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe, but it seems to be working, doesn’t it?”

“I don't know, say lubricant again,” you teased. Spencer's grin widened at your playful challenge, and the atmosphere between you sparked with a shared humor that made the moment light and enjoyable.

He leaned in slightly, adopting a mock-serious tone, "Lubricant," he repeated, emphasizing the word, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed even harder, your eyes bright with amusement. "Hearing you say 'lubricant' is so funny!"

Spencer, caught up in your joy, couldn’t help but laugh along. “Why?” he asked, his own grin wide as your laughter proved infectious.

"It’s just... it can be a dirtier word," you giggled, trying to explain through your laughter. "And I can’t imagine our resident genius using the word lubricant!"

Spencer's laughter joined yours, ringing out genuinely as he caught the playful jab. The lightness of the moment brought a relaxed glow to his features. "I assure you, the application of the word was purely scientific," he teased back, still chuckling.

The café around you seemed to buzz with the warmth of your shared amusement, creating an intimate bubble amidst the quiet hum of other patrons and the soft padding of cat paws. "I suppose," Spencer continued, his smile lingering, "I should be more careful with my vocabulary around you. You're giving me a whole new perspective on language."

Your laughter gradually subsided into a series of light chuckles, but your eyes were bright with delight. "I think I like this side of you, Spencer," you said, a playful sincerity in your voice. "It’s nice to see you in a different light, not just as the genius profiler but also someone who can joke around about...lubricants."

Spencer's eyes softened, clearly touched by your words. "I'm glad," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of appreciation. "It’s not often I get to show this side, and I’m happy to share it with you."

As you observed the cats seemingly gravitate towards Spencer, who seemed both amused and delighted by their attention, an idea sparked in your mind. It was the perfect segue into a lighthearted flirtation, mixing your shared love for animals with a touch of mystical charm.

"You know, it’s said that animals, especially cats, have a keen sense of good and bad," you started, watching Spencer's reaction as a particularly fluffy cat chose his lap as its new throne. "They're often drawn to people with good auras. I guess they must sense something pretty great about you."

Spencer looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and pleasure at your comment. He laughed softly, a sound that warmed you to the core. "Is that so? Well, I must be on the right track then. Maybe they sense my excellent choice in company for this evening," he replied smoothly, his gaze locking with yours in a moment charged with a gentle intensity as a cat nuzzled its way into your lap as well.

Your heart fluttered slightly at his words, and you smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Oh, so we’re using cat behavior to gauge our decisions now?" you teased back, leaning in a little closer. "In that case, I think they’re on to something because I’m feeling pretty good about my choice too."

Spencer’s smile widened, and he reached over to gently nudge a playful kitten back onto the table, his actions thoughtful and tender. "I'll take that as a high compliment, coming from someone who clearly knows her way around cats and their mysterious ways," he said, his voice soft but filled with an underlying warmth that suggested he was as affected by the exchange as you were.

As the evening wound down, and the café began to prepare for closing, Spencer drove you home. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself sharing little anecdotes from your childhood, while Spencer listened intently, always eager to learn more about you.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of your home. The end of the evening had come too quickly, a sentiment you both silently acknowledged as you lingered at the doorstep, not quite ready to say goodbye.

"Y/N...I had a really nice time today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to wrap the evening in a perfect close.

"Me too, Spencer, thank you for asking me. I was kind of shocked," you admitted, your words sincere and open. The evening had unfolded beautifully, but part of you had still been wrestling with the disbelief that it was all really happening.

"Really? Why?" Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his gaze intent on you, wanting to understand more.

You smiled shyly, a nervous habit kicking in as you rubbed behind your ear. "I just... liked you for so long, I never thought you were interested in me too," you confessed, the words tumbling out more easily than you'd expected. The truth had been a quiet companion for so long, and saying it aloud to Spencer felt both freeing and terrifying.

Spencer's expression softened even further, a gentle understanding coloring his features. "Y/N, I’ve been trying to ask you out for two weeks," he confessed. His chuckle was light, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer's revelation brought a mix of relief and amusement. "Really? I had no idea you were trying," you replied, a smile breaking across your face, reflecting both the surprise and joy of the moment.

He nodded, a bit of sheepishness showing through his usual composed demeanor. "Yes, it turns out I'm not as skilled in expressing personal interest as I am with criminal profiles," he admitted, his light laughter mingling with yours.

The air between you felt lighter, a shared understanding dawning that, despite the initial miscommunications, there was a genuine and mutual interest. "Well, I'm glad you kept trying," you said, your tone sincere. "And I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it sooner. I guess I was just scared to get my hopes up."

Spencer reached across the small space between you, his hand hesitating just a moment before gently taking yours. "No more missed signals, okay? Let's promise to be more straightforward with each other," he suggested, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in agreement, feeling a warmth spread through you at the contact. "It's a deal," you responded, your heart feeling both settled and exhilarated by the new promise laid between you.

“So... in honor of being straightforward…” Spencer began, his voice soft but steady, a shy smile playing on his lips. He stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours, a quiet vulnerability in his gaze. Gently, he took both of your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, the moment feeling both tender and surreal. The way he held your hands, the genuine care in his voice—it was everything you'd hoped for, wrapped in Spencer’s uniquely thoughtful way. You felt yourself nod before you even spoke, your breath catching slightly. “Yes,” you whispered, smiling softly, your eyes never leaving his.

Spencer’s smile deepened with relief and excitement. Slowly, he leaned in, his movements deliberate and gentle, giving you every moment to close the gap as well. When your lips finally met, it was soft, sweet, and full of the promise that had been building between you for so long. The world seemed to pause, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, intimate moment, finally aligned in your shared feelings.

When you pulled back, there was a brief silence before you both laughed lightly, the tension melting away completely. "That was… nice," Spencer said, his voice low, his smile radiating warmth.

"Yeah, it really was," you agreed, still feeling the butterflies in your chest as you held onto his hands just a little tighter.

“Oh, and for the record,” Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your reaction, “I don’t like Elle—romantically, of course. She’s my best friend.”

Your face flushed with sudden embarrassment, realizing he'd caught on to your earlier assumptions. “Oh, I—well, uh...” you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

Spencer's smile remained soft and reassuring. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he said warmly, squeezing your hands gently. “Elle is super gay, not sure how you missed that, and... I really like you.”

His words, so genuine and direct, melted away the last bit of tension you’d been holding onto. You laughed lightly, the awkwardness dissolving into relief. “Well, that’s good to know,” you said with a grin, finally allowing yourself to fully relax into the moment.

Spencer's grin mirrored yours as he added, “I just wanted to clear that up. No more misunderstandings.” His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of unspoken feelings now out in the open.

“No more misunderstandings,” you agreed, feeling the warmth of his words and the certainty that everything between you was finally where it should be.

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic

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okwonyo · 4 months ago

Text

LOVE ANTHEM, 或 𓈒𓈒 cuddling with them.

( 𝒷 ) INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 7OO fluff established relationship cautions ˚ non-idol au kissing skinship

jiah says : it has been a while since i last wrote headcanons huehue ㅠㅠ hope you enjoy 🪽

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

would smoothly slide his hand in yours when you passe by— eyes still focused on the game he is playing. would then tug closer to him, gently and slowly, before resting his hand on your waist and making sit on his lap.

would wrap his arms around your form, stroking your thigh gently, fingertips brushing on your skin as his free hand’s fingers dance on the keyboard. and when he wins; would hug you tight while relaxing on his chair with a proud smile, even turning around with his chair.

him : “i deserve some reward for my hard work, right?” you : “of course, baby”

JONGSEONG

after landing a playful slap on your butt—to which you would yelp—whereupon he sees you laying on your stomach, would come lay on top of you instead of the mattress. ignoring your pleading for air, would rest his whole weight on you.

would at some point start landing wet kisses on your cheeks, sliding next to you so he can have a better angle and can free you from your agony. would then pull you in his embrace, still kissing your cheeks repeatedly.

him : “i want to eat your cheeks” you : “please don’t, i kinda need that”

JAEYUN

would already be following you around the house for a while. with his starry eyes and kicked puppy expression staring right at your back while you do the most random things ever. telepathically asking you for some cuddles.

his face would enlighten when you finally give him some attention. would open his arms for you to hide in and would sinm his nose in the crook of your neck— smelling your comforting scent. an embrace that will eventually end into long cuddles.

you : “jake, i need to pee” him : “just 5 more minutes, please”

SUNGHOON

would look for comfort in your arms after a long day away from you. it would be heard in the way he sighs in relief as soon as he steps foot in your house, his hurried steps approaching to the bedroom you would be laying in.

would love to be on top of you, his head resting on your chest while your fingers wrap around his hair strands. his hand would often take yours and put your hand palm on his cheek, then would turn his head to kiss it— all over.

him : “i missed you so much” you : “you are such a big baby”

SUNOO

would be really good at making you feel like you are the one who wants to cuddle— when you are, in theory, not. would know that if he stays next to you long enough, shoulder brushing yours but not really, you would soon ache for his touch and end up pressed against him.

would have such a cute smile on his face whenever you cuddle with him. would hold you on top of him as if you were an immense plushie with his arms squeezing your waist tightly while your face is in his neck.

you : “you could just ask instead of putting up a whole act” him : “where is the fun in that?”

JUNGWON

would have no shame or restraint in literally jumping on you the second he sees you lying somewhere without him. his laugh would resonate in the whole room when you let out a loud ‘oof’ and try to push him off of you. putting up a fight for anything with him would become a habit.

would love to tease you whenever you are locked in each other’s embrace: tickling you or pinching your sides when he feels like it— you would not even react at some point. but, would also calm down when you rub his back gently, purring like a cat.

you : “jungwon, i will kick you if you don’t stop” him : “you love me too much to do that”

RIKI

would prefer to cuddle during bedtime, when you are both on the verge of drifting to the dream world and your eyes are too heavy to stay open— when he doesn’t have to verbally ask. his shyness would wear off as soon as the tiredness would show it’s nose.

gently pulling the cover over both of your bodies, would scoot closer and put a single arm around you. then, would pull you close to him, to his chest, to his heart. like a real koala, would cling into you like that during the whole night— even if you end up in the weirdest positions, he would be holding you.

him : “wh’ d’you hate me?” you : “i just need some water”

💌 taglist ─── open, mwah ♡

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benevolentbones · 5 months ago

Note

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months ago

Text

Can't check out - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

request: "yn and Lewis are secretly dating and yn works in Mercedes, they have an argument and after work yn doesn’t go to his room to sleep, but goes to hers, and Lewis gets even madder and goes to her room, and then you know what happens" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, angry sex

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +4k

a/n: I've had this one half written for a bit but couldn't quite get the switch right, the past two gp's were perfect for it though. Hope you like lovely.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The door to the engineering room slid open with a soft hiss, and Lewis stepped inside, still carrying the frustration from the debrief. His hand firmly grasped on his phone as his eyes searched the dimly lit space.

Rows of desks and computer screens cast a pale glow over the one engineer still hunched over her workstation—Y/n, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, fingers dancing over the keyboard.

“Y/n,” Lewis called, his voice low, almost casual, as he approached her station.

She didn’t look up, her focus entirely on the screen. Her jaw was set, brows furrowed in concentration.

Anyone could see the stress in the tightness of her shoulders, the way her fingers moved like they had something to prove.

“Y/n,” he said again, this time with more insistence as he stopped by her desk. “You’ve been here all night. Come with me. Let’s grab something to eat.”

“Can’t, Lewis” she muttered, still not sparing him a glance. “I’m in the middle of something”

Lewis sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t in the mood for this, not after the nightmare of Baku and now Singapore. The car still nowhere near where it needed to be.

He could tell she was taking it personally, that the car’s performance was something she couldn’t separate from her own self-worth, but it was eating her alive.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for hours” he said, his voice softening just a fraction. “Come on, take a break. You’ll think better after some food.”

Finally, Y/n looked up, and her eyes were burning with irritation. “You think this is about ‘taking a break’? Really?” Her voice sharper than he expected.

He frowned, caught off guard. “I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying,” she cut him off, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. “You think it’ll be fine if I take break because you’re just fine coasting through this weekend. But I can’t afford to do that, Lewis.”

“Coasting?” His tone hardened, the frustration he’d been pushing down starting to come up. “You think I’m coasting through this?”

She stepped closer, eyes flashing as she met his gaze. “Aren’t you? I heard what you said in that interview today. You’ve already given up on this weekend. Hell, you’ve probably already given up on this team.”

His jaw clenched. “Y/n”

“I know you’ve got your perfect seat at Ferrari next year,” she snapped, her voice rising, “but I need this job to work for me, Lewis. I can’t just check out.”

Lewis’s face hardened, the weight of her words settling heavily between them. She’d always been the one to back him up, to understand when things were tough.

“You really think that’s what I’m doing?” His voice was quieter now, but there was a simmering anger underneath it. “You think I’m just here, going through the motions, like none of this matters to me?”

Y/n’s expression didn’t waver. “You’re not the one whose career is tied to this car’s performance.”

Lewis stepped back, running a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “You think I don’t care about the car? About this team?” His voice was tight, but controlled. “You’ve no idea how much pressure I’m under. But sure, keep assuming I’m checked out because I’m not losing my mind over it.”

She didn’t answer, the tension between them suffocating.

“I’ll be at the hotel,” he finally said, voice flat. “I’ll wait for you, if you decide to actually talk instead of throw knives.”

Y/n stood there, staring at the door long after he’d gone, her heart racing, frustration still boiling under her skin.

She hated that he’d gotten to her, but she hated even more that she knew she had messed up.

The soft ping of her phone snapped her out of her trance. Yet another message from Lewis.

Where are you?

It was nearly 2 a.m., and Y/n was now in her own hotel room, but still working.

Her eyes burned from hours of staring at data, her body aching from the tension she carried in her shoulders. She knew she should have stopped hours ago, that the night races in Singapore didn’t excuse her pushing herself this far, but she couldn’t help it.

The car was nowhere, and every setup she ran through still led them in circles.

She ignored the message, her fingers pressing harder into the keyboard, trying to drown out the gnawing frustration.

There were moments where she could forget that outside these numbers, setups, and telemetry, there was more—her life, her relationship with Lewis, her sanity. But tonight, wasn’t one of those moments.

His earlier words still lingered in her mind like a bad taste.

"Coasting through the weekend," she muttered bitterly to herself.

Another ping. She looked at her phone for a second and then shoved it back into her pocket. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not that night, at least.

Time passed in a blur, the numbers on her screen blending together until her concentration wavered, exhaustion settling in.

2:45 a.m. A knock at the door.

Her heart sank. She knew exactly who it was.

Y/n slowly walked to the door and opened it, revealing a very irritated and slightly disheveled Lewis.

He was dressed in his sweats, his face drawn with concern and annoyance. His eyes scanned her face, clearly taking in her exhaustion.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice flat.

Lewis crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“Busy. What do you want?”

He stepped closer; the frustration evident in his posture. “You’re busy? It’s almost three in the morning, Y/n.”

She shrugged, keeping her voice cold. “I don’t have the luxury of clocking out when things don’t go well.”

Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “Not this again, Y/n”

Y/n crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “I think you don’t get it, Lewis. You’re already halfway out the door. Ferrari’s waiting for you, and you’re just counting the days. I’m the one who’s stuck here trying to figure out how to make this work.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You really think I don’t care about what’s happening?”

“I think you’re putting your feelings ahead of everything else,” she shot back, the words laced with bitterness. “I’m out there trying to make something of this car, and you—” She gestured at him, frustrated by his calm demeanor. “You’re here playing the ‘it’ll be fine’ card. It’s not fine, Lewis. It’s a disaster.”

Lewis’s gaze darkened, his voice steady but firm. “I never said it was fine.”

“Might as well have,” she retorted. “You think I don’t see it? The way you’re handling things, pretending it doesn’t affect you, when deep down, you’ve already checked out.”

His expression shifted, the cool, nonchalant mask cracking just slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Y/n scoffed, feeling the anger bubble up inside her. She wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting.

“What happened to the guy who fought for every inch on track, the one who wouldn’t rest until everything was perfect? Now you’re here, telling me to relax, to take it easy. It’s bullshit, Lewis.”

Lewis stared at her, his silence only fueling her frustration. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a mocking tone.

“Where’s the cutthroat guy who would have had me pinned to the wall by now? Instead, I’ve got this—” she waved her hand at him dismissively, “mushy, emotional guy in front of me, trying to make me ‘feel better’.”

Something shifted in Lewis’s eyes, and for a moment, she regretted saying it. His gaze hardened, his jaw clenched, and the tension in the air changed.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice low. He was danger.

But Y/n wasn’t backing down now. She wanted to push him, to make him snap, to break through that controlled, calm mark. “Oh, I absolutely do” she shot back, her chin tilting up defiantly.

Lewis’s eyes flickered with something possessive, and in an instant, he closed the distance between them.

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers dug into her skin, his grip firm and unmistakably dominant.

“You think you want that?” he murmured; his breath hot against her ear. “You think you want the guy who doesn’t give a damn? Be careful what you wish for.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, her body reacting to the sudden intensity between them, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her back down.

“Show me” she whispered, her voice steady, though her pulse raced. “Show me you still give a damn.”

And that was all it took.

The last thread of Lewis’s restraint snapped, and before she could even blink, he had her pinned against the narrow table in the small entryway to her bedroom, his hands gripping her wrists, his body pressing into hers with a force that left no room for doubt.

His breath was hot against her neck. His body pressed her into the hard surface, and Y/n could feel the tension in every inch of him—the controlled anger, the dominance she’d just provoked, and the raw desire that lay beneath it all.

She felt the dominance it in the way his hands moved—fast, precise, as if he’d already decided she wasn’t ever in control.

His grip on her wrists loosened for just a second before his hands slid down her body, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her stomach.

His touch was rough but deliberate, and she gasped at the sensation, already anticipating what was coming next.

Lewis’s other hand hooked around her waist, pulling her hips back into him, his body pinning her even harder against the table. “You want this?” he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing the shell of it “You want me to stop being soft?”

She barely had a second to catch her breath before his hand slipped lower, under the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

His fingers found their way instantly, brushing over her clit in a way that made her hips buck against him involuntarily.

“Lewis—” She started to say something, but he cut her off.

“Don’t even think about it” he growled, his fingers working with slow, maddening precision. “You don’t get to talk. Not now.”

Her breath hitched as he continued to tease her, the pressure of his fingers circling her clit increasing just enough to drive her crazy, but not enough to push her over the edge.

He was keeping her on a leash, and it was driving her insane.

“You think I don’t give a damn?” Lewis’s voice was rough, a contrast to the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers. “Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to remind you?”

Her legs trembled as he worked her over, her body arching into him despite the way he had her pinned to the table.

She was already close, too close, and she knew it. She could feel the tension building inside her, the heat pooling in her stomach, the familiar rush of pleasure that came before she—

But just as she just about reached the edge, he pulled back, his fingers leaving her completely.

Y/n gasped in frustration, her body shaking from the sudden denial. “Lewis!” Her voice cracked, but he wasn’t having it.

“You don’t get to come yet” he said, his voice firm, unrelenting.

She was panting, her body already strung so tight it hurt, but before she could protest, Lewis flipped her around, pressing her back into the wall.

His eyes were dark, his expression hard as he lifted her to place her effortlessly onto the edge of the small desk.

Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively and his hands found her hips, holding her in place as he leaned in, his lips crashing into hers. The kiss was rough, all teeth, his frustration matching hers as their bodies clashed against each other.

But he was still in control, and Y/n knew it. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way his hands moved as if he knew exactly how close he was driving her, how close he was to breaking her down.

He pulled back from the kiss, his breath heavy against her lips. “You don’t get to have it easy” he murmured. “Not after all the shit you said.”

His lips were on her neck then, trailing rough kisses down to her collarbone, his hands sliding under her shirt to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, the sensation sending another jolt of heat and Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, her lips parting in a shaky moan.

And Lewis wasn’t even close to being done with the torture.

His mouth moved lower, kissing his way down her stomach until he was on his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wide for him. He pulled her pajama bottoms down, discarding them somewhere behind him before his lips found the inside of her thigh, biting down gently on the sensitive skin.

Y/n’s body jerked in response, the anticipation nearly killing her as his lips moved higher, closer to where she needed him

“Please, Lew” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he parted her with his fingers, his mouth finally descending on her clit.

The sensation was electric, his tongue circling her slowly. Y/n’s hips kept on buckling involuntarily, her fingers tangling in his shirt as she moaned, unable to hold back the sound.

Lewis took his time, licking and sucking in a way that drove her to the edge all over again.

She felt it building, her body shaking as she neared the point of no return, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

And just when she thought she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped, again.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her hands tugging at the wood in frustration, but he didn’t relent.

“Not yet” was all he said, his voice hoarse as he looked up at her, his lips glistening.

She was a trembling mess, her body desperate for release, but Lewis wasn’t giving it to her. He stood up, towering over her as she panted, her chest heaving from the intensity of it all.

“Bed” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Y/n stumbled off the desk, her legs shaky as she moved without questioning toward the bed, Lewis right behind her.

He grabbed her waist, pushing her down onto the mattress, his body covering hers as he kissed her again, rough and demanding.

His fingers slid between her legs once more, finding her dripping, and he smirked against her lips. “You think you can take one more?” he asked, his voice mocking as he teased her, his fingers sliding inside her just enough to make her hips jerk.

“I can’t” she gasped, her body completely overwhelmed.

“Too bad” he growled, his lips brushing against her ear. “You don’t get to say when this is over.”

His fingers worked her over once more, slow and purposeful, pushing her to the brink for the third time.

Her body was shaking, every nerve on fire as she begged him, her words slurring in a desperate plea.

“Lewis. Please, I need—”

Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he let her go.

Y/n’s orgasm hit her in waves, her body convulsing as she cried out, her nails digging into his back as she came hard, trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

He didn’t stop though, his fingers still working her as she rode out the intense release, her vision going white from the force of it.

And when it was over, when her body had finally stopped shaking, she was a wreck, panting and boneless beneath him.

Lewis leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. “You still want more?” he asked, his voice dark and teasing.

Y/n was barely coherent, her mind fogged with pleasure, but she managed a weak smirk and chuckle.

Lewis growled low in his throat, flipping her onto her stomach. “Of course, you do.”

Lewis didn’t waste a second, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her up onto her knees.

Y/n’s face was pressed into the mattress, her breath still ragged, but she managed to turn her head slightly, catching a glimpse of him behind her, his chest heaving.

“Arch your back, love” he commanded, a low rumble.

Her body, still trembling, responded instinctively. She pushed her hips up, her back arching as she spread her knees wider.

She could feel the cool air on her slick skin, and her body ached with the need to be filled, to have him finally inside her.

But Lewis wasn’t in any rush.

His hands caressed her ass, rough palms running over the soft skin as he admired the way she trembled beneath him. She felt the unmistakable teasing of him collecting her juice with the tip of his dick.

Then, without warning, he brought his hand down sharply against her ass, the loud smack echoing in the room.

The sting was immediate. Y/n gasped, her body jolting forward as her muscles clenched in response.

Lewis chuckled darkly, leaning over her, his chest pressing into her back. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

Y/n moaned, her fingers curling into the sheets as she tried to steady herself. “Fuck you” she breathed out, though the defiance was weak, barely a whisper.

Lewis laughed again, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he positioned himself behind her. “Oh, you will.”

And then, without another word, he thrust into her, filling her completely at once.

Y/n let out a loud cry, her body arching even more at the sudden invasion.

He was deep, too deep, and for a moment, all she could do was gasp for air, her hands gripping the sheets as he stayed still.

“Fuck,” Lewis groaned, his voice strained as he gripped her hips harder, his fingers digging into her skin. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Y/n couldn’t form words, couldn’t even think straight as her body struggled to accommodate the overwhelming fullness.

But then he started to move, pulling out just enough before slamming back into her, setting a brutal pace that left her not only wordless but breathless.

With each thrust the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Y/n’s moans mixed with his grunts, her body rocking forward with the movements of his hips.

Lewis was relentless, pounding into her with a force that left her dizzy. His hands moved up her back, fingers tangling in her shirt as he pulled her head back, forcing her to arch even more.

Her face was buried in the pillow, muffling her moans, but Lewis wasn’t having that.

“Let me hear you,” he growled, his hand tightening as he yanked her head back, exposing her neck. “I want to hear every fucking sound you make.”

Y/n cried out, her voice raw as he hit a spot deep inside her that made her entire body shake.

Her walls clenched around him involuntarily, the intensity of it all too much, but she couldn’t stop it. Every thrust got her closer to the edge, and she could feel it building again.

When she was almost seeing starts and her walls kept on clenching around him, he pulled out of her, leaving her trembling and empty.

Y/n let out a whimper of protest, her body aching for him to fill her again.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his voice firm, commanding.

Y/n, barely able to move, managed to roll onto her side, her body weak and shaking from the force of it all. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

Lewis didn’t waste time. He grabbed her leg, pulling it up over his arms as he positioned himself between her half-closed thighs.

His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze making her stomach flip.

“You still think I don’t give a damn?” he asked, his voice rough, almost taunting as he pushed into her again, filling her completely.

Y/n’s head fell back against the pillow, a loud moan escaping her lips as he thrust into her at a new angle, hitting that spot deep inside her that made her breath hitch.

His hands held on to her ankle, and the way he was angled was driving her crazy, his hips slamming into her ass with an unrelenting force.

“Lewis—fuck—” she gasped, her hands clawing at his arms as he leaned over her, pressing his body into her side as he fucked her hard, each thrust pushing her closer to the brink.

Her moans were uncontrollable now, her body completely at his mercy as he pounded into her. She could feel the tension building again, the heat coiling in her stomach, but this time, she knew he wasn’t going to stop.

He wasn’t going to deny her. Not again.

Lewis’s eyes were locked on her face, watching every twitch, every moan, every breathless gasp as he took her apart. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice strained with exertion.

She couldn’t respond, her mind too fogged with pleasure, her body too overwhelmed. But her hands reached up, grabbing onto his neck, pulling him down to kiss her.

It was messy, but it didn’t matter. They were both too far gone to care.

Lewis groaned into her mouth, his thrusts becoming more erratic, harder, as if he was losing control. Y/n’s nails dug into his skin, her body trembling as she felt herself teetering on the edge.

“I’m so close,” she gasped against his lips, her voice barely coherent.

“I know, love” Lewis growled, his breath hot against her mouth. “Come for me. I want to feel you.”

With one final thrust, she spiraled, her body convulsing under him as her orgasm ripped through her, more intense than the ones before.

Y/n’s body arched off the bed towards his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders as she cried out, her walls clenching around him.

Lewis couldn’t keep himself for far too long. The way she tightened around him pushed him over the brink, and with a deep, guttural moan, he only had time to pull out, spilling himself over her ass, his body shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their bodies spent and trembling, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Lewis then collapsed beside her, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Y/n lay there, completely wrecked, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her only movement was her hand stroking his arm, her mind too fogged with him to think straight.

But then Lewis’s hand was on her cheek, gently caressing her skin, and she turned her head to look at him.

His expression had softened, the intensity of before replaced with something tender, affectionate.

“Relax,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over her lips. “I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s heart swelled at the softness in his voice, and she nodded, too tired to speak.

She watched as Lewis got up, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a towel. He cleaned her up carefully, his touch gentle, his gaze focused solely on her.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling her into his arms.

Lewis gently stroked her cheek as she lay against him, her breathing still uneven, though now from exhaustion rather than anything else.

His thumb brushed over her lips, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead softly, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice tender.

Y/n nodded, her body limp as she sank into the comfort of his chest. "Just tired."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "You sure you don’t want to sleep?" His hand ran soothingly over her arm, drawing lazy patterns on her skin as he held her closer.

She shook her head lightly. "Not yet. My mind’s still buzzing." Her voice was soft, a little hoarse, but she didn’t regret a second of it.

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and comforting. "Well, let’s calm that buzzing down." He reached for the phone by the bedside, quickly ordering pasta for the both of them. "Have you eaten at all?"

Y/n smiled faintly; her eyes half-closed. "So now you care?"

Lewis arched an eyebrow, lifting her chin so her gaze met his. "Always did, babe." His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, his gaze soft but serious. "I know it’s been tough, and I know I’ve been a prick sometimes… but I do care. About you. About your career. All Mercedes."

Her lips curved into a small smile, her exhaustion making her emotions raw. "I know. I’m sorry for what I said"

"I meant what I said earlier—you’ve gotta find to take care of yourself. It’s not all on your shoulders." he pushed, brushing his thumb across her face.

She closed her eyes, her body relaxing into his touch. "Yeah, maybe you’re right."

He laughed softly. "I’m always right." He kissed the top of her head. "And if it takes rough sex to get you out of your own head… well, I’m happy to help."

Y/n snorted; her face buried in his chest. "Really, Lewis? Really?"

“I care about you, okay?” he said quietly, almost hesitant, as if the vulnerability was something new.

Y/n nodded against his chest, her eyes already closing as the exhaustion overtook her. She was too tired to speak, but she knew. Deep down, she had always known.

______________________________________________________________

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#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

802 notes · View notes

musicforastylesrestaurant · 7 months ago

Text

The Best Interruption.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here x

authors note - seems like the perfect idea to me so enjoy huns 💗

word count - 1k

in which, harrys been in his at home office for the majority of the day, and your little one is getting antsy after not spending time with there best friend, so when he’s typing away and answering emails, they stroll into the office, crawling onto his lap.

Harry sat at his home office desk, surrounded by a sea of papers and instruments. He'd been cooped up in there for most of the day, lost in the creative whirlwind of composing new music.

And it was now nearing two o clock.

With a cup of tea steaming gently beside him, Harry's fingers danced across the keyboard as he typed out an email to his manager, Jeff. Each keystroke was deliberate, each word carefully chosen to convey his vision for the upcoming project. He glanced out the window, watching the world go by outside, a brief distraction from the task at hand.

Lost in the melodies swirling around his mind, Harry remained unaware as the door to his home office cracked open ever so slightly. His focus was firmly fixed on the task at hand, oblivious to the world outside his creative bubble.

Unseen by her immersed father, his two-year-old daughter, her dummy nestled in her mouth and her favourite baby blanket trailing behind her, ventured into the room.

With careful steps, she approached his chair, her small fingers reaching out to touch the soft fabric of his joggers.

Quietly, she stood beside him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she watched him work. She held her bottle of warm milk tightly under her arm, her little face a picture of innocence and wonder.

Finally, as if sensing her presence, Harry's gaze flickered downward, and he found himself met with the sight of his daughter standing beside him.

With a chuckle, Harry glanced down at his daughter, her giggles filling the room like sweet music.

"What are y’doing in Daddy's office, you little minx?" he teased, his voice filled with affection.

Giggling even more, his daughter squirmed in his arms, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Daddy's office fun," she declared, her words slightly muffled by her dummy.

Harry smiled down at her, his heart swelling with love.

"Well, I suppose you're right about that," he admitted, gently adjusting her on his lap. "But s’nearly nap time f’little munchkins like you."

She pouted playfully, but Harry could see the telltale signs of tiredness in her drooping eyelids.

"Nooo, not bedtime," she protested weakly, her hand reaching up to play with the cross necklace around his neck.

Chuckling softly, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest.

"Yes, bedtime, m’sunshine," he murmured, tucking her baby blanket around her. "But we can have some cuddles first, okay?"

Settling against him, his daughter nodded sleepily, her eyes fluttering closed as she nestled into the warmth of his embrace. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling her soft breaths against his skin.

"Where's Mama?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"In kitchen," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, a sleepy smile playing on her lips.

Harry chuckled, the sound filling the room with warmth.

"F’course she is," he said fondly. "She's always busy taking care of us, isn't she?"

As his daughter drifted off to sleep in his arms, Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of her peaceful face. Gently stroking her hair, he whispered, "Y’my little angel, you know that?"

She mumbled something incoherent in response, her thumb finding its way to her mouth as she snuggled closer to him.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry let out a contented sigh.

"You're right, sweetheart," he murmured, more to himself than to her. “S’is nice, just you and me."

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open at the sound of his voice. With a sleepy nod, she spoke the words,

"Milky."

Harry's smile widened as he reached for her bottle, a warm sense of nostalgia washing over him.

"You want your bot-bot, huh?" he asked gently, his fingers wrapping around the familiar shape of the bottle.

His daughter nodded again, her eyes bright with anticipation as she watched him prepare her drink.

"Alright, m’sunshine," Harry said softly, lifting the bottle to her lips. "Here you go."

She grasped the bottle with both hands, her tiny fingers curling around it as she took small sips, her cheeks flushing with contentment.

Watching her drink, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how quickly she was growing up. It seemed like just yesterday she was a tiny bundle in his arms, completely dependent on him for everything.

Though his daughter was perfectly capable of holding it herself, he liked the feeling of being needed, of taking care of her like he did when she was a baby, so he helped her hold the bottle, and the notsalgia hit him like a train.

She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she leaned into his touch.

"Tank ou, Daddy," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy.

Harry smiled, his heart swelling with love. "Anything f’you, m’sunshine," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry didn’t know how long it had been but it wasn’t long before his little mini-me was snoozing against his chest, soft snores falling from her mouth.

It must have been about another ten maybe fifteen minutes.

"Harry, have you seen—" your voice spoke as you entered the room, but he quickly put a finger to his lips, his expression a silent plea for silence.

"Shhh," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "Look."

Your eyes followed his gaze, and as you glanced down, you breath caught in your throat. There, fast asleep against Harry's chest, was your daughter, her dummy nestled in her mouth, an empty bottle of milk resting on his desk.

A smile spread across your face as you stepped closer, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your family.

"Oh, bubba," you whispered softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your daughter's face.

Harry smiled up at you, his eyes shining with pride and affection.

"I think she wanted t’help Daddy with his work," he said quietly, his voice filled with warmth.

Your daughter stirred slightly in her sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible as she snuggled closer to her father.

"Hey," you whispered, leaning in closer to your husband and pushing some hair out of his face, "I'm sorry if she interrupted your work."

Harry shook his head, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, reaching out to stroke his daughter's cheek tenderly.

"She's the best interruption."

1K notes · View notes

moonchild9350 · 1 month ago

Text

Still Life and Nude Surprises

Summary: you need to prep for an art show and sign up for a class for extra practice. the model you’re assigned however turns out to be someone you know very well.

Pairing: best friend!Felix x fab!reader

Genre: friends to lovers au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: nude modeling, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mention of overstimulation, clit play, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied multiple rounds

Notes: another fic from when I was feral sorry not sorry lol this was fun to write though and it’s Felix so…. lol

If you enjoyed please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

"Hold still!"

You chastised the blonde who was at the moment wiggling around in his seat, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he blasted god knows what on the latest game he acquired.

"Y/n! Lemme just finish this round, then I'll do anything you say," he responded as he showed off his biggest pouty face.

You sighed, not being able to say no to that face. Felix smiled and went back to his game, his fingers tap tapping on the keyboard.

Felix is your best friend, he has been since you were neighbors as a kid. You've done everything together, from attending dances as each others dates, sleepovers as kids, endure heartbreaks, and even live within the same building as adults.

You couldn't live without him, your relationship going beyond your wildest dreams.

Now, you were trying to sketch your best friend as you were trying to improve your still life skills, preparing for an art show that you had signed up for. Everything was going well until he received a text from a gamer buddy, wanting to go for a round on a new game he recently started.

You set your sketch pad down and watched your friend as he scrunched his face in concentration, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he shot down enemy after enemy. It was pretty humorous to watch, as everytime he missed his target he'd scream "noooo!" before concentrating once more.

You knew it was a lost cause, understanding once he started gaming, it would be hours until he would stop. You gathered up your stuff, packing it into your bag.

You got up and walked over to Felix, ruffling up his hair, obscuring his view of the computer screen.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed as he blew his hair out of his face, the strands framing his face haphazardly as a result.

"I'm gonna go home, it's getting late. I"ll see you later ok?"

Felix took a chance and looked away from the screen to you, "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible model."

You chuckled and slapped his arm, the boy yelping at the sting. "No you're not, you just get distracted easily."

You continued to laugh as you walked to his door, listening to Felix mutter under his breath something along the lines of "that's not true."

Closing his door, you walked the few doors down to your apartment, dropping your bag on the hallway table. You really did want to practice your skills as the show was getting closer day by day and you were banking on using Felix to start.

You grabbed your laptop and plopped on the couch, propping your feet on the table in front of you. Opening up the search engine, you began to look for classes that you could attend to help you practice.

You came across a particularly promising site, the company offering a variety of classes from group sessions to private ones. You clicked on the private session info bar, as the prospect of it just being you and the model seemed appealing.

You noticed they offered private nude modeling sessions as well, your eyebrow raising in interest. This would be the perfect opportunity to study the human body and to improve your skills on drawing it.

The company had a few sessions open over the next few days which would be perfect as you were free. You clicked on the time slot for tomorrow's private session, your mind running over the pros and cons.

You've never sketched anyone nude, the prospect seeming a little embarrassing to you, but how would you get better if you didn't step out of your comfort zone? Plus, these models were trained for this, and it was with a reputable company.

The cost of the class wasn't much either, definitely within your budget. You filled in your information, whatever they asked for. Once done, your hand hovered over the book button, as you considered what to do.

"Fuck it," you said, bringing your finger down to press book.

A confirmation page popped up saying your session was successfully booked and they'd see you tomorrow. You let out a breath and closed your laptop.

This was really going to happen. You wondered if you'd have a male or female model, noticing there was no option to choose. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the session until the time came, opting to go in with a fresh and unbiased mind.

You went about the rest of your night, prepping everything you would need for tomorrow. Settling into bed you pulled the covers up to your chin.

You were ready for tomorrow and whatever it were to bring.

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, the weather warm but not too hot. The walk to the art studio wasn't too far away, the building being within walking distance.

You were giddy with excitement, your anxieties gone about the details of the session. You texted Felix to let him know you would be occupied today and would be over later on. He didn't mind as he apparently had something to do as well.

You approached a chic building, the outer walls appearing old yet charming to fit the town. You opened the door and walked in, met with the scent only an art studio can provide, from the scents of paints to fresh canvases. The scent of coffee drifted in the air as well, as there was a fresh pot that seemed to have been brewed in the corner of the reception area.

You approached the front desk, greeting the worker behind it.

"Hi, my name is y/n, I'm booked for a private session at 10:30?"

The lady looked in a book on the desk, her manicured fingers running down the page to the appointed time. She tapped her fingers on the page, finding your name as expected.

"We have you all set, would you like to pay now?"

You nodded and pulled out your card. She took care of the payment and then smiled.

"Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly to take you to the studio."

"Thank you," you said, walking towards a comfy looking chair in the corner.

You sat down, cradling your bag to your side. The atmosphere was quiet, the occasional sound of chatter meeting your ears. You watched as people walked to and from, their focus on getting to their destination.

Not long after sitting down, a young woman appeared calling your name. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and walked towards her.

"Ready?" she asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," you responded as you followed the lady down the hall.

She stopped at a door, the placard reading studio eight. It was more secluded than the other studios, the room being near the back of the hall. The lady opened the door and stepped in, you following right behind her.

As you crossed the threshold, you took in the surroundings of the room. It wasn't too small but not too big. The walls were covered with sketches and paintings, portraying various body types. Each painting was beautiful, the artist capturing the details of the human body in intricate detail.

There was a ceiling to floor mirror along one wall, the whole room visible in its reflection. In the center of the room, there was a chair next to a series of boxes, linen draped over it to make a makeshift bed. You eyed the stool next to an easel, which you assumed is where you would be sitting.

"So, this is where your session will take place. You have this space for four hours. If you need assistance of any sort, just press this button here and one of the staff members will assist you."

You followed her hand as she pointed to a blue button next to the door. You nodded and faced the lady again, waiting for her to continue.

"You have opted for a nude model for your session correct?"

"Yes, I have," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush at her question.

"They will enter after I leave. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can ask them to robe again, they will not mind. I think that's all. Any questions?"

You shook your head no, as everything was pretty straight forward.

"Great! Go ahead and get settled, your model will be in shortly!"

You thanked the lady and walked over to the easel. Setting your bag down, you began to pull out your sketch book and various pencils, setting them up accordingly. You sat on the stool, crossing your legs as you waited for your model to arrive.

It didn't take long until a different door than you came in opened, a person stepping in within the room. It was a flurry of movement as they walked into the room with their head down.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," the person said in a deep voice.

Wait...you knew that voice. Shocked, your head snapped up to look more closely at the person. You couldn't believe it, that person was...

"Y/n?!"

"Felix?!"

Your model was Felix? Your best friend? What the fuck?!

You were confused and shocked. Felix seemed to be as well as he stared at you with his mouth wide open.

You eyed your friend who was prepped in a white robe, the material seeming soft and cozy on his skin. His long hair was in a ponytail, framed away from his face, his numerous freckles on display.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same thing," Felix responded as he came closer to you.

"I uh...I signed up for a class to work on my skills since you know..." you said, your voice trailing off at the end.

The atmosphere was tense, neither one of you knowing what to do. You never expected to see your best friend here, especially since he never mentioned he modeled for an art studio...nude at that.

Felix nodded at your response, "I work here as a side gig...make some extra cash you know?"

You nodded, accepting his answer.

"Why did you never tell me you did this?" you inquired, curiosity getting the best of you.

Felix fiddled with the strap of his robe, his gaze anywhere but yours. After a moment he cleared his throat.

"Well, I thought you'd find it weird. I mean I'm naked in front of people and they draw me in the nude. How would I bring that up with you?"

He had a point. That would definitely make for an interesting conversation. Now the question becomes do you go on with the session? Sketch your best friend nude? You could make him keep the robe on.

"Do you...do you still want to proceed with this?" Felix asked, his hands gesturing toward the makeshift bed in the center of the room.

"I'm ok if you are," you said shrugging.

Felix cleared his throat, surprised at your answer. Recovering quickly, he said, "Of course."

You nodded and watched as he padded toward the bed, stopping in front of it for a moment. His hands went to the strap of his robe, his fingers fiddling with the knot before he stopped.

"You ok with sketching me nude?"

"Yes Lix, I've seen you naked before."

You really have and with years of being best friends, it was bound to happen.

Felix nodded before he grasped the strap again, this time untying the knot.

You watched as the knot fell away, the straps now dangling at his side. He brought his hands up, to grab the soft material and slide it off his shoulders. With a flurry of movement, he let the robe fall, the fabric pooling at his feet.

You gasped, your eyes glued to your best friend as he stood in the center of the room, his back to you. Taking the chance, your eyes roamed his back, taking in his muscular frame, down to his lithe waist, which you've always admired. You smirked at seeing his ass wanting to reach out and smack it.

Felix took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face you. You watched with bated breath as he now stood facing you, his eyes on yours.

Your eyes drifted down his torso, eyeing his nipples, the pinkish-brown buds perky in the cold room. You eyed him further down, down, down until you came to his pelvis, a happy trail of hair leading down to his cock.

You subconsciously licked your lips, your eyes glued to his soft cock lying amongst a smattering of hair, his balls hanging nice and delicate. You couldn't help but admire his cock, wondering how it would feel in your hands, how it would feel...

"Earth to y/n! My eyes are up here pervert!" Felix exclaimed while snapping his fingers to get your attention.

You snapped your eyes up to his face, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You definitely were just checking out your best friend, the feeling in your panties a little more wet than when you came in.

You cleared your throat and gestured toward the bed, "Umm, wanna get started?"

Felix nodded, "How do you want me?"

"You can just lounge on the bed for now."

Felix nodded again and sat on the bed, swinging his legs up to rest on the linens. You walked over to your best friend and stopped in front of him, your hands reached out. You hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes asking silent permission to touch him.

"Go ahead, position me how you want," Felix chuckled.

You took his hand in yours and draped it across his face, his fingers dangling delicately on the side of his cheeks. You angled his head to look toward where you would be sitting. You looked at his legs, taking a breath before propping one of his legs up.

Once finished, you quickly took a step back, eyeing your work. Satisfied, you sat down on your stool and grabbed your sketch book.

You picked up a pencil and began to sketch, easily getting lost in your work. You looked up at Felix every now and then, to get some details solidified in your head before you translated it onto paper.

It was silent in the room, neither one of you speaking. It was not as awkward as you thought it would be, but rather comforting.

Time passed and you got more of your sketch done, the outline being nearly complete.

Felix was staring at you, watching your hands dance across the page, sketching his frame. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, admiring how you got lost in your work, that not even your best friend posing naked for you can distract you.

He loved how you let out a small smile when you got a detail just right or how you scrunched up your face and bit your lip when something did not seem right.

You were beautiful, that he couldn't deny and you were even more beautiful in this moment, sitting on a stool in an art studio underneath the dim lights.

Felix started to feel warm, despite laying right under the air conditioner, the feeling spreading down his belly and settling at his cock. He could feel the blood slowly fill out his cock, the appendage slightly harder than before, laying haphazardly against his pelvis.

He willed himself to breath, to cool down, not wanting you to see the effect you have on him. He could never live that down. He tried to look everywhere but your face, especially when your head was down. But to no avail, the feeling increased, his cock twitching slightly in response.

You looked up at your friend to get another look at his torso for shading the area on your sketch, but froze at what you saw. Felix seemed to be in turmoil, his breath shaky, his eyes darting everywhere around the room.

Your eyes traveled to his cock, noticing how it seemed to have hardened some since you last took a look at him. You thought you would feel embarrassed, however, you felt quite the opposite.

You lingered on his cock a little longer, a a pleasurable shock traveling down your body and straight to your core. You pressed your thighs together in response, feeling your slick slowly seep into your panties.

You cleared your throat and went back to your sketch, not wanting Felix to catch you staring, not let him know that you were aware he was hard while you sketched him.

Felix was turned on, that was the brunt of it. He tried to stop his reaction to you, but he just couldn't do it. He felt his cock hardened until it stood fully at attention, the tip pressing up against his pelvis.

It was torture laying there, only a few feet away from you, his cock so hard it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, relieve the ache, and maybe just maybe you could help him out too.

He watched as you lifted your head up once more, gasping at the state of him.

You were in shock, noticing now that Felix's cock was fully hard, the member seeming angry and red at the lack of attention it received. You could see something shiny glistening on the hairs littering his pelvis. You watched as a drop of pre-cum oozed from his tip, the liquid dripping down his shaft until it reached the hairs, getting caught in the thickness.

Looking at Felix's face, you could tell he was miserable, as he breathing was shallow and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. You knew he wanted to touch himself to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling.

"Felix?" you questioned, your eyes reaching his. "Do you wanna touch yourself?"

Felix's eyes widened at the question, disbelief written on his face.

"I'm..I'm sorry y/n, I just couldn't help it," he stuttered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

"It's ok," you responded with a smile. "You can touch yourself, make yourself feel good. I'll continue to sketch."

Felix stared at you for a moment more before he took his other hand that was at his side and placed it on his chest.

You watched as he gripped his aching cock and gave it a squeeze as he moaned lowly. He shifted his hand upwards, his thumb pressing on his slit before gathering up some of the leaking pre-cum.

He began to stroke his cock, steady but slowly, his fist reaching the base just to travel back up and circle around the head. Felix kept eye contact with you, your sketching forgotten, as you took to watching your best friend pleasure himself.

He increased the speed of his wrist movement, wet sounds from the aid of his precum filling the room. With each moan he let out, you felt your pussy clench over nothing. You were soaking wet, your panties stuck to your skin by now, your clit throbbing to be touched.

"Y/n," Felix said, his voice raspy as he continued to stroke his cock. "Can you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself for me?"

You looked into Felix's pleading eyes, watching as he licked his lips and swallowed. You didn't give a moments thought at your friend's request, instead ridding yourself of your leggings.

You stood before Felix, your fingers going to the band of your panties. You watched Felix's eyes drag to the piece of cloth, his eyes widening at the wet patch present on your panties, the material sticking to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as the outline of your lips could be seen.

You slowly slid your panties down your legs and set them aside. Felix let out a groan at the sight of your pussy, his cock twitching in his hand.

You sat back down on the stool and spread your legs, your wet folds separating to show him your entrance. He kept his eyes glued to your pussy as you brought a finger to your clit, flicking the bud and the rubbing it gently.

You sighed out as you dipped a finger lower into your hole, gathering your slick that was pooling there before bringing it back to your clit. You circled it gently, applying the slightest pressure, a jolt of pleasure causing your pussy to clench.

Time passed as you both sat there, eyes on each other as you pleasured yourself, the room filled with wet sounds and the mix of both of your moans.

You matched Felix's pace as he stroked his cock, harder and faster, his hips bucking up into his hands. You let out a whimper as you felt the tightening within your belly, the coil tightening, filling your core with warmth.

"Felix, m'close," you moaned as your fingers slipped and slid around your clit, your pussy getting wetter by the minute.

"Yeah? Cum for me? Will you cum for me like a good girl?" Felix cooed. "I'm close too, fuck."

Your breathing increased as the coil expanded in your belly, the feeling getting larger and larger until you tipped over the edge, your walls spasming, clenching down rhythmically as you rode out your high.

You didn't stop rubbing your clit, watching as Felix let out a groan as he bucked his hips, spurts of cum landing on his belly creating a painting with its pearly white sheen.

You pulled your hand away, the feeling of overstimulation settling in. You looked at your best friend, both of you breathing hard as you came down from your highs.

You chuckled as you noticed Felix was pretty much in the same position you put him in, his resolve at staying true to his role admirable.

"You um...you can keep sketching if you'd like," Felix said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

"We literally just got off together and you want me to continue sketching?" you asked incredulously as you cocked your eyebrow.

Felix cleared his throat, his body slighly shifting on the makeshift bed causing his softened cock to jiggle.

"Well...yeah, you paid and all..."

You stared at your best friend in disbelief. You hated that he had a point, you did pay a pretty sum to be here today. But here you were, nude from the waist down, your nether region a mess. You sighed and picked up your pencil, moving your hand to start sketching again.

There was silence once more as you got into the zone, focusing on shading in your sketch. You began to hum to yourself, adjusting yourself sligthly on the stool.

Felix returned to staring at you, watching you get lost in your work. He tried not to remember that you were naked waist down, your pussy seconds away from being on display if you decided to open your legs.

The thought caused arousal to seep through his body once more. He cursed silently as he felt his cock twitch. Why does he have to be turned on by you? He's never had this reaction before for any other client.

Maybe it was because they were strangers, people he didn't know, while you were his best friend, his life line.

He couldn't help it as his thoughts wandered, wondering how you would feel wrapped around him. He wondered how you would sound as he pounded into you, making you feel better than any of your little flings ever could.

He peeked down to look at his lower half as he silently groaned noticing his cock was fully hardened, resting against his belly once more.

You looked up to gather reference and noticed Felix's cock was hard, more of his precum leaking out and onto his belly. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight as your tongue darted out and licked your lips.

"Fuck this," you said, tossing your sketch book to the side.

You stood up and walked towards Felix, lifting your shirt up and over your head in the process. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, your tits spilling out and on view for your friend.

Felix scrambled up quickly and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you toward him until you stood right in front of his face. He grasped your waist and smashed his lips to yours, letting out a moan as your lips moved with his.

Your hand reached down to grasp his cock, giving it a squeeze. Felix moaned against your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Can I fuck you y/n?" Felix asked with hope in his eyes.

You've both come this far, why stop now you thought.

"Sure," you agreed as more arousal gushed out of your pussy and onto your thighs at the thought of his cock filling you up.

Felix helped maneuver you onto the makeshift bed as he hovered above you. He spread your legs and pushed them upwards, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy, your slick coating your folds and dripping down your ass.

He brought his thumb down to press against your swollen clit that was peeking through your folds. You let out a whine at the sensation, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"I've waited for this moment for a long time y/n," Felix said, his eyes lifting up to your face.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling at the thought that you both have liked each other probably for years.

He really was your person, your everything, and you would love nothing more than to give yourself fully to him.

Felix smiled down at you before swiping his finger over your clit again, watching as you wiggled your hips at his touch.

"I'm gonna give you my cock now," he grunted, grasping the appendage at the base.

He rubbed his cock through your folds, collecting your slick before pressing against your entrance, his eyes glued to how his head disappeared within your hole.

You mewled as he withdrew his cock just to press into your entrance again as he fucked you with just the tip.

"Felix, please," you whimpered, holding your legs open even more.

"Want my cock hm?" Felix asked, his eyes on yours. He watched as your mouth hung open, soft moans falling out as he teased you, spreading your folds open with just his head.

He was faring no better as he felt a shutter run through him, every time he sunk his tip within your warmth.

"Fuck me," you commanded, your eyes snapping open and staring Felix down.

You reached for his cock, your hand wrapping around the shaft. You wiggled your hips attempting to take more of his cock, ignoring how Felix was laughing at you.

"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist," Felix chuckled. "Oh wait, you lost those hours ago, so desperate for my cock y/n."

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips into yours with a groan, sinking his length within your walls until bottomed out.

"Fuck, so warm and tight," he grunted as he began to thrust his hips into yours, withdrawing his cock just until he was all the way out and pushing back in.

You pussy clenched around him, the feeling of his cock stretching you out causing waves of pleasure to settle in your pelvis.

Felix grasped your legs, pushing them further to your chest as he pummeled his hips to yours, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He couldn't believe how tight you were, how your walls molded around his cock perfectly, like you were made for him.

His moans mingled with yours, as you both chased your highs. Felix licked his fingers and brought them back down to your clit, the digits slipping and sliding along the nub, causing shocks of pleasure to wreck your frame.

"Shit, I'm close, gonna cum. Can I come inside?" Felix panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"Please, need your cum!" you whimpered as your pussy contracted at the thought of his cum within you.

Felix slammed his hips into yours once more before stilling, ropes of his cum flooding your walls.

"That's it, take my cum," Felix cooed as he continued to finger your clit.

You let out a loud moan as you came, your arousal seeping out of your pussy, coating Felix's cock as he thrusted his hips into yours a few more times to help you ride out your high.

Felix peered down at you, his eyes searching yours as you panted, your hands running down your body. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, his eyes glued to how his cum leaked out of your pussy, a smile gracing his face.

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips once more as he whispered "I love you."

You carded your fingers through his hair, eagerly returning the kiss.

"And I love you Felix," you cooed.

You both laid there a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, neither one of you in a rush to move.

After a while, Felix perked up, mischief in his eyes.

"Wanna keep sketching? You still have another hour."

You smirked at the suggestion, knowing exactly where it will lead, and that was definitely ok with you.

"Sure thing, let's go for another round," you teased with a grin.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

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474 notes · View notes

jzprncess · 2 months ago

Text

love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment.

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #jzprncess

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catboyieejeno · 10 months ago

Text

gameboy :: p.js — one

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more wc: 18.257k

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

The red letters that flash across your screen read ‘Defeat’, illuminating your dimly lit room with a shy, red hue. The instant the word appears on your monitor, a voice blasts through your headset, erupting in emphatic complaints and protests. You can hear the clatter of a keyboard and mouse being shoved around on the other end of the receiver, and it takes everything in you to stifle your laugh.

“We definitely could’ve won that!” the boy scoffs, “I swear, sometimes it feels like you and I are the only people with any fucking game sense.”

“Wow, thanks for the validation,” you joke, instinctively queuing up for another match. Your eyes trail up to the little icon in the corner of the screen that glows green every time he speaks.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, and you imagine he must not look all that different from the little crying cat picture he set as his discord icon. The thought makes you snort, but he ignores you, stating, “I think this is my last game,”

You nod even though you know he can’t see you, “same, I have class tomorrow,”

“First day of the semester for you, too?”

You nod again. “Unfortunately. My days of gaming until four and sleeping until noon have come to an end.”

He laughs, leaning forward in his chair as he realizes something, “You know, I never asked what you’re studying,”

“Oh,” you blink, “Well, the first class I have tomorrow is just a random credit I needed, but I’m actually majoring in-”

It takes less than a few seconds for your words to drown out into a muffled buzz, and the only thing Jisung can focus on now is the silky, smooth sound of your voice.

He would never admit it, at least not out loud, but your voice makes his heart beat just a little faster. The way each and every word rolls off your tongue makes his breath hitch, imagination running wild at the thought of what your lips look like when they mold to form each syllable and sound.

Every night like clockwork, Jisung finds himself rocking side to side in his desk chair, eyes hanging low and round lips curved up into a smile as he listens to you speak.

It’s so easy to talk to him, too. By now, you’ve lost count of how many nights the two of you rambled off in voice chats, watching shows or playing video games or simply oversharing the details of your lives. It’s only been a few months since you met in a game chat, on that night where he practically harassed you for your discord after you carried him up a rank in-game. You’re secretly grateful he did, though you wouldn’t let him know that; the two of you effortlessly became part of each other’s daily routine, and now, calls with you are his favorite way to end the night. Tonight is no exception.

Jisung begins to mindlessly swing in his chair as usual. He’s humming passively between your small pauses to encourage you to keep going as his hands automatically start caressing his torso. It’s a somewhat innocent gesture, or at least it starts out that way: his palms sliding across the ridges of his abdomen as he listens to your voice. It’s better than music to his ears, and it urges his long fingers to dance closer and closer to his waistband.

“–and I thought about changing it, but I think with an degree in Lit, I could probably get a career in–”

Lost in your voice, Jisung slips his hands into his shorts, holding his balls as he fully zones out of the conversation. He knows you’re saying words and forming actual sentences, but his social awareness has dwindled completely and he absolutely can’t seem to get past how sweet you sound, and how much sweeter you would sound under… different circumstances. He moves up to hold his dick gently and furrows his brows. Almost accidentally, his thumb brushes along the underside of his tip, teeth clamping the inside of his cheek and gnawing on it to ground himself. Just as eager as its owner, Jisung’s dick jolts in his palm, progressively swelling up until it’s flushing bright pink.

“You’re into English?” He manages to stop daydreaming and hone into the conversation for a fleeting moment, just long enough to ask you that simple question and keep your attention off of his rapidly shifting breath.

He’s blatantly playing with himself now, ever so distractedly. It’s an autonomous act: the way the pad of his middle finger trails over his slit to collect a bit of the pre-cum that has begun to dribble out in pearly beads. He hisses, then quickly snaps his mouth shut in hopes that you hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah,” he can hear your smile in your words, “I think I always have been. I used to read all the time and—I swear, if you say I’m boring, I’ll personally come over and choke you–”

As he acknowledges reality for a quick moment, his pace falters. His brows pinch, and he feels confused as he realizes he can’t stop or even moderate his actions, despite the shame slowly beginning to wash over him. The more you talk, the harder he grows. His grip is getting tighter, his strokes needier… he must be losing his mind. With a gulp, he thinks to himself, what would you do if you could see him touching himself like this to you? Would you think it’s sick and twisted or would you offer to help him out? His head begins to throb as the room spins around him, but he really can’t seem to slow his motions. By now, he’s bucking his hips up and into his hand while the other covers his mouth, silencing the whines that threaten to leave his throat. He’s breathing heavily, praying to god you don’t somehow notice his perverted actions. Despite knowing that he isn’t thinking straight, Jisung can’t help the thoughts that continue to fog his mind, rampant and obscene.

Could you hear the squelching of his hand pumping his cock, covered in his pre-release? Or the way he’s practically panting, reduced to nothing at the mere sound of your voice? He’s not sure whether or not his mic would even pick that up, but even so, the corner of his lips curl into a lazy smile as his mind continues down his twisted rabbit hole.

In spite of not knowing what you look like, there’s no denying that he wants to give you all of him. He wants to feel himself buried deep inside your throat, your pretty voice vibrating around him as you choke on his length. He feels himself twitch in his palm and he subconsciously nods, picturing it's your walls around him instead of his own inadequate hand. Jisung huffs out once, fucking his fist wildly, picturing how much he’d like to feel himself bust inside of your warm, tight pus-

“Sung? Sung!”

“Huh? W-what?” As he yanks his hand from his shorts, the waistband snaps against his skin and he yelps out at the impact, “Sorry! I promise I was listening, it-its just, I got a little caught up with–” words are tumbling out of his mouth, before he can catch up to them.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hurry, just pick your agent before the match gets–” but the timer runs out, and the lobby screen appears once more as you sigh, “–canceled...”

Jisung glances down at his hand, separating his fingers and watching how the sticky pre-cum leaves webbed strings between each of his parted digits. His stomach is also wet, and the tent in his pants is growing increasingly painful with each passing second.

“What were you fantasizing about, huh?” Oh, fuck. The teasing edge in your words makes his nerves tingle, and he throws his head back as you hum into your mic, “Hmm. Well, I guess it was more interesting than what I was saying. Can’t blame you though, the topic of school is boring me too, and the semester hasn’t even started yet. Also, that can’t count as your last game. I literally won’t allow it.”

You queue up for another game and Jisung sighs, watching the timer on the screen tick away. The picture changes, and the two of you are prompted to start a game. A few kleenex wipes collect the mess on his hand and torso, and he settles back in his chair after tossing them, deciding his neediness will have to wait for now.

Bidding you good night is harder than usual tonight, but he knows you need to get to sleep—you mentioned you had an early class and he had his own, so his selfish urge to keep you talking until he came in his hand would, unfortunately, need to take a raincheck.

After logging off of his computer, Jisung drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

What the fuck even was that?

A mix of shame and arousal take over him as his cheeks begin glowing a deep shade of red. He lets out a small scoff, shaking his head to himself as he gets up from his chair. His dick is still as hard as a rock, and he can’t help but feel flustered at the fact that he has, quite literally, blue-balled himself.

With a towel swung over his shoulder and a clean pair of sleeping shorts clutched in his fist, Jisung walks up to the dorm’s nearest communal bathroom. He turns on the faucet, freeing himself of his clothes. The moment his boxers come down past his thighs, his length slaps against the skin below his navel, making him hiss out as he steps into the shower. The cold water, running down against his heated body, seems to be doing the trick of clearing his mind, that is, until his hands find their way to his stomach, rubbing the soap over it.

It’s so hard to expel the thoughts of you when they’re so intrusive and tempting, and Jisung lets his mind drift off once more, imagining how it would feel to be touched by you, sucked by you. All the soft noises you would make are weirdly familiar; he can practically hear them. His head falls back, lips caught between his teeth as he twitches and gives himself an experimental stroke, shuddering as his thumb glides across the slit of his sensitive tip. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, letting out a shaky sigh and letting the water continue to trickle down his body. He doesn’t know what you look like, other than your hair color which you mentioned the other day. Despite that, he still tries desperately to piece an image of you together behind his eyelids, picturing what your lips are like. And just like that, thoughts of you flood him, and he shudders at the vision of you on your knees, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes, begging to taste him and take all of him. He longs to feel you swallow around him—to grab either side of your face and thrust into your needy mouth until the tears slip from your eyes and your pussy is dripping from the need to be fucked.

Getting lost in the moment, he doesn’t even realize how loud he’s becoming and how fast his fist is working his dick. Jisung's highly anticipated release is only seconds away when a loud knock startles him, lunging him right back into his body.

“Yo, man! How long are you gonna take in there?” His friend and next door neighbor, Mark, shouts from the other side of the door, knocking again and ruining Jisung’s fantasy once and for all.

The boy takes a moment to clear his throat and swallow, not trusting his voice to not crack otherwise, “Uh.. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

It takes everything in him to slow his hand to a stop and pry it off of his shaft, deciding that perhaps, he shouldn’t entertain his filthy thoughts any longer. He quickly finishes showering with another unnecessary interruption from Mark, then drags himself back to his room and gets into his bed, forcing his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. The longer he lies there, however, the more restless he grows.

His dick feels sore to the touch and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. Every time he adjusts his shorts or moves his legs, his balls throb from how full they are. Knowing he has class to get to the following day, he tries to convince himself that maybe he needs a release to get to sleep. It’ll tire him out, and then finally, he’ll be able to get some rest…There’s at least a bit of logic to that theory, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Against his better judgment that pleads with him to just shut his eyes and count sheep, Jisung huffs out and slips his hands into his shorts to begin touching himself for the nth time tonight. This whole time, he had been unknowingly edging himself and now he’s so, so undeniably and incredibly desperate to cum that it literally hurts.

His free hand brings his phone up and unlocks it, thumb swiping quickly in search of the discord app where your contact resides, the little green bubble next to it signifying that you’re still online. He hovers over the call button, taunting himself with the idea of making a call to you at this time. One little click, and he’d hear your voice again. Just one click and he-

sung ᨐฅ started a call. Today at 11:54 AM

Shit, shit, shit.

He rushes to hang up, but you’ve answered no more than a ring later.

“Hello?”

Jisung holds his rather unsteady breath, staring wide-eyed at his phone. His dick pulses in his palm that now rests still.

“Sung?”

As gently as possible, he lays the phone down on his puffed up chest, letting out his breath slowly so that you don’t hear him.

“I’m gonna assume you called me by accident… ” you sigh out in disappointment, growing quiet in uncertainty. For a second, Jisung is convinced you’re gonna hang up, but when you stay on the line, he peers down at the screen curiously.

Your icon lights up green and there’s some shuffling on your end, presumably from you getting comfortable in bed.

He hears you yawn and smiles fondly.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, “are you asleep? I was actually excited that you called. Maybe it’s my fucked up schedule… or, maybe I’m just dreading tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know…”

You’re speaking slower and quieter than usual, but you’re speaking, completely oblivious of the fact that he’s thinking of the dirtiest things that involve you, getting off while you think he’s sound asleep.

“It’s always easier to sleep once we’ve talked so,” you pause, then sigh out jokingly, “I guess I'll just talk your unconscious ear off until I fall asleep…You don’t mind, right?”

God, no, he thinks.

Jisung silently celebrates your decision with a pump of his hand, shuffling a bit to get comfortable as you go on about genshin and cats and other things he can barely pay mind to. It takes no more than a few strokes, shallow ones where he caresses the angry head of his dick to the velvety sound of your slurred and drowsy mumbling, for him to bring himself to come so fucking hard.

His knees lock as his cock springs up in his clutched palm, spewing streams of white cum all over his stomach, chest, and thighs. The muscles on his abdomen ache from the way they contract, eyes and jaw shutting tightly as he challenges himself to remain quiet. The sheets aren’t spared from his thick load either, his nut dripping down the sides of his tummy to make dark, round puddles on his bed. His toes curl as he tries his hardest to not gasp out when the pleasure dissolves into sensitivity, digging his head back into the pillow with a hand clasped over his lips.

A few minutes later, the blurriness in his vision is relieved, along with the ringing in his ears. You’ve stopped talking; instead, the receiver picks up your short and shallow breaths, as if you’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. Cute.

As he assesses the aftermath of his much needed release, he wishes he could snap a picture and send it to you, so that you’d wake up knowing this pathetic mess he made was all for you, because of you.

Alas, he can’t, and he hangs up once he’s completely sure you’re resting. With his eyelids feeling much heavier than before, he manages to toss his phone onto the nightstand before he, too, drifts off to sleep.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning, Jisung wakes up in a bit of a panic. The first thing that throws him for a loop is the fact that his alarm didn’t go off at all. He quickly realizes he forgot to set it amidst the activities of the night before. The second thing that strikes him is his own hand that rests on his stomach, stuck in some kind of damp, sticky liquid. In his half-conscious state, he lifts his fingers and his puffy eyes widen as he identifies the clear fluid that decorates his tummy as his drying release from the night before.

“Ugh…” He grimaces, sitting up in his bed. His phone, which is less than half full of battery since he forgot to plug it in, blinks back the numbers 8:38 at him. Jisung’s eyes widen as he remembers that his first class of the day, of the semester, is at 9.

“Fuck!” In a flash, his blanket is flung off of him and his legs are swinging over the edge of the bed. He moves to grab some tissues from his nightstand, making aggressively desperate attempts at wiping away his cum. When the Kleenex sticks to him instead, he digs around his drawers for a pack of wet wipes, snatching a pair of pants off of the floor at the same time and practically yanking them up his legs.

Despite almost falling over, he manages to get them on and clean off his torso… for the most part. A random sweatshirt is tugged on over his head and he runs his hand through his hair a few times to tidy it before passively telling his reflection, this will do.

Moments later, he’s rushing downstairs and outside of the dormitory with his unzipped backpack hung over his shoulder. He rushes to unlock his bike, cursing as he fumbles with the keys. Once he’s on, he starts pedaling to the Science building on the other side of campus, heavily dreading checking the time in fear it’ll read some absurd number and he’ll wind up being much later than he anticipates.

The breath that’s been caught in his throat all morning is only released when he steps through the door of the lecture room to see that the professor hasn’t walked in yet, and that the clock reads that he’s 6 minutes early.

Finally slowing his rushed pace, Jisung does a quick once over the room to scan the faces of his fellow students before taking his seat somewhere near the back. Thanking the heavens that his notebook and textbook didn’t go tumbling out of his bag in the midst of his previous hurry, he tugs them out, flipping them open and writing the date on the first page. His laptop, which is where he had planned to take notes on, sits in his dorm room where he left it on his desk. Everyone else has theirs out, but he’ll just have to bring his own next time.

There’s a distant click, and the door on the lowest level of the lecture hall opens. Through it walks a relatively tall and slender lady, heels echoing rhythmically as she strides over to set her dark bag down by the podium. Her hair is tied back high and tight, so much so, that all of her features look like they're blending into her hairline. She looks like she’s somewhere in her mid-to-late fifties, and from the instant she walked in, the entire class went silent.

She clearly has a presence that commands attention and undoubtedly, she fits the visual profile of a strict college professor quite well, especially when she picks up the chalk and scribbles her surname onto the green chalkboard beside the larger projector screen.

“I’m Professor Hwang. Welcome to AST1002, also known as Descriptive Astronomy. If you’re here, that means you took AST1001 with Mr. Kwon last year. He has since transferred to a different department.”

There’s no audible response, although some disappointment does flash across the faces of the students in the room, all of whom did have (and seemingly would miss) Mr. Kwon. Professor Hwang doesn’t seem to notice the lack of responses, and continues speaking as she pulls some papers out.

“Firstly, I’ll take attendance. Then, I’ll pass the syllabus around. I would like for you to note,” she pauses to place a pair of red glasses high on the bridge of her nose, “that attendance is mandatory for my class, and worth 20% of your grade. I’ll go over pop quizzes and weekly quizzes, as well as the initial class project, when each of you have a copy of the syllabus. That being said, I look forward to seeing you all here every class. Please call out when you hear your name.”

As she starts to take attendance, Jisung takes the time to sigh into his hands, both exhausted and dreading the fact that he’d have to spend three days out of the week rotting in a lecture hall to attend a class he expected to be fun, or at the very least a break from his much more difficult core classes. By the looks of it, that’s no longer the plan.

It’s easy to zone out quickly while his mind is still foggy, no doubt from the lack of sleep and the subsequent abrupt awakening that followed. He had just begun an attempt to read the syllabus when something made his ears perk.

Immediately, his head snaps up in pursuit of a soft and airy voice that just responded to Professor Hwang. It’s so quick and in passing that he almost thinks he might have imagined it in his delirious state, but the way the hair on his limbs stands on end is unmistakable. His eyes dart around the room, hitting his classmate’s heads like targets, but there’s absolutely no way to identify the individual who just spoke.

Could it be… No. No way.

Jisung is no stranger to daydreaming about you, but he isn’t completely delusional. He knows the chances of being not only in the same city, but the same university and class as you are absolutely slim to none, so he stops that train of thought dead in its tracks.

It does segway him into thinking of you, though. You’re obviously not here, so he wonders instead what class you are in at the moment. He tries to picture what you’re wearing on your first day of class, trusting you look more put together than him in his old hoodie that is slightly sticking to the dry cum on his stomach. Do you like your classmates? Your professor? He sincerely hopes you have a more tolerable one than he does.

“Park Jisung?”

With a slight cough, he spits out a weak “h-here.” and instantly grimaces, raising his shoulders autonomously as if he would get scolded for stammering so pathetically. The professor, to his relief, doesn’t even glance up from the roster. Then, he feels quite silly for even thinking he would get reproached for that to begin with. In his defense, she’s a rather intimidating woman, and his inner monologue is so loud and flooded with thoughts of you that he fears she may have heard it.

She finishes calling for attendance, resorting to striding up and down the aisles as she begins to dissect the syllabus. In an effort to pretend he’s paying attention, Jisung glances down at the size twelve font on the page, skimming over the words without really taking anything in. During one of the professor’s paces, a pen she had resting on her ear slips and falls towards the ground with a slight clatter, and it seems a student picked it up for her, because there’s a slight mumbling, followed by a sharp “thank you,” and a very, very recognizable,

“You’re welcome, Professor.”

His eyes widen at once. Alright, call him crazy, but now he thinks that it really might have been your voice. The familiar timbre, warm and delicate; a sound he’s heard for months on end and knows embarrassingly well… The thought of being in the same room as you out of sheer luck and coincidence makes his abdomen twist and his palms sweat so bad, he has to wipe them on his pants.

He hates that he can’t fully tell, in fact, he’s almost ashamed that he can’t; before today, Jisung would have sworn up and down that he knew your voice better than even his own, but you sound so far and so quiet that he can’t completely bet all of his marbles. Then, he quickly realizes calling it ‘your voice’ definitely makes him sound delusional, even in the safety of his own forgiving conscience. He decides to call it ‘the voice’ for now, at least until he’s a hundred-percent sure.

An irritatingly long hour and half later, the only sound that continues to ring around the lecture hall is Professor Hwang’s monotone one, reciting each and every itemized assignment and rule on the never-ending syllabus. There’s less than fifteen minutes until class is over, and she shows no signs of stopping her dissertation.

“As for the class project: In pairs of two, you will research a constellation extensively to create a presentation on its formation, who cataloged it, and the Greek myth that may accompany it. Please note that this is the first and last time we will talk about constellations in this class, since they are not cosmic phenomenons but instead, a mere roadmap to the objects and themes we will be focusing on. Consider this strictly as an opportunity to familiarize yourselves with another classmate and show me your interest and effort in the subject. That concludes our syllabus,” Thank God, Jisung thinks.

“Any questions?” She glances around at a hand that floats in the air, near the front of the room, “yes?”

“Will we be able to select our partners?”

“No. Partners will be assigned at the end of the week. Yes?” She calls on another hand.

“As for the constellations,” Wait, that’s it! That’s the voice—that’s your voice, he’s completely sure of it! “Will you assign those as well?”

Jisung elongates his neck to try and peek over the heads in his way. It is you, he’s positive now, but you’re turned away from him, and he can’t fully make out which ‘back of the head’ is your ‘back of the head.’ The echo in the hall makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint who just spoke which means he can’t pinpoint you. For some reason, he finds himself slightly panicking, desperate to finally see you in person.

He follows Professor Hwang's line of sight as she answers that she’ll assign the constellations on Friday too, and finally finds you, seated between a few other students. A few more questions are thrown around, but his eyes never leave you, anticipating the moment he catches a glimpse of your face.

Naturally, his first instinct is to approach you as soon as class is out, but when he sees you spin around to pick up your bag that hangs off your chair, he finds himself glued to his own flimsy seat. Feet stuck to the ground, legs not budging, and air hitched in his throat at the sight of you.

You’re so, so much prettier than he could have imagined with whatever unoriginal features he tried to piece together in his lacking mind, and that fact makes him both exhilarated and completely nauseous.

He’s barely been looking at you for a few seconds when he feels his insatiable cock growing fast in the confines of his pants, with no regard for its owner and the fact that he has to stand up within the next minute or so to exit the hall. Jisung curses under his breath, awkwardly rising to his feet when most of his classmates leave, his bag clutched tightly in front of his groin. He prays you don’t glance over, not even because he has a semi-hard on he’s failing to hide with dissimulation, but because he’s staring at you like some sort of freak and can’t seem to look away.

There’s nothing he wants more than to come up to you and say hi and confess he’s the person you’ve been gaming with for months. He’s pictured it countless times before, you’d think he’d have it down by now, but your beauty is intimidating, and he simply cannot and will not make a fool of himself in front of you by greeting you with a raging boner.

You walk out of the classroom and Jisung’s heart settles in his chest as he sits with his decision to stay anonymous for now.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“She was obnoxious, you have no idea!”

“My teacher wasn’t much different,” he admits, a small, knowing smile toying at his lips, “she seemed like a real bitch,”

It’s later that same evening, and talking to you doesn’t really feel the same anymore. It’s much harder, because now, Jisung can vividly picture you, sitting in your chair with your hands on your keyboard and mouse. Every word you say, his imagination is right thereafter, picturing your pretty face clear as day in the forefront of his mind.

The moment he got home, he fucked his fist until he came in his hand. It took about five minutes, and then he pumped another one out in the shower, (a much needed shower, at that) where he finally washed away the remains of the night before.

After he had lunch with Mark and the other boys from his floor, they had invited him to play basketball. At the same time, however, he received a direct message from you, explaining you didn’t have any other classes for the day and asking if he could get on earlier.

It’s a little ridiculous, but now that he’s seen you, now that he knows you’re so much closer than he initially thought, he can’t wait to talk to you again. And so he quickly came up with an empty excuse related to his studies, took the berating from his friends like a champ, and rushed upstairs to log into his PC and open up your chat.

“Not only do we already have a project, but we don’t even get to pick our partners.”

I know! He thinks.

“Like,” you start, and he pictures the way your cheeks fill up with air as you let out a huff, “what if I get stuck with some weirdo?”

Instantly, Jisung stops palming himself, letting his hand climb back up to the mouse slowly.

He probably shouldn’t let that innocent statement affect him as much as it does, but he can’t help it. He has the advantage, right? Or, at least it seems that way.

When everything is laid out, he has the upperhand of knowing who you are—you haven’t seen him, yet… but what if you did see him, and he wasn’t at all what you were expecting? Or even worse, what if you got paired together for the project and you thought he was weird or the two of you didn’t get along? That option is far less likely, since there are well over fifty students in AST1002.

“I don’t know,” you start, “I’m considering switching out of the class-”

“No!” Wow. Good going, Jisung.

He catches his slip-up and quickly blurts out, “I-I mean, it might not be that bad! You should… at least give it a shot before you try to switch out, right?”

“I guess you’re right… The add and drop period at my school is until next Friday, so I'll try it out until then.”

Great! Perfect! Good save. The only problem now is: Jisung has a little over a week and a half to somehow convince you to stay in his class and at the same time, not completely butcher his introduction to you. Approaching you now seems practically impossible, but he needs you to stay in the class, even if it means he has to come up to you first. He can’t be bothered to care that his insistence is for his own selfish intentions, if it means getting to see you three times a week.

“But anyway,” he clears his throat, changing the topic as quickly as possible, “how did your other class go?”

“Much better than the first, the teacher let us out early once he covered the books we’d be analyzing this semester and attendance isn’t mandatory since most of the material is online or in the library. I think I’ll swing by there one of these days to see if I can get ahead on some of the assignments.”

“Oh, so you’re a nerd?” You gasp and smack his character in-game a few times. He laughs, calling out, “okay, okay, truce! You’re not a nerd then, just an overachiever.”

“How so?”

“We’re barely a day into the semester and you’re already trying your homework that I’m sure isn’t due for at least a few weeks,”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. With a bit of playful flirtation twisted into your tone, you hum out, “What can I say? I like to please.”

One of his eyebrows perks up, “is that right?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He can hear your smirk through the screen, and now, he can vividly picture it, too.

Jisung scoffs, backing away from your character so that he’s out of your sight. He cowers into a corner in game; this way, you don’t notice how he stops moving when his left hand leaves the w,a,s,d keys to cup and rub his needy bulge.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Wednesday’s class is somehow packed and entirely uneventful at the same time. The first of Professor Hwang’s dragging lectures is so loaded that Jisung actually thanks the heavens that he remembered to bring his laptop. Otherwise, his notebook would have been about halfway full already, and his hand? It would have fallen off.

On another relevant note, he’s struggling to stay focused because today, he is sitting much closer to you. Intentionally, of course. There’s still a few rows between him and you, but in this new seat, he can glance at you as often as he’d like without straining his eyes or stretching out his neck to make his gawking painfully obvious. He can clearly make out your smooth skin, along with other details he wasn’t able to notice before like your beauty marks and your dainty earrings. You’re paying unfaltering attention to the class for the first hour, but after the sixty-minute mark, you appear to have become bored. He catches the way your pencil starts doodling along the corners of your notebook and it takes everything in him not to snort when you scribble down a wonky looking cat.

He’s so distracted by you, that every couple of slides, he glances back to the projector to see that the class is now on an entirely different topic than the one he last managed to jot down. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re a much more enthralling sight than quasars and supernovas.

Halfway through the lesson, you decide to peel off your little black cardigan and hang it on the back of your chair, exposing your arms and neck and shoulders to him. Your hair is tied up neatly right after, giving him all the more to gawk at and envision. Jisung has to remind himself that he’s in a classroom just so that he doesn’t start fantasizing about how it would feel to grip your hair up in a similar fashion and fill your throat up with his dick.

With great difficulty, he directs his focus to the board instead, typing quickly into his laptop all the notes he manages to catch before the slide changes again and Professor Hwang’s narrow eyes can scan the room to see who’s paying attention.

When the class is over, you start talking with the girl next to you, aimlessly reaching back for your bag. The gesture makes your cardigan fall, and Jisung has to fully bite his tongue to keep himself from calling out your name and giving himself away. He waits to see if you’ll notice, or if someone nearby will alert you, but neither one happens. Instead, you stand up, still engrossed in your conversation, and make your way towards the door. Instantly, he jogs down the aisle and between the seats to grab it and wordlessly hand it to you, but by the time he makes a move to head in your direction, you’ve already left.

He feels disappointed at first, but the feeling quickly shifts into relief. Wordlessly hand it to you? Does he want your first impression of him to be awkward and borderline rude? No and definitely no. This problem has a simple solution—it’s a blessing in disguise; he’ll take your cardigan home and bring it to you on Friday and maybe, if his courage allows, he can introduce himself then.

“Hey! I noticed you left your sweater here last class. I brought it for you. Oh, and by the way, it’s me! I’m @sung.ie. How did I know it was you? I can recognize your voice across a huge lecture hall.”

Yeah… he’ll think more on that later.

With your cardigan clutched in his fist, Jisung sighs, making his way outside and towards his bicycle. He tucks the clothing item into his backpack and pedals back home, wondering how he’s going to manage to give it back to you since you always get to and leave class before him.

He knows some of his friends and dorm-mates have their own class today, they had exchanged schedules during lunch a few days ago, which leaves him to hope and pray you’ve decided to skip your class and get online. As he parks his bicycle downstairs and locks it, he slips his phone from his pocket and opens discord, but your bubble remains gray and cold. You’re offline.

Maybe you haven’t gotten home yet. He checks his phone again when he gets upstairs, and again when he goes inside his dorm, tossing his bag aside and crashing on his bed. He checks after losing a round of candy crush, and again after replying to a text from his mom.

By the looks of it, you were in class, or at the very least, not available for the moment. Jisung sighs, pretending he’s not actually as disappointed as he feels. It seems a bit dramatic to feel the need to kill time until he gets to talk to you again so he resorts to doing physics homework—a short baseline his teacher assigned that wouldn’t be graded—and tricking his brain into thinking the former is not what he’s actually doing.

When he pulls his bag off his desk chair to grab his laptop, your cardigan comes into view, and he pauses to look at it. He sits like this for a moment, wondering if he should fold it nicely on his dresser so he can remember to take it to you, but his hands act before his mind can catch up, reaching in and basically shoving the material toward his face.

With his nose buried in your scent, Jisung inhales deeply, sinking into his chair as his legs grow weaker. The trace of your floral softener is the first aroma he gets, and then, the smell of your perfume peeks through, soft and sweet and very fitting for you. Once more, his treacherous hands are acting for themselves and he’s suddenly undoing his belt single-handedly.

Once his dick, growing by the minute, is out and clutched in his palm, he finally retracts your sweater. With little hesitation, he wraps it around his erection and pumps once, throwing his head back in immediate relief.

It’s a fucking miracle that his room is the last one at the end of the hall, and that his next door neighbors, Renjun and Jaemin, are both in their afternoon lectures, because nothing would have been able to muffle the wanton moan that rips from his chest as he strokes himself with your scent. His hips are bucking up into the air, and in only a few minutes, he’s broken a slight sweat. His balls tighten from sheer sensitivity at the act of fucking something directly related to you.

A cry of your name, followed by a few more pumps and he’s coming inside your mangled cardigan, his white release breaching the thin material. It seeps through it like light through a veil, gathering thickly on top before spreading into a dark, wet patch. There’s a shudder that passes through his bones as he sits back, burying his cock into the fabric and keeping it there until he’s given up every last drop.

The only thing that snaps him from his post-nut bliss, is the distinct discord ring-tone that blasts through his headset. His computer monitor turns on as your icon appears and simultaneously, his heart and dick both twitch.

“Hello?” With his output device swung over his head, he presses the green ‘answer’ button and speaks into the mic, hiding his slight shortness of breath with a yawn.

“I’m so glad you answered,” you beam, and he does too, “I was worried I had called while you were in class or something,”

As he speaks, he wipes the remnants of his cum off with your cardigan and puts it aside on his desk, tucking his softening (and still very sensitive) dick away into his boxers, “No, you’re good. I had a class earlier today but now I’m free.”

“What a relief,” you sigh, “Would you want to have a little homework ‘sesh’ with me? I just found out the library doesn’t have any available labs. I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate much with you but at least I'll be in good company.”

“Like an e-date?”

“We can call it that,” you grin, then he pictures your expression becoming a gloom one to match your slightly sadder tone as you admit, “Sometimes I wish we went to the same school so we could meet up and study at a coffee shop.”

He snorts, unable to help but crack a joke, “Like a real date?”

Your laugh makes his heart swell slightly. When you reply, “Maybe,” it starts flipping wildly in his chest.

God, you can’t even begin to imagine how badly he wants that.

“That would be nice,” he agrees humbly, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “What class are you gonna study for?”

There’s a pause before you speak again where you hum in thought, flipping through a few pages and shuffling through your bag. Jisung joins you, grabbing his laptop and school supplies, “I have a project for my astronomy class. It’s related to constellations and I wanna start researching them so that I can make an outline for the assignment,”

He looks through his math notes with his brows furrowed down, “I thought she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Your icon flickers as you reply, “She is, but I want to—wait. How did you know that?” At your words and the realization of his untimely slip up, Jisung’s body goes rigid. He can only imagine the confusion on your features, and he’s quite relieved you can’t see the look on his. If his eyes were to open any wider, he’s sure they might just slip out of his head.

“Oh, um,” he clears his throat mechanically, then gulps in an effort to lubricate it and keep his voice steady, assertive, certain. “You mentioned it on Monday, remember?”

“Did I?” You didn’t, but he really hopes you think you did. “Probably,” At that, he lets out the air he’s holding, shaking his head slightly at himself for being so careless.

“But um, yeah,” he starts before you can give it any further thought, “If she’s assigning them Friday why are you working on it today?”

“Cause she’s also assigning partners on Friday, and I don’t really know anyone besides the girl who sits next to me and I doubt I’ll get paired with her. I want to make sure my grade is secured, you know? I’ve never liked group projects. I feel like all the work gets dumped on me.”

He’s still not entirely sure what you mean to do, or how you intend to create a blueprint of sorts without knowing what it was for, and so he stops flicking through his page of notes to look up at his monitor and ask, “But if you don’t know which constellation you’re gonna work on, how are you gonna make an outline?”

You ponder his question for a moment, then mumble out, “She didn’t mention a rubric or anything, so I figured that as long as I plan out the different sections and give the project a structure, half of the work is cut out, right? I can just assign parts at that point.”

“You’re that kinda person in a group project? I’m sorry to whoever gets partnered with you,” He’s not sorry, not at all. He’s rather envious, actually, despite his attempts to sound indifferent or amusing. Being granted time to spend with you at your place or his, or at the library or the local campus cafe, would be a no less than perfect ice breaker. Jisung would make sure you never felt like all the research and assembling depended solely on you—in fact, he could see himself now, spending countless hours perfecting the details of his assigned part and inquiring about other suggestions to improve the project, just to impress you or at the very least, satisfy you. The reality that someone else would get to do all of that in his place is disheartening.

You guys had rarely ever talked about school before now, since neither of you actually were enrolled in any classes when you started chatting, but now that it’s relevant, he feels like he understands a whole different side of you. You’re organized, and obviously very studious. Hell, you’ve been itching to get started on assignments that haven’t even been assigned yet. You’re responsible, dependable, funny, beautiful, and every time he thinks of you lately, he realizes that his innocent crush is slowly becoming an insatiable one.

“Hey! I’d be very nice if it was you, you know. Show you some favoritism,” the corners of his lips twitch upwards—“But I’m also glad it’s not you,”—and fall down again.

“What? Why?” He tries to not sound too offended.

“I’d end up talking your ear off, Sung.”

“I’m already used to that, don’t mind it. Kinda like it, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods curtly, even though there’s a monitor and an entire school campus between you and him and he knows you have no way of seeing his gesture. There's a moment of silence that you spend taking a brief breath as a glow tinges your cheeks.

With a stifled laugh, you open your mouth again, “I think it’s just because you like me that you tolerate my rambling,”

“No.” He’s quick to clarify, “I really do like it.” He loves it.

“And me?” your voice is much quieter, almost giving the impression that you’re shy in asking something so decisive and direct. Jisung, emboldened by your vulnerability, and the distance the screen puts between you two, answers with certainty.

“I like you, too.”

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“The constellation project, as I mentioned during your first class, is a tool for you to acquaint yourself with your classmates. It will be due in 3 weeks, and you can check the syllabus for specifications regarding that. After today, there will be no changing partners or constellations so should you need any changes to be made, you have until class is dismissed. Listen closely as I read out the pairs for the project. I will not repeat myself.”

The sharp tone he’s growing more and more distaste for by the day drowns out as Jisung glances over at you. Today, you’re sporting a bone-colored long sleeve and corduroy pants with half of your hair held back in a shiny clip. You look ravishing. Truthfully, he can’t really tell if you’re wearing makeup or not—although he concludes it doesn’t matter. Your features are soft and pretty nonetheless, and your cheeks have turned rosy from the dropping autumn temperatures.

“Yu Karina will be partnered with Lee Heesung. Your constellation is Cassiopeia.”

When you walked into the lecture hall this morning, there was a hot coffee cup with the campus cafe’s logo on it clutched in your hands, which you sipped on while shivering. Taking your usual seat, you greeted the girl next to you, who Jisung now knew was called Yu Karina.

The dark haired girl perked up when Professor Hwang called her name and waved down the aisle at who he can only assume is Lee Heesung, her partner, then whispered something to you. You looked over at the boy and back at Karina, nodding and giggling with her.

“Jennifer Huh, partnered with Ning Yizhuo,” Professor Hwang referenced her other list, “Constellation: Cancer.”

The two girls greet each other with a look and a smile, but Jisung pays little mind. He’s listening intently—for the first time—in anticipation of hearing one of your names be called. He doesn’t exactly know your full name, only a nickname he refers to you as, the one attached to your discord handle. Otherwise, pinpointing you that first day of class would’ve been much easier.

“Park Jay and Lee Sohee, your constellation is Orion.”

Sitting there, he realizes that in all the months you’ve talked, he’s never once asked for your full first name. Is that strange? What kind of friend is he if he doesn’t even know your name? In all fairness, you never asked for his, either, so he supposes it’s okay. Would have been useful to know, though, at times like this.

After his small confession of ‘like’ on Wednesday, the two of you went on studying your respective subjects, with the occasional (and inevitable) distraction here and there. Admittedly, he thought his comment would be forgotten rather quickly. It wasn’t like he outwardly poured his heart out to you, so he figured you’d move on and just crack a joke or two about it later. There was a change, though; a strikingly obvious one to Jisung, who hangs on your every word like it’s a tether that keeps him from floating. And, even if he didn’t pay such close attention to you, there’s no way he could have missed the new flirtatious ambiance that flourished afterwards. Flirting with you is not uncommon by any means—the two of you playfully tease each other with frequency, but it’s nothing he’d allow himself to look into too much, for his own sake.

That changed in the hours following his comments. All of Wednesday evening, the two of you went back and forth, feeding each other compliments in the form of banter. Again, he thought it would end there, but on Thursday afternoon when you logged on, he asked how your progress was going with the outline, to which you texted back, “I was thinking of you all day. Didn’t get around to doing much else.”

It wasn’t the only message from you that nurtured his feelings, either. There were enough substantially flirty messages from your conversation that night, that he was able to scroll through them and reread them a few times before bed.

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 6:49PM

hi did you smile when you saw my name pop up on your phone just now

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 8:22 PM

you’re so cute

i can barely think

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 9:14 PM

i feel like my day doesn’t make sense if we don’t talk

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 10:58 PM

i should get to sleep

but i don’t wanna stop texting you

ynn ᓚᘏᗢ: yesterday at 12:02 AM

goodnight, sung <3 miss you til’ you’re back

Now, as he eyes you with a boyish, lovesick gaze, watching you doodle your stupid little drawings as you await your assignment, he finds himself praying for the courage to come up to you after class.

Professor Hwang calls your name next, something he only realizes at the fitting similarity of your nickname and the way your pen meets the table in alert to being called on, head lifting up and eyes blinking expectantly.

“Your partner will be,”

Jisung holds his breath, chanting in his head ‘please, oh, please let it be me,’

“Lee Chan.”

Wishful thinking never got anyone anywhere, then. He ignores the way his heart sinks into the pits of his stomach, unable to help but observe your curious gaze as it looks around the filled seats. For a fleeting moment, you meet his eyes, but he doesn’t react or claim to be Lee Chan who you so evidently are in search of, and so you pass him and keep studying the aisles. After a few seconds, you find no one gazing back, even after you slightly stand to peer above the nearby heads that obscure your view.

“Your constellation is-”

With a cautious raise of your hand, you interrupt Professor Hwang gently, “Excuse me, Professor, but I don’t think my partner is here.”

For a moment, her lazer-like gaze looks like it could light you on fire, a consequence of daring to interrupt her, but it softens only slightly as she realizes the truth in your statement, scanning the room herself and calling out for the missing boy. Upon receiving no call back, she thinks for a moment, then looks back down at her clipboard and crosses something out.

“I did mention attendance was mandatory, didn’t I?” This she mutters to herself, “No matter. Instead, you’ll work with,” she gives the paper another once over, then clicks her pen and speaks, “Park Jisung.”

In an awkward burst of both excitement and confusion, Jisung darts out of his chair. His knee hits his desk with a clang, and his laptop would have gone flying if it wasn’t for his quick hands that catch it before it can fall. The loud ruckus turns several heads in his direction, including Professor Hwang’s and more importantly, yours.

Feeling an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, Jisung blinks as the two of you make eye-contact, then he takes his seat again, very quickly by the way. “Uh, that’s me,” he announces, heat spreading across his face and eyes darting around, “Sorry.”

Does he feel more sorry to his teacher and classmates for disrupting the classroom, or to himself and you for the absolute fool he has just made of himself? As much as he’d like to tear his gaze away from yours and cast it to the ground in embarrassment, it remains stuck on you, awaiting your impending reaction.

You’re rather unsure how to feel, though given, a little surprised at the commotion. You offer him a small smile through pursed lips, and Jisung nods, willing with all his might for a hole to open in the ground beneath him and swallow him.

“Thank you, Mr. Park, for your remarkably clear confirmation. Your constellation is Gemini.”

You turn in your chair to face the front again, scribbling down his name in the corner of your notebook, as well as the constellation you’d been assigned.

“He’s cute,” Karina comments to you as you look over at her, and you finally let out a small laugh you had been holding in.

“He is. Clumsy,” you snort, “but cute.”

“We both got cute partners. We should meet up at the library later and all get started on the project together,”

You nod enthusiastically, going back to your outline that sits at the ready on your laptop screen and making quick work of labeling the different sections evenly. If it wasn’t so obvious for you to spin around and steal a glance, you might have done so again. You’re certainly tempted to, thinking back to seconds ago and realizing you hadn’t really noticed him the last two classes.

Jisung watches your exchange with his dignity at serious risk. He’s entirely unable to hear or make out what you’re saying to each other, and it makes his pulse pick up and his mind race. He considers many things as he watches the two of you talk: firstly, asking to change his partner, but then realizing that would be an awful idea. Once you knew who he was, how would you ever forgive him for immediately ditching you? Absolutely not. Cowering had gotten him nowhere so far.

Then, he considers switching out of the class himself, and disappearing, never to reveal himself to you—but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Incapable of checking out of your life so quickly and denying himself the treat that is seeing you three times a week (and now, possibly more), he cans that idea, too.

As Professor Hwang finishes reading off the list of names, he begins planning what he’ll actually say to you, as that conversation is just minutes away. There’s less than a half-hour left of class, which means he has to think hard and fast.

As he busies himself with the grueling task of picking an appropriate and redeeming introduction, he doesn’t hear the new instructions from Professor Hwang, which are to find your partner and begin brainstorming, as well as exchanging schedules to set aside time outside of class to work on the presentation. A shadow falls over his desk and consumes his work space in darkness. When his curiously squinted eyes trail up to find the source, only to land on you, hovering above him with your things clutched in your arms, he grips his seat to keep from jumping out of it for the second time today.

“Is this seat taken?”

So much for having time to figure out how to approach you. His heart does a leap of surprise in his chest in place of his physical body, and he resists the urge to clutch it.

“No.” He replies shortly.

With your unfaltering, kind smile still present on your face, you laugh softly and place your things down, introducing yourself.

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.” he politely corrects you. When you don’t immediately react, he wonders if you had even heard him. He doesn’t put it past himself to have imagined that he replied to you, between his sweating palms and nervous jittering, and your pretty self sitting just a foot away, he’s barely keeping it together. After a moment that feels infinitely longer than it actually is, you raise your eyebrows slightly, round lips parted to ask your question with a palpable hesitance.

“W-what?”

“Jisung,” he quickly replies, pronouncing the ‘g’ clearly and masking the way his eyes widen with a heavy blink that honestly, may not serve as any better of a guise. He pleads with himself to get his shit together but luckily, you don’t seem to notice.

“Oh, sorry… Sorry, It’s just—nevermind. Hi, Jisung.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He savors the way your name feels on his tongue but keeps his enjoyment brief.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you start, lifting the screen of your laptop to reveal the very same outline you had started working on during your last call with him, “but I already made an outline. If you wanna scrap it and start all over, we can—”

“No, It’s fine, we can use this,” when you give him an unsure look, he smiles reassuringly, “It looks brilliant.”

“Thank you.” There’s a pause that is filled only by you clearing your throat, “Ok, I have a literature class right after this one on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of my classes are online, so I’m free at any time, really. I usually like to study at the computer labs in the library, it’s nice and private there and I find it much easier to focus. But if you don’t want to go there, we could always go to the cafe or the square for some fresh air. Oh, and either one of our dorm rooms works fine if you’re okay-”

To experience your presence on a phone call is one thing, but to experience it in real life, with your clear voice so arresting and your silky, smooth lips within reach, is absolutely mesmerizing. He’s fighting the urge to glance down at your mouth, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to sustain eye contact, as lovely as he decides your eyes are. Another thing that is becoming exponentially harder, and more sensitive all the same, is his cock, springing to life with an eagerness to greet you.

There’s a bit of panic that flashes across his features as he senses the strain it’s causing in his pants, and only when you look down at your outline does he dare to sneak a glance down at his own groin where as expected, a noticeable imprint was beginning to develop. In a desperate gesture, he slides his notebook over his lap, suppressing a hiss, and leans forward to pretend to use his own laptop.

“Any of those work for me,”

“Okay, great,” You notice the time and turn back to him. “You can just message me when you’re free.”

“Sure.”

“And here’s my number—” you reach over, sliding the protective notebook from his lap and placing it on your desk, scribbling your number in the corner. Jisung immediately readjusts his hoodie, throwing the hem of it over his boner. Professor Hwang dismisses the class as you pass it back.

“Call me whenever you’re free.” With a spin of your heel, you wave goodbye to him and rejoin Karina, who waits for you at the door with her partner.

Jisung lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and looks down at the number you wrote. Beside the digits, written in very neat handwriting, might he add, sat perched on a wobbly branch a little black cat that he recognized from his hours of staring as one of your doodles.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The time is 4:33PM, and Jisung has drafted over a dozen messages on the iMessage app addressed to your number. None of them have exactly made it to you yet, courtesy of his thumb that keeps pressing backspace and wiping out any trace of a remotely embarrassing text. It’s the next day and no introduction or invitation to meet up seems like it’s good enough to send, though he knows that inevitably, he has to text you first. You left your number behind with the doodle that he has since stuck to the corner of his PC monitor, but you never took down his; so now, the ball is in Jisung’s court, and he knows that if he waits too long, you’d think he was avoiding you or the project altogether.

Realistically, he knows a simple “Hi, it’s Jisung,” will suffice, but he can’t bring himself to send you such an unoriginal and boring message. After pondering for a moment, he then decides the best solution would be to do some research, and then call you with his findings—this way, his interest in the project would be clear, and he knows how important that is to you.

At once, he peels your cum-stained cardigan off of his lap, though not before stealing a glance at the day’s new additions, and places it aside. He tucks his spent dick into his short and turns on his monitor, typing the name of the constellation into Google and investigating nearly every website he could find with any useful information.

In the nicest handwriting he can manage, Jisung bullets a list of all the facts and history he could find on ‘Gemini’ within the hour, including the stars that make up the constellation, the myth behind it, and other relevant statistics. It isn’t until he has filled up an entire page front and back—partially—that he picks up his phone again and makes another attempt at contacting you.

Feeling slightly more confident, he types up his message.

To: 555-111-0205

hi, it’s jisung from astronomy. i did some research and i wanted to show you what i found. let me

know if you’re free to exchange notes. Sent at 5:52 PM.

Jisung rereads over his message for any flaws, though there’s nothing he can do about it now that it’s sent, anyway. After he deems it an okay first message, he takes a breath and moves to put his phone down, but it buzzes in his hand instead.

Incoming call at 5:54 PM From: 555-111-0205

“Hi-”

“Hi! Sorry to just call unannounced but I’m walking to the library with all my stuff and I can’t really text. I was able to book us a computer lab for the next two hours so If you want, we—can you hear me?”

He sits up straighter, “Yeah! Yes, I can hear you,”

“Oh, good, so—wait, hello?” Your voice shifts in volume and proximity, as if you pulled your phone from your ear to check the call screen, then brought it back, “Oh, sorry. I-I thought I had accidentally called someone else… nevermind.” Instantly, Jisung realizes instantly that you must have recognized his voice. It makes sense, seeing as you’re used to hearing it specifically on calls. You seem to show no further suspicion as you continue speaking, though, but perhaps, he should keep talking on the phone with you to a minimum.

“Do you think you can make it? Otherwise I can go work on my own. I saw your text and instantly booked the room. Sorry for not checking in with you first,”

“I’ll meet you there,” He replies quickly, grimacing at the instinctual effort it takes to try and make his voice deeper.

“Okay! Great. I’ll see you there, then.” You hang up, and then your text message comes through with the lab room information just minutes later.

Jisung all but lunges out of his chair and rushes to face himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. Besides his hair that looks slightly disheveled, he looks alright. He doesn’t want to make you wait long for him, so he quickly grabs his laptop and his notes, shoves them all into his bag, and flies out of his dorm room with the laces of his sneakers left untied.

In the brightly, yellow-lit hallway, Mark and Chenle are popping out of their respective rooms, a basketball clutched under the younger boy’s arm.

“We were just about to come grab you,” Chenle starts, “Let’s play some ball. Jeno’s meeting us at the court,”

“Can’t,” Jisung shakes his head, “I’m going to the library,” he tries to not get offended at the way the two boys snort loudly in disbelief, looking at each other as if they’ve both had the same thought.

“Yeah, right.” Chenle scoffs.

With a blink, Jisung replies meekly, “I’m serious.”

“Since when do you go to the library?” Mark brows pinch and he adds, “It’s the start of term. You’re already studying?”

“Since now, I guess. I have a project for a class so I’m gonna go meet up with my partner at the library, but I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Alright, alright. Oh—remember there’s a party next week at Jaehyun’s frat for syllabus week.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” His answer doesn’t seem to fully convince Mark, Chenle, or even himself, but they seem satisfied enough, because they let Jisung go without any more pestering. He flies down the flight of stairs and out the front door of the dormitory.

The cold September air is biting at this time in the evening, feeling particularly cool on the apples of his cheek, which glow from the light layer of sweat that develops during his jog over to the library. It’s a considerable distance away, which is part of the reason why he, in his two years of being a student at the university, has never seriously stepped foot inside of it. Studying in his room is much more convenient, but you seem to like the library, so the twenty-minute-walk there, or in this case, fifteen-minute-jog, will simply have to be adopted as a new way to get in some brief exercise a few times a week.

More than likely, you have already arrived, and Jisung doesn’t want to make you wait too long for him, especially since there’s a two-hour time limit on the room and he intends to spend as much time with you there as he can. He wipes his cheeks with his gray sleeves and climbs up the stairs of the building quickly, swiping his student card at the door and stepping inside.

The ceiling is massively tall, seemingly taller than when he once saw it during freshman orientation, and the endless rows of shelves are filled with books, ranging from thin, colorful novels to thick, leather-bound classics. It’s quieter than he expects it to be, even for a library, and he clearly can hear the pitter patter of his feet as he follows the sign labeled ‘Study Rooms and Computer Labs.’

The guy at the reception desk in this section seems to be a volunteer, his student ID and name tag shining on his shirt. He glances up from his book when Jisung approaches, nodding once. There’s an awkward silence that feels rather loud as Jisung fumbles with his phone, flipping it between his clammy hands as he searches for your message.

“Computer Lab 4C?”

Wordlessly, the boy nods again, then slides over a clip-board with a sign-in sheet clamped to it.

It’s surprising to see how many lab spots are filled up so early into the term, names scribbled along the lines and time-slots. Your name stands out, partly because of your familiar handwriting, but particularly because of the empty line beside it, where he signs in before handing the clip-board back.

“Down the hall, second door on your right.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to bob his head once and the boy looks back down at his book. He makes his way down the hall until he reaches the correctly labeled door. His hand reaches for the handle, but he withdraws it. Should he knock? Or maybe send you a text? Or both?

To: 555-111-0205

hey again. i’m outside :) Sent at 6:18 PM.

The door creaks open from the taps of his knuckles bumping against it, and he peeks his head in timidly, finding you sitting in one of the desk chairs, nearly hidden behind your laptop and a stack of books. You look up over the screen, eyes squinting in a smile.

“Oh, I had left the door open for you,” you stand up, holding out a cup for him, “and I got you coffee… didn’t know how you liked it so I just got you the same thing I order,”

There’s a fluttering in his stomach as he sets his bag down. There’s no chance he can manage to meet your eyes after such a gesture so he casts them to the ground instead, graciously reaching out to receive with both hands the drink you offer him, “You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, “but thank you. I’m sure your order is great,”

“I wanted to! It’s just—I mean, I did drag you out of your room in the cold and on really short notice—A hot coffee was the least I could do,” you shrug, “One of my friends works at the cafe and I was there doing some work for my literature class before I got your message and I figured I’d grab us both something before I headed over here… Sorry, I’m talking too much. Here, sit down.”

He’s not exactly sure what to say, so he takes his seat beside you in silence, but not without a small smile decorating his face. The notes he had taken down to show you are retrieved from his bag, as well as his laptop. There’s a low screech of your chair dragging across the floor, and he turns to find you’ve scooted closer and you're leaning forward with your cheek resting on your palm, eyes intently looking at his research.

“It isn’t much. I’m sure whatever you found is much more substantial, but I couldn’t show up empty handed.” Jisung explains, sliding the paper over to you. As your eyes scan the page, you make a few comments along the lines of ‘Oh, this is a good point,’ or ‘We should mention this.’

You seem to be very carefully reading his work. Meanwhile, he takes advantage of your preoccupation to let his eyes rake over your person.

The first thing he notices is that you’re wearing a different cardigan, and he suddenly remembers your black one is still on his desk, unwashed and covered in his cum. Your hair looks soft, and when you mindlessly swing it over your shoulder, he catches a whiff of your lavender scented hair wash, and it makes him gnaw the inside of his cheek. You’re not quite close enough for him to catch the perfume you’ve decided to wear tonight, though he can vividly picture the gentle florals that linger still on your cardigan. His eyes trail down, and it’s only then that he notices your skirt—or blatantly, the length of your skirt. Your smooth thighs are exposed, full and fleshy and pressed together, and he suddenly wishes they were wrapped around his head.

“Jisung? You okay?”

“I–Yeah, sorry.” It’s clear that you’ve noticed his staring, and he all but rips his eyes away in embarrassment, “I was just wondering if you were cold,” He gestures down at your legs shyly, pretending the content he’d written on the paper was more interesting the sight of your plush thighs.

For a moment he expects some harsh comment or outburst, but you laugh instead, smoothing the material down a bit, “No, not in here, at least. And the walk over was short, so,” His lips are pursed and his cheeks are burning, but you spare him from any further humiliation when you reach across him to turn the page over and quietly gasp, muttering some surprise under your breath at how extensive his work is. “This is really good. We can use pretty much all of it.”

Failing to hide his beaming at your praise, he snaps his head over to you, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean—,” The screen of your laptop changes over to a page of notes, “I pretty much wrote down all the same things. I’m actually so relieved, I was worried I might get paired up with someone who wasn’t gonna contribute.”

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t switch out of the class now, huh?”

Distracted in the notes and in the taste of his coffee, he misses your quick, confused glance his way. Smoothly recovering before he notices, you slowly nod and present to him the layout where you had already taken the liberty to assign him his designated parts. Not that he expected anything else; it’s endearing to see his name labeled over specific sections, color-coded in a blue, bolded font. He wastes no time in pulling up the screen of his computer, exchanging emails with you so the two of you can get to work on the shared document.

The time passes quicker than he hopes, and he realizes just how much he likes spending time with you. Talking with you online is one thing, but sitting beside you as you sip your drink and hum mindlessly, fingers typing away or flipping pages in a book? Completely different game. He’s sure that if it wasn’t because he relieved himself earlier today, he might have popped a boner from the simple act of being in your presence.

Every once in a while, you make an occasional comment regarding a point or two you thought was worth mentioning or adding, and he’d oblige, making a note of it and sharing his thoughts here and there. Occasionally, he manages to steal a look at your thighs, which he swears you’re bouncing and squeezing together on purpose, but for the most part he keeps his focus on the task at hand.

Towards the end of the night, there’s a moment where your hands brush his as you point something out on his screen, and Jisung swears he’s never felt more like a teenage boy in his life. He practically flinches at the contact, failing to mask his awkward reaction and pretending he really meant to fix his hair.

Bidding you farewell is possibly the most difficult of the tasks this evening, even more so than pretending he isn’t completely infatuated with and aroused by you for a whole two hours. When you stand from your seat and walk with him out of the study room, and subsequently, out of the library and into the cold, Jisung faces another of his many dilemmas related to you. He’s not sure if he should offer to walk you back to your dorm, or at the very least halfway there. Perhaps, offering you his jacket would be appropriate, since your skirt wasn’t doing much of a job at keeping you warm.

“You live close by?”

“Yeah! Just a 5 minute walk,” you point your index finger, “In that dorm right over there.”

Jisung nods once, then decides to indulge his impulses. “Here,” he slides his hoodie off with a little less coordination than he would’ve liked, holding it out for you to take, “so you aren’t cold.”

He can’t tell if your cheeks are red from the temperature again or from his gesture, but he hopes it’s the latter. The moment you take his sweater, pretty eyes wide in thanks, he sucks in a breath. It’s much chillier now that the sun is gone, and he fights the urge to chatter his teeth when he offers you a lopsided smile.

“T-thank you,” you tie the sleeves around your waist, covering your lap.

“I’ll see you in class?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a final grin before you spin on your heel to head home.

The twenty-minute-walk-fifteen-minute-jog back to his room feels eternal. All of his hair is standing on end, but picking up his pace too much means that the icy wind, which has so graciously decided to blow in his direction, would just become harsher. His palms soak up the little warmth on his stomach, tucked under his t-shirt, as he alternates between speed-walking and jogging. The minutes drag on and on until finally, his building comes into view and he breaks into a run.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The following morning when he walks into his astronomy class, he follows his usual routine of checking for you in your seat and is almost distraught when he finds it to be empty. It’s not like you to miss a class, and he contemplates reaching for his phone to check-in on you. It isn't until he pans his vision over to his own chair that he spots you. You’re accompanied by Karina and her partner, Heesung, taking up the empty seats beside his own.

On your desk sit two coffee cups like the ones from last night, and he pulls his lip between his teeth to hide the grin that fights to break out.

You look up when you spot him, and Karina and Heesung look up, too.

“Hi…”

“Hi! Jisung, right?” Karina extends her hand out and he takes it, nodding to confirm, “I’m Karina and this is Heesung.” He mumbles another small hello to the boy, who acknowledges him before looking back at his computer.

“Good morning,” you greet as he sits, placing his cup on his desk. “You never told me whether you liked it or not, but I figured you’d grow to like it eventually.”

“I-thanks but,”

“I know: Didn’t have to, but I wanted to. So just say thanks, yeah?”

There’s a familiar burning on his cheeks that always seems to make an appearance when you’re around, but he doesn’t bother masking it this time.

“I wanted to ask you if you would be free to study tonight?”

Instantly, he bobs his head up and down, and you book the study room on your computer just moments before Professor Hwang strides inside the classroom, her glasses on the tip of her sharp, pointed nose.

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The frat house where the seniors stay is practically next door to Jisung’s dormitory, which is why when Mark, Chenle, and Jeno come banging on his door on Saturday night, he realizes he can’t use walking so far in the cold as an excuse to stay home. He also can’t use studying as an excuse anymore, since Mark had already caught him leaving the dorm a few times throughout the week to go study with you. That, and he ran into Jeno as he was entering the library just the night before.

“You’ve been studying plenty,” they’d say, or “We told you about the party last week, no way you’re not going.”

Anyway—the point is, he’ll have to endure tonight, despite his wishes to stay close to his PC for the chance that you’d want to hop into a game. He’d prefer to spend the night talking with you, but that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. With a somber look on his face, he shrugs on a jacket and opens the door for his friends, who practically drag him outside.

Jeno slings his arm over the taller boy’s shoulders as if to prevent him from fleeing, and the four of them climb down the stairs and onto the path toward the frat. If Jisung strains his ears, he can already pick up on the sounds of the party, even from here.

“You think Chaewon will be there?” Mark asks no one in particular, but the boys all respond simultaneously with groans of distaste.

“You dated her three semesters ago, why do you care?” Chenle starts, “isn’t she seeing Jungwoo now, anyway?”

“That’s exactly why I care,” Mark grumbles, foot kicking a rock along the pavement. “He’s one of the RAs. If he’s there—”

“He’s always there,” Chenle interjects, earning a glare.

“—then she’ll be there, too.”

“So, what happened with… what’s her name, Minjeong? Why don’t you hang out with her?”

“Nah,” He turns to Jeno, “She’s sweet and all, but I found out from Giselle that her and Chaewon are friends, so,”

There’s a chorus of understanding, albeit a bit pitiful, “aah’s” and “oh’s” as the building comes into view. A few people are gathered at and around the entrance while others litter the parking lot with phones and solo cups in their hands as they wait for friends. Among them, and Jisung has to do a double take to make sure, he spots Karina, who waves someone down from the direction of the main courtyard. For a moment, he thinks it might be you who appears from between the treeline, but it’s Heesung who jogs over to meet her and he realizes how silly his thought was in the first place.

In the months he’s known you, you’ve never once brought up a party. In retrospect, you don’t seem like the type to like partying at all. He can picture you clearly now, tearing through textbooks or novels for your literature class, or maybe even typing away to him on Discord and asking if he was online.

He isn’t and can’t be tonight, and he’s very sorry about that, for the record.

Maneuvering through the crowd of tipsy college students isn’t too difficult,and neither is their entry. The door is propped open, and Jaehyun, with his signature snapback that he wears backwards on his dark hair, calls them over from the drink bar.

“First problem I see here,” he starts, “is that none of you have a cup in your hand.”

“We’ve barely made it through the door, man,” Mark laughs, clapping up Jaehyun and moving aside so he can greet the rest of the guys.

“That’s no excuse, you should be sipping on something by now.” He waves his arm, “Take a look around, boys! This is what life is gonna look like for you guys next year—and the year after for you, Jisung.”

Jisung gives a curt, disinterested nod amidst being handed some fruity, fizzy, white claw resemblant that probably wouldn’t taste much different from an Alka-Seltzer. He cracks it open upon being prompted to by Jaehyun, who initiates a “cheers” between the friend group. The moment the alcohol touches his tongue, Jisung grimaces, taking a few long chugs in hopes that the effect will kick in quicker and make the long night that awaits him a little less long.

“Do you know if Chaewon is here?”

Wordlessly, Jaehyun fixes his cap and points a single finger toward the couch, where Chaewon sits besides Jungwoo, leaning in to hear him over the music and giggling at whatever he says in her ear. The boys look over at the couple, then quickly glance back at Mark, whose face falls despite the fact that he knew to expect this.

“Tough,” Jeno gives him a pat on the shoulder, “Hope you have better luck the rest of the night. I’ve gotta bounce,”

“Yo, what do you mean bounce?”

He gestures toward a girl standing near the beer pong table, who looks slightly familiar to Jisung, though he can’t quite put his finger on it, and smirks, “She smiled at me the moment we walked in. I’ll see you later, but I honestly hope I don’t.”

The realization that his friends, in search of their hook-ups for the night, would eventually be abandoning him one-by-one kicks in just then, inviting Jisung to down the rest of his bubbly drink in one go.

Mark rolls his eyes, “You ever notice Jeno is always the first one to get a girl?” His comment earns a few hums of agreement.

“I’m gonna go find Jaemin,” with his phone clutched in his hand, Chenle turns towards the door, “he just texted me he’s outside with Sullyoon and her friend.”

“Wait, Jaemin is—he’s setting you up and not me?” Chenle only shrugs at Mark’s question, replying with a blunt and concise “yeah.”

“I’m not a dog like Jeno though, so I’ll definitely see you guys later.”

As if noticing he was facing the same unfortunate fate as Jisung, Mark turns to the youngest boy with a fearful look in his eyes. Jisung only shakes his head and takes a quick look around, “I’m not planning on hooking up with anyone here, so…” At this, the boy sighs in relief, handing Jisung another drink in solidarity. The two lean against the counter as Jaehyun looks between them, snorting.

“Mark, there’s so many girls here.”

“I know, but—”

“But Chaewon.”

Mark nods, echoing Jaehyun in a quiet, maybe even embarrassed voice, “But Chaewon…”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he adds sympathetically, “I’m caught up on my ex, too.”

“Uh…” there’s a pause. “Which one?” This comment lands Mark a shove, playful, for the most part. He rubs his shoulder and hisses while Jaehyun, on the other hand, sloshes around the little liquid left in his cup and grabs the closest bottle of alcohol to him, along with whichever random mixer he finds first.

“The only one that really mattered.” He tilts his newly filled red cup back to drink from it, but his eyes peek over the rim and he pulls it from his lips to sigh out, “Speak of the devil and she doth come,” he raises his brows and announces, “there she is now.”

Following his line of sight, Jisung trails his vision toward the front entrance and at once, the sight makes each and every one of his limbs seize up. There’s a twisting and turning in his stomach that almost invites the seltzer he chugged to make a reappearance, and he’s pretty sure the color has drained from his face as he watches you walk inside the frat house behind Karina and Heesung.

So many things go through his mind in such a short amount of time that he fears he may have had some sort of out-of-body experience or hallucination episode; it wasn't really you he was seeing, it couldn’t be. The way your skirt clings to your hips makes him grip his cup tighter within his sweating palm, and the lacy, corset top you’ve decided to wear, which shows off a tasteful bit of cleavage, causes him to swallow down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue.

It was a more provocative outfit than he’d even seen you wear, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, he’s sure he would’ve instantly become bricked up.

“And of course she’s wearing that shirt…” Jaehyun fixes his cap for the second time tonight and straightens out his shirt, “Alright, wish me luck.”

It’s not like Jisung would have interjected anyway, he didn’t really have the grounds to, but he couldn’t even entertain the thought before Jaehyun headed in your direction with decisive confidence. Part of him hopes he was referring to someone else as his ex, perhaps even Karina, since there isn’t another girl in your immediate vicinity besides her, but his bit of hope is crushed as he spots Heesung’s hand intertwined in hers. Surely, Jaehyun wouldn’t be coming up to her if she showed up with someone to his party. It leaves him to reach his regretful conclusion just as his friend and you make eye contact, recognition flashing across your features, along with something else.

Unable to torture himself further by watching your exchange, Jisung tears his eyes away and grabs another drink to make this very, very long night ahead of him somewhat bearable. He turns to Mark, who he didn’t even realize had been talking this whole time, but the loud music and the cloudiness in his mind muffle out his speech.

“—I mean this just sucks! I guess we still have each other, maybe we can find some girls who—”

When did you even date Jaehyun? You hadn’t mentioned him once in the months he had known you. And also, why did you date Jaehyun? Not that there was anything wrong with him, other than his habit of cycling through girls every semester. Mark’s “Which one?” comment had some truth to it, but he would have never expected you to have been on Jaehyun’s roster. It takes him a second to remember that Jaehyun is still his friend, but even then, he can’t fight the bitterness that settles in his bones. What did he mean when he said that you were the only one that mattered? How significant was your relationship with him? There’s too many questions circling his mind, and it isn’t until he downs the fifth drink that they start to blur.

Currently, he’s passing the time conversing with Mark and following him around the party, but more importantly, avoiding you in fear he’ll steal a glance and you’ll be locking lips with your ex. He spots Jaehyun by the bathroom a bit into the night, but thankfully, you aren’t near him. It’s in the middle of a beer pong game with Mark when he dares to glance around in search of you.

First, he spots Karina and Heesung, making out on the couch where Chaewon and Jungwoo once sat. You aren’t near them. Then he spots Jaemin and Chenle dancing with the girls they had met up with, but you aren’t dancing, either.

He’s relieved to find you aren’t with Jaehyun when he spots him, finding instead that his friend is flirting it up with a different girl who is certainly not you. The sight completely pisses him off, and somehow makes him feel immense relief simultaneously. Right around this time, he decides he’s had more than enough of the party. You aren’t here anymore, and Jaehyun’s face is making him fucking sick. Mark is slurring his speech enough that he wouldn’t notice if Jisung just slipped, so he does just that, though he does make sure to mention to Chenle that he’s leaving on his way out so he can keep an eye on Mark.

Outside, the cold is unbearable. The previously crowded lot is empty for the most part, except for a few people puffing clouds of smoke into the air by a bench. Not even the alcohol in his system is enough to warm him up, so he can’t even imagine how a joint could be worth sitting outside for.

The only other person sitting outside is squatted down by the curb with their knees curled up to their chest. As the autumn leaves crack under Jisung’s feet, they turn their head around.

“I told you I don’t wanna—Jisung?”

Your big eyes widen in his direction, and you shoot up from the ground. Jisung’s brow lowers in concern and he notices the only thing you have to cover up is a flimsy cardigan. You and your damn, flimsy cardigans.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Sorry for snapping I—sorry,” you shiver involuntarily as a gust of wind blows through, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I thought you were someone else.”

There isn't a sliver of hesitation before Jisung shrugs off his leather jacket and begins to wrap it around you, grumbling, “Are you crazy? You must be freezing,”

“I’m fine—“

“This should help,”

“But- Jisung, how many of your jackets am I gonna take—”

“As many as you need to.” Your lack of a response makes him look back up to meet your eyes, round and much warmer than the rest of you was right now. He clears his throat, guiding your sleeves into the arms of the jacket as he jokes, “or until you bring your own.”

You smile, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as the warmth engulfs you, along with the smell of him and some cheap cologne only a college student would buy. He’s tugging the collar closer to cover up your exposed neck and chest, eyes flickering down at your bare skin despite being well aware that you’re looking. Where this newfound boldness came from tonight, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that his boldness is always rather short-lived when it comes to you, and tends to appear and disappear like random spurts of energy—he’ll take advantage of it this once. Especially now that he knows you’re Jaehyun’s ex and the most he might even get to do is gawk at you, he intends to make it worth it.

“You must be freezing now, though,” you start, “should we go somewhere warm?”

“How about the library?”

You laugh, looking at him in disbelief, “The library isn’t open at this time, much less on the weekend,” “Right…”

“Wanna go to mine?” Your suggestion makes his breath hitch for a second, but he manages to respond with decent clarity.

“You live by the library, though. That’s like a half-hour walk. I don’t think you’ll make it that far without turning into an icicle,”

“Well, I don’t really wanna go back inside…” he knows why, so he offers something else.

“My dorm is five minutes away. We could go there if you want, b-but if you’d rather go somewhere else—”

“Okay,” you nod eagerly, “let’s go.”

As Jisung leads the way, speed-walking to beat the chill that spreads through his newly uncovered limbs, he turns his face to you, watching as you tuck the lower half of your face into his coat.

“I don’t know if you want to work on the project or—”

“God no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “I’m not that much of a buzzkill, dude.” You jog a little to catch up to his longer strides, “Besides, I have like three shots of Pink Whitney in me,”

“Foul.”

“I know. Can’t think about a project right now,”

“I’ve had a bit to drink, too.” he admits.

“I can tell. You’re stumbling.”

He snaps his head around, down to his feet, then back to you. “What? Am I?”

There’s a small, stupid smile on your face as you shake your head. “No.”

He can’t pinpoint why this banter with you is so easy, why it feels so right. Or perhaps, he can, but regardless, his heart leaps in his chest as he scoffs, not fighting the shit-eating grin that spreads on his frosted cheeks.

"It’s that building right over there,” he points.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was close,”

The two of you climb the stairs and he opens the main door for you, watching you sigh out in bliss as you step into the warmth of the hall. You bounce around in a cute way that once more tugs at his heart-strings, still looking all puffed up and adorable in his jacket that entirely engulfs your frame. He leads you up another flight of stairs and onto the floor his room is at, and once the two of you stop in front of his door, he pats his jean pockets.

“Oh my uh- my keys are in the pocket of the jacket.”

You mimic his recent action, patting around until you find his keys, holding them out for him to take.

Somewhat awkwardly, he fumbles with them until he manages to fit it into the lock, opening the door with one hand. He gestures for you to enter his room with a small shrug, “Make yourself at home.”

As you step inside, Jisung makes it a point to quietly thank whatever higher power compelled him to make his bed this afternoon. The rest of his room wasn’t perfectly organized by any means, but at the very least, his bed, which you now sat at the foot of with your legs bouncing, was neatly made.

“You have your own room?” You mutter in surprise as you look around the small space and notice the lack of a second bed. The tall boy beside you just shrugs again, toeing off his shoes in the corner as he pulls the door closed.

“Yeah, uh… I’m one of the RAs for the sophomore class.”

“Wow,” you sigh, “I wish! I mean, I love sharing a room with Karina, but it’s nice to have space for myself sometimes.”

“That’s why you’re always at the library?”

You nod, sliding your palms across his duvet, “It’s nice and quiet,” your fingers move to grip and release the material, and he blinks harshly to erase the sight of that from his mind before it causes him to spiral. It didn’t prove to be very useful, though, because your still-exposed thighs move and press together, just as they did at the library, and his dick gives a little twitch in response.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into, that way you’re more comfortable.” he decides, more for his sake than yours. You don’t answer, continuing to look around, taking in the details of his computer that flashes in a bunch of different colors.

“You know I gave up extra storage in my bedside table to be able to keep my PC? I let Karina take it to her side of the room so I’d have space for my setup.”

Rummaging through his drawers, he pipes up, “you game?” as if it wasn’t something he already knew about you.

“I love it. I stayed here for most of the summer just because I had my computer here.”

Jisung picks out a pair of sweats for you and one for himself, along with a t-shirt he knows he recently washed, then he turns, handing it over to you. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall and then wait outside. You can crack the door open when you’re done,”

“Thank you, Jisung.”

There’s a gentle sincerity in your tone that makes him wanna say “anything for you,” but he settles for pursing his lips instead, leaving to let you change before he can embarrass himself with any baseless comment you wouldn’t really get. The effect of the drinks still hadn’t completely faded, and he fears he’s capable of saying just about any of his stupid thoughts out loud right about now.

You weren’t completely sober either, not by any means. The trashy vodka your ex offered you in an attempt to reconcile was as bitter as the end of your relationship with him, and it was flowing through your veins and giving you that light-headed buzz. You stand up and slip off your boots and Jisung’s jacket, along with your skirt. Your top requires a bit more precision, the lace getting twisted and tangled in your uncoordinated fingers. There’s little huffs and puffs of frustration that leave your lips during your struggle, and you’d almost consider asking for help if it wasn’t completely inappropriate.

Finally, though, you manage to get it off and slip on the change of clothes Jisung has so graciously provided. They’re warm and they smell good, and they’re much more comfortable than your outfit which is now folded on Jisung’s gaming chair, alongside your purse.

When you look up in admiration of his impressive keyboard, which looks to be custom made, and your eyes trail up to his monitor, you notice something on the corner of the screen. The mindless doodle you had drawn beside your phone number that day in class had been very carefully cut out and stuck onto his screen with tape.

“You okay?”

His voice calls from outside, quietly as if not to disturb you even though it’s you who is occupying his room.

“Yeah, I’m almost done!”

“I thought that she was gonna assign them on Friday?”

Sung had asked you that on call, in regards to the constellation project you mentioned you wanted to start working on. Not Jisung, Sung. Sung, who is not in your astronomy class and would have had no way of knowing when or even what your professor would be assigning.

“You’re Ji-sun, right?”

“—Sung.”

The nickname sounded very right coming from his lips, from his voice. You never gave his nickname too much thought, because truly, Sung could just be a display name. And if it is his real name, it could stand for anything: Sungmin, Sungwoo, Daesung, Ilsung, Jaesung… Jisung.

And then, you recall the time you spoke on the phone—specifically, the time you had to do a double take at your screen to make sure you hadn’t actually called Sung. It was the first time you had spoken to Jisung on the phone, and it’s the only way you had even spoken to Sung… something about it seemed so, so strangely familiar.

Could it be…

“Alright, I’m done!” Your announcement comes after the realization that he’s been waiting outside for a few minutes already.

“Coming in…” He warns, eyes still cast to the ground in case you weren’t decent. They slowly make their way up, and something flashes across his features at the sight of you. You try to ignore it, still preoccupied by your growing suspicions. His computer is on… meaning…

“Let me let Karina know I left… I kinda just walked out on her.”

Jisung nods and takes a cautious seat on his bed a few feet away from you.

As you open the discord app on your phone, you scroll to the top to find his contact and type out a simple Hi, clicking send with your heart beating faster than usual. It’s an impulsive act, but you can’t help yourself. If there’s even a chance…

Instantly, his screen lights up and through his headphones you hear the familiar chime of the notification coming in.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

If it’s possible, Jisung’s face grows even paler than it already was naturally, and even more gloom than it appeared earlier in the night when he identified you as Jaehyun’s ex. All of his features are alert and in shock, watching as you spin around to face him.

“Sung? Right? That’s you?”

He’s struggling to read your expression, and it’s beyond obvious. The only change in his demeanor is the now tensed up shoulders and the redness that takes over the white on his cheeks.

“I—” Are you mad? Should he apologize?

“Did you know all this time? That it was me, I mean?”

He nods slowly, unable to find the appropriate words to say.

Two things happen just then. First, your hand smacks his arm, hard. “You fucking idiot!” and Second, you topple into his arms, hugging him. Initially, his hands hesitate to wrap around you, hovering above your waist as you squeeze his neck.

“You’re not mad?” He asks shyly. You shake your head against him, then lift off with your hands on his shoulders to take a real good look at his face.

“No! I’m so glad, I thought I was going crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs again, a gesture he seems to do a lot around you.

“Since when did you know it was me?”

“Since I heard you speak on the very first day in class. I recognized your voice.”

Your eyes soften at this small confession, and you look back towards his desk, “So, this is where you were this whole time while we played? This close? A twenty-minute walk away?” You shoot up from the bed and cross the small distance to the desk, swiping an index finger along the surface, then his mouse, then his keyboard, and all of his other equipment. Your eyes are beaming, looking around and familiarizing yourself with his things. All the things you wondered about him are now laid out in front of you, and it’s exhilarating.

“I was so excited when I found out,”

“You should’ve told me,” you repeat, still taking in his pictures and personal items, your profound curiosity surfacing within you.

“I was worried about making a good first impression, you’re…”

“I’m…?” you press, turning to him for a moment.

“You’re really pretty in person.”

In that moment when you turn away to hide your blush, with the words “you’re really cute in person, too” ready to spill from your tongue in a sweet and shy whisper, a small black pile on the corner of his dresser catches your eye.

“What’s that—”

“Oh nothing! It’s just—”

“Is that my cardigan?”

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—”

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut.

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—”

“Jisung.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?”

“I-”

“Were you?” You ask sternly.

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips.

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable:

“Show me.”

*. * ·

taglist: @heartlvrrss @albedoloser @zp00ks @simpforarmihn @toroufriteh @quokkatss @jising-jisang-jisung @camstqr @tangerinehyuck @ma-riiii @minlvrpage @hancafe

there are some users that couldn't be tagged, as tumblr did not recognize their accounts. sorry :((

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yannawayne · 3 months ago

Text

viii. a little death

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: MILD SMUT (will put indicators if people want to skip), Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Suggestive jokes, Doppelgangers AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

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The black of his suit bleeds seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, making him appear more phantom than man.

He looks like a living nightmare.

Damian lifts his head just in time to see Batman towering over you, his cape billowing ominously in the night breeze. A cold chill runs down Damian's spine as dread settles heavy in his chest. Of all people, his father was the last person he wanted to find him here like this—vulnerable, exposed, and with you.

Reacting on pure instinct, Damian scrambles to his feet, positioning himself firmly between you and the Dark Knight.

"Father." Damian’s voice is low but steady, though the weight of what’s happening lingers in every syllable. His mind races, knowing that Batman doesn’t recognize you in your vigilante form and likely believes he's cheating on you.

To Batman, this looks like betrayal.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 12:13 AM - Stark Tower, Gotham City.

The rhythmic clacking of a keyboard filled the room, a steady, almost hypnotic sound that gently tugged you from sleep. You stirred, the tangled sheets wrapping around you like a cozy cocoon. Damian’s strong arms were draped around your shoulders and waist, his warmth a comforting presence as he held you close.

As he shifted slightly, his fingers traced absentminded patterns along your back, a tender caress that sent a soft shiver of relaxation down your spine. You groaned softly, turning towards him and resting your head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a soothing, rhythmic pulse, grounding you in the comfort of his embrace.

Across the room, Morgan was propped up at your desk, her messy hair pulled back with a headband, though a few stray tendrils had escaped and framed her face in an untidy halo. Her eyes were fixed intently on the laptop screen, where a Google document was open, filled with lines of text that seemed to flow endlessly. In her free hand, she cradled a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the room and mingling with the faint scent of the morning air.

After returning to the tower yesterday, you and Damian had practically slept through the entire morning—this one, however...

You groaned, burying your cheek deeper into the pillow as you tried to block out the light from the laptop and her typing.

“You bitch. Do you ever sleep?” you grumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hand.

Morgan gave you a lopsided grin, the steam from her coffee curling around her face like a comforting fog. “Sleep? What’s that?”

You rolled onto your back, stretching your limbs. “That’s usually my line.”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “I know. Just kinda hyper tonight,” she said, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she continued typing.

"By the way,” she hummed thoughtfully, “what kinks do you think Nightcrawler would have?"

"..."

You could feel Damian’s confusion even before he spoke. "Excuse me?" he blinked at her, squinting as if he’d misheard. “Why on earth would you ask that? And why now, of all times?” “I’m writing fanfic,” she replied matter-of-factly, still typing away. “Ooh! You’re her boyfriend. What kind of freaky stuff do you think her hero-sona would be into?”

You stifled a laugh, propping yourself up on one elbow to enjoy the show. “Choking kink.”

Damian, who had been leaning against the headboard, choked on his own spit. His eyes widened in shock, and his face turned a deep crimson. “What?!”

“Don’t play dumb,” you snickered, reveling in the way his skin turned redder by the second. “I know you knew this one.”

Morgan’s gaze flickered between you two, her expression momentarily blank, though a hint of something inscrutable flashed in her eyes before she quickly shook it off. She returned to her typing, the clacking of keys filling the room once more.

“That’s so basic,” she huffed, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Give me a better one. I need something with a little more flair.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Bondage, then. Webs, remember?”

Damian's face turned an even deeper shade of red at the mention of webs, his mind clearly racing to process the suggestion.

Morgan’s fingers paused mid-keystroke as she considered your suggestion. A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. “Web bondage? Now that’s more like it,” she said, quickly typing it in. “I can work with that.”

“I’m surrounded by lunatics,” he muttered.

Morgan grinned wickedly. “Lunatics, maybe, but this is going to be one hell of a fic. And don’t worry, Dames, I’ll make sure Robin gets some action too.”

He shot her a glare. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“There are ships of us already?” you blink, surprised.

Morgan coughs into her hand, an odd twist in her face. “There are ships of everyone these days. People have imaginations that just don’t quit. "

“I had no idea,” you said, blinking in surprise. “What do they call it? SpideyBird? WebWing?”

Damian looked genuinely disgusted. “Why do they even need a name for it? Why are people spending time on this?”

You patted Damian’s shoulder reassuringly, trying to lighten the mood. “At least they’re rooting for us to be together, right?”

Morgan just shrugged off Damian’s reaction and continued to write. “The fanfics of you are pretty fresh. Only around a hundred works so far, but the edits…” She trailed off, her fingers fumbling for her phone with a mischievous grin.

Groaning, you shut your eyes as Morgan’s grin widened.

“Do not show me—” you began, but before you could finish, the audio started blaring from her phone.

Well, come and get it now Come and get it now Baby, show me what you're doing Come and turn around 'Cause it's not just a figure of speech You got me down on my knees It's getting harder to breathe out

“MORGAN!”

She looked up, grinning widely as if she’d been waiting for this exact reaction.

“What?” she laughed, thoroughly enjoying the moment. “You can’t tell me this hot.”

Curiosity got the better of you, and despite your better judgment, you peeked at the screen. The video was a shaky close-up, showing you leaning against a car, your hair tousled and your armor cracked. You were breathing heavily, your head thrown back.

The camera zoomed in slowly, and the lyrics that accompanied it were dramatic and overly romantic, turning the entire scene into something far more intimate than it had ever been. You could almost understand why someone might find it “hot,” but that didn’t stop the wave of embarrassment from flooding through you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “That is horrible. I was literally on the brink of death. Was that from last night?” “Yeah,” Morgan nodded as she replayed the clip. “Your fans ate it up. Apparently, it’s going viral.”

Damian, who had been eerily silent throughout the entire exchange, finally broke his silence. “Where is that on?”

You immediately yanked your hands away from your face, your eyes wide with disbelief. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

“Tiktok,” Morgan answered casually, a hint of mischief in her tone. To your horror, Damian pulled out his phone

“Don’t you dare!” you warned, but it was too late. Damian was already typing your codename into the search bar.

As the search results loaded, an edit began to play, and you felt your face flush with heat. The chosen song only seemed to amplify the humiliation.

Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human

Damian, smirked, liked the video, and saved it.

“STOP!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 8:06 AM - Gotham City.

"..."

"Why—"

"Don't—" you seethed, sinking deeper into the plush leather seat of Tony’s limousine. The soft leather creaked under your weight as you clenched the armrest, your knuckles turning white. "Don’t even say a word."

Damian pressed his lips together, suppressing a smirk.

His gaze drifted over your outfit—no, the uniform you’d been practically forced into. The Stark Industries cap perched on your head was like a crown of corporate shame, its logo glaring down at you from the brim. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your torso, the bold emblem stretched so tightly across your chest it might as well have been tattooed on. Even your sneakers were branded with that obnoxious red logo.

You felt like a sellout.

“You look stunning,” Damian said, barely holding back a laugh as he glanced over at you from his seat across the limo.

“Stunning?!” You shot him a scowl, the edges of your mouth twitching downward. “I look ridiculous!”

“Why didn’t you just wear—”

“I couldn’t!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at Morgan. “This fucking ginger goblin threw my clothes out! Now I’m stuck as a goddamn billboard!”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," she mocked, turning to you from her spot in the limo, sprawled comfortably on the cushions. Her fingers casually brushed against the plush fabric as she spoke, “Don’t shoot the messenger. Dad’s idea, not mine. He wanted you to have a ‘fresh look.’”

You turned to Tony, who was lounging at the far edge of the limo, his dress shoes propped up against one of the seats. He was absorbed in his phone, mindlessly scrolling through this week’s gossip. Occasionally, he chuckled to himself, completely oblivious to the steam practically pouring out of your ears.

Fighting the urge to choke-slam him right then and there, you spoke up “What the hell is this all for, anyways?”

Tony peered up from his phone and grinned, “Oh, come on. It’s a marketing move. There’s going to be paparazzi and everything. We thought it’d be fun to put you in our new line of promotional gear.”

“Fun? You think this is fun?!”

“It’s not like we’re asking you to wear spandex,” Morgan snickered, her eyes drifting to meet Damian’s. He shot her a glare in response. “It’s just a little branding.”

“I’d almost rather be wearing spandex,” you grumble, pressing your cheek to the cool glass of the window. Your breath fogs up the surface, creating a clouded view of the city beyond.

Morgan whistles. "That's a sight I'd love to see."

You roll your eyes. The cityscape outside rushes by, a blur of towering buildings and streaks of light blending into a hazy, indistinct swirl. Outside, the world seems distant, almost unreal, as if you're moving too fast to truly grasp any of it.

“By the way, you’re going to hate me, but…” Morgan spoke up again, reaching into her bag. “I also brought a jacket.” She held out a sleek, branded jacket that perfectly matched the rest of the outfit.

You slammed your head into the glass and vowed to burn every Stark-branded item you owned.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 8:14 AM - Wayne Tower, Gotham City.

Bruce wondered if it was too late to file for unemployment.

He sat at the head of the conference table, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the middle-aged man droning on in a monotone voice. The man's garish mustard-yellow tie jerked awkwardly with each exaggerated gesture, as if trying to bring some life to the dull presentation. His glasses, too large for his face, inched down his nose with every movement, threatening to fall off completely.

“—as you've all been aware, we've been facing issues regarding our stolen drone flight technology due to criminal activity in the—”

The slides projected onto the screen, filled with graphs and charts, were melding into an endless stream of data that felt like it was slowly turning his brain into mush. Bruce barely registered them. Instead, his mind was a million miles away, lost in a fog. He let his attention drift to the ceiling tiles, idly counting the tiny imperfections as the briefing continued.

TICK. TOK. TICK. TOK.

He glanced at his watch, stifling a groan as he saw only a few painful minutes had passed since he last checked. The meeting, as usual, felt like a slog, but today was particularly grueling.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the text he received last night. Damian had invited him to your dress shop appointment today, telling him he would be covering the bill. Without a second thought, Bruce agreed and sent his card over—and if Alfred hadn’t intervened, he might have ended up buying out the entire boutique in his enthusiasm.

Could you blame him?

Much like Selina, you were stubbornly independent—always managing on your own, even when you needed support. It was a trait that made him proud, but it also left him wishing he could be more involved in your life.

If Bruce were a better man, less emotionally constipated as he often chastised himself, he might have reached out more. He might have asked if you needed to talk, offered his support more openly, and bridged the gap that seemed to widen with each passing year.

But he wasn’t that man. He was the one who held back, kept his feelings guarded, and let the distance grow because he didn’t know how to close it.

Adding salt to the wound, Stark would be there too, intruding on what should have been his time with you.

An absolute diva. That man had a way of dominating any room, leaving little space for anything—or anyone—else. It wasn’t just Tony’s overwhelming presence that irked Bruce, but how effortlessly Stark seemed to connect with you.

In just a few months, Tony had managed to get closer to you than Bruce had in years. Where Bruce held back, Tony leaned in, closing the gap he couldn’t seem to bridge.

To make matters worse, Stark had already gotten a head start. Although Bruce would have loved to pick you up himself, he was stuck in this meeting he couldn’t cancel again—he’d already rescheduled it thirteen times.

Which is why, the moment the clock hit 12, he was already on his feet, pushing his chair back and making a beeline for the door.

"Sir, we still need to discuss—" mustard tie stuttered, but his protest was cut short as Bruce, without turning or breaking his stride, raised a hand and dismissed him with a flick of the wrist.

“Contact my secretary if you need anything,” Bruce called over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for debate. The matter was closed.

“I’ll handle whatever needs to be done tonight,” he said, shutting the door firmly behind him.

And he would. Bruce had already gathered a significant amount of data on Black Mask and the recent robberies plaguing Wayne Enterprises. Although the case had taken a backseat amid the chaos with the spider vigilante, it was time to refocus. The priority now was to tackle what truly needed his attention.

As he stormed through the hallways, the lens of a nearby CCTV camera tracked his movements.

The camera’s feed flickered momentarily. The image on the screen sputtered and glitched, revealing fleeting glimpses of different worlds—flashes of varying times and places. Colors bled into one another, shapes twisted and warped, and for a brief, disorienting moment, the image seemed to fracture, as if reality itself was breaking apart.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the glitching ceased. The feed stabilized, leaving only a faint trace of the anomaly that had briefly unsettled the surveillance system.

Bruce jabbed the button for the ground floor and slid into the elevator.

The lens refocused, but he was already out of sight.

 ༻⊰───⋅

The vehicle glided to a stop in front of a gleaming marble building, and you all stepped out, heading toward the entrance. The interior was as opulent as the exterior promised. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, and glass walls reflected the polished attendants who moved gracefully in their sharp suits. Nearby, customers mingled and laughed, their designer outfits adding vibrant splashes of color to the sleek surroundings.

Your attention was drawn to the sleek signage behind the lobby desk, where a name was displayed in elegant gold lettering.

“La Ouvere.”

French. Expensive. So luxurious it practically oozed excess. Because, of course, this was the place Tony chose.

Grumbling, you adjusted your cap to hide your face.

You couldn’t believe he made you wear company merch to a place like this.

CLAP.

You looked up just in time to see two rough hands slam together in a handshake, the sound sharp and echoing through the lobby like a gunshot. Tony and Bruce exchanged pleasantries, their faces stretched into wide, almost painfully forced grins.

"Bruce! Good to see you," Tony started, his voice oozing with practiced charm. "I’ve got to say, I am a huge fan of your recent striptease at the Iceberg Lounge."

"Ha." Bruce’s reply was tight-lipped. "Tony. Always a pleasure."

The handshake lingered a beat too long, both men gripping each other’s hands like they were trying to see who could squeeze the other’s bones into dust first, daring the other to flinch.

Bruce placed a hand on your shoulder with a fatherly air. “I’m glad you saw great potential in her. I’ve always known her to be quite the achiever from a young age.”

Tony wasn’t about to let that go uncontested. He quickly slid his other hand onto your shoulder, “Well, if anyone’s been pushing the limits and achieving great things, it’s definitely been her.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And it’s all thanks to the support system. After all, it’s not just about talent but the environment that nurtures it.” He gave your shoulder a pat, adding, “Despite the struggles, her aunt raised her well—you just get to reap the benefits. Haha. Not everyone can rely on billion-dollar labs to get ahead.”

“Well, thanks to me,” Tony says, giving your shoulder a shake (again with the shoulders thing.) “I’d say she’s got plenty of both now.”

The testosterone in this room was so thick you could practically taste it.

“Alright,” you shake your head, gently removing their hands from your shoulders. “Lovely. Nice. Wow. Can we like, go inside now?”

Tony tossed you a quick glance and said, “Right. Lead the way.”

Bruce gave a curt nod. “Of course. After you.”

They both reached for the door handle at the same time, their fingers colliding in an awkward, fumbling dance. For a split second, they froze, locking eyes with a mutual glare.

Seconds dragged on, feeling like hours. Neither man budged. Their hands, now tangled together in a bizarre and clumsy struggle, seemed locked in an absurd standoff. Tony’s fingers began to subtly shift, attempting a stealthy maneuver to slip underneath Bruce’s grip. But Bruce wasn’t having any of it. With a deliberate twist of his wrist, he countered Tony’s advance, blocking the move with a firm slam.

Another minute stretched out, each second heavier than the last.

You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Are you two having a staring contest?”

"..."

Tony blinked first, cursing softly under his breath. Bruce’s smirk broadened, twice as smug than usual.

“Oh my god. Just move!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. “We’re here to shop, remember?”

The two men released the door handle simultaneously as if startled out of their petty contest. Tony stepped aside with a flourish, giving a dramatic sweep of his arm. “After you, mademoiselle.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

“These are the choices given to you by Mister Stark and Mister Wayne. Social event, oui?” the attendant says, her tone professionally neutral despite the clearly forced, fake French accent. She smooths down your black undershirt, ensuring it's perfectly straight before presenting the options.

She holds up the first suit: “Deep scarlet. Rich, saturated color—like fine wine. A luxurious wool blend. Two-piece. Tapered trousers, invisible stitching. Streamlined silhouette. French cuffs.”

Then she displays the second option: “Now, dark silk. Smooth, so smooth—like velvet in night. Classic sheen, very elegant. Three-piece. Also with tapered trousers, invisible stitching. Slim silhouette. Barrel cuffs.”

With a smile, she adds, “Both have their own magic, non? What shall you choose for the grand affair?”

“Uh,” you gape like the peasant you were, eyes darting between the two suits which seem nearly identical apart from their color. You barely caught onto the details the attendant pointed out.

As you wrestle with your decision, snippets of the conversation between the two men outside drift through the curtain.

“Sometimes, a classic black suit just gets the job done,” Bruce interjected. “It’s timeless and professional, never out of place.”

Tony retorted, “Oh, sure, blending into the background is so exciting. Why not go for red—loud, in-your-face, and impossible to ignore? It’s a damn statement.”

Bruce’s voice grew sharper. “I don’t know if you’re the right guy to make that call, considering the atrocity you dressed her in today,” he said, gesturing toward the Stark Industries merch discarded on the couch in the dressing room.

“Uh, says the guy who thinks monochrome is the pinnacle of fashion. Please, get real asshole. This is a hell of a lot better than your boring black blobs. Grow up.”

“You grow up,” Bruce shot back.

You roll your eyes and spot another suit hung up on a nearby wall—a deep emerald green. “What’s that one?”

The attendant perks up. “Ah, cette tenue! I apologize, it slipped my mind. This one was provided by the young gentleman with you. I should have mentioned it earlier.”

She holds the suit up to your chest, carefully examining the fit and adjusting the sleeve to ensure it drapes just right.

“Three-piece suit with pattern. Jacket is single-breasted, notch lapels, welt pocket. The trousers are flat-front, slim fit, with sharp crease. The vest has five buttons, V-neckline, tailored fit. Very technical, very structured.”

You nod, satisfied. “This one. I like this.”

“Oh, magnifique! Excellent choice!”

She quickly helps you into the suit. First, she slides on the vest, adjusting the straps at the back for a snug fit. Next, she drapes the jacket over your shoulders, smoothing out the fabric and aligning the lapels. Finally, she fastens the trousers, making sure the fit is right and the sharp crease is aligned.

You step out from behind the curtains, and every eye in the room locks onto you.

Morgan's face drops. “She chose the puke color.”

"Wow. Thanks. Really feeling the support here," you scoff, adjusting the sleeves.

Turning to Damian, you raise an eyebrow, and it's only then that he truly registers what he's seeing. His expression softens gradually as he takes you in. The hard lines of his face are still there, but now they seem gentler, softened.

You give him a small smile—nothing grand, just a subtle curve of your lips. But you know that even the smallest smile from you is enough to unravel him.

He watches, mesmerized, as you twirl slightly in front of the mirror. The suit hugs your figure perfectly, accentuating every curve.

“This was the boyfriend's pick," you say, flicking and straightening the lapels. Morgan's head snaps up. "I picked it because it matches his eyes, and honestly, I couldn't deal with your guys' arguing any longer.”

"Tt," Damian’s lips curl into a smirk, and he gestures for you to come closer. You step to his side, feeling the warmth of his hand as it rests gently over yours. With a subtle twist of your wrist, your fingers intertwine naturally, fitting together like they've always did.

Tony huffs, shaking his head. “Alright, well, whatever makes you happy. You look snug as a bug, kid.”

“Uh. Arachnid. Not a bug,” you correct him.

Bruce blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of the interaction, clearly missing the joke.

He shakes his head and gestures to a waiting attendant, who approaches with a tray holding three boxes. The attendant opens the first box, revealing a necklace that catches the light and glints brightly. They lift it out, its shine almost blinding, and place it carefully on the counter.

“If you'd like,” Bruce smiles, “I’ve also picked out some accessories for you.”

The attendant then moves to the next box, lifting the lid to reveal a set of matching earrings, which they arrange neatly on the counter. They proceed to the third box, opening it to reveal a bracelet that sparkles just as intensely as the necklace. The attendant sets everything out with careful movements, arranging the pieces in a neat row.

You hold the necklace up to the light, blinded. “This is... a lot of sparkle.”

Turning to the attendant, you ask, “What’s the damage?”

“The necklace is priced at $250,000,” they say with a smile that’s more tightrope than genuine. “The earrings are $150,000, and the bracelet is $300,000.”

You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, the numbers swirling in your head.

“What the actual fuck?” you blurt out, carefully setting the necklace back in its box with the reverence of someone handling a live grenade. “That’s… definitely not in my budget.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just money. If the price is too much, I can always—”

Bruce cuts him off with a grunt. “No need. I already have the check ready.”

"What?!" You turn to Bruce, shaking your head. “No! No one is buying me more than the suit! I appreciate the gesture, but this is way too overboard.”

"It's not that much, beloved," Damian hums, reaching for the earrings and holding them up to your face. "The necklace I bought you for your 18th cost twice of these combined."

Your eye twitches in disbelief. “You... you told me it was of ‘reasonable price.’”

“It was.”

“How much did you pay?!”

Damian remains silent, avoiding your eyes.

“Damian. Thomas. Wayne—”

Before you can finish, Damian calls over one of the attendants with a casual wave. “Excuse me? We’ll take all of this.”

The attendant, looking a bit taken aback but eager to please, nodded quickly and began arranging the items. You stared at Damian, your eyes practically burning and searing a hole through his stupid undercut.

“You can’t be serious!”

Damian simply smirked, leaning closer. “Consider it a small gesture for someone who’s worth every penny.”

As you continued bickering, Morgan’s gaze lingered on the scene, her chest tightening with an unsettling, heavy feeling. She could feel something bitter and heavy rising in her chest, and she turned her eyes away, hoping that if she didn’t see it, she could ignore the way it made her feel, that gnawing ache she wished she could forget.

But then she heard your voice, soft and inviting.

"Morgan?"

It was like a lifeline, pulling her back to the present. She turned to you, forcing herself to meet your gaze.

"Can you tell them that I do not need this?" you asked with a groan, your smile radiating warmth. It was the kind of smile that could light up any room, even as your eyes drifted to the glimmering jewelry with exasperation. “They’re completely insane.”

Morgan forced a small smile of her own, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I think they’re onto something. You’re worth every penny. More than any of this could ever show.”

The words came out easy enough, but underneath, she could feel the bittersweet edge of them, something she kept buried deep where no one could see.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 10:24 PM - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

Shot through the heart and you're to blame Darling, you give love a bad name An angel's smile is what you sell You promised me heaven, then put me through hell

Music played from her speakers. The lab was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of various screens and the occasional flicker of a monitoring light. Morgan sat at her workstation, the faint blue light of the holographic display casting a ghostly glow on her face. She was surrounded by a sea of tools, schematics, and half-finished projects, but her attention was miles away from the work at hand.

The thought of how you looked at Damian earlier haunts her deep into the night.

Morgan’s fingers tapped absently on the console, her gaze distant and unfocused. She tried to lose herself in her work, hoping the details of her projects would distract her from the ache in her chest. But every time she glanced up at the screen, it felt as if her mind was dragging her back to that moment.

It didn't take a genius to see that she had feelings for you.

Woah, you're a loaded gun, yeah Oh, there's nowhere to run No one can save me, the damage is done

On the screen, the potency of the toxin you were exposed to a day ago was being processed. Ivy's old journal lay open in front of Morgan, serving as a reference for comparison.

As she scanned the data, a troubling pattern began to emerge. The readings were unstable, fluctuating wildly and suggesting incomplete or inconsistent results. Hours melted away as Morgan poured over the data, her eyes darting between the fluctuating graphs and the notes in the journal.

An odd, unknown element kept appearing in the results. It was an anomaly.

"This is not supposed to be here...?" Morgan mumbled, scratching at her head.

The journal’s pages fluttered as she flipped through them, desperately searching for any mention of similar anomalies or clues that might explain the glitch. Ivy’s notes were dense with technical jargon and cryptic observations, but none of it seemed to align with the strange data she was seeing on her screen.

BEEP.

Morgan’s head perked up, her attention snapping back to the screen. The familiar, rhythmic pulse of data had been interrupted by a sudden alert.

Element Detected: 𝑜̥̊⃝𝑠̥̊⃝𝑏̥̊⃝𝑜̥̊⃝𝑟̥̊⃝𝑛̥̊⃝

She squinted at the glitching display. The screen flickered and distorted, displaying an unfamiliar string of characters. The text was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

The computer screen continued to flicker violently, lines of code merging into chaotic patterns. Cursing under her breath, Morgan fought to stabilize the screen. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, desperately trying to recalibrate the system.

After a tense few moments, she managed to clear the worst of the glitching. The flickering subsided, and the screen settled into a more manageable state.

Was that someone trying to hack in? The thought crossed her mind with a jolt.

She scrutinized the security logs, reviewed firewall activity, and cross-referenced access records, but found no concrete evidence of a breach. The logs were clear. Everything seemed normal—no unauthorized access, no signs of tampering.

But the unknown element was still there, stubbornly staring back at her from the screen.

Morgan ran her tongue over her teeth, a habit of hers when deep in thought.

Alright. So. Every sci-fi movie warns against messing with unknown chemicals. And this is definitely one of those “don’t touch” moments. But what’s life without a little risk? Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t faced weird before.

Problem was… the data on her screen right now was like trying to read a recipe from a cookbook that had been chewed up by a dog—completely useless. If she wanted answers, she’d have to get a closer look.

Morgan quickly set up a new data extraction protocol, isolating the unknown element. The process was slow and tense, but gradually, the substance began to take shape on the screen, its properties becoming clearer with each passing minute.

Once she had successfully isolated the element, she moved on to the next phase: synthesizing it into a serum. With a gloved hand, she carefully heated a glass flask on a burner and began adding the unknown element to the mix, watching as the contents started to react.

The silence was abruptly shattered by a sharp crack that split the air. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock as she saw thee glass flask on the burner shatter into jagged pieces. The once-clear liquid inside had turned into a dark, burned residue, and what was left was a blackened crust coating the inside of the flask.

"Great. Just great," Morgan muttered under her breath. She reached for the shattered glassware, cradling it gingerly in her hand. But as she did, something bizarre began to happen—the flask itself seemed to glitch.

The glass started to flicker and warp as if it were a malfunctioning image. It shimmered and pulsed with an otherworldly light, surface fading in and out of focus, struggling to maintain its form.

"What the fuck?"

Her eyes stayed glued onto the flask. The constant flickering was starting to give her a headache, a dull throbbing that grew more intense with each passing second. She squinted, hoping to stabilize her vision, but the distortions only seemed to worsen.

Amid her growing confusion, she started to hear faint whispers—strange, disjointed voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The whispers were so low she could barely make out their words, but their presence added to the sense of disorientation that was creeping in.

An unexpected impulse tugged at her—a sudden, inexplicable urge to take the serum. Her hand trembled slightly as she considered the syringe lying on the nearby counter, a dark thought creeping into her mind.

She stared at the flask, her gaze mad.

A part of her wanted to see what would happen if she followed through with the intrusive thought.

Then, in a sudden, jarring shift, the erratic glitching reached a peak. The flask’s distortion became so intense that Morgan could barely make out its shape. She snapped back to reality, jolted by the sheer intensity of it all. Her senses were overwhelmed, the whispers louder now, almost shouting in her mind.

In shock, her hand lost its grip. The flask slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor, the blackened remnants scattering across the lab.

CRASH!

The sudden noise of breaking glass cut through the disorienting haze, and Morgan’s breath came in ragged gasps as she stared at the mess before her.

The strange impulse had vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

The glitching that had plagued the flask started to spread outward, expanding like a ripple through the air. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the distortion grew larger, forming a swirling vortex in the center of the lab.

The portal-like disturbance expanded further, and out of it, a shadowy figure began to emerge. First, it was just a hand, reaching through the glitching void. It grasped at the air, solidifying into a more defined shape. Morgan's heart raced as the figure pulled itself further into the lab.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, as the figure's hand closed around her arm. The touch was cold and otherworldly, sending a shiver down her spine. She struggled against the grip, her heart pounding as she tried to pull away.

With a sudden, violent shove, the figure tossed her back. Morgan crashed into her workstation, slamming painfully into a shelf, sending tools and equipment clattering to the floor.

Her eyes darted back to the figure, now fully emerging from the glitching portal.

The intruder was clad in dark green armor, nearly black in the dim light, with a purple shawl draped over their shoulders and a hood shadowing their face. They wore goggles and a mask that concealed their features, lending them a menacing, almost robotic aura. Despite their height and build matching Morgan’s, there was a palpable strength in their movements, an unspoken threat in the way they stood.

The portal behind them flickered and closed, sealing off the strange rift from which they had emerged.

Morgan scrambled to her feet, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself as she faced the intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?!” she demanded. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she stood her ground, ready to fight if she had to.

The masked figure remained silent, their gaze—hidden behind those reflective goggles—locked onto Morgan. They slowly tilted their head down, taking in the sight of the shattered remnants scattered across the lab floor.

Morgan followed their gaze and noticed the scattered pieces of a hoverboard. She recognized it immediately from the fragmented components. The design was eerily similar to the one she had in development herself—a project that had been pushed to the back burner.

The intruder’s attention then shifted to the broken glass and the unknown element still displayed on her screen. A soft click of disapproval escaped from behind the mask as the figure nudged the broken hoverboard aside with a booted foot.

“Shame,” they murmured, their voice low and laced with something almost like regret. “I came a minute too early... You should have taken that serum first. You were supposed to. It would have made this easier for both of us.”

Morgan swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what they meant, but she didn’t want to find out. The figure took another step closer, closing the distance between them.

“Who are you?” Morgan pressed. “And how did you even know about that?”

The figure paused, considering her for a moment before answering. “Who I am isn’t important. What matters is what you could have been—what you were supposed to become.”

Morgan’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of the cryptic words. This wasn’t just about the serum—there was something bigger at play. She took a step back, trying to put more distance between herself and the intruder, but the figure only followed, matching her movements like a shadow.

“Don’t worry,” they said softly, almost mockingly. “I should know better than anyone that you would want answers.”

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat as the figure’s gloved hand slowly reached up to their mask. The tension in the room was suffocating, each second stretching out endlessly. The mask and goggles came loose with a soft click, and as they were removed, Morgan’s breath caught in her throat.

It was her.

Her own face stared back at her, a perfect reflection, yet not. There were differences—subtle but unmistakable. The other Morgan’s eyes held a cold, calculating gleam, their hair was longer and pin-straight compared to her short curls, and their lips curved into a smirk that sent a shiver down Morgan’s spine.

“I'm Morgan Stark,” the doppelgänger said, voice eerily familiar yet laced with something darker, something twisted. “But in my universe, they call me the Green Goblin.”

Morgan felt numb. The words didn’t make sense, and yet they explained everything.

“What... what do you want?” Morgan’s voice was barely above a whisper, the shock of seeing her own face—so twisted and malevolent—making it hard to think straight.

The Other Morgan—the Green Goblin—tilted her head, studying Morgan with a mix of amusement and pity. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, taking a step closer. “I’m here to make things right. In my world, I perfected the serum. I became something more, something powerful. But in this universe, you... you were just about to throw it all away.”

Morgan shook her head, trying to process the flood of information. “This... this isn’t possible. How can you—”

“Exist?” the Other Morgan interrupted, a cruel smile curling on her lips. “Multiverse theory, sweetheart. Infinite versions of you, of me, of everyone. Even our beloved Spidey. In my universe, I figured it out. Became a goddamn genius... and a bit of a monster, too. Here though? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“I don’t care what I—you’ve done in your world!” Morgan’s voice shook with defiance. “You don’t belong here. You won’t get whatever it is you’re after.”

The Other Morgan smirked. “Oh, but I already have. I didn’t come here to take anything. I came to see what I could have been if I hadn’t chosen the path I did. And honestly,” they scoffed, flicking a piece of Morgan’s hair, “I’m disappointed.”

Morgan’s fists clenched at her sides. “Get out,” she spat, her fear giving way to anger. “Get out of my lab, out of my life. Now!”

But they just laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in the small space. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t come all this way just to walk away empty-handed. If you won’t take that serum, then...”

Before Morgan could react, her doppelgänger lunged toward the remnants of the shattered serum with blinding speed. Morgan scrambled to intercept, but her doppelgänger was faster. In a swift, brutal motion, they slammed Morgan down onto a nearby table, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

Morgan struggled against the hold, but her alternate self was stronger, pinning her down with ease. The twisted grin never left their face as they reached for a syringe.

Morgan watched the charred solid remnants of the serum begin to twitch and quiver, as if responding to the presence of the syringe. To her horror, the blackened crust slowly liquefied, transforming back into a thick, dark fluid that oozed toward the tip of the needle.

"Shh," the Other Morgan cooed, voice dripping with mock tenderness as they drew the serum up into the syringe. The liquid swirled ominously inside, as if alive with a malevolent intent. “You’ll thank me for this in the future.”

Morgan thrashed, trying to break free, but her alternate self only tightened their grip, leaning in closer.

“Don’t worry,” the Other Morgan whispered, bringing the needle closer to Morgan’s skin. “This is a canon event, sweetheart. This is the part where you become more than just a bystander. This is where you become unstoppable.”

They leaned down, eyes glowing an eerie green. “This is where we kill Robin.”

“No!” Morgan's scream pierced the air as she slammed her knee into her doppelgängers gut, the sudden impact causing them to stumble back.

The Other Morgan staggered backward, clutching their midsection with a pained gasp. Morgan seized the moment, pushing herself off the ground and scrambling for any advantage. Her pulse raced as she darted towards a nearby workbench, grabbing a wrench and holding it defensively.

Scoffing, the Other Morgan recovered quickly, rising to their full height with their long hair cascading over their face, obscuring their features.

"First off, I’m not some fucking homewrecker," Morgan gasped, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as she took a defensive step back, wrench clutched tightly. "And second, you’re insane! Spider’s happy with him! Do you honestly think she’ll fall for you after everything you’ve become?"

“You think you can stop me?” Other Morgan snarled. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I know enough,” Morgan said through gritted teeth, trying to steady her trembling hands. “And I’m not going to let you hurt anyone.”

The Other Morgan’s lips curled into a smirk.

With a swift flick of their wrist, they threw a small device onto the floor. It hissed and released a dense cloud of smoke that quickly filled the room. Morgan’s vision blurred as she squinted, trying to make out the figure through the thickening haze.

Suddenly, a sharp, electric crackle pierced the smoke, followed by a powerful jolt that knocked Morgan off her feet. The room spun around her as she struggled to rise, her head throbbing from the shock.

Before she could fully recover, she felt a tightness around her wrist. She looked down to see a watch strapped onto her, its face glowing ominously. As she tried to make sense of it, a swirling portal began to materialize around her, its edges flickering with an eerie green light.

“Why don’t you take a trip to my universe for a bit?” the Other Morgan taunted, their voice dripping with malice. “I’ll handle things here while you’re gone.”

Morgan tried to protest, but the portal’s force was too strong. The edges of her world warped and twisted as she was yanked into the swirling void.

As she disappeared into the vortex, she heard a faint, mocking laugh.

The portal closed with a swoosh, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

The Other Morgan turned their gaze to the workbench, their eyes locking onto a pair of scissors lying casually on the counter.

“Alright,” they said with a chilling smile, “first, a haircut.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

They say you’ll be bitten by spiders no less than 500 times in your lifetime, and you probably won’t even notice 95% of those bites.

Spiders might not affect most people that much.

Damian, however, would have a different opinion. He’d also like to punch those people in the face

Tonight, as Robin swings through the city, his gaze is locked onto you. You dart between skyscrapers with a grace that seems almost effortless. Your Starktech suit, still in for repairs, has you back in your old black kevlar—sturdy, reliable, and showing signs of wear.

Damian, out with you for what was supposed to be a routine patrol and sweep, is seeing your skills up close for the first time. He watches as you maneuver through the urban jungle with an ease that both impresses and frustrates him.

He finds himself pacing alongside your swings, trying to stay close—not just to keep an eye on you but because he’s half-expecting to be called into action at any moment. Watching you is like witnessing a high-wire act where the safety net has mysteriously vanished. Moments ago, you executed a daring twist and jump that had Damian’s heart lodged firmly in his throat. He was practically holding his breath, bracing himself for the sickening thud of a broken leg—or worse—only to see you land on your feet with a carefree laugh.

But then, without warning, you yelp and take a sharp turn, diving into the open air. The sudden change sends a jolt through Damian, and his heart skips a beat as he watches you fall fast.

“Nightcrawler!” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind. His grappling hook fires with a crack, and he rockets toward you, every muscle straining as he fights the pull of gravity.

Just as you’re about to hit the ground, Damian’s gloved hands wrap around your front, pulling you into his arms with a fierce grip. He tucks you close, bracing for impact. You slam against the wall of a nearby building with a jarring thud, Damian’s boots taking the brunt of the landing. The impact shakes him to his core, but he holds you tightly, shielding you from the collision.

Heaving, he immediately tucks a strong arm against your back, holding you against him. “Are you—”

You burst into laughter, your arms wrapping around his neck as you press your cheek against his. “Did you see that? I pulled off a perfect dive!”

Damian’s breath comes in sharp bursts as he steadies you both, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury. “You imbecile! What were you thinking? You could have broken your neck.”

You pout playfully, brushing a stray lock of hair from Damian’s mask. “I was having fun! Come on, I wasn’t actually going to fall.”

Damian shoots you a glare that borders on murderous. "Fun?! Fun isn’t worth risking your life."

His fingers dig into your hips as he continues to hold you tightly against him, his muscles tensed like a bowstring. "And you did fall—nearly landed on your face. If I hadn't been there, you'd be eating through a straw right now."

You tilt your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Uh. But you were there.”

Damian narrows his eyes, his tone dripping with frustration. "Do you get some perverse pleasure out of scaring me to death?"

"Maybe," you drawl with a teasing grin.

Even with his anxiety cranked up to eleven, he can’t help but feel a surge of warmth for you. The irritation in his eyes softens, revealing a flicker of affection.

“You talk and do too much,” he grumbles, though his actions speak louder than his words. As he starts to guide both of you up to a nearby rooftop, his grip remains firm and protective.

He’s climbing with you in his arms, every muscle straining under the effort. You can’t help but whistle at the impressive display of strength, watching as his muscles ripple beneath his suit with each movement.

“Tsk,” he scoffs as he hauls both of you up onto the rooftop, setting you down gently.

Once you’re safely on solid ground, Damian steps back, creating a respectful distance between you. As he stands against the backdrop of the city lights, his figure is dramatically framed by the glowing skyline. His cape flutters behind him like a dark, billowing flag, enhancing his imposing silhouette. Robin stands tall, masked, and cloaked in shadows—dark and lean.

You grin coyly at him, your arms tucked behind your back as you take a few steps closer.

“My hero,” you tease playfully, your fingers trailing gently up his cape.

The gesture almost immediately disarms Damian, his irritation momentarily forgotten.

He snatches your hand away from the fabric, his fingers wrapping around yours in a firm grip. “Is this a joke to you? I am in no mood for your games tonight,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair as he turns his gaze to the city skyline. He bends down, squatting on the rooftop, the city lights shimmering below and casting a soft, ambient glow over the scene.

You follow him, bending down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and drape yourself across his back. Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his jaw through your mask, the gentle touch warm against the cool night air.

Damian’s shoulders relax slightly under your embrace, and he closes his eyes momentarily, savoring the closeness. For a moment, he considers chastising you, but the feel of your body pressed against his back makes the words die on his lips.

Instead, he lets out a sigh and shifts his position, guiding you so that you slide down his back into his lap, your legs draped on either side of his hips.

“You know,” he murmurs, “you’re not making it easy to stay upset with you.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper, your breath warm and teasing against his skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, moving to stand and pulling you up with him.

You giggle, your fingers trailing down his chest, light and teasing. Your claws graze over the contours of his suit, scratching at the armor that covers his chest and abs. The sensation is electric, sending shivers through both of you.

“Careful,” Damian rumbles, his voice a low growl as he grabs your hands once they reach his waist, his grip firm but not unkind. You’re getting a rise out of him, in more ways than one.

You lean in closer, wickedness dripping from your lips. “When have I ever been careful?”

Damian’s eyes narrow, the heat in his gaze intense as he draws his face inches from yours. "You never are. You are a reckless, impulsive, and downright idiotic woman."

“Yeah,” you press your chest against his, your voice low and teasing. “I get that a lot.”

"And you just love proving them right, don’t you?" he says, his voice low and laden with both warning and something else.

“Is that a threat, Robin?” you whisper, your voice dripping with challenge. Flicking your wrist up, you web his chest and pull him down.

He crashes into you, his body pressing against yours. His hands fly to your thighs, gripping the supple flesh there.

A smirk spreads across his face. "Merely a promise."

Without another word, Damian tugs your mask off and closes the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce, heated kiss. His mouth moves with a possessive intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, his tongue teasing yours as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between your bodies.

You feel the low rumble of his moan vibrating through your chest, a sound that only fuels the fire between you. As your hands tangle in his hair, you suddenly notice something that makes you pause—he’s smirking against your lips.

He’s smirking. The fucker is smirking.

Grinning against his lips, you pull back just enough to murmur, “So my Spidey thing turns you on? Or is it the webs?”

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to shut you up," he grunts, his voice rough with desire before he silences you with another kiss, this one deeper, more consuming. His grip tightens as he claims your mouth again, leaving no doubt about the effect you have on him.

He presses you back, and in the heat of the moment, you take a step backward with more force than intended. Your injured ankle lands awkwardly, sending a jolt of pain shooting up your leg. Despite being healed, it still ached every now and then, and this was one of those painful reminders.

You pull away with a sharp hiss, unable to stifle the reaction.

Damian's concern for you immediately eclipses his previous frustrations. His hands find your hips, steadying you to prevent you from putting too much weight on the injured foot.

“What happened? Did I—”

“It’s just,” you wince, carefully adjusting your stance, “just my ankle. It’ll be fine.”

"I thought you said you were healed," he fusses.

"Guess I thought wrong."

"I wouldn’t have let you out with me tonight if I’d known you were still having trouble. You should have told me it was still bothering you." he scolds.

You frown, your voice softening as you look up at him. "I just... I just wanted to spend time with you. Are you mad?"

Damian’s expression softens with an almost pained look as he carefully gathers you in his arms, lifting the weight off your injured ankle.

"Mad? No, I'm not mad," he hesitates then, his grip on you tightening slightly. "But I'm worried. I worry about you, and your actions tonight didn’t exactly ease my concerns."

He looks down at your ankle, gently tracing his fingers over the injury.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn’t—Last night, if I’d just taken time to ask you—you wouldn’t be hurt in the first place,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he brings his face close to yours. The apology is raw, and when he mutters it against your lips, his breath hitches in his throat, overwhelmed by the warmth in your eyes.

“You had your reasons; it’s okay,” you say with your usual forgiveness, the kindness in your voice a balm to his aching conscience.

His fingers gently graze the back of your neck, the touch tender and almost reverent.

“I should have been more careful,” he murmurs, thick with regret. “I’ve let my anger cloud my judgment.”

“Damian, it’s fine,” you said, running your fingers through his hair and gently swinging your legs. “I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. We all have our moments, and it was just a bad time for both of us. I love you, and I trust you.”

Damian made a soft sound. Up close, in his arms, there was no space between you, and he seemed softer, more touchable.

“I love you too.”

You cupped his face gently as his other arm slid below your head, pulling you even closer. His strong arms enveloped you, holding you in a way that felt perfectly right—moving closer, exchanging breaths, and locking eyes to see everything there was to know about him.

 ༻⊰───⋅ smut begins

Whispering his name, you kissed him again, and he eagerly returned the gesture.

He guided you into a shadowed corner, his kisses growing more urgent and insistent as he pressed you against a wall. The world around you began to dissolve into a swirling haze. The only sensations that mattered were the feel of your breath mingling with his, the whisper of your voice against his, and the way your hands tugged at his hair.

You. You. You.

His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entrance, which you granted immediately, opening your mouth and deepening the kiss. His hands roamed over your body, mapping the curves and contours like a blind man seeing the world for the first time.

You raised your knee and pressed it against him, eliciting a groan from Damian, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “Fuck…”

You teased softly, “That good?”

“As always, habibti.”

Damian’s words were swallowed by another kiss as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer, bodies pressing together in an intimate embrace.

His fingers roamed up your back, tracing the curve of your spine with the practiced touch of a man who knows you intimately.

Smirking wolfishly against your lips, Damian slowly dragged down the zipper on the back of your suit. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, amplifying every sensation as he worked his way down.

The heat between you two quickly spiraled into an unstoppable force that surged and twisted.

His utility belt falls to the ground with a loud clang, the buckle hitting the asphalt. Fingers trembling with impatience, Damian tugs at his suit's zippers, each one loosening with a sharp hiss before he dives back in.

Every touch, every movement, seemed to ignite a deeper craving within him. Each time you breathed his name, it was like a spark that fueled his losing control, pushing him further into the abyss of his desire.

He wanted more of you—every part of you, every inch of your skin, every breath you took.

He dips his head down, his mouth finding the pulse point on your neck. His tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, as he begins a trail of kisses down your collarbone that sears into your skin.

"I need to feel you, sweet girl." Damian's words come out in a guttural moan, half-curse, half-plea.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his mouth found your chest, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Damian,” you gasped, your voice a low moan. “Please.”

A flurry of movements passes, and finally, he's pressing himself into you. Your body welcomes him like it was always meant to be, fitting together perfectly as if he was always meant to be a part of you.

His cape falls over you, enveloping you both in a cocoon of shadows and heat.

The rhythmic movement of your bodies creates a slow, intense friction between you. The heat between you two was scorching, each touch and caress creating sparks of pleasure that shot through your body. Damian's teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck with a possessive fervor, leaving behind marks that would linger long after the night was over.

He could feel you pressed against him, your warmth melding with his. The taste of you lingered on his lips, the flavor of you lingering with every kiss. The sweet sounds of your pleasure, your moans and gasps, filled and echoed in his ears. The scent of your perfume, intoxicating and familiar, drifted in the air, consuming, overwhelming his senses and pulling him deeper into you.

It was all you. Everything was you.

It comes in waves, each one building and cresting until the final surge pulls you completely out of orbit. Your toes curl, your thighs lock, your heart seems to freeze, and a cry of his name escapes your lips, echoing in the space between you.

“Yes,” Damian pants out. “There you go, habibti. Just like that…”

He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as he follows you through the aftershocks. Gently, he guides you down from your peak, his hips rolling slowly against yours until the rhythm gradually subsides. He murmurs love confessions in Arabic, lips trailing loving kisses over every inch of exposed skin, soothing you as you twitch and tremble in his lap.

As the aftershocks subside, Damian gently lifts you and tucks you against his chest.

"You okay?" he asks, soft and filled with concern. He gently massages your lower back, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin.

He pulls his cape around you like a blanket, wrapping you in a layer of warmth. Even in the middle of the night on a secluded rooftop, he’s focused on making sure you're cared for and cozy.

Damian adjusts his suit and re-secures his utility belt. Taking a cloth from his belt, he begins to wipe you down, removing any lingering traces of the night’s events. Once you're clean, he carefully tugs your suit back on, smoothing out any wrinkles and zipping it up with steady hands.

 ༻⊰───⋅ smut ends

“Thank you,” you rasp out, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Damian’s response is tender; he nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. His touch is warm and reassuring. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves your mask and hands it to you.

You tug it back on, but before you can pull it down completely, Damian leans in and kisses you. Smiling, you kiss him back, the mask only partially covering your face, leaving your lips and the lower part of your cheeks exposed.

!!!

You slowly push Damian back, a sense of alarm creeping into your consciousness.

!!!

A loud thud echoes in the distance.

DANGER.

Before you can process what’s happening, Damian is violently knocked away from you. He’s flung onto the ground with a forceful crash, the impact sending a shockwave through the rooftop. You watch, breathless, as he hits the surface hard, pain etched across his face.

Cursing, you try to move toward him, but a sudden, chilling presence makes you freeze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the dark, sweeping fabric of a cape fluttering through the air. Your heart skips a beat as you turn, dread coiling in your stomach.

Batman.

For a moment, the world narrows to the figure looming before you, the embodiment of shadow and fear. The distant hum of Gotham fades, leaving only the thudding of your pulse, loud and insistent in your ears. The scattered light from the city below creates jagged contrasts on Batman's armor, casting him in sharp highlight. The black of his suit bleeds seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, making him appear more phantom than man.

He looks like a living nightmare.

Reacting on pure instinct, Damian scrambles to his feet, positioning himself firmly between you and the Dark Knight.

To Batman, this looks like betrayal.

Bruce's hurt gaze flickers briefly to Damian before settling on you, his eyes unreadable beneath the shadowed cowl. His voice cuts through the silence like a blade, deep and gravelly. “Step aside, Robin.”

Damian doesn’t budge, his chin lifting in stubborn refusal. “No.”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Bruce warns, his tone colder, more commanding. “Move. Now.”

“You don’t understand,” he snaps back, voice laced with urgency. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” Bruce’s gaze hardens as it shifts back to you, scrutinizing every detail of your vigilante form. He’s searching for something—anything—that might give him a clue to your identity. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, your mind racing to assess the situation. Revealing your true identity isn't an option—not now, not like this. You adjust your stance, preparing yourself mentally for whatever comes next, but Damian's presence in front of you is a steadying comfort.

“She’s with me,” Damian states firmly. “That’s all you need to know.”

But Bruce isn’t swayed. He takes another step forward, his towering form casting a long, ominous shadow over both of you. The authority he exudes is almost suffocating, a force that demands obedience and submission.

Bruce’s voice drops to a near growl, heavy with warning. “You’re making a mistake.”

Damian doesn’t waver, his stance firm, his resolve unshaken. “Maybe I am. But it’s my mistake to make. I’m not moving. Not until you understand—”

“Understand what?” Bruce’s voice, though controlled, cracks with an edge of hurt. “That you’re risking everything for—” His words catch in his throat, and his eyes, now seething, lock onto you with anger. The unspoken words hang in the air, heavy and accusing, as if he’s struggling to comprehend how Damian could make such a choice.

“Father,” Damian tries again. “Just listen, please. I’m not—”

But Bruce cuts him off sharply. “I don’t want to hear it, Robin. Stand down. Now.”

Damian grits his teeth, his jaw clenching at the command. “I won’t. You want me to move, you're going to have to make me.”

Bruce growls and his posture shifts, his body tensing as he readies himself for combat, cape swirling with a sudden, sharp movement, the dark fabric creating a menacing silhouette against the night sky. Damian rolls his shoulders.

The silent acknowledgment of the fight to come is all that’s needed.

The first move comes fast and brutal—a sweeping kick aimed at Damian’s legs. Damian barely manages to sidestep, but the force of the attack sends him stumbling slightly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Bruce presses his advantage. He lunges forward, delivering a powerful punch to Damian’s jaw. The blow connects with a sickening thud, causing Damian to gasp and stagger backward. He tries to recover, swinging a fist toward his father, but Bruce is already moving, effortlessly deflecting the strike and countering with a sharp elbow to Damian’s ribs.

Before Damian can recover, Bruce is on him again. He grabs Damian by the collar and delivers a powerful knee to his abdomen. The impact sends Damian sprawling, crashing hard onto the rooftop. The concrete shudders beneath him, and he struggles to get to his feet, gasping for breath.

“You’ve forced my hand. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” Bruce seethes as he advances. His fists come down in a series of blows, each strike aimed at disabling rather than harming. Damian blocks and dodges where he can, but Bruce's assault is relentless, each hit pushing him further back.

THWIP

A web snares Bruce’s arm, halting his advance. His head swivels toward you, confusion and fury flashing in his eyes beneath the cowl. He struggles against the webbing, but you seize the opportunity to yank him off Damian, pulling him forcefully to the side of the rooftop. The webbing binds him tightly against the edge, restricting his movements.

Without wasting a second, you rush to Damian’s side. His breathing is ragged, masked cracked. blood runs down his lip You kneel beside him, gently pulling him up against you. Your arms wrap around him, providing a protective, comforting embrace.

“Baby, are you okay?” you ask urgently, voice trembling with fear.

Damian rasps out a laugh, his grin weak but defiant. “At least I know he’ll do the right thing if I ever do you wrong.”

SHLICK.

You look up to see Bruce cutting through your webbing with a knife. The webbing disintegrates under the assault, and you curse under your breath. Without your web-shooters, your organic webs are noticeably weaker—a reminder that you'd need to ask Morgan for new ones as soon as possible.

Bruce continued his advance, his gaze fixed on you this time.

You raised a hand, trying to signal a truce, your voice shaky but earnest. “I... I don’t want to fight,” you said, the exhaustion evident in every word.

“Then take off the mask,” Bruce commanded, his voice cutting through the air with a harsh edge, leaving no room for negotiation.

The demand hung between you, making your heart pound louder. You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. Slowly, you lifted a trembling hand toward your mask, fingers grasping the edge.

But before you could fully uncover your face, Damian's hand shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking it away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses, eyes flashing with desperation. He turns to Bruce, getting back onto his feet.

“Don’t come any closer,” Damian warns as he unsheathes his katana, its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. “I have the utmost respect for you, Father, but if you take one more step, I will have to engage you properly this time.”

Despite the weight of your decision, there’s no other choice. Your sole aim is to end this confrontation swiftly and with as little harm as possible.

With a sharp breath, you square your shoulders and raise your head.

“Nobody’s going to do anything,” you say firmly as you start to tear off your mask. The fabric pulls away slowly, the cool night air brushing against your exposed skin.

As the mask comes free, you are left bare to the elements, your face now fully visible under the moonlight. You hold Bruce's gaze directly, hoping that this gesture will be enough to de-escalate the standoff.

"It's just me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

ruh oh

mmmmmmmm yes 3-4 chapters left

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

439 notes · View notes

doitforbangchan · 5 months ago

Text

All Bark and No Bite - 19

oops i couldn’t wait for the weekend 😅 happy 4th of july to my fellow american homies 🫡🫡

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f + m), kissing, Dom!Chan, Dom!Minho, Dom!Seungmin, Sub!reader, subspace, threesome (m/f/m), Double penetration (mouth and Vagina), 2min being absolute deviants, face smacking, choking, crying (a TON), Dacryphilia, voyeurism, spanking, sir kink, dirty talk, pet names, spit, cum eating, fluff, angst, cursing, violence, blood, threats, broken bones, (sorry to all the wooyoung stans- this hurt me to write), Chan is not a good guy here but he’s hot so 🫠🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

WC: 10.2k

Sun beams streamed into the room, the early morning light dancing across your lids as you woke up. You groggily creaked your eyes open then instinctually reached your hand over to find your alpha- though you found the spot empty. Chan's side of the bed was cold, he had to have been up for far longer than you.

Click

Clack

Click

There was a quiet clicking sound that filled the room. It was the first thing you really took notice of as you came to your wits.You rubbed your eyes and lightly lifted your head up. In the corner of the room at his laptop sat Chan. He was still in his underwear that he wore to bed and he was typing away at the keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t noticed that you had awoken yet, so you observed him for a few minutes. His brow was furrowed and he kissed his teeth.

The alpha typed away for a few more minutes, then he sighed in frustration and threw his head back. It was at that moment he noticed you were awake, looking at him with sleepy eyes. He smiled at you with a tender look. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

“Mmph. Morning Channie. What are you doin?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and reached your arms up in a stretch.

He sighed again and turned back around to his computer. “Just some work that couldn’t wait until after the weekend.” He wouldn’t tell you that he had gotten up early to do some digging on Wooyoung and had gotten fed up when he didn’t find anything of note then checked his work emails. “There's a buyer who wants to see a huge property a town over.”

You padded slowly over to your alpha and draped yourself over his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck. “That must be exciting for the company.”

“Mmhm, it’s a really expensive piece of land. The buyer wants to get this deal done asap and is sending me over there tomorrow to meet with them. On a fucking sunday.” He huffed and rolled his eyes.

You could feel his frustration radiating out of him so you brought a hand up to his head and ran your fingers through his curls, trying to comfort him. You felt him physically relax and you let out a gentle purr. “M’ sorry alpha. You work so hard for your company, you deserve some time off.”

He snorted, “Yeah like that’s going to happen anytime soon. I’ve already taken too much time off the last few weeks thanks to a certain someone.” He playfully kisses your arm that was wrapped around him then leans into you. “My old man understands how important bonding with an omega is so he’s been lenient but since I’m the one that's going to take over the business I have to make sacrifices sometimes. Being able to provide a comfortable life for you and the pack makes it all worth it though.”

“You’re a good man, Chan.” You kissed his neck again, your scent sweetening with your pure love for him. The smell was so heavenly it made his eyes almost roll into the back of his head. “I am so lucky to have the most perfect Alpha as my mate.”

Chan tried to hide his bashfulness and the dusting of pink that appeared on his cheeks by turning his head but you managed to catch a peek anyways. You giggled and reached a hand to pinch his cheek. He shook his head and laughed along with you. “Don’t tease me! And don’t pretend you're not the perfect one, my little omega.” He turned and gave you a kiss on your lips this time and hummed. “I do have to get back to this for now though my love. Not much longer.”

“Anything I can do to help?” You stood but kept your hands on his shoulders, massaging them lightly.

He turned back to look at you with a smirk and his eyes shining with mischievous intent, “Wellll there's one thing I can think of…”

“Hmm,” You hummed wearily, “what’s that Channie?”

“Cockwarm me while I work.”

You choked on your air intake. That is certainly not what you had in mind. “You- you want me to do what?”

He patted his lap cheekily, making you look down to notice his member hardening in his boxers. “Come on pretty omega, take a seat on alphas dick and keep me company. That would really help me get some work done.” His grin was teasing as if daring you to do as he asked, as if you truly had an option.

You licked your lips as you felt your panties dampen instinctually. You weren’t naive enough to think it would help him that much or that his intentions were pure but you also weren’t going to deny your alpha anything he desired- which right now was you.

Your hands fell from his shoulders as you circled around to the front of his chair. You held eye contact with him when you crouched down in front of him and reached for the hem of his underwear. His gaze was sharp as he took in your every miniscule movement,brown orbs already dilating like a beast of prey. Your breath was shaky when you hooked your pointer fingers into the hem and slowly pulled them down his thighs until his hard length sprang out and slapped against his stomach.

You stood up again and this time pulled your own panties down, letting them fall to the floor as you stepped out of them. Chan licked his teeth and patted his lap once again. “Your throne, my queen.”

That made you huff a laugh and eased your nerves a little.

“You’re a dork.”

Bracing your hands on his shoulders you positioned yourself to be straddling his lap and he helped you line yourself up. With a deep breath to prepare for the stretch, you sank down onto him and engulfed him completely. Your eyes screwed shut and you let out a whimpering moan. Chan sighed blissfully when you were fully seated, his strong arms pulling you into his chest.

“Thata girl.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and gave him a small grind. He held back a moan, instead tutting at you. “Uh uh baby, just sit still f’ me and keep me warm.”

Settling into a good position the both of you let out a content sigh. You kept your head buried into the crook of his neck while he let go of you and went back to his laptop. You closed your eyes and relaxed into him, trying to pass the time with a nap. The both of you managed to sit like that for about a half hour. You did your best to focus on napping but you were beginning to get needier and needier. Chan was doing a good job at keeping a poker face and typing away as if you weren’t clenching and leaking all over his dick.

Your thighs started to burn from the position you were stuck in so you tried to subtly adjust to relieve some tension, but the movement made you push him deeper into you. You let out a quiet moan when you felt him twitch inside of you and couldn’t help but shift your hips, making your walls drag against him which caused him to moan in return.

“F-fuck baby, can’t go moving your hips like that.”

“M sorry, you just feel so good.” You whined in his ear. You could feel your slick dripping out of you and onto Chan's dick,“S’deep in me, feels so good alpha.”

He let out a growl at your words, his resolve quickly crumbling. “Feelin’ needy now, baby? Can’t even sit here and be good, you need your alpha to take care of you?”

You nodded rapidly, clenching around him tightly at his words. “Uh huh. I tried to be good for you Alpha. I sat here as long as I could.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’ve just answered my last email then huh?”

With no warning the man beneath you lifted his hips to buck into you, making your back arch as you moaned. “Nnnnghh alpha!”

“Hold on to me baby.”

You did as you were told, tightening your hold on his shoulders. When he felt that, Chan put his hands under your spread thighs and gripped the meat there. He used his strength to lift your body up then brought you down again. You felt every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls, making you whine and throw your head back.

Chan used your body as if it was his own personal fleshlight, lifting you up and down over and over again. His panting in your ear sent shivers down your spine. The alpha relished in the feeling of your slick dripping out of you and falling down to his thighs, the sloshing making him want to pound into you even harder. Your little breathy ‘ah’s filled the room along with the sounds of your ever accumulating slick.

“Fucking hell omega, you’re taking me so well. Nice and tight and so fucking wet. Is that slick all f’ me?” You were too caught up in the pleasure, not registering that he had asked you a question. The alpha halted his movements, making you let out a desperate whine that turned to a cry when he laid a sharp slap against your butt. After he smacked it he grabbed a handful of the tender flesh and squeezed. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.”

“Yes yes! M’ so wet for my alpha.” You began to cry as you tried to bounce on his dick but he kept you stationary. He gave your ass another hard slap, this time groaning when he felt you clench down on him even as you hissed from the pain. “Please alpha, need to move, need to cum please.”

He hummed in thought as if weighing his options. You couldn’t stop your squirming as you tried to gain more friction but his hold on you was too tight. Just when you were about to cry again he delivered one more stinging strike to your skin, then roughly fucked up into you and resumed his previous pace.

Your nails were clawing into his bare shoulders as you felt your high approaching quickly. You started nibbling on his neck hoping to stimulate the man even more than he already was and it seemed like your efforts were not in vain.

“Fuck omega, I’m getting so close, need to feel you cum on my cock then alpha will give you his knot. You want alphas knot, pretty girl?” His voice was throaty and rough and it made your eyes roll with how sexy it sounded as it sent you even further into that deep subspace that only he could send you too. The alpha could make your brain fuzzy with a single look; when he fucked you it sent it into overdrive.

“Uh huh, wan’ your knot.” Your words were slurred, barely making it out of your mouth before he changed up the tempo and made his movements more of a deep grind into your core, hitting your special spot and also letting his pelvis rub perfectly against your clit. “Fuck oh my god gonna cum. Alpha m’ gonna cum!”

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess on my lap.”

With his permission you let go and felt the snap within you, your pussy tightening around him as you came. “Ngggggghhhhhhh Channie! Alpha!”

There was a deep rumble from within the man's chest as he gave into his instincts and started rutting up into you harder than ever before, making you scream at the overstimulation. He gave you three more rough thrusts before you felt his knot begin to inflate within you, locking himself into place within you and warm spurts of his essence coated your walls. You couldn’t stop spasming and squirming on his lap as you felt him fill you to the brim.

After a few moments Chan seemed to catch his breath but you couldn’t stop shaking and whining. He let go of his hold on your thighs and ass, bringing one hand to the back of your head as he stroked you to soothe you. “Shh baby, you’re ok. I’ve got ya.” He gave your cheek a gentle kiss and he pumped out calming pheromones. It took you a few minutes to finally come back down to earth. When you came to your senses you lifted your face from his neck, both your face and his neck were wet with your tears and you looked dazed. “Are you ok my love?” You nodded with a ‘hmfp’. He chuckled at how cute you were. “Did alpha fuck you too good?”

You nodded again and felt your face heat up at his words. “Mmhmm. So good. Missed alphas cock.”

“My baby is turning dirty!” He mocked a gasp in shock. “You’re spending too much time with those heathens, they’re corrupting you.”

You giggled and kissed his cheek, “I think it’s you who's doing the corrupting around here Channie.” You tilted your face to align with his and you gave him a deep kiss on his plump lips. His tongue invaded your mouth and mingled with your own, giving you a taste of each other.

He pulled away with a loud ‘mwah’ and rubbed your noses together, making you giggle and peck his lips again. You could feel his knot beginning to deflate, so the alpha adjusted his hold on you to lift you up gently and pull you off of his member. You hissed when you felt him leave your body, the knot not yet down completely so it gave you a small tug as it left you. That pain turned to relief when you were able to move your legs- the appendages burning from the held position.

Chan helped you off his lap and to your feet. Your legs felt like jelly and almost gave out but he was there to catch you and steady you. “Easy baby, gotta be careful after a rockus love making like that.” His tone was cocky and he grinned the same way, making you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. “You watch that little tongue of yours omega, you stick it out too much and something may just come by and snatch it!” He made a quick pinching motion at your face making you squeal and back away from him.

“You can’t have it, it's mine!” You pushed his hands away as they reached out to grab you again, both of you unable to control your laughter. “Get away you monster!”

“Monster? Oh no baby, I’m the big bad wolf.” He grinned evilly and wiggled his fingers at you. “And if I catch you I’m gonna eat you up.”

“You won’t eat me!” You backed away further and towards the door while still keeping your eyes on him. Just as your hand reached the doorknob he pounced, making you shriek. “Ahhh no no no!” You wretched the door open and flew out of the room, the alpha hot on your tail.

“Where ya goin little red? Don’t you wanna play with the wolf?” He reached for you but you barely made it past his fingertips.

“No thanks! I don’t play with monsters!” You managed to get down the hall to the bathroom in the hallway, closing it and locking it a mere second before your alpha got to the door. “Yes I made it! Take that you dirty wolf!” He pretended to scratch at the door and you stuck out your tongue again at the door. “You can’t see it but I’m sticking my tongue out at you!”

You could hear him chuckle and scratch at the door again. “Come on out and play with me some more little omega. Give this wolf another taste of you.” Both of you knew he could make you come out if he really wanted too, but the chase was more fun. No sense in ending it with an alpha command.

“Nuh uh, I’m fine here.”

“Hmm, I’ll get my hands on you eventually, little red. I am a patient wolf.” The playful bite in his tone sent a quiver through your body and your brain fuzzy. It made your hands twitch and you almost opened the door for him. Almost.

“We’ll see about that. Now get outta here so you don’t listen to me pee!”

He just laughed and then you heard his footsteps walk away from the door.

Coming out of the bathroom after doing your business and brushing your teeth you caught a glimpse of a stocky figure rounding a corner down the hall.

Changbin

You sped after him reaching your hand out before he could go into his room. “Binnie, wait. Where have you been? Are you ok?”

His head spun around to you then quickly back around, not looking you in the eye and seeming nervous. “Hi Y/n.”

“Y/n? Since when do you call me by my real name?” You were confused and honestly a little hurt and it showed in your voice. You reached a hand out to touch his shoulder but he jerked it away, still not looking at you. “And why won’t you look at me? Have I done something wrong?”

That made him whip his head back to you, balking at you. “You get borderline assaulted because of me… and you ask me if you did something wrong? Are you serious?”

“Oh Bin..” You knew he would be taking it hard. “I’m fi-”

“Don’t say you're fine or it’s ok like I know you’re about too. It’s not ok, Y/n.” He put up a hand and cut you off. His hard gaze went back to the floor. You could just barely see his lash line fill with unshed tears. “Nothing about me being a shitty alpha to you is ok, so let’s not stand here and pretend it is.”

You shook your head, a deep furrow in your brow. “Binnie don’t say that-”

“It’s true! If I had been more aware -paid more attention to you- then you would have never been grabbed, let alone touched at all. I selfishly put my own wants before your needs. A good alpha wouldn’t have let that creep touch you.” His voice was raised and harsher than you had ever heard it. Usually he was loud with laughter and fun; it felt unnatural and made a pit settle in your stomach.

Now your own eyes were filled with liquid and all you wanted was to comfort him. “Changbin, it’s not your fault. Will you look at me please?” He still refused to look at you, choosing to keep his head down instead but you did see him sniffle a little bit.

“I don’t deserve to look at you.”

“Seo Changbin” You tried to make your voice as hard as possible and you put your hands on his cheeks tilting his head back up and making him look at you. “Look at me. I. am. Fine. Do I look hurt? Do I seem like something is wrong with me?”

“No..” He mumbled, a tear escaping his eye. You were quick to wipe it away with your thumb.

“Then why are you beating yourself up about it, huh? I am here safe with the pack. Safe with you. We are all here together safe and sound, isn’t that all that matters?”

“Only because Minho stepped in.. If he hadn't, who knows what could have happened to you.” By now the tears were streaming down the man's face, wetting his cheeks and your hands that still held them.

“Changbin, that is enough! You are a great alpha and I have no doubt in my mind you would have come to my rescue soon enough. And it doesn’t matter who got there first anyway, what is important is that you and I are both here together. So please, please stop being so hard on yourself. It’s breaking my heart. I cannot bear to see you so upset.” You meant every word and looking in your glassy eyes he knew you did. He knew you weren’t one to lie.

The alpha couldn’t hold it in anymore and released a quiet sob, attacking you into a much needed hug. “M’ so sorry baby. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if he had hurt you.”

Even though you were also crying you attempted to sooth him, your hand going from his face to his back as you held on to him. “Shh it’s ok. I love you too, Changbin. My sweet, wonderful, handsome alpha.”

He sobbed even harder, his grip on you tightening as he tried to get as close to you as possible. You let him hold on to you for as long as he needed, the both of you crying and comforting the other. After a few minutes he slowly pulled back from the hug, instead choosing to bring your mouths together for a tender kiss. You practically melted into his kiss, his soft lips molding with yours. Even though there was no teasing or tongue involved it was just as deep and full of passion.

This time it was you who pulled back first, your hands coming back up to his face and wiping away the remaining wetness from his perfectly rounded cheeks. “No more tears from you, I can’t stand to see you in pain.” You whispered, giving him your most sincere eyes.

“Now you know how I feel when you cry.” He replied just as quietly. Changbin gave you one last quick peck then let you go completely, stepping back from you and a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and you couldn’t help but to giggle. Of course you giggling made him join you; your laugh was just that contagious.

The mood was instantly lightened, the tension visibly lifting from the alpha as he calmed down. But there was still a question remaining in your mind. “Binnie, where did you go last night? I didn’t sense that you came home, I was worried.”

“I uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I just spent the night walking around the woods. I was too ashamed to face you or Minho, so I thought it was easier to just walk home from the carnival to collect my thoughts.”

You nodded in understanding, grabbing his hand and rubbing the back of his knuckles. “I’m just glad you came home at all. Chan told me he had talked to you but he didn’t specify what he had said so I was scared he had given you an unjust punishment.” You noticed the grimace in his expression. “Wait, did he? What did he say to you?”

Bin shrugged as if it was no big deal but the crack in his voice gave him away. “Nothing crazy… He just took away my gym privileges for a while.”

You quietly gasped and pulled him into another hug, “Oh Binnie, that’s horrible I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok Baby, all it means is I have to work out at home. Give ya a show.” He flexed his muscles at you, giving you a wink and making you laugh.

“How about you come give me a show right now? I need to take a shower and you could join me if you want.” You made a show of biting your lip dramatically and wiggling your eyebrows.

Changbin burst into that high pitched laughter that you loved so much and nodded his head. “I could definitely use a shower after being outside all night.”

You sniffed him and made a fake disgusted face, waving a hand in front of your face. “Yeah I’ll say.”

“Hey now don’t you start bullying me! You’re turning into those jerks!”

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O. YOU CAN’T TAKE ME HOT TO GO!”

It was about three hours later after your shower with Changbin (which to your surprise did not turn sexual), and you were just finishing up sweeping the kitchen floors after you cleaned up breakfast while listening to music. You wanted to get a few things done today; feeling energized and needing to dance it out while you cleaned up. You offered Changbin to help you but he was exhausted after his night meandering the woods.

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O, snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll, dance it out, you're hot to go”

You did as the song said, bending down and body rolling, getting lost in the music. You were so thankful there was a radio in the kitchen. A low whistle from the kitchen entryway scared you, making you turn in fright and a hand fly to your chest.

“Seungmin, stop scaring me!”

The beta snickered, leaning on the wall. “Can’t help that we keep meeting like this little puppy.” His darkening eyes raked over your form, subconsciously licking his lips. He had observed you dancing for a few minutes before he whistled; drinking in the sight of you in a little maroon skirt and one of his t-shirts. Don’t get him started on the little peek of your little purple panties that he got to see while you were bent over. It was enough to make a grown man cry.

A grumbled ‘hmpf’ left your lips and you crossed your arms, clearly unamused. “I don’t know if you have some sixth sense but you always seem to know when I’m distracted.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “You obsessed with me or something?”

Seungmin scoffed and pushed off the wall, coming to stand right in front of you and keeping eye contact. “More than you know, little puppy.” His gaze was so intense it made you backup a foot until your back touched the edge of the counter, where the beta put his hands to cage you in. His eyes flickered to your lips then back to your own and he leaned down ever so slightly.

Your lids began to close in anticipation of his kiss, but it didn’t come. Instead you were surprised again when you felt his hands go down to the back of your exposed thighs and you were suddenly lifted off the floor. “Seungmin!” You shrieked, and smacked at his shoulder.

“Calm down pup, don’t go throwing hands I’m just putting you on the counter.”

As he said he lifted you and seated you promptly on the counter behind you. Your legs were dangling off the side and Seungmin got another peak at your underwear.

“You drive me crazy enough to throw hands so really I don’t think I am to blame.” You stuck out your tongue at him and he rolled his eyes, then pinched you quickly and backed away snickering. “Ow!”

“Dramatic omega.” He wagged a finger at you in jest, laughing again when you huffed. The man turned and opened the freezer, pulling out two mini popsicles. “Put the claws away or you won’t get one of these.” He waved one around in front of you.

You made grabby hands at the sweet treat , giving him your best teasing pleading voice. “Gimme please!” You cheered when the beta handed you the frozen pop. “Hell yeah!”

Without wasting any time you unwrapped the treat and started to eat it. You hummed in satisfaction as you took in the flavor. Blue raspberry; your favorite. Seungmin just watched as you ate your pop lost in your own world. He felt the tent in his pants grow tighter as you sucked and licked the phallic ice pop and were oblivious to the show you were putting on for him.

“That looks good, where’s mine?”

Both you and Seungmin were pulled from your thoughts by Chan who had walked into the kitchen.

“Uh” The beta stuttered, then pointed to the freezer. “I picked them up the other day, do you want one, Chan?”

Chan had taken notice of you both before he even spoke, already getting a read on the younger male's dominant and lusty energy. Well, that, and he watched as Seungmin couldn’t take his eyes off of your sinful mouth or your panties that were on display.

“Hmmm, no thanks Seung. But I may just steal a taste of yours, baby.” The alpha smiled cheekily as you happily stuck your treat out for him. He stuck his tongue out as if he was going to take a lick, then he chomped down quickly on your pop, biting off a large chunk.

“NO HOW COULD YOU?!” You yelled, shocked at the sudden loss of your popsicle; your now blue mouth open and eyes wide. “YOU SAID YOU WANTED A TASTE! A TASTE!”

Both boys were laughing at your plight as you stared down at your now almost gone pop. “M’ sorry my love, alpha will buy another whole case while I’m out, just for you. How’s that sound?” He brought you into a hug with you still sitting on the counter as you pouted.

You perked up at the idea of your own box- then his other words registered in your brain. “Wait where are you going?”

“Just gotta go run an errand. I won’t be too long.” There was something malicious behind his usually kind eyes, it was so subtle but you and Seungmin both caught it. Chan laid a kiss to your cold lips and gave your knee a pat. “Be good for Minnie, I’ll see you soon omega.” He winked then he was out of the room.

You looked to Minnie hoping he would give you an answer to the alphas behavior but instead you found him already staring at you. Or more specifically the melting ice in your hand. The juice was dripping down your fingers now and you cursed softly when you noticed the mess it was about to create.

Before you could grab a nearby towel to clean it up your wrist was grabbed by warm fingers. “M-minnie?”

The beta plucked the stick from your hand and threw it in the sink a few feet away- the wood making a quiet thump as it landed. Seungmin took the hand that was in his grasp and lifted it up to his face and stuck out his tongue. You held your breath as he slowly licked up the dripping juice that lingered on your fingers. The action was so erotic and abrupt that you felt a flood of slick form in your underwear.

Seungmin held eye contact while he licked and sucked each individual finger, and you were too entranced to move even an inch. Only after each finger had been ~thoroughly~ cleaned by him did Seungmin let you go. He licked his lips and smirked down at your still dumbstruck expression. “That was pretty tasty. I wonder what other sweet treat you're hiding from me.”

The boy dropped a wink at you then he fell to his knees in front of you; his hands went to your bare thighs, where they made quick work of pushing your skirt up and out of the way of his next meal. He groaned at the sight of the wet patch of the front of your panties, making you feel self conscious and you threw your palms over your face. “Seungmin! We’re in the kitchen! We can’t do this here!”

He scoffed, “No better place to eat than in the kitchen.” You could feel his hand leave one of your thighs, then you felt the rough pad of what you could assume was his thumb on your clit, rubbing you through the purple material and making your hips buck on reflex. “Looks like you want it too, huh pretty puppy? Gonna sit like a good pup and let your master give you a treat?”

You didn’t answer him while you sat in contemplation, but that was not what Seungmin wanted. You gasped when your hands were yanked away from hiding you and his rough fingers gripped the underside of your chin, squishing your cheeks harshly.

“I asked you if you were gonna be good for me, don’t act like a mutt and answer my question.” His growled words held a warning in them and you knew better than to test his patience right now.

“Yesh Seunminf.” You answered the best you could with your smushed lips, eyes already glassy and begging for his mercy.

“Good girl.”

His signature smirk returned to his beautiful face and he let your face go then brought his attention back to your center. This time he decided to not waste anymore time, and he dove in face first to your clothed core. Seungmin nosed your clit through the fabric and it had you gushing even more. He was breathing deeply as if trying to absorb as much of your pure scent as possible and you could see a hint of his eyes rolling back into his head. It made you want to hide behind your hands again but you didn’t want to risk the repercussions.

He hummed when his wet tongue stuck out and he pulled your panties into his mouth, sucking your essence out of the fabric. The act was one of the lewdest things you have ever fucking seen; it made your body burn with both embarrassment and titilation.

“Minnie” You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when he kept licking into you, making obscene grunts as he feasted on you and made your underwear beyond soaked. As good as it felt it was not enough. You craved more. “Minnie please.”

He ignored your plea, instead he dug his face even further as he suckled your panties into his mouth. The beta was getting lost in you- in your pussy- it was his favorite thing in the world (everything about you was, really). He kept at it until he felt your thighs squeeze against his head.

Seungmin pulled his face back and glared at you for interrupting him. “Thought you were gonna behave.”

You whimpered and bit your lip. “M’ sorry Minnie. Didn’t mean too. Just need more.”

“More?” He scoffed, “My greedy puppy wants more? You think you deserve it?”

You nodded rapidly, rushing your words out. “Yes, please. Been good.”

He huffed in contemplation, then he surprised you by ripping your soaking underwear off your body and suddenly you were hoisted from your place on the counter. “Fine, I'll give my puppy a real treat then.” He crashed his lips into yours, his mouth instantly devouring your own. You moaned against his lips and you felt him smirk again, and he nibbled on your tongue, making you squeal from the light pain.

Thinking he was going to set you down on the ground you had no time to react before you found that the beta had basically thrown himself down onto the ground on his back, and hauled you down with him so you were sat atop of his chest. Then he gave you an expectant look.

“Uhh” You were utterly confused, “I dont…I don’t know what…”

Seungmin rolled his eyes and sighed, “Thought it was pretty obvious.” He motioned to his face. “Sit on my face.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry. Please sit on my face.”

The casualty of his request was staggering; it left you in absolute shock especially since he had requested it in the kitchen. That was the biggest hurdle that you were having trouble getting over. “But..We’re in the kitchen… during broad daylight where anyone could walk in on us... Maybe we should go up to your room?”

Your defiance was starting to irritate the beta, his eyes hardening even further and he let out a growl. “I don’t give a flying fuck where we are or what time of day it is. I will fuck you whenever and whereever I want. Now scoot your ass up here and sit on my fucking face and let me eat your pretty pussy. I’m done asking.”

You yelped when his hands harshly gripped your thighs and he forcefully dragged you up until you were hovering over his awaiting mouth. The grip he had on you only tightened when he immediately dug his face into your core, making you gasp at the contact and your hands flew to his hair to balance yourself or you would have risked falling over.

“Oh my god, Seungmin!” You couldn’t help but rock your hips as you moaned and called out his name as he lapped at your center; greedily swallowing down the nectar that flowed freely from you. By now his nails were embedding themselves into your skin with how hard they were digging in, trying to keep you still so he could enjoy his meal. “M-minnie, s’good.”

“Mmmmmm” He hummed and slurped at you obscenely, his lips encircled your clit and you felt the vibrations hit your sensitive nub. You jerked and spasmed when he gave your clit a teasing nip with his teeth. He chuckled when you tried to get away from the painful pleasure and held on even tighter; so tight you could feel the blood begin to rush from the wounds his nails inflicted. “Nope, you’re staying right here.”

The slurping and moaning was so loud that honestly you were surprised someone else hadn’t already walked in to find you in this compromising position. Though the music was still playing so the tunes must be drowning out your obscenities. You looked down at the boy beneath you and his face was hidden by your skirt, the flimsy material hiding his rapturous expression.

“So fucking tasty.” The beta mumbled, his words muffled, feeling himself become almost drunk on your ambrosia. “Most delectable pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

“You really have no fucking shame, do you Seungmin? I can smell what you're doing from outside.”

Your head had been thrown back in pleasure so you hadn’t noticed a new arrival to the kitchen, nor had you noticed said arrival leaning against the counter a few feet away watching your fucked out expression for at least five minutes.

Seungmin growled from under you, feeling possessive over his bounty. “Go away Minho. We’re busy.”

The elder beta snorted a laugh, “Yeah I can see that.” Minho waltzed over to where Seungmin laid on the ground and crouched down in front of you. He reached out and lifted the skirt that hid the boy's face, meeting the mean glare that the younger boy was sporting; though Seungmin never stopped his ministrations. Minho flipped the skirt back over the others face and stood again.

Minho took in your glassy eyes and the little whimpers that escaped your lips with every suck and swipe of the younger boy's tongue. He noticed the way your mouth puckered subconsciously as if it were searching for something. Minho reached out and cupped your cheek in his warm hand, his thumb running along your open bottom lip.

“M-min” Your voice was pleading, though you didn’t know what you were asking for.

“Mmm what do you need omega?” He cooed at you condescendingly, already having an idea but wanting to piss off the other beta. “Need me to take care of you too?”

“I said go the fuck away you asshole. She doesn’t need anything from you.” Seungmin all but snarled at Minho, his voice raspy and wet from the juices in his mouth.

“I wasn’t asking you, Seungminnie. I was asking our beautiful omega.” He stroked your cheek and kept looking down into your watery eyes, holding deep eye contact. “And by the looks of it she needs a little more stimulation. So what do you say, Baby?”

You didn’t want to upset Seungmin but you needed something more. With trepidation you nodded your head, and grabbed onto the man standing in front of you.

“M-more, Minho. Please.”

He tsked, “Is that what you call me, omega?”

Was he really about to embarrass you in front of Seungmin?

He looked down at you with that domineering gaze and a flicker of arrogance on his face.

Yes. Yes he was.

“Sir.” You whined, trying to keep your voice low.

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you. You’ll have to speak up like a big girl.”

Seungmins tongue buried particularly deep into your hole, making you moan and lurch forward into Minho who held you steady.

You took a deep breath and blinked back tears. You raised your voice a few octaves and held him tighter. “Sir, need something. Please Sir.”

“Oh my fucking god” You heard Seungmin murmur in disbelief at the nickname you called Minho.

“That’s my good girl. Here you go baby.” The patronizing beta ran his thumb along your lip again before forcefully shoving it into your open mouth. Instantly you started sucking on the appendage, it being just what you needed for your oral fixation. You hummed around the digit and lathed your tongue on the pad of it.

Your hips started bucking even more and your whines got louder. You could feel your high approaching at a rapid pace now and apparently the two men could tell you were close. Just as you felt the knot begin to tighten within you, Seungmin gave your clit a big suck into his mouth and that was the kick you needed.

The welled up tears started to leak down your face as you came, and your eyes fluttered shut at the delicious pleasure that went through your whole body. Your eyes snapped back open when you felt a sharp sting on your cheek and Minho was glowering down at you still with his cat-like eyes.

“Look at me while he makes you cum. Don’t you dare look away from me.” He hissed and shoved another finger down your throat, making you choke.

You fought to keep your eyes open as you came, shaking and whimpering from your place on Seungmins face. The slurping from below got louder as your sweet essence was dranken up by the beta man. The sound was downright filthy.

Finally, Seungmins tongue had stopped moving within you and had returned to his own mouth. He gave you a moment to finish shaking then he scooted you down so you sat on his stomach once again. Minho let his hands fall from your face as he drank in the fucked out sight of you.

Seungmin lifted his head from the floor as he comfortingly ran his fingers over the small wounds his nails left. His face was drenched in your slick, the liquid dripping down his chin as he sat up slightly and his tongue shot out to catch the drippage. He made a show of groaning at the taste of it when he licked his lips.

“Mmm delectable.”

You felt your face heat up as the mortification caught up with you. You peeked up to see Minho still standing there watching your every move and you couldn’t bear to look him or Seungmin in the eye so you cast them down instead.

“What’s the matter, puppy? Are you embarrassed that Minho Hyung caught you out in the open acting like a dirty mutt in heat for me? Or are you upset you didn’t get to cum on my cock instead?”

The teasing words had you whimpering and you involuntarily clenched your thighs around Seungmins waist. Seungmin was growing more and more open to the help of Minho, seeing how desperate it had made you and he knew the new possible ways to play with you were endless.

Minho bent down and got close to your face as he fake pouted. “Aww I think she wants you to fuck her properly, Minnie. Look at her writhing at the mere thought of it.” It was true, you were fidgeting and you could feel even more slick gathering from your pussy and onto Seungmins shirt. “Poor baby needs your dick, Seung.”

They both grinned at each other mischievously, both betas locking eyes in a silent understanding. This was going to be so fun.

The maps on Chan's phone alerted him that his destination was on the right hand side. The alpha kissed his teeth as he threw his phone on the passenger seat, then opened the door and stepped out. This was his last and most pressing matter of the day and he was ready to get it over with.

Stepping up to the doorstep of the small house Chan knocked on the door and waited. After a minute the door was opened to a familiar face.

“Chan, what a surprise! What can I do for you?” The elder man had a kind smile and seemed genuinely happy to see Chan.

“How are you, JYP? It’s been awhile.” Chan shook hands with the beta man and he peered past the door for a moment. They exchanged quick pleasantries but Chan declined the offer to come inside. “Oh no thank you, I can’t stay long. I was actually looking for Wooyoung. I heard he was staying with you and wondered if he was in?”

“My nephew? Yes he is in right now, I’ll get him for you.” Chan smiled and thanked JYP. “WOOYOUNG YOU HAVE A VISITOR!”

A thundering of feet could be heard walking through the house and then Chan got his first in-person look at Wooyoung. The beta was slightly taller than Chan was, and he had long arms but he was on the lankier side. He noticed the smile fell from Wooyoung's face when he saw just who was at the door for him. Chan heard him whisper a quiet ‘shit’, and he had to bite back a devilish grin.

“Hi, my name is Chan. I was wondering if you had a second to speak with me.” He noticed the hesitation on the boy's face, so he pressed the order a tad harder. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Wooyoung was shoved out the door by his uncle, who gave him a pat on the back. “ Of course he has plenty of time! Chan does alot for this town, so be polite Wooyoung.” With that the elder man shut the door and gave them some privacy.

Chan could see the nerves that laid within the boy; the twiddle of his fingers and the anxious run of his tongue on his lip gave him away instantly. Good, he should be scared.

“Nice to meet you Wooyoung. Changbin has told me alot about you.”

“O-oh. Changbin is a good friend.”

The alpha hummed in agreement, nodding. “He is. He is a good man and a great pack mate.” Chan took a subtle step closer to the beta.

“Did Changbin send you here?” Wooyoung asked, mentally running over what Bin could have said to Chan.

Chan clicked his teeth, and shook his head. “Nah. I came of my own volition. I actually had a question I wanted to ask you.”

“Ok, what is i-” Before Wooyoung could finish his question, Chan's hand shot out and grabbed onto the younger man's throat. Suddenly Wooyoung's face was shoved forcefully against the wood of the house, his nose smashing and he could feel the crack of his bone and blood start to drip out.

Chan snickered at the noise of pain Wooyoung let out and he tightened his grip on his neck. Chan dug his nails sharply into the skin and he felt the betas windpipe beneath his fingers. He got closer to Wooyoung until his broad body was trapping him against the wall.

“Do you like being grabbed, Wooyoung?” Chan seethed but kept his tone relatively calm, albeit a bit menacing. “Do you like it when a stranger that's stronger than you puts his hands on you?” When the beta didn’t answer Chan yanked him back and re-shoved his bloody face into the wood and made the beta hiccup from the pain. Chan's other hand had a tight hold on Wooyoung's hands and he kept them locked behind his back so he couldn’t fight back.

“Let me tell you something, motherfucker. Changbin is a good man. But I’m not.” Chan increased the pressure on his neck, the beta letting out a choking gurgle as the blood flooded his mouth. “And I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. So this is going to be your only warning.” Chan lowered his voice to an ominous sneer. “If you ever put your filthy fucking hands on my omega or my packmate again, I will rip your arms from your torso and throw them in the woods for the bears to eat.”

Wooyoung squirmed and moaned in pain, his airways closing more and more with each passing second. For a split second he wondered if he would ever escape. Suddenly all the air he had been searching for came rushing back to him as he was released. Wooyoung fell to his knees and his hands flew to his neck as he coughed and sputtered, the blood of his face flying in specs everywhere.

“The only reason I haven’t done so already is out of respect for your uncle, who has been a pillar in our society. Be grateful he was able to save you… This time.” Chan stepped back and straightened himself out. “Go clean yourself up before you make too big of a mess on that poor man's porch.”

With that Chan stepped off the porch and left the beta crying and sputtering, and slipped back into his car. He drove away without so much as a single glance back- as if the ordeal hadn’t even occurred at all.

“Ngghhh” You gurgled out the best you could around Minho's cock but it only came out in a slobbery whine. His member was pistoning in and out of your mouth as he held your hair, using your face to get himself off but also making you incredibly horny.

Seungmin was still under you but now instead of his face you were sitting atop his dick reverse cowgirl; the thick appendage sliding in with reckless abandon. Your thighs were burning but the divine pleasure of being used by them was too delicious for you to care. The sloshing from both your pussy and your mouth makes you dizzy and your brain mushy- you had no choice but to give yourself over to them completely (much to their- and your- delight).

“Feels so good, your pussy is always so damn tight. My dirty pup. So fucking good for us.” Seungmin could feel the way your walls clenched around him at the praise and it made him moan loudly. He cursed and his own hips started to quiver with the impending orgasm.

“The best omega we could have asked for.” Minho was next to praise you, his head thrown back and his breathing hard. He himself also was not far from cumming. He groaned at the sight of your tears continuously leaking down your cheeks and mixing with the saliva on your chin.

Minho opened his eyes when he sensed another presence nearby. Or to him it was more like a pest lurking around. Big boba eyes peered slowly through the threshold, hoping to catch a good look at what was happening in there, his cock twitching in his pants. Minho bit back a grunt, and he called out to the boy.

“Get outta here Jisung, go jerk off somewhere else you pervert.”

A squeak left the younger boy and he turned around, bumping into his accomplice that seemed just as alarmed at being caught. Felix. He could hear them scurry down the hall together and rolled his eyes at their antics. It didn’t seem like you even noticed they had appeared or left at all.

For the two betas this was sort of poetic. A few weeks prior they had been at odds about you- and now here they were, coming together because of you, both with a common goal in mind; ultimate pleasure.

“Touch your clit, baby. Make yourself cum on my dick, get me all messy with your slick pretty girl. I wanna be soaked in it from head to toe.” Seungmin requested through his moans and you did as he said, your nimble fingers traveling down your body and to your aching nub. You spasmed and whined when you made contact with it, which in turn made your walls quiver around Minnie's length.

Minho's hand that wasn’t in your hair was on your now bare breast, fondling the heaving flesh and pinching at your nipple. You cried louder when he pinched particularly roughly on your already abused nipple. It was the final push you needed before you came for the third time today. You gasped and choked on Minho's length, making him pull out of your mouth so you could breathe.

When you came your walls clamped down on Seungmin and triggered his orgasm, the betas hips stuttering as he filled you with his essence. “Fuuckkkk holy shit, so tight puppy.”

The view of you both cumming together was too much for Minho and he stroked his member quickly in front of your open mouth, “So hot, what the fuck” he said through clenched teeth as his high came forcefully and his cum spurted out of the tip and onto your face, some of it getting into your open moaning mouth.

All three of you were quite a sight, all shaking and crying with pleasure together in the middle of the kitchen. You and Seungmin were both covered in cum and slick, the combination of the two leaking out of you and all over the beta man's thighs and onto the floor. Minho couldn’t help himself and he leaned down and ran the fat of his tongue along your cheeks, collecting the salty mixture of your tears and some of his cum, and moaning from the taste.

After a few moments all three of you were able to collect your breath and calm down. You were drifting in deep space and barely registered Minho's arms scooping you up and off of Seungmin. You let out a quiet hiss when your thighs were able to move from the held position.

“Shh it’s ok baby. I know you're sore, we’ll take care of you.” Minho cooed and set you down on the counter again. “Hold still f’ me baby.” He used a damp rag to clean the remaining semen off of your face. You sat perfectly still as he made you sip a cup of water provided by Minnie. After every sip you took you were rewarded by pecks on your lips and a soft ‘good girl’.

After you finished your water you were scooped up again but this time by Seungmin. He had pulled his shorts back up but you were still completely naked as he carried you through the halls and to Chan's bathroom and to the massive bathtub.

The two of you bathed together as you slowly came back down to earth. The beta smothered you with kisses and made sure to clean you thoroughly. It was just what you needed after the rough fucking they had put you through, even though you enjoyed it immensely.

Minho was in the kitchen cleaning up the mess when he heard Chan come in and head into the kitchen, a grocery bag in his hand. Chan noticed the blush on the betas cheeks and the mop in his hand, a knowing smirk coming across the alphas face.

“Make a mess?”

Minho eyed the specs of blood that stained Chan's shirt and raised a brow. “I could ask you the same.”

Chan shrugged and set the bag on the freshly cleaned counter top, pulling out a brand new pack of popsicles that he promptly stuck in the freezer. “Just went to clean up a mess, actually.”

The beta hummed in understanding. “Baby is in the bath with Seung. She is feeling really delicate right now so I’d change my shirt if I were you.”

Chan shot him a grateful thumbs up and headed up to his room, tearing his shirt off before he entered. He could hear you giggling and the sound of the drain from his bathroom so he quickly shucked on a new shirt then went into the adjoining room.

“Stop Minnie!” You were laughing as you playfully pushed Seungmin away as he tried to tickle your sides. You were sitting on the counter as the beta dried you off after your bath.

“I can’t help it, rules are rules, I have to tickle you after a bath. I can’t change the law, omega.”

“You liar! Stop your nonsense!” It was then that you noticed Chan enter the bathroom. “Alpha!” You beamed and reached a hand out as a plea for help against the beta.

“I’ll save you, my love.” He laughed and dramatically grabbed Seungmin by the shoulders and shook him, making the beta laugh even louder and try to hold on to you. Chan was able to pull Seungmin away and held his arms as the younger boy struggled. “I got him, run baby!”

You wrapped your towel tighter around you and hopped off the counter, only for your legs to give out after you took a single step and you plummeted to the ground. Your thighs were so sore you couldn’t even walk.

At once both boys stopped playing and rushed to your side, with Chan hauling you up into his arms. “Are you ok baby?”

You nodded, giggling and burying your face into his chest. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing the shirt he left in, but you decided not to bring it up. “Yeah I’m fine. My legs are just too weak right now. You guys really did a number on me.” You didn’t miss the low five Chan offered Seungmin. “Hey!” You smacked his shoulder and he only laughed harder. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Seungmin realized he was still borderline naked; with only a towel wrapped around his waist- and gave you a tender kiss as you sat in the alphas arms. “I’m gonna go get dressed. I’ll see you in a little while, pup.”

Nodding you returned his kiss, “Ok Minnie. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He felt his face heat up as he murmured the sentiment, glaring at the alpha who smirked at him and wiggled his brows. “Oh fuck off Hyung.”

“Loooovee youuuu Minnniieeeee” Chan drawled teasingly as the younger passed him, cackling when Seungmin flipped him off as he left the room. Chan carried you to his bed and set you down on the soft sheets. Then he gathered a tank top and a pair of his boxers for you to wear.

“How was your day, Channie?” You asked him once you were dressed.

He tossed his head back and forth with a grin. “I had a pretty good day. And by the smell in the house I could say you did too.” Your face heated up and you pouted. “You won’t be pouting for long, omega. I got you something special while I was gone.”

That perked you right up, eyes showing your excitement. “Really? What is it?”

“Close your eyes.” You did as you were told, screwing your lids shut tight. You heard him shuffle until he was on his knees on the bed behind you. Ever so slightly you felt the coolness of a metal chain fall around your neck, and you could feel Chan clip it behind you. “You can open your eyes now my love.”

You snapped them open and instantly looked down at the necklace. Hanging down on a little silver chain was a ‘C’ made of rose gold. You cradled the pendant and turned to face your alpha, your lip wobbling. “Oh Channie. I love it. Thank you so much.” You launched yourself into him and wrapped him in your arms. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Chan felt sheepish all of a sudden, holding on to you just as tight. “You’re welcome, baby. I know you have my bite but I wanted you to have another little piece of me with you always. Somewhere I can stay close to your heart.”

You were literally melting at his words, your heart feeling light in your chest as you squeezed him. “I love you Channie. So, so much. I’m so grateful to have you.”

“Aww baby, I love you too. More than words could express.” He kissed the top of your head.

Chan couldn’t imagine his life without you in it, he loved you so much. Hell, you were soulmates for crying out loud. He would do anything for you. Care for you, love you, protect you. And nothing and no one was going to take you from him. That he was certain.

“Oh and I picked you up another pack of popsicles.”

“Fuck yeah!”

Looks like omega got eaten after all 😁And chan turned into quite the wolf didn't he 🐺😈

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

Taglist- Closed

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sorry to those whose tag isn’t working :(

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

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"You Did It"

Something short in celebration of me passing my dissertation! I didn't think it would happen but I fucking passed!

She'd been staring at the keyboard of her laptop for a good ten minutes now, fingers itching to dance across the keys. But the words just weren't coming to her.

"I hate this," she mumbled. She'd said it at least once a minute for the last few minutes.

And one of her boyfriends was getting bored of it.

"Stop then," said Lando. He was laying on the sofa beside her, head propped up on the cushions, legs stretched out in front of him and his arm slung over the back of the sofa.

Suddenly, Oscar raised his head. He looked like a meerkat on sentry duty, searching for any danger. "Nope," he said as he stood up and walked over to his partners. "Don't listen to him, not when you're so close to being done," he said as he leaned over the back of the sofa.

Immediately, Lando was begging for his attention, but Oscar ignored him. No, Oscar was focused on their girl. "Promise me you'll try and do as much as you can tonight," he said before he leaned down to kiss her.

"I promise, Osc," she said and tried to get back to it.

And she really did try. She got maybe a few more sentences done, but that was about it. Still, it was progress.

She worked on it for the next week, on and off until it was finished. Concentrating wasn't easy with Lando and Oscar around. But then they headed off to the next grand prix and she was, admittedly, grateful to be alone.

It was easy to get it finished now that she was alone. She worked in silence, maybe to some music as she checked for any kind of spelling mistakes.

But no, it was perfect and it was ready to go.

As soon as she hit submit on her final essay of her final year of university, she called Lando and Oscar.

They couldn't answer right away, not with them both being on the race track. But as soon as they were out of the car, as soon as they had debriefed and as soon as they were back in their hotel room, they called her back.

She picked up almost instantly. "Hi, baby," said Lando as he held Oscar's phone. She could hear the shower running and could only assume that was where Oscar was. "Sorry we missed your call earlier."

"I forgot you guys were out on track," she mumbled as she laid herself in the bed the three of them shared. Her head was on Lando's pillow, half of her face squished against it. "Osc in the shower?"

Lando nodded.

"Surprised you're not in there with him," she said with a small grin.

Lando let out a chuckle as he ran his hand through his curls. "You know I would have," he replied. "But I wanted to call you back."

She and Lando made idle conversation as they waited for Oscar to return from the shower.

And, once she had both of her boys on the screen in front of her did she tell them the good news. "Boys, I did something pretty cool," she said to them as she sat up slightly. They could see her properly now, could see that she was dressed in one of their hoodies (it had originally belonged to Lando, but all three of them wore it so often that it had no owner).

"What did you do?" Oscar asked as Lando settled against his chest. She could have done anything to be there with the two of them, cheering them on through the weekend and cuddled up in bed with them.

She was unable to keep her grin from her face. "I submitted my final essay," she said as that grin grew wider.

Lando sucked in a gasp and Oscar's grin matched her own. "Well done, Baby!" Lando cried.

"We're so proud of you," said Oscar.

They were so fucking proud of her. The final year had been a mental struggle for her, they knew. But they'd encouraged her, kept her going through it. She could safely say that she wouldn't have been graduating without them.

"I wish I was there with you guys to celebrate."

Lando let out a laugh. "It's fine, baby. We'll make it up to you when we're back. Plus, I'll throw in another win on top."

"Or maybe I will," Oscar said as he looked at their boyfriend.

A laugh bubbled up from her lips. That might have been the only thing that would have made this weekend better.

"I love you boys."

"We love you too!"

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voxsmistress · 7 months ago

Text

Mama Didn't raise no Bimbo Series!

Y/n was thrown head first into Hell - like everyone she has to find her own path and she was doing pretty darn good but what happens when she finally comes across the three Vee's who don't necessarily like to share...

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

This was such a bad idea!

Such a bad idea! How did Angel Dust manage to convince you to do this was beyond you. But here you are gripping the handle of the front door of the Vee’s Tower.

“Oh, I’m just running a little late at work honey, meet me at the tower and we will head to the clubs from there,” you mocked under your breath as you turned the handle. Swear, if that Valentino tries to get you to join a porno you will kill Angel.

Deep breaths. Entering the main foyer, you squint because of all the damn bright lights, screens, and décor. Spying all the cameras you drag your coat closer to your body. No hiding from anyone here. You make your way up to the receptionist desk as instructed by your lovely ‘friend’.

“Hey sugar, I’m here to see Angel Dust, they’re expecting me don’t suppose you could tell me where I should be going could ya?” Giving your best winning smile at the bored receptionist, at her unimpressed flicker of her eyes going over your outfit and hair you could feel the smile start to strain. Like everyone, your appearance changed when you came to Hell, and you considered yourself lucky that you mainly had humanistic characteristics – the fangs, violet eyes, skin as white as snow and wicked pink highlights in your hair you just considered as an extra – it could be so much worse. You have seen much worse.

Smoothing your hands over the coat you let your smile drop and narrowed your eyes at the receptionist. Down here in Hell you were sure others just made situations difficult to be difficult. Actually… that was probably true. They were just the worst down here.

Popping her gum in your face you could feel your eyebrow start to twitch. Bitch. Tapping away on her keyboard she proceeds to ignore you for a few moments before pointing at a sign which told you which floors for what people. Seeing Valentino’s floor, you assume that’s where you should be heading. Thanking the receptionist – though she didn’t exactly do anything but affect your confidence in your outfit – you make your way over to the elevators, getting in as soon as one arrived and jabbing at Valentino’s floor.

Crossing your fingers you wouldn’t meet that particular Overlord, considering the receptionist was a pain in the ass you could only imagine what he would be like and from the horror stories Angel Dust told you – you really didn’t wanna meet him.

Reaching the floor quicker than you expected you straighten out your outfit, slightly regretting the black stilettos but they were the only decent heels you have in your closet for dancing, plus the neon pink on the base matched your accessories and splashes of colour on your dress. You fully embraced the image that you were a bimbo, it helped with tips and your image at work. As a singer and a dancer at one of the clubs on Pride Circle, the dumber you appeared the more people underestimated you. And you just loved it when they underestimated you.

It's where you met Angel Dust, in one of the first clubs that you were working at. Through him you then met Alastor who after hearing you sing a few older songs then allowed you to sing on his Radio Show (on occasion) and from him you then met Rosie who put in a good word for you with your now current boss at one of the more respectable (using that term loosely) clubs in Pride Circle. Which is the only reason why you would enter the Vee’s Tower – you owed Angel Dust a lot this was a small ask.

Stepping onto Valentino’s floor the smell of smoke, sex and sweat hit you like a wall. Flickering your violet eyes around you spied the Spider speaking to the Overlord. Damn. Seeing that the conversation wouldn’t be ending any time soon you huffed under your breath before making your way to them.

“Angel, sugar, you ready to go?” You ask when you reach the two, keeping your gaze on him as from the corner of your eye you see the tall Overlord swivel on the spot. Angel’s eyes connect with yours before trying to hide a grimace.

“Heyyy gorgeous, listen it’s gonna be a little later than we planned I’ve just gotta film one more scene then we can go”, catching the mouthed sorry at the end. Smiling understandingly at him you shrug your shoulders.

“Oh no problemo honey, want me to stay or I can meet you at the club?” secretly crossing your fingers that they’d say to meet you at the club.

“Ah no it’s cool if you stay, right Val? Y/n can stay for the last scene?” Bugger. Turning your winning smile up at the infamous Valentino only to see their stare was focused on you already with an menacing smile pulling his face into a sinister expression which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“Ah the famous Y/n, Angel talks about you all the time – don’t you baby! Course you can stay and watch. What about if you participate as well, I could get you a job princessa, with those legs, boobs and that pout you are a star waiting to happen. I could get a contract written up in seconds if you want-“He pulls a deep drag from his cigarette and blows it all around so you three were in a cloud of hazy red smoke. Holding back a cough you try to keep the smile on your lips.

“Thank you for the offer, Sir, but I am happy with my job at the moment but as soon as I want a change in career, I’ll let you know”, I reply to the Overlord. A bead of sweat drips down the back of my neck. Valentino’s anger was legendary. To refuse him was to insult him. And you had done all that within a few moments of meeting him. Plus being close to Angel Dust was another factor against you – he was so jealous over Angel.

His smirk grew as he gazed over your outfit. Well, a smirk was better than shouting, right?

“Shame. You could be a star,” another drag of his cigarette before shrugging you off and directing Angel back to the stage. Quickly winking at the spider, you make your way over to a few chairs that were against the wall. Shrugging your coat off you turn to see a few creeps eyeing you up, bloody perverts. Baring your fangs at them you sit down and yank your phone out from your purse.

A sigh leaves your lips, crossing your leg over the other, you peruse Sinstagram while trying to block out the sounds coming from Angel and the other demons and sinners in the scene. Checking on the progress of a few photos of the outfit that you shared earlier of what you were wearing tonight which you had tagged in Velvette as she was the designer of your dress: a tight black dress with stripes of neon pink, ruffles of the neon around the off-shoulder neckline and other intricate details – it reminded you of Marilyn Monroes pink dress, so you had saved up for months to buy it. The almost velvet material clung to your curves in the most delicious way and the colours just accentuated your hair, skin, and eyes. If no one could tell - you just loved pink and again it helped the Bimbo image you put across.

Brushing the waves of hair out of your face you look up and again see a certain Overlord’s stare focused on you, his own phone clutched in his hand. Careful not to challenge him by looking at him head on you keep your gaze soft and lowered. The issue with Valentino was he didn’t always accept no as an answer. And you were so not ready to become a porn star. To be honest since arriving in Hell you hadn’t even entertained any one in your bed. More concerned with getting somewhere safe to live, safe(ish) to work and try not to get mauled, raped or murdered every day seemed to take up your energy. Which is why Angel wanted to go out tonight – to try and get you laid. Chuckling softly as you remembered his horrified face when you said you hadn’t had sex in over a year you let your violet gaze glance over to him. Wincing slightly at the position he was in at the moment, which really could not be comfortable, you let your attention go back to your phone ignoring both the Overlord and Angel as a slight vibrate notified you that a certain Vee had liked your post.

Your mouth opens in shock when you see THE Velvette had liked your photo. Heart racing a little you couldn’t control the smile that stretched across your lips, holding in the little squeal you desperately wanted to let out you settled for giving a little excited wiggle in your seat. Or you were until a shadow encased you. Looking up you lock eyes with the main V. Vox. Uh oh. “And who is this lovely lady, Val?”

Sooooo ... for a first chapter what did ya thinkkkkkk?

A03 Link is here

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin angel oc #hazbin angeldust #vox x reader #valentino x reader #velvette x reader #vox x valentino x velvette #vox x valentino x velvette x reader

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fangirl-dot-com · 11 months ago

Text

Across Every Universe

Well, this got away from me and then BAM - over 9k words. Uh, I will also be willing to pay for therapy if needed, oopsies. Anyway, please enjoy! I cried multiple times while writing this. All of my favorite things in life are rolled into this one fic.

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! love you all <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 14 SPOTS LEFT (please send me a direct message to be added)

Earth 199999

“Mr. Verstappen?”

Max look up from the suit that he was currently working on. His eyes were blocked by his newest technological glasses that kept information in his fingertips.

He wanted to roll his eyes. This new assistant really didn’t get the memo of Do Not Disturb. Man, did he wish Kelly were still here. Yet, there was that unspoken rule of not dating your boss, so Max was happier with her being his girlfriend rather than assistant.

“Yes?” he muttered back, looking back down at the prototype reactor that should be 15% more powerful than the one he has now.

“Mr. Leclerc is here to see you.”

Max sighed as he threw the screwdriver down. “I told Charles that I was to not be disturbed.”

The assistant shrank back but continued on, much to his annoyance. “He said it was urgent. Something about Case 89?”

That got Max’s attention right away. He abruptly stood up, knocking down a few things on his desk as he rushed past his assistant.

“Cancel the rest of my meetings today.”

“But sir, you have a call with the president and a public appearance…”

Max twirled around. “I said, cancel everything.”

A large gulp sounded as he stared down at the incompetent helper. Maybe he could convince Kelly to come back.

“Yes sir.”

With that, Max stalked down the hallway to the elevator. Once inside, he pressed the button for the top floor. He checked his watch, making sure the technology was there. Specifically, the watch could change into a powered glove if he needed it. And he sure hoped he wouldn’t. The elevator sounded when he finally reached the floor.

He was barely out of the small box when three pairs of eyes were on him.

“Took you long enough,” a Monegasque accent sounded.

With a roll of his eyes, Max rebutted, “My assistant doesn’t get the meaning of my orders.”

A squawk of a laugh came from the corner.

“You think that’s funny Lando?” Max quipped as he turned to his right.

A curly hair Brit sat on a table, feet put together like he was stretching his inner thighs.

“Everything is funny Max when you don’t have a stick up your ass,” Lando responded as he slid off the table.

“This is not the time for laughs and games gentlemen,” another British accent sounded.

Charles finally spoke again. “I apologize Director Horner.” He shot a stare at Lando. “It won’t happen again.”

While this was happening, Max had taken a step to his computer. His fingers danced over the keyboard and brought up surveillance footage from downstairs. His eyes flickered up to look at his two “companions” and, well, his boss per say.

The Monegasque was in his “get up” as Max called it. The multiple layers of ancient looking clothes disguised his figure. His red cape floated behind him and a green jewel seemed to glow behind its eye-like holder around his neck.

Lando was dressed a skin tight red and blue suit. A web-like pattern covered its entirety and a spider lay resting on his chest. The face piece was tossed on the couch behind the table where he previously sat. His fingers twitched and flexed with lack of motion.

Director Horner was draped in his regular black trench coat. Black shoes, black shirt, and black pants accompanied the fashion piece. His hair was kept and gelled. The most distinct item was a black eye-patch that covered his right eye. No one knew how he got it, but the three claw marks that started at his eyebrow gave Max a few hints. There was that old encrypted file that mentioned something about a flerken.

“So what are we working with?” Max questioned as the correct surveillance footage came up. On the screen was a clear box, with what looked like a person sitting in the farthest corner. Long hair covered their face as it was tucked into their knees.

Charles did a motion with his arms. Golden strands danced around and flickered before they disappeared. Horner sighed and rubbed his brows as Charles let out a nervous chuckle.

Lando rolled his eyes before clicking something on his wrist. A pull up hologram flashed from his specialized watch.

There was a picture of a young girl and a list of lettering to the left of it.

Max crossed his arms, eyes hard and cold. Charles let out a little gasp as he quickly gazed the list.

Horner kept quiet.

Lando began to read off of the floating screen. “Her name is Y/n L/n. Twenty-two years old. An orphan. Lived in Brooklyn all her life.”

Max waved his hand in frustration. “We know this. I want to know why she flagged our radars and is currently in the most powerful containment cell we own.”

If he had a desk with papers all over in front of him, the papers would be on the floor in one clean swipe.

Lando sucked in a breath. “She killed 12 people in a freak accident.”

A video started to play.

The girl was surrounded by mass destruction. Smoke and fire filled the air. Bodies littered the floor. Yet, Max’s attention was on the black tendrils coming out of her back. They were a fluid type, moving around through the air like a fish in water. The girl seemed distressed as her hands were trying to stop the things coming out of her back.

The tendrils suddenly stopped and disappeared back from where they came from her back. The girl stopped, looked around, and looked right at the security cameras. A moment later, one large black tendril flew from her hand and cut the video.

Lando sighed when he put the hologram down. “She was found two days later, unconscious. The tendrils came out when the police found her. They seemed like they were trying to protect her. That’s when they called in Charles and I.”

“They were difficult to deal with, but seemed responsive to another protection spell that I was able to use to transport her,” Charles concluded.

Director Horner questioned, “Why was Norris called as well?”

Lando decided to answer for himself, “Well it is my jurisdiction and I’ve dealt with something like this before. Remember Eddie Brock. This symbiote seems to be of familiar decent.”

While the three others kept talk, Max continued to watch the scared girl. At this point a tendril had appeared and was almost trying to comfort you.

“I’m going to go talk to her.”

That shut the three up.

Charles looked at him with a weird gaze. “You don’t know what she can do.”

Max pointed at the screen.

“She’s a little girl who is probably scared to death of who we are and what we might do to her. She’s probably thinking that she’s going to die in the next few days.”

“I’ll go with. I’ve seen this before. I lost my friend because of this thing. I won’t let it take another life,” Lando confessed. A hard look on his face.

“Then it’s settled. Lando lets go.” Max turned to leave, Lando hot on his tail. Charles and Director Horner stayed behind and continued to look at the file.

The elevator took Max and Lando down to the locked floor. Max clicked a few buttons on his watch and used his fingers to wrap the glove around it. The whir of the machine sounded as it warmed up.

“I will give a signal if I think the subject will engage. I need you up in the sky.” Max stepped out of the metal box.

Lando nodded. “On it.”

When the two got to the door, Max swiped a card. The door opened and Lando started to climb the walls. Once at a significant height, Lando stopped and hung on with one foot and one hand. His other hand was ready to shoot a web to swing in.

Max slowly walked over.

In the time that Max and Lando had taken to get down there, the tendril had disappeared. But to Max’s surprise, the girl was looking right at him. Without any fear, Max opened the door, stepped over, closed it, and sat down on the opposite side of her.

“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered, visibly shaking.

Max was taken back.

“Excuse me?”

You looked him dead in the eyes.

“When do you plan to kill me?”

Max looked with sad eyes. What had you gone through for that to be the first question to run through your mind? He shook his head.

“I’m not going to kill you. No one is going to kill you. We have an offer for you actually.”

It was now time for you to look confused.

“There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they could become something more.”

You inhaled. “To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight battles that we could never.”

Max smirked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’ve heard the speech on the news.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“Welcome to the team kid.”

From a small window above, the sunset cast a small sliver of orange light into the room. It illuminated the small space between you and Max, almost acting as a bridge from the past to the new present.

Earth 2113

A grunt left Max’s lips as he threw another knife at the tree. He had been in this cove for a few hours. The stream provided him with much needed fresh water. He was able to take a mock shower, but it only reminded him of the sweet lake that he had back home.

Home.

It felt like a foreign concept.

Weeks had passed since he had last been there. It was supposed to be his last year until he aged out. But really, the odds were never in his favor.

His name was in there 68 times.

Year before, his name had been in there even more times. Not once was his name chosen. But, this year it had been.

How he wished to return back to his own trees, and use an ax instead of the knife he was currently twirling.

A snap of a branch had him shoot up, knife raised ready to throw. His eyes darted around his utopia that might soon become bathed in blood.

As he turned to his right, his eyes met big round ones.

Your small frame was frozen in fear. The rushing sound of water had mocked you long enough. You were so thirsty.

Max watched as you glanced at the river and then back to him. His tense shoulders relaxed once he realized what you were here for.

He slowly brought the knife down, as to not scare you.

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You did not seem convinced, but you seemed less scared.

“Go on.”

That seemed to do the trick as you darted over and started to fill a water bottle first.

Smart, Max thought.

He had seen you a couple times during training. The twelve year old from District 11. Small, witty, scared. Your eyes always seemed to be filled with tears during training. However, you seemed determined for someone who probably knew that they wouldn’t win the games.

“Thank you,” you whispered after you had gotten your fill of the water. In your outstretched hand was an apple. “Got it from the big pile.”

Max stared at it. His stomach said yes, but his head said no. The rational side said it probably wasn’t poisoned, but the back of his mind tried to convince him that it was.

“I have another one. I can eat it first?”

Max nodded at the offer and you took a bite. He waited for a few minutes, waiting for you to keel over. Except it never happened. You ate the entire apple happily. Max liked to wonder if you might have enjoyed an apple in school before all this. Maybe your hair would be put in two pigtails, done by your mother with a kiss on the forehead.

He finally took the apple and his stomach and brain were both happy.

This seemed to be their little thing that happened in the next few days.

Max would wait by the river just before the sun started to set. And you would somehow show up with two shiny apples.

He thinks at this point they might be from sponsors. He had one main sponsor, a man named Christian, who kept supplying him with different small knives and a few things here and there. The two of you would fill your water bottles and eat the apples.

He had gotten you to giggle a couple of times, which lifted his spirits. You taught him which plants were edible, and he taught you how to properly throw a knife. He had given you one of his for safe keeping. But he really hoped that you’d use it if you the time came. Blood on your hands would kill his soul. Yet, he’d rather keep you alive then have you die.

One night, you had fallen asleep on his chest while the two of you watched the late night slide show of who died that day.

Apparently, there were four left including you and him. Your small puffs of air hit his face as he finally closed his eyes. He thought it was funny how you fit perfectly in his arms. His mind wandered to his girl back home in District 8. He wondered if he’d ever have a kid like you that would fit between him and her.

The sound of a boom woke Max up. His arms curled protectively around air. When he noticed, he shot up. Taking no time, he grabbed his bag and knife that was attached to a long stick.

“Kid?” he yelled out, voice straining.

“Kid?” Another shout as he ran.

“Kid?” Shouting, Max jumped over tree stumps and through brush.

He stopped.

“Kid?”

A whisper.

You stood with your back to him. His eyes glanced to what lie in front of you.

A body was faced down. Max sighed in relief. That cannon was not for you.

“Kid, don’t ever do that…again.”

You had finally turned around at the familiar and safe voice.

Max’s heart plummeted at the sight of tears in your eyes, red patch that was slowly growing on your t-shirt, and bloody hands. His backpack and stick dropped to the ground.

A ring vibrated through his ears as he rushed to catch you before you fell to the ground.

“Kid?” Max asked as you looked up at him. Your small hand reached up and touched his face, leaving a bloody trail on his cheek.

“I did it just like you showed me Maxie. Now you can win.”

Max smiled, with tears streaming down his face. The some that fell on you were wiped with his trembling fingers.

“Of course you did.”

Your big eyes stared up at him. “Are you proud of me?”

Such a big question for such a small girl.

“Always,” he whispered back.

“Can you tell me that story? About the big lion and little lion? One more time?”

He let out a wobbly breath.

“Once upon a time, there was a big lion that lived in a forest. He had about 19 other lions, but he was really a loner. The other lions weren’t good friends with the big lion. He felt like he was miles away and no one could touch him.”

He noticed your eyes start to slowly glaze over and he tried to keep going.

“The lion was very lonely and sad, but one day, the world decided to give him a friend: a little lion.”

The cannon boom stopped his story in its tracks. His arms curled around you as he wailed. He wailed and wailed, not caring who could see him.

After a few moments, he gulped down his cries.

“And the lion was finally happy with the cub. He didn’t need any other friends. As long as he had the little one, he’d be ok. And the big lion and little lion left toward the sunset and were friends forever.”

He leaned down to give your little head a farewell kiss.

A few hours later, Max was declared the victor of the 89th Annual Hunger Games. As the helicopter that carried him flew toward the sunset, Max let tears drip down his face freely. He knew his little lion was finally safe.

Always walking toward the sunset, waiting for the big lion to join.

Earth 2230

“Ah Master Charles, glad you could make it,” Lando said snarkily as he sat in his seat.

“Sorry, my padawan had many questions and kept me in the library for too long,” the man confessed as he took his seat next to Lando’s.

“Oscar is the same way. What is with these trainees wanting to spend hours and hours in the library?” Lando’s head was leaned back in mock annoyance.

Master Carlos, who sat across from the curly-haired man smirked. “You were like that once when you were my padawan Lando.”

A scoff escaped Lando’s lips. He turned back to Charles.

“How is Arthur handling everything?”

Charles smirked. “He cried when we had to cut his hair.”

“Well, he will get used to it,” a new voice piped up. The man had curly hair, like Lando’s, but a big gummy smile was plastered on his face.

“Daniel, you don’t understand. He was inconsolable.” Charles’s hands raised in frustration.

“Does anyone know why we were summoned? And where is Max and Master Horner?”

The doors slid open and two figures walked in.

“We’re sorry for out tardiness Master Alonso. We had some trouble in the elevators.” Christian sent Max a knowing look that was returned with an eye roll. Max huffed as he sat down in his chair next to Charles.

Once seated, Christian began to talk.

“Well, I guess you’re wondering why we were all summoned here today.”

A snort came from Lando, who quickly shut up after he received a glare from Carlos. He sank back into his chair.

Christian continued. “Master Vettel and Master Räikkönen think they’ve found the chosen.”

Murmurs began to spread around the room. Annoyed with the added noise, Max was the one who spoke up.

“Silence.”

The room quieted.

Daniel was the one to lean forward. “How do they think they’ve found the chosen? It’s just a prophecy that has been collecting dust for centuries.”

Christian rubbed his face. “All they said was that they felt a disturbance in the force when they visited Naboo for their diplomatic mission. They went to investigate and the force grew stronger the closer they got to the capital center.”

A hologram erupted from the middle. It was a map of the center with an undergrown view as well. A red beacon signaled from deep down. Max’s finger pointed at it.

“Underneath they found an illegal human trafficking ring that dealt with children with force sensitivity. When they got there, most of leaders had been knocked unconscious. In the middle was a girl. They said the force just pulsated off her being.”

Christian picked up from there. “They’re bringing her in in just a few moments. She’s been debriefed about everything and is willing to join the cause.”

Lando looked intrigued. “Who’s going to be her master.”

Max leaned back in his chair. “I am.”

A scoff echoed, but it wasn’t from Lando this time. It was from Master Hamilton. Max tilted his head and cast his gaze on the older Master.

“Have something to say Lewis?”

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t someone more,” he paused, “advanced in their Master roll be given the chosen as their padawan?”

Charles spoke up. “Like you?”

“Yes,” came the answer from the man.

Carlos spoke, “But you just brought on your own padawan. I don’t think poor George would be too keen on losing a Master so close to his choosing.”

“But you shouldn’t give the chosen over to another child.”

Max stood up in anger. “I’ve been through the trials. I am as much of a Master as you are.”

“Enough,” a new voice roared as the doors to the room opened.

They all stood up and sightly bowed their heads.

“Master Vettel. Master Räikkönen.”

Behind the two stood a teenage girl. Robes already adorned her body. Her hair was tied in traditional high braids, and a smaller, thinner one draped over her shoulder, showing her status.

Kimi took his seat in one of the center chairs, but Sebastian stood in the middle with the girl.

“As you all have probably been briefed by Master Horner, this is Y/n.”

You took a step forward and kneeled before the council. Sebastian took a step around you and sat in his seat.

“You may rise.”

You did as you were told and took a minute to briefly glance at the council of masters. Each one of them winced at the force energy that seemed to just radiate off of you. Well, all of them except one. Your eyes met his electric blue ones. He sent you a comforting smile, which you didn’t have time to send one back before Sebastian spoke.

“State your name for the council.”

You inhaled shakily. “My name is Y/n L/n, from Coruscant.”

Charles leaned towards you, elbows on his knees. “But you were brought here from Naboo.”

You winced at the mention of the name. The masters could feel your distress and Max wanted nothing more than to elbow Charles for that insensitive question.

“I was taken, Master, from my home planet and enslaved for the past three years.”

Charles grimaced at your answer and leaned back, staying silent for the rest of the meeting.

Kimi sent you a small smile before he cleared his throat. “We have brought you here to begin your padawan training.”

That must have comforted you since the force wasn’t buzzing as much around you. The masters were now at ease.

Max wanted to talk, since he was going to be your new master, but he was interrupted by what he thought was a grating voice.

“So, are you the chosen one?” Lewis questioned, eyes slitted as he looked at you.

Your ease was now slowly vanishing as you were under the scrutiny of the master. Your gulp was heard through the room. Lando felt bad as he once had been under the same gaze when he was a Padawan. He tried to send you comforting signals through the force.

“I don’t know for sure if I’m the chosen. I’m just thankful to be alive at this point Master. And I don’t enjoy being picked apart before I even know what I am to begin with.” Your voice had risen in annoyance. “Sir.”

Max smirked. He didn’t need to look around, he knew the others were also smirking or trying not to laugh.

Sebastian spoke next. “Y/n, we would like you to pick your master.”

Max wanted to jump and shout that you were already supposed to be his padawan, but Christian’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Your tired eyes looked around the room.

The master with the thick dark hair and tanned skin looked promising, but you could feel that he already had a want for another padawan. He gave off the same energy as the boy with similar hair that you had passed on your way here. His friends called him Rafael.

Across from him, curly hair caught your attention. But you also felt that he already had what he was looking for.

Same as the man with the short goatee and green eyes. You felt a familial energy reach out to someone, probably a brother close by. You wouldn’t want to separate them.

The other curly-haired man showed you a smile that rivaled the sun. Once again, his force energy was already attached, but it seemed he had two. Not rare, but it was weird to feel the force branch like that.

You had already asked Master Vettel and Räikkönen if you could be there padawan, but they had declined.

The dark man in the corner was giving you mixed signals that gave you a headache. His energy was split. The one that was attached was waning at you looked at him, almost as if he was trying to break it. At that moment you decided not to choose him. Because if he wasn’t 100 percent sure with his chosen, how could he be sure with you.

Your gaze finally landed on the blue eyed man that had sent you a smile. His force energy felt like it was vibrating at the same frequency as yours. Which helped it melt into a smooth rhythm.

When it had stilled, you heart, mind, and force had chosen.

Max felt it the moment your signature became still for the first time since you stepped foot into the room.

The other masters, except one, smiled at you. They all stood and left one by one until it was just you and your chosen in the room.

He stood up and walked toward you.

Your head bent in a quick bow. “Master.”

“You can call me Max.”

Your brows furrowed. “Is that allowed?”

Max only smirked. “Who cares. I’m your master now. My rules are your rules.”

You flashed him a smile. “Ok…Max.”

A grin crept onto his face. “You ready to save the galaxy kid?”

With a nod, you two shook hands.

The sunset filled the room as your silhouette became black shapes. Nothing would be better than the orange and pink casts from your home planet as you started your new life as “The Chosen” or better as “Master Verstappen’s Kid.”

Master and Padawan Pairings: Max and Y/n Charles and Arthur Carlos and Rafael (FAD) Lando and Oscar Daniel and Liam with Yuki Lewis and George Not mentioned – Alex and Logan Former Christian and Max Former Toto and Lewis Former Jules and Charles Former Carlos and Lando

Earth 934

1991

Your eyes glanced around the big train as you tried to find an open seat. Your hands clutched your bag as you kept walking further and further toward the back. You sighed in relief as you finally noticed a room with no one in it. You softly opened the door and slid in. Both seats were empty.

Taking a minute to breathe, you stared out at the vast country side that the train passed through. You almost fell asleep, but the sudden open and close of the car door made you jump. Your head turned toward the intruder.

A boy, possibly older than you since he already had his robes, was leaning against the now closed door. He took a deep breath before his blue eyes landed on you.

“Hi,” you said, not wanting the air to be filled with awkward silence. The boy did not reply, but he did go over and sat on the opposite bench of yours. Your folded your arms. He dared to interrupt your quiet and not respond.

You opened your mouth to speak once again, but he beat you to it.

“My name is Max. Sorry for interrupting whatever you had going on.”

Your mouth closed at his confession.

“What do they call you kid?”

“I’m not a kid. I’m twelve years old.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Which makes you a kid. You’re two years younger than I am.”

“That makes you fourteen. And by technicalities, you would be a kid as well.” You huffed, not enjoying the teasing from the older boy.

Max pouted. “Just tell me your name.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“It’s L/n. Y/n L/n.” A smirk crept on your face and Max’s mouth dropped open. He leaned forward, almost as if to tell you a secret.

He whispered. “Do you have, the, you know?”

Your small hand came up and brushed your little bangs away. There, on your forehead was a lightning bolt shaped scar. It wasn’t like a cartoon shape as it had little bolts that stretched out across and down, but stopping at your eyebrow.

“Wow,” Max managed to breathe out. “What house do you reckon you’ll get?”

You shrugged. “Well, my parents died and I was adopted by a muggle couple and they were awful. So I really don’t know what the houses actually stand for.”

Max looked angry for a moment. “Well, that’s bloody terrible for you have to gone through that. I hope that you’ll get into my house.” He pulled on his green and silver tie. “One of my friends, his name is Lando, is also in Slytherin. But then you have my best friend Daniel in Hufflepuff, Charles is in Gryffindor with his brother Arthur. You’d have to watch out for Lewis though in Ravenclaw, he’s a bit extreme.”

You took a moment to absorb all of his words.

“I think I’d like to stay with you or one of your friends.”

The 14-year-old was elated at the statement. “We’ll see what happens.”

1997

Your mind often went back to that conversation years ago. It was maybe the last time you ever felt safe anywhere. Hogwarts was supposed to be your home, yet here it lay destroyed.

That fateful night you had not been chosen to be a part of the Slytherin house, but thankfully you were placed in Gryffindor with Arthur and Charles. They took care of you like a family should have. Max also stayed super close to the three of you. Whether it was going to Honey dukes, playing quidditch, or even making potions in Headmaster Horner’s class, the four of you were together.

Your wand twirled in your hand as you sat on some broken steps. The once beautiful ceiling had giant holes in it that made way for the night sky. Tears streamed down your face as you pondered your next step.

It had gone downhill so quickly.

Lewis, as it turns out, had given your location away to Toto, who had wanted you dead since you were just a baby. He was the one to kill your parents and “bless” you with the mark on your head. The betrayal had sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

Many people had been killed because of you.

Charles and Arthur’s brother Jules had been hit by a stray spell. Their screams and wails were now permanently engraved in your brain.

Max’s girlfriend Kelly, a nice Hufflepuff, had been attacked by a rogue werewolf. She was still alive, but barely.

Your two Ravenclaw friends, Alex and Logan, were found under some rubble, hands clenched together as to share pain before death. You remembered how Oscar, another Ravenclaw who hung out with you and Lando, sobbed into the latter’s shoulder for hours after he found his blond best friend.

Your friends had died to protect you and you had done nothing.

At this thought, your mind was made up.

Toto wanted one thing, and one thing only: for you to die. For the umpteenth time your mind wandered to his ultimatum that he had given you earlier that evening.

“Y/n L/n. I know that you know that you are trapped now with nowhere to go. Come to the forbidden forest tonight and I will cease all fighting on my end. The rest of your friends won’t have to die due to your insubordination and fear. When you come, be prepared to die.”

His snake-like voice had been broadcast through the minds of everyone. Before he had even finished, you took your leave, not wanting to watch as another family wept over a dead brother or sister.

With shaky legs, you stood up and brushed your skirt. Your face showed your determination as you began to walk down the steps. But as your foot hit the actual floor, a body rammed into yours.

“Kid!” A voice from farther away yelled, accompanied by quick footsteps.

A quick glance at the hair that was attached to the body now in your arms let you know it was Arthur. Over the top of his head, you noticed Max and Charles running toward you.

They were quick to also put their arms around you.

Max maneuvered your face so that you were looking him in the eyes.

“Kid, we have to go now before he decides to attack again. Arthur and Charles know a way out. Let’s go.”

He thought that you had agreed as he turned around to leave. Charles followed him, and Arthur tugged on your hand, as if to lead you away.

Yet, you stayed put and Arthur’s hand slipped from yours.

“Y/n?” he asked, looking back with tears in his eyes. You gave him a crooked smile as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over.

You tilted your head in the opposite direction. That’s when it hit the three men. You had already made up your mind.

“No, no, no, no. You can’t,” Max choked out the last word.

“I have to Max. I won’t let another one of our friends die because of me. I can’t risk Daniel leaving you or have Lando taken from Oscar right after Logan.” You looked at the two brothers. “I can’t let you two lose each other. I won’t let that happen to your mom.”

Charles looked at your with sympathy swarming his green eyes. He slowly walked toward you and gave you a hug. While you were in his arms, his lips met your forehead. You knew that was going to be his goodbye.

Arthur was next. He pleaded as he curled his arms around you. “Let me go with you. Let me walk with you. I swear I’ll leave before...before...”

Your hand was slowly placed on his cheek as you shook your head. Another sob escaped his lips and a new tidal wave of tears left his and your eyes. “I can’t risk you. Please, stay with Charles.”

Arthur begrudgingly nodded, but not before placing a light kiss on your lips. A small smile graced your face as you tried to kiss back through the tears. When the two of you parted, he looked down at you, a sad smile now replacing his frown.

“Please try to come back to me.” With that, he turned around and left. Charles gave Max a knowing look before he took after his brother.

It was just you and your oldest friend.

Max came over and put his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t give you a hug, or a long speech, or a kiss on the forehead like he usually did when he had to leave you at the train station before every summer. He just looked at you before his eyes glanced at your wand. You thrust it in his hands.

“Take care of them for me?”

“Always.”

“Tell Lando that he can have whatever is in my house. I know he was looking at my Nimbus RB20 the other day.”

“Always.”

“And Max?”

A hum answered as Max couldn’t find the strength to speak.

“Watch the sunsets for me?”

“Always.”

Finally, you rushed into a hug. Max’s arms couldn’t get any tighter around your form. With one last squeeze, you broke the hug and turned away, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer. Your walk to the forest was quick, as you wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

There, suddenly in front of you in all his ugly glory, was Toto. Lewis was to his side, looking rather ashen probably with fear. Even though he betrayed you, you tried to send a comforting smile his way.

“Are you ready to die?” The snake-like voice hissed.

“Yes.”

There was a moment between the yell of “Avada-Kadavra” and when the spell hit you. There, you knew peace. Your body hit the forest floor with a thud.

Arthur, who was still back at the castle suddenly inhaled sharply. Charles, scared for his younger brother’s sanity, knelt next to him.

“What is it?”

Max, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel all crowded around the younger boy.

He could only whisper.

“She’s gone.”

There was no time for mourning as someone screamed out in the courtyard. The group of boys rushed out and what they saw made them stop in their tracks. Headmaster Horner, who had been taken a few days ago, now carried your limp body for all to see.

“Y/n L/n is dead!”

“No!” your friend Lily screamed, but was quickly held back by Oscar.

“Silence. Foolish girl,” Toto hissed.

Arthur turned and put his head on Charles’s shoulder and wept, not caring anymore.

“She’s not dead.” Everyone’s heads turned to Max, who had his wand pointed at the dark wizard. “She’s alive,” he gulped, “in all of us. She wouldn’t want us to give up. She’d want us to continue, even when everything seems dark. And I won’t let her die in vain.”

Toto cocked his head. “Well then, you’ll die along with her.” He pointed his wand at the blue eyed boy, except a large explosion knocked him down. Your rolled out of Christian’s arms and ran toward Max, all while shooting a spell at the downed wizard.

The students and teachers all ran in different directions. The battle was back on.

Instead of running away, Max ran to you. He met you halfway and held you at a distance.

“You came back Kid.”

“Always.”

Earth 7521

“When will he get back?”

Logan stopped his machete in the air. You and he had been out in the sun for a couple of hours, trying to carve poles for the new housing system.

“He’ll get back before the sun goes down.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Your gaze was cast at the big wall with the giant gap in the middle. What went beyond was your guess as you hadn’t been there, and technically you weren’t allowed to go. You’d chosen to be a woodworker, not a runner.

Logan sighed. He had sworn that he’d take care of the new greenie, but this isn’t exactly what he signed up for.

“Max always gets back right at the gate closes. Has done every day since I got here. He comes in with Alex and they’ll go to the map room.” He really tried to ease your conscience. You had all but attached yourself to the boy since you got here. He couldn’t blame you since Max was really the first one that you saw. He was the same with Alex, as was Oscar with Lando and Max with Daniel.

Your brows furrowed. “But Alex just got back and Max isn’t with him.”

Logan dropped his machete and it thumped in the grass. His head jerked over to where you were looking. There, the Thai runner had just crossed the threshold of the giant gate, but the Dutch runner was nowhere to be found.

“Stay here,” he demanded, but really didn’t expect you to obey. Anything that had to do with Max, you would find out one way or another. A large groan came from the giant wall, signaling that it was about to close.

Logan hastened his pace and heard your footsteps try to keep up with him. As he got near, Lewis and Lando both crowded around Alex. The blond picked up on their conversation.

“Where’s Max?” Lando questioned as his eyes kept flickering between the hunched over runner and the wall.

Alex sucked in a breath. “We got separated. A griever was out in the open.”

Multiple gasps came from others as a crowd had formed.

Lewis’s eyes widened. “But grievers don’t come out in daylight.”

Alex had a sullen look. “I know.”

Lando cast another glance at the metal gate that let out another groan and a shake. This time, the doors were slowly closing.

“So we’re just going to leave Max in there?” Lando gestured.

Lewis looked down at the ground and nodded. A silence went over the group as they were now preparing to mourn the loss of one of their family.

Logan’s heart sunk. You must have been devasted. He turned around to where you were supposedly.

“I’m so s-…Y/n?” His head whipped around trying to find you. His heart sunk even further as his eyes finally found you, right in front of the closing doors. “Y/N!”

Now you had everyone’s attention.

“Greenie!” Lewis yelled.

You simply turned your head and looked at the leader. “I got to go save Max.” It was as if you were explaining a simple toy to a toddler, like it was a matter of fact.

“Max is gone Kid. We can’t lose you too,” Lando tried to negotiate and distract you as the doors got closer and closer together.

The doors were so close to closing and Lando thought he was successful. Well, until you bolted and squeezed through the slit. Multiple boys called out for you but it was too late, the doors closed. Logan ran to the metal wall and hit his fist on it multiple times.

On the other side for you, it was silent. An eerie type and not comforting. You tried not to get distracted at the maze-like sequence of walls that stood before you.

Right. You needed to find Max, and fast.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you silently ran and didn’t call out Max’s name. It felt like hours before you finally found him. Your eyes watched as his tried to curl up more, to make himself smaller.

“Maxie?” you whispered.

His head shot up, eyes wide as you walked closer to him.

“Kid? What the hell are you doing here?” he whisper yelled back. You took a seat next to him.

“I couldn’t leave you out here alone.”

Max let out a sigh. “Well, now we’ll both be dead by morning.”

You looked down at his bloodied leg. “What happened?”

“Alex and I were mapping like always when a griever jumped out. They’re not supposed to be out in the daylight, but they were. I ran right and Alex went left. I thought I got away but I tripped. I think my ankle is sprained or broken. Couldn’t make it back to camp.”

You absorbed the information before you stood up and took a vine down from the wall. The middle was stiff like a branch and the smaller vines attached to the leaves were bendable. You quickly made work of Max’s ankle and tied the stiff vines to his leg.

“This should give you enough support so we can get back.”

Max looked at you with wide eyes. “You’re good at this. Why didn’t you become a medjack?”

You giggled as you helped him to his feet. “I couldn’t stand the tension between Nico and Lewis anymore and Logan seemed inviting enough.”

That got a little laugh out of Max.

The two of you made your way to the gate where you camped out all night.

“Thank you kid. I’d be dead without you,” Max mentioned when the doors opened the next morning.

“I know. Look Max, the sunrise!”

“Thanks kid. You know they’re my favorite.”

Two years later

Those days in the Glade were much better than what you’d been through in the past two years. From running through the desert and being chased by zombie people to now sneaking into the giant headquarters to find some type of cure.

Your eyes were now on Max as his head swayed back and forth. He didn’t look good as his face was drenched with sweat.

It had been about a week since he told you that he had been infected. You had cried and cried, promising to find a cure. But that promise seemed to be so far away as you were nowhere closer to finding it.

“Hold on Maxie,” you whispered as you tried to keep him upright. His head was now perched on your shoulder as you continuously looked up in the sky, looking for the rescue helicopter. Charles had disappeared once someone told him that his blood was the cure. He had promised to be back quickly, and that was an hour ago.

Max didn’t have much time left.

A thumping in the air caught your attention as you gently placed him back against a wall. Black goup now started to run out of his mouth. You gently wiped it away before placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Here they come Maxie. Just a few minutes more.” You stood up and turned to try to wave the helicopter in your direction. Your smile grew as it now began to get closer and closer.

“Max we’re going to be…ok.” As you now faced Max, confusion and fear glossed over your figure as he now stood a few feet away from you. His body twitched as his head swayed back and forth.

“Max?”

Your voice seemed to snap Max out of whatever trance he was in as he sudden rushed toward you and knocked you down. You thought this was it as Max’s hands harshly roamed and grabbed at your body. His hands stopped as he found your gun.

He was quick to cock it and bring it to his head. Your hands were quicker and you knocked it out of his hands and it slid across the floor. Max growled down at you and jumped to go get it, but your hands yanked him back. You grabbed the gun and pointed it at your friend.

Your heart broke as you looked at his sickly nature. His eyes cleared to that pretty blue that once always covered his eyes with kindness swarming in the storm. But now, he looked at you with a pleading nature.

“Please, Kid. Please,” he begged, but you couldn’t pull the trigger.

The clearness was quickly wiped away as you finally lost your friend. He managed to get up and sling the gun out of your head. Somehow, he had gotten a knife from his pack on his body and he came swinging. The two of you fought for a moment, before Max suddenly went still.

Oh.

Why did he stop?

Max stumbled back and you finally saw.

Oh.

Your lips quivered as you tried to slow his fall to the ground. You gently laid his head on a rock. He wheezed as he looked up at you. The helicopter wind picked up and your hair started to dance around your face.

Max closed his eyes and his chest rose, fell, and froze.

Your scream was silenced by multiple yells and the deafening sound of the chopper that had finally come. Hands grabbed your arms and ripped you away from your friend. You tried to fight and claw your way back, but the team was too strong.

They sat you down in a seat and allowed you to just cry.

Your eyes caught glimpses of orange and yellow out the open door of the flying machine.

Max would have loved the sunrise.

Earth 1217

“Y/n!” The yell of your team principal caught you attention.

“Yeah?” You set down your race notebook and walked down the office hall. Yes, you hated office days, but at Red Bull you wanted to go over everything that involved you. Call it a bit of a prima-donna attitude, but you weren’t a five time champion or Red Bull’s golden girl for nothing.

“I wanted to take you out to the track. The new recruit is doing his testing laps for next season,” the older Brit mentioned as you joined him in walking down the hallway.

You turned your head. “I though Daniel was up for Checo’s seat?”

Christian sighed and looked down as the two of you walked passed the trophy shelves. Most of them were from you.

“Daniel said he didn’t feel comfortable enough to handle our car. Maybe in a few years after he gets back in the groove in the Alpha Tauri, but not now.”

You snorted. “Guessing Charles is as comfortable as ever being the Prince of Mercedes?”

“Ah yes, your childhood friend-slash-rival did ask me to send his kind regards and told you to watch out for any puddles.” Your eyes rolled at the last statement.

“All right, talk to me. Who else did we ask before you texted me that only said ‘I found him’.”

Christian sighed as he backed his car out. The two of you had gotten to the parking lot in no time and were now headed to the track.

“Well, Lando just renewed his contract with Ferrari, same as Oscar. Lewis, well, he never responded and McLaren never got back to us. Most of them aren’t really looking to be second to you.”

“They’re just mad they’ve been dominated by a woman for five years straight and will be for another three. Maybe after that, someone can be number one.”

The car jerked as he parked it. You stepped out, tennis shoe hitting the ground. They really went well with what you normally wore: skinny jeans, a Red Bull Polo, and your number 1 hat.

The roar of the RB18 caught your attention as your eyes watched it zoom by. A bright yellow helmet caught your attention, but it went around the corner too quickly for you to watch.

Once at the mock garage, you met up with Mitch and junior race engineer GP. Apparently the new recruit had wanted to keep his engineer with him through everything. Which you understood as you brought Mitch over with you after your McLaren days.

“So is this Sargeant? His second place in the championship looked promising, but he was a bit slow,” you mentioned as your sunglasses covered eyes looked around. An angry looking man stood in the corner, bit headphones on his ears.

"No. It's not Sargeant. His name is Max Verstappen. He jumped from F3."

Your eyes narrowed at the big angry man who seemed like he wanted to take a fork to a mechanic. You leaned over to Christian. “My abusive-parent radar is going off. I want him out of the garage.”

Christian once again sighed. “I can’t throw our new driver’s father out of the garage on a hunch.”

You took a sip of your Red Bull. “You did it with my parents.”

“Y/n, they hit you in front of me. I had proof. Just wait a bit and we’ll watch him.”

You huffed. “Fine, but he doesn’t come to any debriefs or meetings.”

“Perfect.” He clapped his hands and your attention was now placed back at the newbie’s times. He was driving just a bit slower than you, but they were marginal tenths and hundredths behind.

Mitch, being the senior engineer, clicked a button. “All right Verstappen, bring it back in.”

“Got it. Thank you!”

You hummed. “Polite kid.”

Your RB18 pulled up and a scraggly kid jumped out of the car. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his dad got off his ass and started to come over. Not wanting anything to happen, you made your way to the boy, cutting him off.

He had just taken his helmet and balaclava off when you reached him. Christian came up and joined you. The boy finally noticed you and looked at you with a gaze of amazement.

“Max right?” you questioned and held out a hand to the Dutch kid.

He nodded, still trying to take in the sight of his role model right in front of him. That’s when he noticed that you were still waiting for him to take your hand. He yanked off a glove and shook your outstretched hand.

“Max Verstappen.”

“How old are you?” You took another sip of your Red Bull and offered Max one as well, who took it quickly.

“I’m nineteen, but I’m turning 20 at the end of September.”

You had a fond smile on your face. You knew what it was like to be thrust into this life at a young age. Hell, Christian took a chance on you when you were just seventeen.

“Who’s your favorite driver?” Mitch questioned, standing behind you. You knew she was teasing the boy as his face got red really quick.

He mumbled, “You.”

You had a shit-eating grin on your face as you look down at the boy. You went to say something else, but he beat you to it. You had a feeling that he might do it more often, but you didn’t mind.

“I, uh, just wanted to say that I’m perfectly fine with being number two driver. I know you’re on a mission to make it to 8 championships. And I’d like to help you do it.”

Your heart may have melted at the confession.

“Well, once I get my 8 championships, let me tell you what. We here at Red Bull like to be record breakers, so I’ll help you make it 9. Sound like a good deal?”

Max’s face lit up at the semi-promise of not just one championship, but nine!

“Sounds good.” A giggle left his lips.

The sun was setting as you were all called for a brief meeting so that Max could sign the contract. Orange and yellows blended in together and bathed the two of you in its glory.

“Ok then, welcome to the team kid!”

Earth 1218 – Present Earth

TikTok had become your addiction when you had spare minutes in your busy life. Videos passed by so quickly, you sometimes didn’t even register what it said. Thankfully though, you managed to not accidentally like anything that could harm your career before it barely got started.

One trend seemed to be very popular at this time. Your fingers would swipe through the photos of various TV and movie characters. The pictures on each slide had the same captions. One being “Do you think we’re together in every universe?” and the other “I sure hope so.”

You’d already asked Arthur and he just rolled his eyes.

“Of course we would be. I think you’re stuck with me wherever you are,” he had told you.

Yet, there was one driver who you really needed to ask. You had already seen versions of this made for multiple driver pairs. The ones of Charles and Max, Oscar and Logan, and Lando and Daniel always made you cry. You couldn’t help it.

But, the ones of you and Max always made your heart happy. You knew that you weren’t the easiest to take care of and you came with baggage. However, Max never made you feel bad about it: he did the opposite. Many times, he made you forget all the bad things in your life by just being there.

You sent him one of the generic ones from someone’s random account.

Little Racer

https.www.tiktok./KID89.192&MAX0133/ Do you think we’re together in every universe?

It took him a few minutes to respond since he was often busier than you were. The season was coming to an end, and his fourth championship was in his grasp.

Big Racer

I’m sure of it kid. Can’t get rid of me that easily.

Little Racer

And you still probably type like a grandpa in every one too! :P

You laughed out loud when three middle finger emojis followed your text. Where you were sitting in the living room of your Monegasque apartment, the sunset caught your eye. You smiled as the rays nearly blinded you, but you were fine. The warmth spread across your cheeks as the rays kissed your face with softness.

You didn’t know what other versions there were of you. You honestly didn’t care. Because as long as you had Max, you’d be just fine.

Across every earth, galaxy, and universe you’d find yourself dreaming of a life you didn’t live, but could only imagine how good everything would be in the end.

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