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covenofagatha · 1 month ago

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Birthday Girl

On your 21st birthday, your friends drag you to a bar to get wasted when you decide it's a good idea to drunk-call Professor Agatha Harkness.

Word count: 3400+

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, intoxication, mentions of underage drinking, teacher x student (legal)

“One, two, three!” Wanda chants and you and your friends tap your shot glasses on the bar counter and quickly down them.

You gasp at the burn and they laugh at you. It’s your 21st birthday and your best friends Wanda, Rio, and Natasha had dragged you out to the closest bar to get you wasted. They had all already turned 21 the year before; you were the baby in the group.

“Fuck, that’s disgusting,” you groan.

“Another round, please!” Rio motions to the bartender. He sets down four more tequila shots and one is shoved into your hand.

“Think you can get to 21?” Wanda jokes and the thought of 20 more shots makes you want to gag.

“I might puke after this one,” you say and your friends laugh. You were never a partier in high school or college, always preferring to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. You’d only had some sips of alcohol a few times, but you had never been drunk.

“You deserve this!” Nat shouts in your ear. “Harkness has been working you to the bone!”

You shrug and wave your hand dismissively, suddenly uncomfortable. Agatha Harkness is your History of Witchcraft professor at Westview University. She’s known around campus for being cold to everyone and rarely giving out A’s. She expected nothing short of excellence and would not put up with excuses. Everyone was terrified of her.

Everyone except for you.

Something about the older woman captivated you. You were obsessed with meeting her standards, dreaming of the day she would look at you with pride. You poured over your books for her class, rereading every sentence you wrote thrice, just to try to impress her. It had taken your friends days of begging to convince you to come celebrate your birthday with them because you had a paper for Agatha’s class due in a week and you were already worried about it.

“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” Wanda says. “I had her last semester and got a C in the class. Third highest grade. She’s the worst.”

“She’s not that bad,” you defend, not quite sure why. Something about Agatha getting so much hate for pushing her students rubs you the wrong way.

“Yeah she is,” Rio joins in. “I heard that she’s a real witch.”

You roll your eyes. “Can we please stop talking about her? I thought you guys brought me here to get away from school.” You take the shot that’s still in your hand and it goes down smoother this time.

“Yes, there we go!” Rio whoops.

Two more shots later and your head has gone completely fuzzy. You feel as if you are floating on air and everything around you is happening in slow motion. You get off your stool and immediately stumble, Wanda catching you with her arms.

“I think I’m a little drunk,” you tell her. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.

“No shit, y/n, you don’t have to yell!”

You didn’t even realize you had. “We should probably go back to the dorms!” You look around to see Nat chatting with some girl and Rio throwing darts at the board in the corner.

“Not yet,” Wanda says, picking up her rum and coke. You’re not sure how she’s still drinking after she also did four tequila shots. “I’ll get you some water.” She signals to the bartender and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your vision to go back to normal.

When you open them, you see dark hair in the corner. Is that–? You shift so you can get a better look and feel sorely disappointed when you realize the person is not Agatha. Why are you disappointed? The thought echoes in your head for a second, and then is replaced by a sudden urge to see your professor.

“Drink this,” Wanda orders, pressing a glass of ice water into your hand, but you’re too busy scrolling through your phone. You know she put her number on the syllabus somewhere and you are too far gone to think that this might be a bad idea.

You feel a thrill run through you when you find it. You read the number over and over, like you’re afraid it’s going to change somehow.

“I’ll be back,” you slur to Wanda and then step out the side door into the alley. You type the number into your phone and your finger hesitates over the call button. You know you shouldn’t. But fuck it. You press the button and lift the phone to your ear.

It rings. And then rings again. You’re about to hang up to spare yourself the rejection when the call connects.

“Hello?” It’s actually her.

Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up straighter. “Professor Harkness?”

“Y/n? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” Shit, this was a bad idea. Even with your head still swimming, you know that. You can’t just hang up though.

“Why are you calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night?”

“Um,” you say, trying to think of something. You’re definitely going to have to drop her class after this. You’ll never be able to face her ever again. “It’s my birthday?” You offer lamely.

Agatha scoffs. “Happy birthday. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, Professor, I just wanted – we’re at a bar – I thought you were – and just wanted to say hi,” you ramble, knowing you’re not making any sense, and you can almost hear her smirk through the phone.

“Y/n, are you drunk right now?” Her voice perks up and it sounds like she’s finally interested.

“No!” you protest. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m 21 now!”

“What bar are you at?”

“Jimmy’s.” It’s a local dive bar that is a popular place for Westview students to hang out at.

“I’ll be there in ten. Wait out front.” There’s a click and then she’s gone. You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Is Agatha coming to pick you up? Why?

You walk back into the bar and order a Dirty Shirley. The call had sobered you up a bit and if you had already drunk-called your professor, why not get even more hammered. Wanda comes back over to you and giggles when she sees the new drink in your hand.

“Alright, time to party!” she exclaims. You pick up on the fact that she’s a little drunk as well. You stand up, vision blurring for a second.

“I actually called an uber,” you lie, even through your hazy mind knowing that your professor coming to pick you up might sound strange to them.

Wanda pouts and then throws her arms around you. “Happy birthday,” she says into your ear and your arms tighten around her.

“Thank you,” you breathe back. You’re close with Rio and Nat as well, but they don’t have the same bond you and Wanda do. You pull back and then go say goodbye to your other friends.

The wind outside does very little to sober you up and you shiver from the coldness. You’re wearing a purple crop-top and a black mini-skirt, something Nat had found buried deep in your closet. You watch the time on your phone, heartbeat picking up as it gets closer to ten minutes since Agatha had hung up on you.

And then right on the dot, a slick black Range Rover pulls into the parking lot, and you immediately know it’s her. The car stops right in front of you, the passenger window rolling down, and your breath catches.

It’s Professor Harkness, clad in a maroon suit, wavy hair falling over her shoulders.

“Do you need me to open the door for you, too, princess?” Agatha says, sarcasm dripping over the words, when you haven’t moved. You shake your head, partly to answer and partly to clear the fog. You settle into the seat, not missing the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your skimpily clothed body.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” you mutter, putting real effort into not slurring your words.

She glances at you and sees you struggling with your seatbelt. She reaches over and you freeze at her close proximity. Her breath is hot against your cheek and her fingers brush your stomach as she takes the seat belt from your hand and buckles it for you. “Thought I would spare the other people you drunk-called,” she says.

Embarrassment runs through you. “You were the only one,” you say meekly, picking at a scab on your hand. You dare to peek at her, only to find her smirking, one eyebrow quirked.

“Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have called.” This time, it’s harder to keep your words from running together. “We were talking about you and then I thought I saw you and I just wanted to see you.” You need to stop talking, now.

Agatha hums. “Did you, now?” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears as she shifts the car into drive and you watch her fingers.

“You’re really hot,” you blurt out and then clamp a hand over your mouth. Fuck.

Instead of pulling over and making you get out, like you thought she would, Agatha simply reaches over and pats your leg. “And you’re really drunk, sweetheart.”

The pet name makes you swoon inwardly. “Not that drunk,” you say unconvincingly. “I only had one…two…” You trail off, attempting to count the number of drinks on your fingers. Agatha stifles a chuckle.

“Is this your first time drinking?” She asks, amused.

“No, but it is my first time drinking this much,” you admit. “My friends dragged me out since it’s my birthday. I was going to work on the essay for your class.”

“You were going to spend your 21st birthday doing school work?”

“Your essay’s due in a week. I wanted to make sure I-it was good enough for you.”

She notices your slip of tongue and her smirk sends heat down low in your stomach. “You’re always good for me. Your essays are some of the best I’ve ever read.”

Your heart skips a beat and your face flushes. “I have a B in your class.”

“You have an 88 in my class. That’s the highest I’ve had in years. Can’t make it too easy,” she says with a wink.

“You could make it just a little easier,” you grumble, the alcohol clearly getting rid of any inhibitions.

“You keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart, and it’ll go up, I promise. I’m very impressed with the work you’ve been turning in.”

A hot flash runs through you. “Just wanna be your good girl.” And if it wasn’t clear how you feel about her now, it sure is. But she doesn’t look disgusted or creeped out, only intrigued.

She finally stops the car and you peer out the window, expecting to see your dorm. You haven’t been paying attention to where she’s been driving at all, and you’re quite surprised to see you’ve arrived at a two-story house in a cute, suburban neighborhood.

“This isn’t where I live,” you say dumbly.

“No, it’s not,” she agrees, getting out of the car and walking over to help you. You stumble up the steps to the front door, Agatha’s tight grip on your shoulder keeping you upright. You can feel her fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

She unlocks the front door just as a wave of nausea hits you. “Oh, god,” you say weakly, holding a hand in front of your mouth. Agatha doesn’t even seem phased; she leads you to a bathroom in the hall and leaves, only to re-enter with a glass of water moments later. You gulp it down and feel better.

“You okay?” she asks softly, stroking your cheek, eyes tracing up and down your face. You’ve never seen this side of her and you really like it.

“I think so. Thank you again,” you murmur and you realize that you’ve been staring at her mouth.

“Anything for my favorite student.”

And then, because you’re apparently determined to fuck everything up even more, you lean in and press your lips to hers. Agatha stands still for a second before you pull back, horrified with yourself.

“Professor, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

She draws you back in for a longer kiss this time, tongue licking into your mouth. You let out a long moan and she breaks away.

“You’re drunk,” she tells you again.

You clasp the lapels of her blazer. “I know. But I want you.”

She softly pries your fingers off her suit and smiles. “You need to sleep. And then we can talk about this in the morning.”

You pout and she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down. You suck her finger into your mouth, delighting in the way her eyes darken. She steps back.

“Let’s go. You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll find you some pajamas and toiletries.” Her hand on the small of your back guides you up the stairs and to the room on the right. The guest room is simple but cozy and you immediately go to the bed and flop onto it. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” Agatha warns and then leaves the room.

She comes back in a few minutes, an old shirt and sweatpants in one hand and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the other. She pats your legs in an effort to get you up but you can barely move, suddenly weighed down by all the drinks.

“Come on, hon,” Agatha says and helps you stand up. You don’t move as she works to take your shirt and skirt off, your cheeks and upper chest flushing red. You try to cover yourself and she smirks.

“M’sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying the view.” You stare at her longingly, silently begging her to fuck you right there and then, but she helps you step into the sweatpants and pull the shirt over your head. She watches you brush your teeth and moves the covers so you can get into bed. “Do you need anything else?”

Your hand grabs hers. “Just you,” you try again hopefully, but she chuckles and wrenches free of your grip.

“Good night, birthday girl,” she whispers and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. And then she turns off the lights and leaves the room.

You fall asleep immediately.

***

Sunlight streams through the blinds, waking you up. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and then the events of last night come back to you.

The bar. Four shots of tequila and half a Dirty Shirley. Calling Agatha and her coming to pick you up and taking you to her house. Kissing her in the downstairs bathroom. Shit.

You groan, head pounding. You see a container of Advil and a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. You take two Advil and drain the glass, heart warming at the thought of Agatha taking such good care of you.

And then you remember that your relationship with her will forever be complicated by your actions.

You solemnly brush your teeth and pull back on the clothes you wore to the bar last night, neatly folding Agatha’s pajamas and placing them on the bed. You hope she hasn’t woken up yet so you can sneak out without her having to tell you how inappropriate you behaved last night.

No such luck. The second you get downstairs, Agatha perks up from where she’s typing on her laptop on the couch.

“Good morning, darling,” she purrs, shutting her computer. You gulp, taking her outfit in. She’s wearing a robe that ends mid-thigh and the neckline drops low.

“Hey,” you say casually, trying to hide how much you’re internally freaking out.

“Do you want something for breakfast? I can cook you something.” She stands up and walks to the kitchen and you follow like a lost puppy. You involuntarily lick your lips at the way her hips are swaying.

“What are my options?” Your voice is raspy, still feeling hungover. She glances back at you and her eyes dart up and down your body.

“I can make eggs. Bacon. I think I have pancake mix in the pantry. What would you like?”

You’re a little confused that she hasn’t scolded you yet. And then you remember something else. She kissed you.

You swallow hard. Whatever else you may have done last night that you can’t remember, she doesn’t hate you for it. She might even want you back.

“Are you on the menu?” It comes out before you can even realize what you’re saying.

Agatha freezes and turns around. You shift your weight nervously, but then you see her pupils blown out. Her eyes are so dark you can barely see any blue. “What?” She asks carefully.

“You kissed me last night,” you say, a little breathless. You have absolutely no idea where this confidence is coming from. “You wouldn’t do anything else cause I was drunk. But I’m not drunk now.”

She steps toward you and roughly grasps your hair. She tilts your head back, exposing your neck just a tad. “No, you’re not.” She regards you for a second. “You know you’re not going to get extra credit for trying to sleep with your professor.”

You laugh. “That’s not why I’m doing this.”

She smirks. “Good.” And then she licks a hot stripe up your neck and bites down, sucking a mark on your skin. You gasp loudly and tangle your hands into her hair.

“Professor,” you moan and you drag her into a filthy kiss. She backs you up until your thighs hit the table so she lifts you up onto it. Your legs wrap around her to pull her closer. Agatha pushes up your crop-top and kneads your breast, thumb stroking your nipple, never once breaking your kiss.

Her hand creeps under your skirt and cups your mound over your underwear. Your hips jump on their own at the stimulation.

“Please,” you beg. Her lips curl into a smile.

“What do you want?” Her fingers have pushed your underwear to the side and have started lazily stroking through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“You,” is all you can say before she sinks a finger into your hole.

“Like this?” She asks innocently, thrusting hard.

“Yes,” you pant, quickly untying her robe so you can touch her. She’s completely naked underneath and you lean down so you can take a nipple into your mouth.

“That’s perfect, baby,” she sighs, setting a relentless pace with her fingers after she slips another one in you. “Is this what you hoped would happen when you called me last night?”

“I’ve been hoping for this since the first day of the semester,” you answer, and she falters for a second, thrown off by your honesty.

She pulls out of you and panic runs through you, terrified that you said the wrong thing. But she just pushes you down so your back is resting on the table and she pulls out one of the chairs from the table.

“What are you–” Before you can finish your sentence, she leans forward and sucks your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the table, hands rushing down to hold her in place. “Fuck, Professor!”

She devours your pussy like she’s a starving woman, pulling all sorts of loud noises from you.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, hips grinding on her face, trying to get the last bit of stimulation you need to send you over the edge. She knows what you need and presses her fingers inside you, curling them just right and gives your clit a hard last lick. You cum harder than you ever have before, her name on your lips like a prayer. She helps you ride through the aftershocks and then trails kisses up your body until she can kiss your mouth.

“How was that?” she asks after you pull away to catch your breath.

“That was probably the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” you say, which cracks both of you up. “But I’m not finished.”

Her eyebrow quirks up and she smirks. “Oh?” You stand up, putting your hands on her hips and flipping her around so she’s leaning against the table.

You sink to your knees in front of you, not even bothering with a chair. You slowly push her robe up so it bunches at her waist. “Can I return the favor?”

A glint appears in her eye and she fists one of her hands in your hair preemptively. “I’d like nothing more.”

#agatha smut #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x reader #agatha harkness smut #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha x you #agatha all along

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artdcnaldson · 6 months ago

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Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin.

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass.

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable.

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag.

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed.

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer.

How long?

You took another drink.

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking.

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly.

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn.

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse.

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out.

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up.

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace.

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one.

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone.

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in.

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down.

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway.

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side.

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably.

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression.

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled.

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him.

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed.

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare.

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser.

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely.

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later.

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt.

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands.

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip.

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him.

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave.

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core.

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation.

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit.

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place.

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge.

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly.

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair.

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then.

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled.

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh.

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle.

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins.

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours.

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies.

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever.

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest.

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room.

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying.

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.”

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all.

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise.

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind.

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded.

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes.

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne.

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat.

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out.

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod.

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever.

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist.

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?”

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance.

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy.

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need.

“Close,” you gasped.

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.”

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth.

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep.

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly. A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel.

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves.

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest.

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him.

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air.

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place.

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment.

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls.

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones.

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him.

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early.

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word.

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

#patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #changeover au #my writing

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defmaybe · 4 months ago

Text

Noona from the Bar

IVE's Kim Gaeul x Male Reader

5.2k words

A/N: Ahh, my debut! Thanks to @msafterhours and @i-am-lifeform24 for editing and beta-reading! And thanks to all the kind writers and fellow readers who have been nothing but supportive of me. I know my skills aren’t really up to the task yet (I have a Minji-Haewon 15k draft with broken grammar sitting lol), but I’ll seek my way through it. Thanks for reading!

—

It’s Friday night. The sound of the electronic beats echo throughout the bar, accompanied with the shaking bass. Customers are cramped into small tables, shuffling together to accommodate the enormous crowd. And there you are, sitting in front of the vacant stage, which, to your knowledge, is usually reserved for the band to play, with the Nordic-esque climate sending shivers through your body.

Leehan and Sungho dragged you with a few other guys here after your sophomore finals. You wouldn’t say that it’s a chore, but there are definitely better things to do than get drunk. These two are the most outgoing guys of your diverse group. Meanwhile, you aren’t much of a social butterfly, preferring the more busy student council member life. Sitting in between them, you can only scroll through your phone to pass the time.

“To our grades!” Sungho raises his glass and looks around, inviting you and the other friends to join him.

“To our grades,” you say, barely able to hear your own voice before clinking your glass with others.

You chug half your beer, ready for a long night, your friends laughing as they do the same.

Sungho sighs, putting down his drink, and saying, “Thanks to Seokjin, or we wouldn’t have today, drinking beers and listening to music!”

All eyes on your table turns to Seokjin, the kind, quiet nerd of your group. “It’s nothing really, you’re my friends, and—”

“To Seokjin!” Leehan puts his glass up for another toast, while Seokjin scans around him, seeing all his friends doing the same, smiling.

“Thanks, guys.” Seokjin says, as he raises his glass for a toast with yours.

—

As the night goes on, the music shows no sign of calming down. NewJeans booms through the speakers, interspersed with remixes of local songs. Alcohol has started to take hold of you, plaguing your inhibition with sharp tingles as you chug your glass away.

“Shit, I have to go to the bathroom,” Leehan suddenly says.

“I’m coming with you,” Namjoon follows. “Anyone else?”

Everyone around the table stands up except for you, and you watch as they shoot you apologetic glances. “Watch the table for us!” Sungho shouts at you, his voice struggling to carry through the loud music. “Use your student committee power to protect this table or whatever.”

“Fine, and I’m only a secretary, by the way. Don’t be gone for too long.” You smile, waving to your friends as they leave one by one.

“I think Leehan is going to stay there for quite a while. I saw him heaving a bit earlier,” Seokjin sighs, worried.

Your eyes widen. “Well, I’ll wait for you guys here. Take your time,” you assure Seokjin, with him gesturing a thanks with a grateful smile.

—

On the other side of the bar, another group revels as their finals come to an end.

“Jiwon, pass me the liquor, please,” Gaeul asks.

Jiwon holds the half-full rum bottle. “Gaeul, this is your fourth glass of the night. Are you sure you wanna drink more?”

Gaeul scoffs, voice already slurring. “Yeah, why not?”

“Well, the last time this happened, I was holding your head above my toilet by the sixth shot,” Yujin adds.

“It will be different this time, come on~” Gaeul pleads, sulking in her chair, matched by her descending tone.

“Fine,” Jiwon huffs, finally passing the rum to Gaeul. “I’m not holding your hair again, though,” she pouts, with Yujin nodding in agreement.

“Thanks!” Gaeul pours the drink into her ice-filled glass before topping the golden liquor with cola. She glances around her table. “I promise, I’ll be the one who holds Wonyoung—,” her stream of thoughts is cut off, as she catches your presence not too far from her, alone, sliding one video after another, gleaming her with flame.

Yujin follows her sight to you. “Well, well, another freshman, huh?” She scoffs.

“Oh, come on, I never get to do this. God, Jiwon brought like three guys to her place in the same month before,” Gaeul deflects.

“Hey!” Jiwon reaches to slap her hand. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Gaeul pouts, making Jiwon roll her eyes, smiling.

“If you want him, then go get him!” Wonyoung adds. “We may not have another chance in our senior year. They are going to kill us with those goddamn projects.” She takes a sip from her glass and contorts her face after that.

“You know men don’t like older women, right?” Gaeul turns her head back onto Wonyoung, who’s still trying to make peace with the content of her glass. “He’d say no.”

Yujin laughs, “That attitude is why you’ve brought no one back to your place!” She pushes Gaeul’s drink into its owner’s hand, pointing at her face.

“Don’t live to regret this.”

Gaeul taps the table with her fingers rapidly, contemplating her approach. Her friends watch her hesitation with anticipation, until Gaeul retorts, “Alright, fine. If that’ll make you guys happy,” before getting up from her chair and walking towards you, glancing back to see her peers watch the scene unfold from afar.

—

It has been twenty minutes since your friends left. You are caught under the crushing weight of the foreign sounds and solitude among the crowd. Leehan is probably having his face in the toilet. And being the good friend you are, you bring up your phone to text Seokjin to ask about the situation.

Before you hit send, a sound comes from your right, catching your attention.

“Hi!”

You turn to see a woman with short, raven black hair standing before you. Her hand is holding a glass of what your best guess seems to be cola. Her nails are cut short and plain. She’s wearing a black cardigan that somehow shows off her lean curves. Her jeans don't make it even easier for you, leaving you with little to imagine.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, bending down to hover her glass above Sungho’s seat.

“Hey!” You greet her. “Yeah, it’s taken. I’m sorry about that.” You plant your hand on the vacant chair, inadvertently touching her long fingers, eliciting a giggle from her.

“Shit, sorry! …Again.” You pull your hand back as you feel her warm skin. You can feel a small fire in your cheeks.

Gaeul lifts her glass to cover herself laughing. “Haha, it’s fine. Still, are your friends coming back soon? I’m kinda looking for… company tonight.”

It’s quite rare to find someone approaching you, let alone stating their romantic needs this clearly. Yet, it’s a bar after all; alcohol strips people’s inhibitions off here. And who are you to say no to this beautiful woman?

“Oh, sure! They are probably taking care of my friend in the toilet. Go ahead.” You gesture at her to sit down, as she moves the chair a little to comply.

“I’m Gaeul, by the way.” She offers you a handshake, smiling, to which you happily accept. Unlike yours, her hand is silky soft,

“Hi, Gaeul. I’m from engineering, civil. What do you study?” You ask.

“Architecture! I’m just beside you, haha,” as she pulls her hand back and placing her glass on your table. The architecture faculty is bordering your engineering main building, and you’ve walked past it often during lunchtime.

“Have I met you before?” You inquire, squinting your eyes on you to examine her shadowed features.

“I don’t think so. I would have remembered you with that face.” Gaeul playfully points at your face, chuckling.

You chuckle along to hide the fact that she’s really influencing you with such an irresistible charm. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What year are you in?” Gaeul asks. “I’ve recently finished my junior finals. I made a lot of home models this year.” She rolls her eyes and sighs while recounting her experience.

“You are a year above me. I’m just a sophomore.” You answer.

“So, I’m your noona, right?” She giggles, tapping your shoulder softly with her finger.

“Yes, Gaeul noona,” you pout, placing your hands on your thighs.

Gaeul giggles, “No need, haha. Just Gaeul is fine, really.”

“Alright, Gaeul.” You smile along with her.

The night with Gaeul advances, while you quickly forget about your friends taking care of Leehan. You learn about her aspirations of being an architect, and how she also hates drawing to death.

“And you want to become an architect?” you ask, baffled in such contradiction.

“Yeah, haha, I’ve always loved elegant buildings, and I really want to create them myself as I grow up.” Gaeul smiles, gladly sharing her wishes.

She continues, “But when it comes to drawing, I’ve always had the feeling of having to perfect them. And that eats up a lot of my energy, really.”

“So, you’re a perfectionist?” you continue to shoot questions at her, giggling.

Gaeul laughs. “You can say that.”

She then tells you about the pets at her home, as she learns about your ambitions. And you feel like the conversation is sparking everywhere; it flows like the alcohol in your blood, suppressing your shyness just for her.

—

“Yeah! I just got my driver’s license a few months ago.” The clock strikes almost ten, over half an hour after your first words with her, and the topic is lingering on driving at the moment.

Gaeul takes a deep breath before gaining the courage to ask. “Hey, do you want to go back to my place?”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, talking in here doesn’t give us much privacy.” Gaeul seems to be going all-in here.

Unable to bother yourself under these waves of songs you can’t sing along to anymore, you answer in a quickfire, “Sure! Where do you live, though?”

Gaeul points her thumb behind her, towards the outside. “Just across this bar. I usually have my friends crashing for the night if they can’t walk to their dorms.”

“Lead the way, then.”

—

“Well, show’s over, girls,” Jiwon huffs, seeing Gaeul guiding you out of the bar. “It’s the three of us now. Anyone you guys are eyeing on?”

Yujin and Wonyoung shrug. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night first,” Wonyoung says.

“Yeah.” Yujin adds and signals a toast, as Jiwon and Wonyoung join her.

—

Gaeul unlocks the door to her room before leading you inside. Her room is pretty tidy, aside from the lump of unfolded clothes on her bed on the left, covered by brown bedsheets. She has a few stuffed animals sitting at the top of it: some Care Bears, a cylinder piggy doll, with Shaun the Sheep gracefully sitting in the middle, and a few more aquatic animals.

“I’m saving up my money to buy my fifth Care Bear,” Gaeul says with a smile, determination sparks in her eyes.

On the opposite side, there’s a drawing table with a few sketches of buildings, showcasing her architecture works. You close the door and lock it for her.

Noticing the mess, she darts toward the bed. “It’s a little messy, sorry,” she says, picking up the pile before cramming it inside her closet. “I didn’t have time to take care of it when I was coming out.”

“I don’t mind, really.” You smile, understanding her struggle of doing laundry.

Gaeul smiles back as she shuts her closet door. “Where were we again?” she leans against it, giving you a questioning look.

“I—,” you pause, further taking in the atmosphere of her room. You find a few movie posters on her wall above the bed: Thirteen, Little Women, and After Hours are the ones standing out. She also has her Jubilee vinyl on display just by her table.

“So, you like Japanese Breakfast?” you ask, before she follows your gaze onto the album. You’ve never expected someone you find at a bar to listen to Michelle Zauner’s band, to be honest.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s before she moved out,” Gaeul answers. “But the album itself is pretty good. I pick it up now and then to let it loop while I’m drawing.”

“I’ve heard about its quality.” You tap your fingers on your thighs, eyes darting everywhere except onto her.

Gaeul taps her chin in a staccato rhythm; she seems as unsure of her next action as you do. The humming of the air conditioner lulls from behind her. She ponders for a while, before stepping towards you.

“You know the implications, right?”

And that’s it; the way she says ‘right’ tingles you in a peculiar way. Gaeul looks into your eyes as she does, eliciting an indescribable feeling inside you. Your hands shake as she closes her distance to the point where you can feel her breathing.

“May I?” she asks, lips just inches away from yours.

“S—sure,” you stutter out in front of this gorgeous woman.

Without further ado, Gaeul kisses you ardently. Her tongue doesn’t let your mouth simply rest on hers, as she invades your cavern to display the passion she has been holding. She cups your cheeks so that she can taste you more thoroughly. You moan at such a confident act right into her mouth, before you let your tongue wrestle with hers.

As the kiss deepens, Gaeul draws her hand down your neck, and you shudder in response. “Fuck, noona,” you utter through the connected lips. Your hands cup her face, letting her take control. And without initiation from you, her fingers sliding down your abdomen seem to invite you to engage with her under the same depravity. Yet, your hands linger on her facial features.

Soon, Gaeul’s hand works its way to your crotch, stroking your erect length through the pants. “Wow, all excited for me, huh?” she says, suppressed under the kiss, and you moan through the gaps, having your shaft fondled.

Gaeul breaks off from the torrid act, but her lips leave just a little distance from yours. However, it’s far enough to keep you wanting her more. She lifts her arms to wrap around your neck. “I want to ask you something.” She says in a whisper while looking into your eyes; her deep voice shakes you.

“Go ahead.”

Gaeul clicks her tongue a few times, glancing at the wall before asking.

“Are you comfortable calling me noona again? I know I told you back in the bar to drop it, but seeing you being all obedient because of me is a bit of a…” She bites her lip as if to resist the inevitable. “…turn on.” She grins, unsure, not even believing the words coming out of her mouth.

You chuckle before answering without another hesitation. “Sure, Gaeul noona.”

Gaeul smiles. “Alright, baby boy.” She slides her hands down to work on your top button. “Let’s go to our main course.”

You quickly unbutton your shirt upward to meet her trembling hands. And quickly, your shirt is up for Gaeul to toss it away into the void. She runs her right hand down your chest. “You take care of yourself well, don’t you?” As her fingers tap on your flat stomach, hitching your breath.

“C—Cardio from time to time, noona.” You stutter out; fuck, this woman is burning your skin.

“Good for you.” She says in a deep tone, while her right hand is still feeling your midriff.

“Now, leaving you like this wouldn’t be… fair, right? Bare for me to—” The next word cut short for her to plant her lips on your nipple, tasting your body and eliciting a moan from you.

“Noona…” You are now lost in the pleasure; jolts after jolts from her lips rush through your body, making you shudder. Her saliva coats your nipple, and you lock your hand behind your noona’s head to keep yourself from falling over.

Gaeul keeps switching her suction on your peaks before she pushes you onto her bed. “I was talking about fairness, right?” She says with her fingers tilting your head down on your chin a little to meet her eyes. Her legs are straddling yours, keeping you in place.

“Y—Yes, noona,” you speak out.

“So, since you are half naked… under me.” She traces a line down your abdomen, igniting a fire in its wake. “You get to choose which half of me… that you want to see.”

You gulp, eyes wide. Fuck, this woman is really having her way with you now, and there’s nothing you can do to resist her seductive endeavor. Your mind goes into overdrive with the choices: top or bottom, top or bottom, top or—

“Every second counts, my baby boy.” Gaeul taps her bare wrist, grinning.

You swallow another gulp. “Your pick, n—noona.”

Gaeul giggles. “Well, since I’m a believer in justice…” She moves her hands to the top button of her black cardigan, ready to unlock it. “Say please, baby,” she says with her sultry voice.

“Please, noona.” You succumb to her domination. As Gaeul unlocks the first button, putting her soft cleavage into view.

“Please what, baby boy?” She continues her seduction; her hands are toying with the second button now. She pulls the neckline down to reveal the strings of her bra and the full view of the valley between her mounds.

“Please take your top off, noona,” you plead.

Giggling, “Alright, baby boy.” Gaeul quickly unbuttons the remaining locks, as her unending tease also seems to affect herself. Her toned midriff quickly reveals itself to you, decorated by the sky blue laced bra above, sending you further into a spiral.

Slowly, she strips herself off of her cardigan, your tongue becomes drawn to the thin string that holds two sides of the chest cover together. You can taste the hints of her salty sweat absorbed by the cloth.

“Fuck,” Gaeul whimpers. “S—So needy, aren’t you?” She tosses the outer garment away before pressing your head onto her. Being pushed even more, you map a straight line up the hollow of her chest with your tongue, causing her to moan out.

“Alright, I—I get it, you’re a—a tits person,” Gaeul cries out, quickly retreating her hands to unclasp the back of her remaining top attire. “This doesn’t mean y—you have p—power over me or anything, though.”

“Yes, noona,” you say through your licks, her bra falls off right between you two. As you pull yourself back to take a break from your appetizer, you are given the heavenly sight of her succulent tits. They are small, but you’ve never been the one to care, anyway. Her nipples are already erect, aroused as she expects the divine rapture from no one but you.

“You like the view, baby boy?” Gaeul chuckles at the sight of you salivating in front of her perky mounds.

As an answer, you dive in to savor her excited brown nubs. There’s no particular taste to them, yet you’re being commanded by these peaks to satisfy her overflowing lust, making her a writhing mess right before you.

“God, fuck!” Gaeul moans out. You remain fixated on her tits, sucking on them as if your life is hanging on the strings of her cries. And to further stimulate her, you use your hand to caress the freed side of her frame. You roam from her shoulder to the waistline, squeezing her chest with each passing.

Gaeul, again, presses you onto her soft chest, yet she’s unable to let herself being satisfied just on the outside anymore.

“F—Fuck, shall we go to the m—main course, baby boy?” her words come out ragged; she can’t further shackle herself from the peak of intimacy.

You remove yourself from her nubs. “Yes, please, noona.” Gaeul pushes you down onto her bed, signaling you to unzip your pants while she does so. And within a blink, your erect cock and her soaked cunt are just a breath away from each other. She seems to be an all-natural girl too, choosing to let her hair grow above the canal, and that just makes her even more mouthwatering.

Still, the sex education lessons hold you back on the ground. “Do you need protection?” you ask, concerned about the prospect of unwanted consequences.

“I have my contingency plans, baby,” she huffs with a smile as she hovers her sex just above your shaft now, ready for the ride of her life.

With no words, you nod, and she slowly sinks herself onto your rod. You cry out as your tip gradually disappears into her. You pull your head back under the overwhelming sensations. “Fuck,” and you can do nothing but whimper.

“D—Do I feel good on top of you?” Gaeul asks, voice and her body shuddering in the descent. You are halfway inside her now. Her hands are roaming on your writhing frame, determined to push you off the edge even faster.

“Yes, fuck, noona. You feel so fucking good.” You’re enamored by the throes of pleasure surrounding your body. She slowly impales herself down to the hilt, fully coating your cock with her nectar.

“Fuck!” Gaeul’s tone becomes a scream now. She bends herself back, showing her fragile frame. Traces of ribs are visible under the room light, and her immaculate chest stretches for you to view.

Gaeul remains in the position for a while, before she drags her wet cunt off of you, just barely seeing your tip, grazing your dick with such an unbearable pleasure. Your length now glistens with her honey, but the shackling gratification lets you register only her up and down motion. And as she slams down, you can do nothing but moan under such divine elation.

Wet squelches and moans echo throughout the room, as Gaeul picks up her pace to quicken this perversion. She cries out in every movement, and you echo out every moan. Her short hair becomes really helpful in situations like this, since, with each bounce, they don’t seem to cover her face as much as it should. And you’re one lucky man to see her all invested in the depravity - every contorted face, every line drawn on your abdomen with her hands, and God, how her moan is a symphony you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Inevitably, with each of her bounce, it drives you toward the precipice. Her angelic moans and the bouncing chest ramp you up closer to paradise. The sight of her riding you - mouth agape, perky tits bouncing, hands shuffling her strands to make sense of the pleasure, creating such an immaculate image - with the sensations around your cock is just unyielding.

“N—Noona, I’m gonna cum, slow down,” you plead, and Gaeul looks down at you, hands still locked in her olive hair. Her breaths become ragged, and her whimpers seem to scale up with each insertion.

“Me too, baby boy, me too,” Gaeul cries out. “Cum with me.”

She keeps the moderate tempo she has been putting on you. Her bare, untrimmed, drenched cunt rams your cock with steady speed to keep your orgasms alight. Sounds of fleshes crashing into each other; an unyielding amount of Gaeul’s honey is mixing with the notes that come out of her gorgeous lips, creating a concoction that sends you into ecstasy.

And with one last thrust, along with you, Gaeul becomes a squirming wreck. With eyes fluttering, delectable chest heaving, wailing such a symphony that only a deity can sing. Her entire frame shakes with exaltation. You cry from the depths of your lungs, and the knot in your stomach becomes undone. Your cock shoots spurts of cum inside her, as Gaeul’s delicate cunt gushes out torrents of clear juice onto your crotch.

With each twitch of your length, they serve the purpose of unloading into her womb to the brim, and they shake you to sing out such a beautiful melody, joining Gaeul into composing an amorous masterpiece. Your nectar finds its way out to concoct with hers, pooling on your crotch. It’s a breathtaking sight, seeing her undone like this - juice spilled, wails unrestrained, walls contracting to drain you dry.

Gaeul’s climax subsides; her moans show signs of her normal voice again. “G–Good job, baby boy,” she chuckles through her whimpers. Her pace decreases, and you’re thankful that she doesn’t ride your consciousness out.

“You’re getting sensitive, right?” She brings her motion to a stop, but still enveloping your length within her needy core. It’s warm; she’s warm.

“Yeah, noona. You can–,” you stop halfway for a few breathers. “You can stay like this, to be honest.”

“Oh, my poor baby boy~,” Gaeul laughs. “We can stay like this if you really want it.” Her voice still carries hints of intoxication, yet you can’t deny that the potential of it being genuine affection entices you. “I’ll have to go to the bathroom first, though. I can’t sleep with our cum being everywhere like this.”

She bends down to give you a peck on your forehead, before slowly, agonizingly, pulling herself off of you. And doesn’t that make you whimper out, as your cock is still sensitive from shooting spurts of your seed inside her dainty cunt? The feeling of unloading still lingers in your filthy mind.

Maybe it’s a mix of all the sensations you’ve ever felt - mostly pleasure with pain. You moan out as she chuckles at the sight of you crumbling under her final touch. “Alright, baby boy, wanna take a shower?” Gaeul gets up from the bed before sauntering towards the bathroom. “Maybe we can have another round~,” she winks across her shoulder, before going into the shower.

“I’ll be there, noona,” you reply, as you collect your inhibition enough to take another shot of intimacy with her under the running water.

—

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, waking you up after the rough night, naked. Last night’s debauchery remains clear in your head, as the images of Gaeul commanding you around are still in high definition. You look around the room to catch your noona examining the contents of her fridge, bending over to show you her bare, plump ass, only slightly covered by her baby blue shirt.

“Up already, sleepyhead?” She notices you through the gap between her arm and the single garment on her. “I have some banana cake left, not expired yet,” she says before picking it up and surveys the package. “Yeah, a day left. You want one?”

“How much is it? Can you send me your QR code after this, noona?” The memory of you acting all-obedient shows up again, and you can only cover your mouth after that.

“No need, ‘baby boy’,” Gaeul chuckles, pulling up an air quote, mocking the tone she used last night. “Consider this as part of the one-night plan.”

God, she looks flawless under this morning’s light. The way her short hair is messy; the tired eyes, and that pair of legs - the pair you wish to be caught between - makes you want to spend another day with her.

“Can I extend my subscription?” you utter out involuntarily. The alcohol hasn’t returned your reticence yet, perhaps.

Gaeul considers your proposal for a while, nibbling her chin with her free hand, while tapping her feet with the cake still in the other hand.

“Well, I’m not sure, really,” she says. “I have only known you for barely half a day, with the help of alcohol.”

“I know, Gaeul,” you groan. “But like, I want to know you more.”

“I don’t know.” She chuckles as she closes the distance between you two.

Gaeul continues her interrogation, “do you, really?” Her bare, untrimmed pussy comes in at your face level. She changes her motion to crossing her legs forward, slowly, covering the lower part of her sex as she gets right in front of your eyes.

You drool at the sight, tranced, as your morning wood is twitching. Your tongue involuntarily sticks out, aimed at her nub, and you are magnetized to her cunt again. You are so ready to please your noona again, making her a drenched disarray before you, before Gaeul breaks your train of desire, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to watch her smile.

“Alright, I believe you now.” She simpers with your tongue still out. “I’ll give you my Instagram before you leave.”

You sign an okay to her, as you retreat your tongue back into your mouth.

“Good boy,” Gaeul laughs. “Here, your breakfast.”

You take the banana cake from her. “Thanks, noona.”

“I’ll give you more than this the next time, if you can make me fancy you.” She lets go of you before climbing onto her bed to the other side, giving you a view of her luscious cheeks once more. She bends down to pick up your discarded, now-creased clothes, involuntarily (or not) putting her sex into display, and you can do nothing but let your length twitch at the sight.

You gulp at the sight, mustering the courage to ask out, “Really?”

She sits back up after her teasing act, legs crossed, but you can still see flashes of her. Gaeul ponders for a while, tapping her chin in the same veins she did before the explicit scene of you two.

“Definitely, maybe.” She laughs again, shooting the garments at you, and you can only join along with her.

—

As you walk back to your dorm, your phone suddenly rings. You pick up the phone, eyes widen. It’s Sungho, the ‘friend’ you left with no trace for him last night.

“Shit.” You utter before accepting the call.

“Where the fuck have you been last night, bro?” His breath is coming in shorts. “We were worried about you. We came back around ten—”

“I was with a woman; her room is just across the bar. I’m fine, Sungho,” you reply.

“Oh.” Sungho pauses. “Oh damn. Wow.” He’s left speechless for a few seconds.

“Yeah, and we—, uh—” You stop, contemplating on whether to tell him.

“No need, bro.” You can hear Sungho chuckling through your phone. “Who’s the lucky woman who takes your virginity, huh?”

“Architecture,” you play coy, withholding Gaeul’s identity. “And we trade each other’s contact just this morning.”

“Goddamn, you had been inside her, and you just asked for her contact after that? Fucking hell, man.” Sungho laughs again. “Well, we’re happy that you didn’t lose an arm or anything, bro.”

You smile before remembering about your sick friend. “Oh, what about Leehan? How’s he now?”

“Fine, he’s still sleeping on my bed,” Sungho affirms.

You smile, and reply, “Alright, good, thanks for calling.”

“No problem, see ya!” Sungho says.

“See ya.” And you hang up the phone.

On the way back, the prospect of building your relationship with Gaeul reels in your mind. The probability of you two working remains shaky. Emotions might take hold of only one of you, dragging its victim into an unbearable sorrow. What if a crush turns into a craving? Either way, the shared moment of your bodies clashing into each other is going to be etched into you, and, hopefully, her.

And as you unlock the door, a notification pops up on your phone, and it reads as:

actualgaeul started following you.

—

#gaeul #gaeul smut #kim gaeul #kim gaeul smut #ive gaeul #ive #ive smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #male reader smut

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leaentries · 5 months ago

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NEVER MEANT FOREVER - QUINN HUGHES

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SYNOPSIS: there was no way quinn would ever have feelings for his best friend, never.

WARNINGS: angst w/ happy ending, misunderstanding, alcohol, drinking, getting drunk, loser guy harassing reader in a bar, reader breaks a bottle over a loser guys head, reader gets punched, quinn pulling a colin bridgerton (iykyk), swearing, reader gets into an accident, non-life threatening injuries, protective quinn, not proofread

[4.39k+]

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“You know, the longer you stare at her the more pathetic you look.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Really? Cause I don’t think you’ve blinked in the past ten minutes.”

With rolling eyes, Quinn finally tore his gaze away from where you stood, enticed in an animated conversation with a random guy. He looked to Jack with an unamused face, hands twirling the straw that danced with the ice of his empty rum and coke. Irritation stirred at the back of his neck, causing him to grunt as he stretched out the muscle. As annoying as Jack could be, he wasn’t necessarily wrong in this situation.

“Can you blame me?” Quinn barked, “She’s over there smiling with some jackass she’s never met before.”

Jack just let out a cackle that, to Quinn, reminded him far too much of their father, “It’s called mingling, Quinny.” He slapped a hand firmly onto the older boy’s shoulder, “We came here to have fun and that’s exactly what she’s doing.”

“Well, she could at least be smart about it and not talk to strangers.” He placed the tip of his straw into his mouth, blowing into the empty cup. Quinn knew he sounded like a whiney toddler, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Not when it came to you. You had been by Quinn’s side since he got drafted, recently having been hired onto the Canuck’s marketing team. It was all too easy for the boy to immediately cling to your side since both of you were new to living in a new country by yourselves. The both of you found a special solace with each other that could only be described as “home.” At least, that’s what it felt like to Quinn.

You had become a rock, a symbol of strength and perseverance through his rookie year, and that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing season. He found himself falling reliant on you and your presence, through the little things you would do, such as bringing him lunch when he had been going overtime on the ice or simply helping him clean up the mess of his apartment. Whatever it may be, Quinn couldn’t push away the feelings he had associated with you and your relationship. However, all he could chalk it up to was that you were his best friend, nothing more.

“Said the world’s biggest introvert,” Jack remarked, “Dude, if you don’t want her to flirt with other people then grow a pair and ask her out.”

This statement had Quinn’s eyes bulging and shards of ice shooting through the straw he had placed in his mouth. He turned his head, partially to cover his cough, but mostly to hide the red that bloomed on the skin under his stubble. Quinn felt a twang of panic surge through his stomach, nerves spiking.

Now if you ask Jack, he’d say Quinn was stupid, which could be the only reason the eldest brother let the phrase fall from his lips.

“Ask her out?” He asked with disbelief, “We’re just friends, I could never be into Y/N like that. Never.”

Jack felt his own eyes widen at Quinn’s words, coughing awkwardly as his gaze fell behind the brother’s right shoulder. Quinn’s brows formed a deep ‘v’ as he turned around. He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling his mouth run dry. His throat felt as if it was closing, a gate to the words that wanted to chase after you. He watched the way your eyes filled with an unknown emotion, your shoulders slumping as you made a b-line past him. Quinn’s body was screaming and fighting against his skin to run after you, yet he stayed put. He sat firmly in that chair and watched you run out of that god-forsaken bar.

He felt as if he was watching his heart rip from his chest and walk away. And in some ways, he was.

You felt stupid.

Stupid for letting yourself feel things for him, stupid for getting close to him, but most of all, for thinking you actually had a chance.

You had been excited to go to the bar that night, having gotten the invitation from Quinn that morning. Admittedly, a sparkle of hope glimmered in your chest every time he invited you somewhere. What started as a casual outing between friends, developed into something far more. His hand would often find home on the small of your back, guiding you and keeping you close if it was crowded. Always taking the liberty of ordering your drinks and food because he somehow managed to remember them all. Beyond all of that, he cared for you. He put in the effort to hang out with you, to check up on you, something that many others lacked in doing. However, all of this seemed pointless now. Empty promises and misread signals now resided where the longing and hoping used to live.

You could feel your resolve break the second you heard Quinn say those words to Jack. Embarrassment consumed you, and an uncomfortable burning painted your skin red. You felt your heart fall to your ass the second he turned back to look at you.

The worst part? He didn’t even care.

Quinn made no moves to check up on you later that night after you’d found a ride home, nor did he the following day. Two days eventually turned into a week, and you’d officially gone without speaking to Quinn longer than before the two of you had met. Your heart ached every time your phone lit up, hoping his name would appear under your notifications. You grew tired of waiting, tired of the itch that seemed to cover your fingertips every time you hovered over his contact.

After the seventh night, your girlfriends decided you needed to quit sulking and go out. And, as if scripted, the familiar knocks at your apartment door announced their arrival. You opened the heavy door, as your two closest friends barged their way in, practically pushing you over. The searing squeak of the metal hinges were begging for help as the door heaved open so quickly. You smiled as they ran to your kitchen, grabbing the tequila bottle, which just so happened to already be on the counter and a few shot glasses.

“Get your ass over here, y/n/n, we are pregaming this shit.” Demanded Willa, one of your close work friends. She had been there the night everything went down at the bar and didn’t hesitate to get you the hell outta dodge the second she saw tears welling up in your eyes.

“Do we have to?” You droned, “I want to at least be able to walk to the bar without falling over, Wills.”

She just rolled her eyes, swatting her hand through the air as if it were your words, “Just one, pretty please?” Her wide brown orbs were rimmed with amusement, clearly getting a kick out of your hesitance. Unfortunately for you, the shit-talking brunette also knew that you were very easily peer-pressured, at least when it came to her.

“Aren’t you gonna try to convince me to drink too?” You questioned the ginger sitting to the right of Willa.

Duke just grinned, her freckled cheeks rising to meet her sapphire eyes, “Don’t need to, Will’s already got you covered.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, giving in to the liquid temptation sitting on the cool granite countertop, “Fine,” You waltz over, snatching the shot glass out of Willa’s hand, “Bottom’s up, bitches.” You guzzle down the shot, the burn almost mute at this point. The situation with Quinn, paired with the off week the Canuck’s had, it was horrible timing for you. But proved to be great timing for the local liquor store.

Managing to take another shot, you all quickly go to your room to finish the final touchups for your nightly escapades. Duke hooked her phone to the speaker, playing the shared playlist the three of you had, specifically for nights like these. You could feel the tension from the past week melt from your body as you jumped around with your two best friends.

After the first few songs, you settled down into a comfortable chatter, talking about nonsense as you curled your hair on the ground by your floor-length mirror. Willa sat on the bed, legs crossed as she did her eyeshadow in the camera of her phone and Duke somehow wriggled her way onto your dresser, feet dangling as she sat back against the tan walls. She had never been one to overly dress for clubbing, but her style suited her.

“...and then he told me that I had a pretty voice,” Willa giggled as she rambled about her newest boy toy. As much as you loved the girl, there was no denying that she got around, but you’d never judge her for that. In all honesty, it was almost refreshing to hear about her many rendezvous, giving you insight into a life you could never live. Not that you wanted to, the thought of jumping from guy to guy made your skin crawl and dread fill your throat. You were more of a one-stop-shop kind of girl.

“Which one is this again?” Duke’s voice slurred slightly, a tell-tale sign she was already tipsy.

Willa rolled her eyes, “Duke, have you not been listening this whole time?”

Duke slumped over to her side, “Sorry,” She snarked, “I’m sure this guy is fantastic and will be the one to get you to walk down the aisle.”

The brunette scrunched her nose up in disgust, “Ew, not a chance.”

You just laughed at their banter, finally curling the last few pieces of your hair. Duke turned her attention to you, eyeing you up suspiciously. “You seem rather quiet, y/n/n. Is everything okay?” At her words, Willa looks up from her phone, brows furrowing as she waits for your answer.

You manage a nod and a half-assed smile that wouldn’t fool them from a mile away, “Yeah, I’m all good. Don’t worry about me.”

Duke gave you her “don’t lie to me” look, which almost had you spouting yout guts out to them about Quinn, but Willa managed to beat you to the punch.

“Is it Quinn?” She asked, voice uncharacteristically serious.

You just sighed, giving them the answer they needed. Willa moved off the bed, sinking onto the floor beside you, “Look, I know we are normally supposed to gang up on the guys that hurt us, but coming from someone who watches the two of you interact on a daily basis,” She paused, thinking of the right words, “I think you should text him.”

Your eyes widened at her statement. Usually, Willa was very anti-man, in the sense that she would smite anyone who looked at you wrong, so hearing her tell you to reach out to him was shocking, to say the least.

“Why would I do that? You heard what he said about me at the bar. He made it very clear he would never have feelings for me.”

“All I’m saying is, you never even gave the guy a chance to explain himself, that’s all.” Willa’s voice was resolute. You just nodded, taking her words into consideration. Maybe you’d text him, but not tonight. Tonight was your time to let loose, to have fun. The calm before the storm that surely awaited the second you clicked the call button under Quinn’s name.

Getting out of the Uber, Duke grabbed your and Willa’s hands, leading you to the front of the line.

“Duke? The line starts back there,” Willa said, pointing back to the line that wrapped around the brick exterior of the bar.

With no reply, Willa just huffed and continued to let Duke lead the way. The redhead turned sharply on her heel, “Stay right here a second, I’ll be right back.”

“Du-” You cut yourself off. She was gone before you even had the time to call out her name. You looked around, leaning up against the wall. You let your head fall back, blowing out a deep breath into the night air. Despite it being warm outside, your skin erupted in goosebumps, no doubt due to your outfit, which didn't serve as much insulation. Willa groaned, slumping back next to you. She took this moment to bring up the one guy you were trying to avoid thinking about for the night.

“Do you wanna know why I think you should text him?”

“Depends,” You snapped, “Are you gonna give me an actual answer?”

She nodded, not at all phased by your attitude. Having worked with you for 6 years, she had gotten used to the front you put up when you were frustrated.

“I think you should text him because I think he was lying.”

Your eyes snapped to her, and you shook your head in confusion, “Why would he have any reason to lie?”

Willa shrugged her deep-brown shoulders, “Because I can see the way he looks at you. Y/N if you actually paid attention to the way he treats you, you’d understand where I’m coming from. That boy doesn’t just see you as a friend.”

Your body tenses, scared to ignite that flame of hope again, “That still doesn’t explain why he would have lied about it and made it seem that dating me was a fate worse than death. You didn’t hear him, Wills,” Your voice dropped, “He was being serious.”

She turned her body to face you completely, her arm now fully rested against the copper-toned brick, “Maybe not, but you didn’t see his face when you ran out of there. He looked like someone just killed his dog.”

You huffed, annoyed at the whole ordeal, “Then why didn’t he just come and tell me himself?” Your teeth bared down, sending an almost painful tick through your jaw.

“Now that, I don’t know. I just said he wasn’t being honest, not that he wasn’t a coward.”

You couldn’t help the puff of amusement that escaped your nose, Willa now sounding more like her usual ball-busting self. Just as you began to grow impatient, Duke emerged through a side door, ushering you two inside the building.

“What the hell, D?” You asked, very concerned and slightly worried about the fact that you were sneaking into a very infamous bar in downtown Vancouver. She just rolled her eyes and continued down the long hall until you reached the end. A dark metal door with a keypad served as the only barrier between you and the dance floor just beyond. Duke quickly typed in a code, the door making a dull ‘click’ signifying that it was unlocked.

Before the three of you made into the main floor, Willa grabbed Duke’s arm, “What the actual fuck is going on?”

Duke laughed at your faces, her husky voice echoing through the, otherwise, empty hallway, “Remember how I mentioned I was seeing someone new?” You and Willa nodded simultaneously, “Well, he happens to own this place and gave me the code for whenever I wanted to bring some friends.”

You felt all your worry ease from your bones, no longer nervous about getting kicked out, “You know you could have just told us that.”

Duke chuckled as she opened the door for you all to walk in, “I know, but where is the fun in that?”

Walking into the crowded room, you could already feel the smile forming on your face. Maybe your friends were right about getting out of the house. The DJ on the big stand played some early 2000’s songs and you fought the urge to scream along. You laughed as Willa immediately dragged you to the floor, Duke running off to find her mystery man. You threw your hands up, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. It was intoxicating, being able to let loose and not feel the pressure of everyday weighing down on your shoulders. For once in the past week, you could confidently say, you weren’t thinking about Quinn Hughes.

After an hour or so, you and Willa managed to push your way through the crowd, desperately needing a drink to soothe your sore throats after all of the screaming and singing. On your way to the bar, a large frame steps in between you and Willa, her body quickly blending in with the sea of people around you. You look up to the man who all but blocked you, noting the devious glint in his eyes. His light hair was cut short, not complimenting his crooked nose or the way his lips turned up. There was something about this man that made your hair stand straight and your gut clench.

“I saw you dancing with your friend, you looked really good out there.” His rough voice almost made you cringe. You looked over his shoulder, eagerly trying the find Willa or Duke.

“Uh, thanks,” Your hands picked at the fabric of your dress, nerves now on edge.

“Wanna show me some more moves?” He bent down next to your ear, “Maybe something a little more personal?”

His words shot panic through your body, a shiver of fear running up your spine, “I’m actually trying to find my friends right now,” You say curtly, hoping he’d catch on and leave you be. “So if you’ll just excu-” However, he proved to be more stubborn. The man quickly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going anywhere. Your eyes widened in terror, breath picking up as you rapidly searched for someone to help you. As you tried to pry your arm from his grip, the man let out a sound that was borderline animalistic.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweet cheeks.” He smiled wickedly at you, his perfect teeth almost sickeningly white. The nickname made bile rise in your throat, stopping any screams or pleased for help from coming out. Seeing a nearby table with empty glasses, you quickly reach to snatch one, not missing to smash the bottle down onto the man’s head. His hand loosened around your wrist and you took the opportunity to tear away from his grip.

“You little bitch!” He snarled, starting after your retreating form.

You turn back, noticing the man growing closer on your heels, you try your best to escape him but he grabs your shoulders roughly. As he swivels you around and you reach a hand up to scratch down at his face, aiming for anything to get you the hell away from him. Tears shook through your ribs as a fist came hurling at you. Blinded by the anxious sobs, your head flew back at the impact of the punch. Everything around you went blurry, sounds mixing. A high-pitched ringing echoed through your head, all of your senses seemingly disappearing. At first, you don’t register what happened, but the searing pain on the left side of your face has your mind crashing back into reality. Fresh tears well in your eyes as you stumble away, the man having appeared to run off.

You manage to get to the bar top, Willa sprinting over the second she notices your bruised and bloody face.

“What the fuck happened?” She thundered, anger plastered all over her delicate features.

You couldn’t answer over the deep sobs that racked through your entire body, the pain in your face growing worse by the second.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here,” She soothed as she pulled you into her body. She quickly took her phone out, presumably to call someone, but you were too focused on getting the hell out to notice. Once you got out of the building, Willa guided you to sit on a nearby curb, letting you lean onto her body as you stared blankly into the black asphalt of the road. You somehow managed a breif recap of what happened, Willa beyond furious, her brown eyes dark with anger. You were so caught up in your head, that every echo or screech sent your muscles tightening and body flinching in response. You whined at any subtle movement in your face, the pain had you hoping to the universe nothing was broken.

“I called Duke to let her know what happened, she said she’s gonna have her boyfriend look through the cameras to see if they caught anything.” You could only break out a weak nod, not wanting to aggravate your injury any more than it already was, “I also called Quinn.”

Your head shot up, but only earned a deep whimper out of you as the pain shot through your face and down your neck. Willa just gently guided your head back down to her shoulder, running a hand through your hair.

“FIghting or not, Quinn is still one of your best friends. Are you seriously gonna tell me you don’t want him here?”

If you had the energy to argue, would you? Probably not. Willa always managed to see right into you, and blame it on the injury, but you wanted nothing more than to feel Quinn’s arms wrapped around your body. You remained in that positon until you heard heavy footsteps hurrying towards you. Picking up your head, you couldn’t fight off the rush of relief you felt when Quinn came up beside you.

“Who did this to you, baby?” He rasped breathlessly. The boy inspected your face closely, not even noticing the nickname rolling off of his tongue and maybe if you weren’t so uncomfortable, you would have acknowledged it.

You shrug, swallowing the fresh batch of tear that threatened to fall, “Some random guy,” Your voice cracked, laced with emotion and pain, “I was just trying to get a drink.”

Quinn pulled your body into his, making sure to be careful with your head and face, “Oh, baby,” He cooed, trying his best to keep his voice soft through the anger that coursed in his veins. He stroked your hair soothingly, letting you grip tightly onto his hoodie, “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m here now, no ones gonna touch you.” Quinn’s words grew sharp with venom at the end of his sentence. He couldn’t describe the feeling he got when Willa had called him. All he knew was he needed to get to you, and he needed to get to you fast. Did Elias give him a weird look for bursting out of the room at record speed? Yes, but Quinn didn’t give a fuck, not when you were hurting. He would gladly burn down the city if it meant protecting you from the vile monsters like the man who put his hands on you. However, Quinn knew that wasn’t possible, so he settled for what he could do, and that was keep you close to him for as long as he could.

You’re not sure how long the both of you stood there, but the night began to grow colder and a chill ran up your neck.

“You cold, pretty girl?” His voice asked softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. You nodded, not quite ready to try and speak again. “Okay, come on, I’ll take you home.”

Bidding quick goodbyes to your friends, you let the comfort of Quinn’s body and hands guide you to his car. Luckily he hadn’t parked very far. In all honesty, he hadn’t really parked at all, far too busy rushing to get you. He helped you in, turning on the heat to the exact temperature you would always pick when in his car. The engine hummed to life as he gripped the steering wheel in one hand and intertwined your fingers with the other.

The ride back to your apartment was silent, but the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Neither of you spoke until he walked you up to your place, helping you inside and locking your doors. The both of you stood awkwardly, not knowing how to address the tension. Biting back the pain, you decide to break the ice.

“Why did you say it?”

Quinn let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough, Quinn.” You quipped, shaking your head in annoyance.

“I-I don’t know why I said it,” He replied desperately, “I guess I’m a coward,”

You scoffed.

“But what I do know,” Quinn looked deep into your eyes, “Is that I didn’t mean it.” He grabbed your hands, his warm palms encasing the bitter cold that nipped at your fingertips, “Jack caught me off guard and I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’m in love with my best friend.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, but before you could speak, Quinn continued, “So here I am, because I don’t want to be a coward anymore and I can’t live without at least telling you how I feel. Because even if there is a sliver of a chance you might love me back, then I have to take it.”

You were speechless. For the first time in your life, Quinn Hughes had left you speechless. When he got no response, he nodded glumly, taking that as his que to leave. Your mouth gaped as you screamed at your mind to say something, anything. Whatever it took to stop your boy from leaving for good.

“I love you too,” You squeaked.

He stopped in his tracks, body turing back to face you, “You what?” He whispered, not believing his own ears.

This time, your voice came back full force and even the pain in your cheeks wasn’t gonna stop you from saying those five words, “I love you, Quinn Hughes.”

It took three stride for Quinn to make it back in front of you, his hand gently cupped your non-injured cheek, eyes darting down to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Quinn’s voice was timid, as if he was scared you’d break if he talked normally.

The only answer you gave was colliding your lips with his. The kiss wasn’t exploding fireworks, but rather a ‘welcome home’. The taste of morning dew and the comfort of a freshly made bed. He tasted like the honey you’d put in your tea and felt like the warmest fire on a winter’s day.

Quinn Hughes was a man of many talents, a man of many things, but home was definitely number one.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #qh43 #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #canucks hockey #hughes brothers #lea writes stuff ♡

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avis-writeshq · 1 year ago

Text

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make.

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases.

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt.

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice.

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum.

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone.

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm.

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?”

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

***

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions.

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you.

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back.

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

***

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground.

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity.

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes.

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer.

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up.

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing.

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby.

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat.

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought.

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch.

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling.

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here.

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin.

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain.

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

***

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring.

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful.

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line.

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up.

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redhead1180 · 8 months ago

Text

Puppy

Pairing - sub!JJ x Dom!fem reader

Summary - JJ gets in trouble.

Words - 1.9k

Warnings MDNI - m sub/f dom, edging, cursing, cock ring, p in v, oral (f receiving), m. tied up, sex toys, SMUT (let me know if I missed any)

A/N - Finally finished the subby JJ fic from my poll last week. Sorry life has gotten in the way. I'm not sure it's my favorite, but I don't hate it.

JJ had been needy all day and by the time we got my house he was nearly humping my leg. We had been out on the boat all day with the pogues and I was trying to put stuff up in the kitchen.

“Baby” he whined coming up behind me rutting up against my ass. “Can’t that wait?”

“No, I don’t want it to spoil and you’ll want the beer cold later.” I patiently tell him.

He huffed like a petulant toddler, stomping his foot for good measures.

“I want you now” he demands and grabs my hips pulling me back hard on his hard cock.

“Did you just demand me” I turnaround eyeing him with my eyebrow raised.

A flash of fear crosses his face, “N- no b- bab- baby” he stammers

“That is not my name and you did demand me” I sternly tell him. “bedroom now, and I want you stripped of all your clothes”

“Mo- Mommy, i-“

“No, bedroom now” I cut him off. I turn back around not waiting for him to acknowledge and put away the stuff. I hear him shuffle off as I put away the rest of the items. I grab a glass filling it with ice and some rum, and make my way to the bedroom. I walk in and JJ is naked, sitting at the edge of the bed, sitting on his hands. I don’t say anything and walk to nightstand and put my glass down. Then I strip off my shirt and shorts leaving me in my bikini. I saunter over to the closet.

JJ moans from his spot, but doesn’t say anything.

“You better not be touching yourself” I holler out from the closet, “I will know.”

I grab our toy box and come back into the room. JJ looks at me like a little puppy, eyes begging, still sitting on his hands. He is shaft standing straight up, red and looking very painful. I look at him pitifully.

“oh baby, that looks painful” I coo as I come to stand in front of him. I take his face in my hands and kiss him gently, before pressing into my tits. JJ groans and ruts his face in my tits for a bit, kissing softly.

“That’s a good boy” I praise him. “Now crawl up the bed and lay out for mommy.”

He gives my breasts one more kiss before sliding up to the bed into position. I grab the rope or of the box and walk to one hand. I know JJ had to hate the fact he taught me how to tie knots and now I used them on him. I tie both hands to headboard in a poachers knot, then doing the same to his feet.

“Mommy why” he whimpered.

“You demanded me, I can’t let that slide baby boy” I said calmly, looking at him with my bottom lip pushed out. I went back to the box and pulled out the blindfold. “Now remember, no cumming until Mommy says, and let me know when you’re close”

“Yes, Mommy, but please” he begged “I wanna see you”

“You won’t have to wear it the whole time” I promised as I tied it on. I grab the cock ring from the box and gently place it on him. He bucked his hips against my hands, and I teased his cock for a bit.

“Oh sweetie, you have the prettiest pink dick I have ever seen” I praised as I slowly stroked him, pressing my thumb against the tip, spreading his precum around. Then I abruptly stopped, causing him to his buck his hips and cry out in frustration. I slapped his thigh and then grabbed the remote for the cock ring.

“Stop that, be glad Mommy is being so nice” I growl. I grab my glass taking a nice swig of my drink before grabbing an ice cube.

I rub the ice cube along JJ’s lips, he gasps, I trace his lips with it and then moving it down to his chin. I run it down his neck and to one nipple, rubbing it over and over till his nipples could cut glass. Then I did the same other one, making sure both get the same attention. From there, I run it down over his rock-hard abs and down his happy trail.

“That feel good, puppy?” I ask teasingly smiling.

“Mhmm” he moans out.

“You’re such a good boy for me” I praise. I turn on the cock ring to the lowest setting. JJ cry’s out, bucking his hips up.

“Fuck baby” he gasps out.

I grab the riding habit from the box and slap his dick. He whimpers out.

“What’s my name, puppy?” I demand, slapping it again. He bucks his hips hard and squirms, whimpering the whole time.

“Mommy, sor- sorry, mommy” he stammers. “Mommy please”

“What, puppy, what do you want?” I coo to him. I turn up the ring another setting while soothingly rubbing his cock.

“Mommy, please I need to cum” he begs pathetically.

“Hmmm, no not yet. Your punishment isn’t done.”

I reach up and take off the blindfold. He blinks a bit, before focusing on me. His normally ocean blue eyes are nearly completely black. I grin at him and lean down and gives him a searing kiss. I reach down and gently stroke his vibrating cock. He groans in my mouth, taking everything he can from the kiss. It’s a wet sloppy kiss, teeth clashing against each other, biting lips and then I sit up. He chases my lips till he can’t anymore, then slams his head back down and grunts, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. He knows better than to say or do anything. Knowing I won’t let him cum, but edge him for hours.

“Watch me puppy” I say I gently stroke his cheek. He opens his eyes and looks at me, tears on his lashline. I reach back and grab the vibrator and set it beside me.

“What’s that for?” JJ asks, eyeing it fearfully.

“Just watch Mommy” I gently insist.

I reach up and untie the strings behind my neck, letting it fall down, then untie the back string. Letting my bikini top fall and land around his neck. My breast released fall down and jiggle a little. I rub and knead them for a minute. JJ groans, pulling at the ropes on his hands. For the moment I let him squirm and pull at the ropes. I rub my stomach before reaching my hips and untie the strings on each side, allowing the bikini bottom to fall off and flatten. I raise up just enough to pull it off and throw it.

I move up to sit on his chest and grab the vibrator. I lean back enough so JJ can see my pussy right in front of his face. He whines pulling at the ropes.

“I wanna touch, please” he begs between gritted teeth.

I ignore him and run the vibrator over my wet, soaked pussy, making him watch. I gasp from the sensation, JJ moans. I slide it thru my folds, rolling my hips, soaking his chest in my arousal. I feel him began to thrust his hips behind me, looking for friction as the cock ring vibrates around his dick.

“Mommy please,” he pleads quietly, “I won’t do it again, just please untie me and let make you feel good.”

“Hmm,” I ponder “Have you learned your lesson?” I ask as I put away the vibrator and slide down his abs. He hisses from pleasure.

“Yes, I promise I’ve learned”

“I don’t buy it.” I hover him and slam down on cock, making him jerk his hips up and cry out. I turn up the cock to near the highest setting and bounce up and down. JJ moaning and whimpering, thrusting his hips as hard as he can in his ropes. I feel him twitch inside me.

“Mommy, I’m gonna cum” he pants out.

I turn off the ring and pull off him, before he can cum. JJ screams out in frustration and bucks his hips wildly. I lean up and give him gentle kisses on his cheeks and forehead.

“This doesn’t happen when you’re a good boy.” I taunt in his ear. I continue to edge JJ for another hour or so, until his tip is nearly purple and he is crying and begging me to let him cum.

“Oh puppy, you’re doing so good for me,” I praise. “You want me to let you cum?”

He vigorously nods his head and whispers “please” over and over.

“Ok, you eat Mommy out and make her cum, and then I will let you pick how you want to cum. You can fuck my tits and cum on my chest or,” I pretend to ponder, “I will let you cum in Mommy’s pussy”

“Pussy” he hastily says. I chuckle as I remove the ring and position over his face.

“Now be a good boy and make Mommy cum.” I demand.

I lower myself down and JJ licks my core from hole to clit, making me moan. I grab the headboard as he latches onto my nub, licking and sucking till I am rolling my hips. I untie him and his hands immediately grab my thighs pulling me down harder as he pushes his tongue into my hole and fucks me with his tongue.

“Fuck” I moan out, grabbing and pulling JJ’s hair to get him closer. He lets go of one thigh and, none to gently, shoves two fingers into my pussy and sucks my clit. I gasp out, pulling his hair harder and grinding down on him. He groans, the vibrations making me cry out.

“I’m s’close” I pant as I ride his face and he fucks me with his fingers. JJ curls his fingers hitting my sweet spot and bites down on my clit. I scream out as I fall over the edge, my release spilling all over JJ’s face as he slurps up every last bit of juices that I released. He licks and kisses me through my high and I eventually slump down and fall to the side. He raises up to look at me, his mouth and chin slick with my arousal.

“Was that good, Mommy?” he asks smirking.

“Yea puppy, Mommy’s very happy” I pant, he grins like a Cheshire cat. Not having the energy to ride him now, I lay back and spread my legs.

“You can fuck me n-” and before the words leave my lips, JJ is on top of my sliding his cock in my pussy.

Seeing how I edged him for so long, it didn’t take long, and JJ was cumming inside me. He collapsed on me and I wrapped my legs around him and slid my arms around his neck. He rutted up in me, still lost in his euphoria, whining into my chest.

“You’re such a good pup for Mommy,” I praised as I kissed his forehead and ran my fingers thru his hair, scratching his scalp as I did, making him hum. We laid there for a bit, while I petted and praised him.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up and got to sleep”

I led him to the bathroom and cleaned us up, before heading back to bed and laying down. I rolled on my side and JJ buried his head in my chest and curled up to me like a koala.

“Sleep now puppy” I murmured before we both fell into blissful slumber.

Tagging some moots:

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themostrandompolls · 4 months ago

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makeitmingi · 7 months ago

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Stay In This Dream

Genre: Romance, Angst, Melancholy

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Normal!Reader, Badboy!Wooyoung

Summary: You know he's bad for you, he knows he's bad for you. But for some reason, you're both constantly drawn to each other. In a crazy world, you and him are forever, you don't need to save each other from reality. All you want to do is stay in this dream with him.

Word count: 4.3K

Story warning(s): Toxic relationship(? Not really, idk?), possessive Wooyoung, clubbing, smoking, swearing, alcohol, alcohol consumption, Ateez is a delinquent group. Minors DNI. Please read at your own discretion.

The music was booming loudly as you entered the club. You gulped, letting out a shaky breath before walking further in. Before joining the dancing bodies on the dance floor, you went to the bar to get a drink. Some liquid confidence will loosen you up.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked as you leaned against the bar counter.

"Rum and coke, three wedges of lime." You ordered your usual before sliding onto an available bar stool. With a kind smile, the bartender set down your drink on a serviette.

"Thanks." You bowed your head and he nodded back before going to serve other customers.

"I guess it's good to be home, Seoul." You smiled bitterly before lifting your glass to take a sip. A sigh escaped you as you put the glass down.

Looking to the side, you saw all the mingling people, women and men getting to know each other, having the time of their lives. Or maybe just trying to get laid.

Who were you kidding? This wasn't your scene, it never was. It was time for you to leave.

"Hey." Someone came up to you, his voice making you stiffen.

"I-I was just leaving." You said quickly as you looked away from him, lifting your drink to finish it. But he gently curled his fingers around your wrist to stop you from downing the rest of your drink. He made you put your glass down and wrapped his arms around you to hug you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Welcome back." He whispered.

"San..." You didn't know what to say to him and you couldn't hug him back. Even in the loud club, he was so close that you could hear his words. The way he hushed you to comfort you.

"When did you come back?" He asked as he pulled away. His face was calm, no sign of anger or upset.

"Yesterday." You gulped. He nodded, you were worried about what he was going to say or ask next. But all he did was pat your head and walk away.

"San, don't-" You called out to him but he was long gone, disappearing into the crowd. You looked at your drink, the bitterness that filled your mouth suddenly making it was unappealing.

"Hi, can I buy you a drink?" Now this was someone unfamiliar. You were never good with strangers, really.

"Are you here alone?" The male probed further.

"Yeah. But I buy my own drinks. I'm was gonna finish this up and leave." You said, grabbing your glass by the rim to swirl it, letting the diluted layer of melted ice mix into the rest of the drink. No one ever dared to really buy you drinks or flirt with you.

"Aww, come on... Okay, you know what? At least drink with me?" He tilted his head with a smile. His smile was charming, you would probably be swooned if you were preoccupied.

"Can you close me out?" You raised a hand to the bartender, who nodded from his end of the bar.

"Seriously, what's the rush?" He blinked.

"Take a hint and leave. Don't be to pushy, it's ugly." You froze at the new voice that entered the conversation. Your stomach churned uncomfortably and the heaviness settled in your chest.

"What? Who are you? I was here first, man." The man frowned unhappily.

"She's with me. What? You wanna take this outside?"

"Woo! Don't!" You blurted out, finding your voice again amongst the panic. Rolling his eyes with a scoff, the man walked away, you were obviously not worth fighting over.

"Tsk, coward... Close her out. Rum and coke with 3 lime wedges but put it on my tab." He told the bartender, who nodded and began making you a new drink. You couldn't even protest as he took the now available seat beside you. You waited for the bartender to put your drink down and walk away.

"You remember..." He raised an eyebrow, of course he remembered, he was always observant and remembered everything about you.

"I didn't want San to tell you." You chewed on your bottom lip.

"You really think I wouldn't have noticed you the moment you entered the place? San was just nosy and didn't know if it was really you. But I knew, I always know." He said.

"Woo, I-"

"Don't say you didn't come here to see me. You came here because you knew I would be here." He knew what you were going to say.

"Well, maybe I came here to get a partner for the night." You challenged, clenching the material of your skirt in your fist. Wooyoung turned to you, a deep frown at your words.

"You know I would never let that happen." He growled. That was Wooyoung, he was always possessive.

"Wooyoung, we're not even together anymore..." You lamented. He refused to answer that. But gosh, he looked good. His side profile as he drank his drink, he still looked so handsome. It made your heart clench as you forced yourself to tear your eyes away.

"And whose fault is that?" He finally replied. Although, the grim look on his face showed just how much he hated saying that. But Wooyoung was only ever truly open about his feelings with you.

Jung Wooyoung, the bad boy from high school. Him, along with his best friend, Choi San, were captains of the baseball team. Because that was the only thing he cared about.

And you. You were the only other thing Wooyoung cared about and loved. Nothing else.

You loved Wooyoung too, a lot. You never expected it but the bad boy tole your heart and showed you what love is.

However, you knew your relationship was just a fever dream that wouldn't last. The bubble of happiness that you and Wooyoung were in was not forever.

You wanted to do well in school and go to college to get a degree. Wooyoung didn't, if it weren't to stay with you and accompany you, he would have quit school a long time ago. He didn't have a plan, he wouldn't be there, sitting for college placement exams with you, he won't go be by your side to go to college with you.

But when an amazing overseas scholarship offer came in your mail, you knew you couldn't turn that down.

At first, the guilt ate at you, your future and love with Wooyoung should be the priority. But between him and his friends getting in trouble, the fighting, the street racing, you couldn't take it.

So, as you sat at the hospital waiting area, waiting for the doctor to stitch Wooyoung up again, you knew this wasn't the life for you.

3 days later, you ended the relationship with Wooyoung. And 4 days after that, you left for America.

"It wasn't my fault, Wooyoung..." You sighed, your bottom lip quivering. Was it really? You just wanted to do something for yourself, for once.

"I wasn't the one who packed up and left for 3 years." He said sourly, flicking the cap of his zippo open and close.

"It wasn't easy on me either. Not knowing if whether you would come home alive or dead. Having to bail you out of jail or wait for you at the hospital while doctors stitched you up." You winced as you remembered all the memories.

"Fine, I'm sorry I didn't have a plan to go to a cushy college like you. But I would never have abandoned you." He clenched his jaw.

"I didn't abandon you, Wooyoung." You replied. Honestly, you didn't know if you were convincing yourself or him.

"Oh yeah, you didn't. You just decided to pack your things, go to another country for 3 years without ever mentioning it to me." He said sarcastically.

"I did mention it to you." You mumbled.

"Yeah, when you broke up with me. And told me you're leaving in 4 days... Thanks for the heads up." He rolled his eyes.

"I didn't... I don't want to discuss this now." You said, looking away. Regret sunk in your heart.

"Then what do you want to discuss? Why did you come here?" Wooyoung placed his empty glass down and turned to face you. He's right, why did you come here? Why did a part of you hope to run into him? Just to see him again.

"You're right. This was a mistake." You got up to leave but Wooyoung grasped your wrist. Just as you were about to protest, Wooyoung dragged you to the dance floor.

"No, I'm not letting you walk away again." He made you put your arms around his neck as his hands landed on your waist.

"Like old times, hmm?" He pulled you close to him, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"I shouldn't be here." You said softly. You didn't know if you were saying that to yourself or to Wooyoung.

"And yet, you're still holding onto me." You knew he had that signature smug smirk on his face as he said that to you. In fact, your hold tightened around him, as if you were scared of him leaving.

You closed your eyes, this used to be your life with Wooyoung. Coming to the club, drinking, dancing, having the time of your lives. How bad boy Wooyoung ruined you.

"Wooyoung..." You whimpered. Wooyoung finally pulled away from the hugging hold to look at you. It was dim but he could see you faintly under the club's lights. As you closed your eyes, he was quick to wipe away the tears that fell. He held your cheek tenderly and kissed your forehead.

"Let's go." Holding your hand, instead of grasping it like earlier, he led you out of the club through the back door. You just followed him without a word. He guided you through the alley.

"Come here." He hugged you, guiding your head to his chest. You buried your face in his chest.

"It's okay, baby." His hand stroked the back of your head.

"You're home. That's all that matters, you're back here with me." You didn't know if his reminder was meant to bring you relief or more hurt, knowing that this isn't right.

That familiarity made your heart soar, it was what you longed for for 3 years. His warmth, his scent, his voice.

"I love you, I'll never let you go again." He kissed your head.

You closed your eyes, even if this was only temporary, even if this was only a dream, you didn't want it to end. This was why you came here the moment you came back to Seoul.

As you laid down to rest in his bed, fast asleep, Wooyoung pulled the blanket up to make sure you were comfortable. You were so deep in your slumber you weren't affected by him moving. You were dressed in his shirt and your underwear. It's like you never left.

"I love you." He kissed your temple and left the room, closing the door behind him. Wooyoung shuffled over to the balcony, sliding open the glass door.

Leaning his forearms on the banister, he lit a cigarette and stared out into the night sky that blanketed the city.

"Need a drink?" San offered with his head poked out, holding out a glass of rum.

"Thanks. I just need to clear my head for a bit." Wooyoung recevied the glass and took a sip, setting it down on the small table as he continued his cigarette.

"(y/n)?"

"She's sleeping in my bed so don't be too loud. You know she's a light sleeper." Wooyoung cautioned.

"Will do." San saluted and headed in for the night. He was used to you sleeping over. Even when you and him were dating, San and Wooyoung lived together. That's why Wooyoung was always over at your house. He had clothes and other personal effects there. It was like he practically moved in with you.

Did he ever think that you would be lying in his bed 3 years later? At some point, yes. A part of him held onto the hope that you would return to Seoul, return to him.

That hope vanished when Wooyoung went to America to find you. He had asked a friend where you were before he flew there.

But Wooyoung saw you so happy, being amongst your new friends, discussing things with your professor.

You had a bright future ahead of you while Wooyoung's was bleak. Who was he to rob you of that? If he loved you, he knew he had to let you go.

Wooyoung flew back before you even knew he was there. He tried to push you to the back of his mind and continue on with life.

But he should have known that the universe will take him for a spin. Because there you were tonight, entering the club, looking as beautiful as ever, going up to the bar for a drink.

You were always insecure about sticking out like a sore thumb, whether it was the clubs, the illegal race tracks or the fighting ring. But to Wooyoung, that just made him love you more. You weren't just another face in the crowd.

Whenever Wooyoung looked at you, he smiled. You lit up the room, you were kind and friendly to everyone you met.

You were different from him. He, San and his friends, ATEEZ, ruled the school (and now the streets) with violence, he always had his bat resting on his shoulder, sending threats to those who stare for too long.

"God..." Wooyoung let out a sigh of frustration, leaning on the heels of his palms.

He loves you so much that it hurts. Even though he knows you're better off without him, he doesn't want to let you go. You belong with him.

"Tsk." Crushing his cigarette, Wooyoung downed the rest of his rum and headed back into house. As he crossed his living room, he looked at his steel bat that rested in the corner.

Wooyoung closed his eyes, his focus was you now. He shook his head and went to the room.

"Don't leave me again. I'll protect you, I promise. I'll give you anything you want." Wooyoung gathered you in his arms, holding you close to him like his life depended on it. He knew if you were awake, you would push him away. When you were together, you always hated when he came to bed smelling like cigarettes and alcohol.

"Just let me be selfish." He pressed his lips to your head and closed his eyes. If he was imagining this and it was all just a hallucinating dream, Wooyoung didn't want to wake up.

When you woke up, Wooyoung was sound asleep, facing you with his arm slung over your waist.

A part of you still believed this to be a dream. You reached over to rest your hand on his cheek, making him snuggle into his pillow.

You didn't deserve this, anyone would tell you that.

You didn't deserve to live in fear and dread that Wooyoung would be dead one day. But at the same time, you also didn't deserve the kindness and love Wooyoung gave you when you were the one that left.

It made you sick to your stomach, the way you were acting. Wooyoung didn't deserve to be treated like that. What were you thinking? Running back here.

Slipping out of bed, you reached for a pair of Wooyoung's sweat shorts that he left on the chair. You slipped it on, tying the string around your waist. It's too cruel for you to leave him again, especially while he sleeps. But you needed to remove yourself for now.

"Hey, (y/n)." San greeted when you tip toed out of Wooyoung's room.

"Hey, San..." You greeted warily, standing by Wooyoung's bedroom door. What was he going to say to you? Was he going to berate you for what you did/ are doing to his best friend?

"I'm headed out for the day. I left breakfast on the table for you and Woo, when he wakes up." He said, picking his jacket up to wear.

"Sure, thank you." You nodded, walking down the hall to where he was.

"There's coffee in the fridge too. Help yourself." He informed as he jogged to his room to gather what he needed. You heard the jingling of his keys.

"Hey, (y/n)?" San called out to you just as he was about to step out of the house. You hummed, turning to look at him.

"Talk to him, please. I'm not forcing you to stay, I understand why you left but... Please don't leave without talking to him first." He said. You chewed on your bottom lip but nodded your head. Even if he said understood, his words made you feel like the bad guy. You probably were but it hurt for it to be vocalised.

"You want a cigarette to relax?" He offered, about to reach into his pocket to grab his pack.

"No, thanks. I quit smoking..." You smiled awkwardly. San almost seemed content and proud by your words as he nodded.

"Bye, San." You wished. He smiled and came over to give you brief hug before leaving the house. Maybe that's why San is leaving, to give you space and privacy to talk to Wooyoung.

As you waited for Wooyoung to wake up, you sat in their apartment balcony, wanting some fresh air. You noticed that Wooyoung left his zippo on the table.

*clink*

You flicked open the cap then closed it. Wooyoung always did this when he was nervous or deep in thought.

It became a habit that you picked up too. That and other habits like smoking. But when you did, it was a social thing. You never smoked unless you were around Wooyoung and his friends. How long you were sitting there, you didn't know.

"Hey." Wooyoung shuffled out onto the balcony, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his lips.

"There it is." He naturally leaned down and almost mechanical, you used his zippo to light the cigarette for him. Before he took a puff, he held the lit cigarette between his fingers, away for you.

"You're still here." He brushed your hair back with his free hand. You nodded your head and he smiled, giving you a peck.

"Do you want eat? San left us food but I just grabbed coffee..." You asked.

"Still the same. I'll eat in a bit." He sat on the chair instead of next to you on the bench. You both always had coffee before anything else, a bad habit. Wooyoung pulled the cigarette away again.

"Want to share?" He offered, just like old times.

"I quit..." You mumbled. He nodded with a hum, making sure to blow the smoke out in the other direction.

With a soft sigh, Wooyoung puts out his cigarette. He came to sit next to you on the bench, putting an arm around you. Again, another almost natural reaction, you lean into him, tucking yourself under his arm. Your cheek pressed against his pec as he held you. You did this with him regularly.

Sitting out here, watching the city go by, watching the sun set and the sun rise again, enjoying ths bliss of your little bubble. Until the weight of reality popped it.

Dread sunk in your stomach, you needed to talk to Wooyoung but what about? You didn't have time to think this through.

"So, what degree did you decide to pursue?" He broke the silence first. He woke up from the dream first.

"International relations." You replied, fiddling with the stray thread at the end of his sweater. It was the only thing that kept your mind focused on Wooyoung's words.

"Did you like it there?" He asked with a gulp.

"It was fine." You didn't really give a yes or no answer because you didn't know.

Your life in America was so different. You were able to dedicate yourselves to your studies, earning your degree and subsequently becoming valedictorian. That allowed you to form good connections and networks. The only thing missing was Wooyoung.

"Would you have stayed there?" At your question, you pulled away. This was him waking you up from the dream too. Wooyoung watched as you stood up and headed to the banister.

"Wooyoung, it wasn't easy to leave you. I swear. I know I'm selfish but for once, I needed to think about myself and my future." You said.

"A future without me in it?" At his question, you swallowed. That lump in your throat was back.

"Woo, with the way things were going, even if we stayed together, I wasn't sure whether you would still be in it." You turned to look at him, tears swimming in your eyes.

"I had to save myself the grief before it actually came through a phone call. It would be too much..." You whispered.

"But I'm still alive and kicking." Wooyoung argued.

"For how much longer? Mingi was almost paralysed, Jongho was in a coma for 4 months, I wasn't going to stick around and wait for any of that to happen to you. I couldn't..." Your bottom lip quivered in fear.

"You know I wouldn't be careless like that. Damn it. I love you, I still do. You know I'll always come home to you." Wooyoung grimaced. Your words cut deep into Wooyoung, he knew the truth was that he drove you away with how he was acting. With the way he lived, he couldn't save you from the fear and worry.

"I know you love me too, that's why you went to the club the moment you arrived in Seoul. To find me. And don't deny that." He stood up.

"I thought I could move on and build a life for myself, start anew. But who am I kidding? I can't do it." You laughed bitterly.

"There were so many times I wanted to leave America and come back home. Come back to you. You were my home." You revealed. Wooyoung's heart was racing as he heard your words.

"Why didn't you? I was waiting for you. I am still your home." He asked.

"Because I knew I didn't deserve to miss you when I was the one who left. What right did I have? And what if you moved on? I don't think I could bear to see that." You shook your head. For 3 years, you hated yourself for missing him.

"No, I would never. Because we both know you belong with me and me only." Wooyoung insisted with a frown.

"I-I don't know if I can live like this again, Woo." You hugged yourself. Now it really sunk in, you felt so lonely and that was the reality that you have to wake up to.

"I want to let you go because I know you're better off out there but fuck, I can't. I can't, I'm sorry. I need you with me." He held your cheeks with his hands, pressing your forehead against him.

"Our lives are just too different. Sometimes, even love cannot conquer that." You shook your head.

"Don't say that. Don't. I refuse to believe any of that bullshit." Wooyoung denied.

"You'll carry on with your life and I'll carry on with mine. A part of love is worrying about each other. We'll always do that." He said, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Wooyoung loved you but he loved ATEEZ too, he couldn't just leave his friends who have support him. They were delinquents to everyone else but to Wooyoung, they were his family too.

Again, it was selfish of him, he knew that.

"But..." You grew hesitant, almost scared at the thought of going through all that again.

"We'll work this out, I promise. But whatever it is, I'm not letting you leave me again. You're mine. I lost you once, I'm never losing you again. We'll get through this." Wooyoung said with determination. You nodded and leaned forward to hug him, pressing your lips against his. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I love you, Woo. I'm so sorry." You cried. How was he so understanding and patient? But if Wooyoung could work through this, you knew you could too.

"Shh, my baby. No more 'sorry's. I still love you and forever will." He held you, stroking your head.

After breakfast, you and Wooyoung decided to just stay in bed to quietly spend time with one another, all the time lost. He grabbed your leg to throw it over his waist so he could hold you close.

"Still so beautiful." He smiled cheekily.

"Stop~" You whined, hiding your face in his chest. He laughed loudly, that also didn't change, his laugh was so distinguishable that his friends always made fun of it.

"I still love your laugh." You giggled, making him roll his eyes, unsure if you were teasing him or not.

"Seonghwa hyung still imitates me." He scoffed.

"It's cute." You pinched his cheek.

As he cradled you and you bunched the material of his shirt in your hands, it sunk in that you were here, lying in bed with Wooyoung, holding him and touching him. You felt whole again and there was a happiness you haven't felt in 3 years.

Was your love for Wooyoung able to convince you to go back to the way things were? You didn't know. But that worry and the many others can be left for tomorrow.

Wooyoung will be with you, you'll overcome it together. You wanted to enjoy what you had with him now. You didn't want it to disappear.

If this was a dream, you knew you never wanted to wake up.

Masterlist

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rabbitcruiser · 3 months ago

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National Rum Day

National Rum Day comes on August 16 of every year. Rum is the third most popular spirit followed by the vodka and all the whiskey combined in the United States. It is a distilled clear alcoholic drink which is a byproduct of molasses production and made directly from sugar cane juice. After the evaporation and distillation process, most rum is aged in wooden oak barrels. It stirs up images of sandy shores and vividly coloured umbrellas in fruity drinks. It is a fresh and sweet spirit that originated in sunny Papua New Guinea.

“I remain faithful to bourbon sour. It’s absolutely delicious. You’d have to ask a bartender what’s in it, but I think if you know you might never have a drink. I also love a little rum, 7 years aged, brown, when it is chilly, before dinner.” – Christian Louboutin

History of National Rum Day

Rum started in 17th century Barbados in Brazil when there was rises the molasses-like a by-product of making sugar that plantation owners, not having any use for the stuff, dumped it into the ocean. It wasn’t long before some crafty slaves shown a way to ferment and later distil the molasses, which more closely resembles present-day Guaro than rum.

Rum is a happy drink, blended with tropical climates, days spent smelling of sunscreen by the water and dancing with good friends. Rum is a magical liquor made from molasses, and in fresh sugar cane juice, that has been fermented and distilled and aged in oak barrels. Los Angeles bartenders are using rum to make some of their best cocktails. And whatever you’re drinking, do it responsibly.

How to Celebrate National Rum Day

Celebrate National Rum Day with a short drive to your favourite watering hole on a hot summer day and visit Mexican restaurant or liquor store. If you want a lot of fun, grab your friends to get some Rum and enjoy the day.

Source

#Strawberry Mojito #Dark 'n' Stormy #Long Island Ice Tea #Sweat Tea Mojito #don't drink and drive #cocktail #National Rum Day #restaurant #USA #Canada #original photography #travel #vacation #Mojito #lemon #ice cube #NationalRumDay #16 August

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year ago

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Little White Lies—

Quinn Hughes x reader

Request: Quinn bringing his gf to the golf course to tag along with him, his brothers, and their dad. His gf pretended to be bad at gold for his sake…lol until they told her maybe she should go get an ice tea at the country club. But she decided to give them a run for the money…the Hughes Bros vs Quinn Gf and Jim. Jim even said he will invite her out to golfing with his friends… lol Jack even offered to bring her against Trevor. Quinn’s Gf def hustled them.

Off-season was coming to an end, meaning that the Hughes family golf tournament was in full swing.

Quinn had invited his girlfriend out with them for the first time. She wasn't invited out the past two summers that she'd accompanied Quinn to Michigan for the summer season, so she was excited and ready to play some golf.

Quinn grinned as she stood on the grass, her little white lulelemon skirt accentuated her thighs, her tanned shoulders on displayed, and hair was pulled back into a loose bun making his breath a little jagged and his head dizzy.

"Have you ever played before?" Jim asked as she stood next to him on the grass. Y/n took a practice swing, her form perfect as she held her pointer finger up to her lips, motioning for him to keep it a secret, "Ahh I see." "He gets competitive, I don't wanna burst his ego," she shrugged and sat next to the older man on his cart, sipping a Long Island Iced Tea as she watched Luke, Jack, and Quinn approach the cart.

Jack grinned, "Last game of the year, this decides who the best golf in the fam is," he mused, arm wrapping around his oldest brothers neck as his smirk grew, "as we all know I won last year, I'm feeling a two-year streak coming on." Quinn rolled his eyes and dipped out from Jack's hold making the younger brother trip from not having something to support his weight anymore.

"Don't listen to him, I have a feeling the title is all yours babe," the girl smiled innocently as Quinn melted into her hold, arms wrapped around him as she placed a kiss on his cheek. Quinn turned his head and pecked her on the lips, "You taste like rum," he whispered as he kissed her again. "Booze is the only way I'm getting through this day, and the heat," she said with a smile.

Jack groaned, "Stop being in love and lets get going!" "Okay okay," Quinn said, watching the pout on her face grow before he kissed it away, "lets go," he whispered.

Seven holes in and Y/n was putting in the least effort she could, not only was she not wanting to mess with the Hughes family tourney, but also golf was so disinteresting to her.

Quinn smiled at her as they arrived at the eighth hole, his hand on her thigh as she stared out of their cart to his brothers who were arguing in the other one, Jim driving with the most annoyed look on his face as his competitive sons bickered amongst themselves.

"Are you bored, love?" her loving boyfriend asked as they parked. "Am I doing that bad?" she asked, feigning innocence as she finally looked at him, brows pulled together with concern as he made a face that told her the answer, she was horrid. "Let me play this hole, and if I'm bad, I'll just go the bar and sit the rest out," she said with a grin. "I'm not saying you have to stop playing, you just look bored." "I know," she kissed his cheek before hopping off of the cart and pulling out her preferred club.

She let Luke go first, then Jack, and then it was her turn. Y/n turned and looked at Jim, winking at him before taking a deep breath and placing her feet in a better position, "I feel I might be getting better," she mused, Jim held back a chuckle as she swung her club and hit the ball.

The golf ball landed perfectly on the green as she turned around with a grin to look at all of the Hughes boys, a devious look on her face, many jaws dropped. "What?" she asked, dropping the bimbo act. "Your form was perfect!" "You just- have you been fucking around with us?"

The girl looked at Jim who looked thoroughly impressed, Quinn's brows were furrowed, "I thought you hated golf?" "I do," she shrugged, "doesn't mean I'm not good at it, Dad put me in lessons when I was in highschool," she said before taking a sip of her drink. "I feel betrayed!" "You'll live." "I don't think I will! I could've had you as a partner in the tourney against Brady and Matty instead of Jack!"

His girlfriend shrugged, "Speaking of tourneys, I'm gonna need you to partner with me tomorrow when I play against Cole and Trev," Jack said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her into his side as she groaned. "I should've stayed at the bar," She looked to Quinn to get him to help her get out of it, but instead he shrugged with a smirk and looked down to his feet, ignoring eye contact. "Help your brother-in-law out!"

Quinn's face filled with amusement as she agreed returning to her boyfriend's side, "Are you mad?" "Of course not," he smiled as his arm wrapped around her, watching as Jim started to line up his club with the ball, "I'll try to get you out of that game tomorrow." "No I deserve the karma for lying," she said with a laugh, looking up at Quinn's crooked smile, her face broken out into a blushing mess as she stood on her tiptoes and pecked his lips lovingly, once, twice, and a third time before she was cut off. "Enough!" Jack screeched.

#rotalks: quinn day #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #jack hughes

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simphornies · 10 months ago

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A/N: Thanks to some help from a wonderful writer ( @markster666 my new writer bestie ) this story might be longer than I think. Filled with a lot of emotions. I can't wait for you all to see what we've come up with.

Word count: 4.2k (4,240)

part 1, part 3, part 4

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] part 2

His second day was filled with the same trust exercises that Vaggie did earlier on. Vox and the other guests were thrown into another turf war once again to fight alongside each other. Alastor decided to join this time around, seeking entertainment in Vox's attempt at the exercise.

Vaggie hoisted Vox up into the air and threw him down the building. You watched over them, making sure that they don't get too injured. Alastor walks next to you, tapping his microphone as he watches Vox get punched in the stomach and saved by Angel Dust.

"Y/N, my dear, do you truly believe that this 'courtship' is real and not some frivolous stunt?" He asks, "I have grown accustomed to your friendship and it'd be a shame if he pulled strings to whisk you away from us and the hotel."

"To be quite frank with you, Alastor, I am not quite sure myself. Rest assured that I shall have my wits up." You put a hand on his shoulder, "I will not fall for meager attempts or tricks."

He hummed, "I rarely share this advice but do stay safe, darling. I will not find entertainment in failure from you. And I would hate to be disappointed in failure."

Though Alastor is...Alastor, you two have formed a bond. With you working to free him from his chains and him providing you with insight on how Hell functions, you became close friends. As sadistic as he is, he truly wished you good fortune.

You hear a scream coming from below and you quickly fly down to the source. Vox got surrounded and a demon managed to land a hit on him, stabbing him through his side. You opened up your wings fully to create distance and whisked him back up, blasting the perpetrators away with light. You gently sat him on the ground, kneeling beside him.

"Vox, where did they get you?" You ask in a hurry, trying to find the source of the bleeding. His side was covered in blood. "Take your shirt off, let me heal you."

"Take my shirt off? You want to see me naked that bad?" He weakly laughed, his screen glitching due to the pain, "And you can heal too? Hah. What can't you do, angel?"

"Now is not the time for jokes. Take your shirt off or I will rip it off of you." Your voice was stern, making him unbutton his shirt. You applied your magic to close off the wound and stop the bleeding. "My powers can only close wounds and stop bleeding. The pain will be there so take it easy."

You stood up, "I think that's enough. Let's all go home." And with a snap of your fingers, you all were transported back to the hotel through a portal.

"Vox is injured. No sudden or rash jerks to him until he's recovered. My magic's sped up the healing so he should be fine tonight. Alastor, no punching the injured please." He squinted at you in disappointment to which Vox flipped him off.

Charlie was apologizing profusely to Vox, offering him every kind of drink or snack that the hotel had. Vaggie drags her away so you can deal with him. You sat next to him at the bar, "A drink?"

"Yeah. That'd be great. Shit hurts like a bitch." He got a glass of rum from Husk and you got the same. Vox looked at you, a little bit in disbelief before smiling. "Thanks for saving my ass, angel."

"Do stop calling me that. But you're welcome." You chug your drink rather quickly, impressing Vox.

"Rum tonight huh? What made you decide to switch it up?"

"Mm. You." You smiled at him before asking Husk for the whole bottle and he gladly handed it to you. You and him clinked your bottles together before you pour it into your glass. Vox caught himself blushing at your response but he quickly wiped it off of his face.

He couldn't think of how to keep the conversation going so he drank in silence. He stared at the ice floating in his drink, messing with it with his claws.

"I have something to discuss with you Vox. In private." You say before getting up, face flushed from the stronger alcohol. "Please, meet me in my room after your drink." You take the bottle with you as you teleport into your room.

Angel elbows him on his good side, "Oooooh~ The angel's tryna fuck." He teased making Vox glitch a bit.

"Fuck! You! Don't jump out like that. Where did you come from?" He groaned before getting up, taking his glass with him. "It's probably business."

He walked up to your room, limping a bit from pain. He knocked on your door and entered as soon as you told him to. You sat at your desk, reading something in front of you.

"I want to discuss something and I sure do hope you consider this. Please, sit." You pointed at the seat across the table.

"Talking business early on? Are you going to agree to the deal?" He grinned mischievously, putting his hand under his chin to prop his head up on the table.

"No. It's about one of our patrons. Angel Dust." You slide a copy of his contract over to Vox, "This is a personal request of mine. I would like his contract, his deal with Valentino, to be terminated."

He was taken aback at your boldness. "Oh shit, okay. Well..." He leaned back, sucking air through his teeth somehow, "Yeah...I'm not sure, angel cakes. Valentino is pretty possessive over who he owns."

"I understand but I am willing to form a deal of some sort with you to get this to happen. Please, give me offers in exchange for this favor." You looked at him pleadingly. After seeing Angel Dust get hit and insulted by Valentino at the bar stirred something in you and you promised to find a way to break his deal.

Vox perks up at this opportunity. "A deal to break another deal?" He laughs, "You don't start small with your offers, do you?" He sat and pondered a bit.

"I'll accept your deal and get Valentino to break the contract on the condition that you make a deal with me."

You noticed his left eye beginning to spiral. Was he trying to hypnotize you? You laugh at the attempt, "Sorry. I'm not laughing at the offer but are you trying to hypnotize me?" His facial expression changes at the realization that he got caught. "That doesn't work on me, unfortunately for you. But what condition are you looking for?"

He retreats his attempt in shame, crossing his arms a bit. "Worth a shot." He huffed, “But I want you to work with me for the same length that you have me here. 3 days. And on top of that I want 3 dates with you. Let’s make a deal with that and I promise you that I’ll try to get Valentino to break his contract.”

You extend your hand out to him and he shakes it, sealing both of your words into a contract. He grins, knowing that he left out what exactly you have to do with him in his company. But a new feeling bubbled within him. The moment he held your hand he felt sparks in his system. He felt himself heating up with such a simple gesture and he couldn’t shake the feeling even hours after it had happened.

Hours had passed after your deal with him and at this point everybody was already fast asleep except for him. He couldn’t forget the way your hand felt in his. He paced around his room anxiously, trying to pinpoint the source of this pit he felt in his chest and stomach. He tried to distract himself with the technology provided in his room but every now and then he’d stare at the hand that held yours. Vox would replay the way you swooped in to take him away from danger and heal you. Your words echoed in his head over and over. Your smile slowly became a goal for him to maintain.

On his third and final day at the hotel, it was a party. Everyone wanted to go to the same bar Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb took the hotel staff to when Charlie was out. Alastor opted out of this because of “proximity reasons” or so he said. It was you, Vox, Husk, and Angel going this time.

You dressed yourself into an outfit that wasn’t the usual “I’m the famous angel that fought for Hell” look. Instead you wore shorts, courtesy of Angel Dust, and a crop top that Cherri gifted you a while ago. You were indecisive on which boots to wear and with Alastor off doing something you probably didn’t want to know about, you called Angel Dust.

He stood in your room as you frantically gathered all the shoes you owned and dropped them in front of the two demons. “I am not one to typically go out but I will absolutely not go out looking a mess. Please help me.” You practically begged. Angel helped you put together your outfit, fixing your hair up into a ponytail. He was proud of how you looked in the end.

The two of you walked to the lobby, chatting and laughing about how you can’t style yourself outside of your comfort zone. Vox stared at you, engulfed in your beauty. He was not used to seeing you outside of your usual attire and he was stunned. He couldn’t pry his eyes off of you and he was convinced it was purely due to your angelic powers. You wore black heels with eyes on the back, a shredded crop top that had a spray painted eye in the middle of it and simple black shorts. It was simple enough for you to be comfortable in but, in Angel’s words, slutty enough for you to blend in without getting immediately recognized as the angel that fought for Hell.

“Your ass looks nice in that, sweet cheeks.” Angel jokes. “I bet you’re gonna get eyes all over you at the club.”

“You flatter too much. It’s just a simple outfit, unworthy of such attention.”

But Vox agreed with him. His eyes wandered all over you. Your waist, your legs, your curves. He devoured the sight of you. It wasn’t until you made eye contact with him that he snapped out of it.

“Apologies! I was unable to settle on what to wear and if Angel hadn’t come to my rescue, I think I would have had to sit this one out.” You hugged Angel, proud of his work.

“What can I say? Sex isn’t all I’m good at.” He laughs.

You created a portal that led to the entrance of the club and the four of you immediately ordered drinks. Angel suggested drinking games and by the end of it, you were wasted. A sight that even Husk had only seen once. Your head was spinning, your vision fuzzy. Husk took another shot away from you, making you pout.

“One more shot!” Your words were slurred, “Please.”

“Absolutely not, you’re going to throw up and I am not cleaning it.” He shook his head and took your shot for you. “Shot’s gone.”

You whined and leaned into Vox’s arm, who was still sober. “Vox~ Can youuuu get me a shot?” You whispered.

Your voice sent shivers down his spine in a way he never expected. He almost caved but decided against it. “No. I think you’re done for tonight.”

You huffed and got off of him to his disappointment. You made your way onto the dance floor and uncharacteristically went all out. You followed what the crowd did and soon enough, they all lost track of you which sent them into a panic.

“Shit, where’s Y/N?” Angel asks.

“I saw her go towards all the dancing but I think she’s deep in the crowd.” Husk stated before running in there to search for you alongside Vox and Angel. Vox felt panic but he didn’t understand why. He didn’t know why he felt it urgent to get you in front of him and secure your safety. He was here to steal you from the hotel but yet he’s working with the staff to look for you. He pushed and shoved until he finally saw you. You were surrounded by three drunk demons with lust-filled eyes that danced on you a bit too sexually for his liking. The moment he saw one of them rub their hand from your hips to your waist, a fiery rage blazed within him. He quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you away from them and out of the crowd. He regrouped with Angel Dust and Husk who called Lucifer to portal them back to the hotel.

You were slumped against a flustered Vox, hugging onto his arm mumbling nonsense even after you all arrived back safely. He sat you down on the couch to which you immediately laid down.

“Wow. I haven’t seen an angel this wasted before.” Lucifer spoke, leaning over you. “Y/N, are you alright?” You giggled in response, not answering with words. “Yeah, I think she needs to go to bed. With lots of water!”

Everyone eyed your savior Vox and he groaned, “Why me?”

Alastor phased from the corner of the bar and next to him, “Because you were the one that wanted to court her. If you truly desire a relationship with someone in our staff, you should be able to take care of them as well as we do.”

Vox rolled his eyes at him, “Yeah well it wasn’t my idea to do a drinking game and get her fucked up knowing she’d lose.” He eyed Angel Dust who threw his hands up in the air, “Hey! I didn’t know her tolerance was shit. She took fifteen shots! Husk and I can handle more than that.”

“They have a point Vox. Please, take care of her for the night while the rest of us. You’re free to skip out on tonight’s activity.” Charlie says, “She likes getting tucked in.”

Vox carried you up to your room. You messed with the edges of his screen, tracing it with your finger. “So smooth.” You said. “Do you clean your screen? Can you stick your tongue out? If you can stick your tongue out, can I stick my hand in there?”

Vox was bombarded with questions but his focus was on your finger as it continuously went up and down the side of his head. He was blushing and flashed a couple of error screens until he finally got you into your room. You stumbled in and grabbed your usual dress. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked to which he received no response from you.

You began to take your clothes off sloppily, tripping over your own feet. Vox panicked and turned around. “Y/N! I’m still here, what in the unholy hell are you doing?” Though he was turned around, he shut his eyes for safety measures. He wasn’t one to get flustered at the sight of nakedness especially with Valentino on his team. He was confused why he felt and heard his heart pounding out of his chest.

“Yeah? If you’re here, why don’t you help me?” You whined. “Help me get into my gown.”

Vox turned and saw you on the floor, shorts stuck to your ankles and your top half off. He immediately began to scream and glitch. “Y/N!” was all he could say before he ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He yelled down the stairs from the railing, “For fu-ucks sake someone please dress her!” Everyone snapped their heads at Vox who was a glitching mess, “She is half-naked on the floor stuck in her shorts. I ca-cannot do this.”

Vaggie and Charlie ran up to get you into your night own as everyone else laughed at his flustered self.

“Holy shit! The big bad overlord got shy over that!” Angel was on the floor, clutching his stomach, absolutely dying. “What’s wrong? Never seen a naked angel before?”

He covered his face with his hands in shame. “I swear I brought her in there and the moment she was on the floor she started stripping. I turned around and when I looked back she was like that!” He groaned.

“Yeah, forgot to warn ya but…” Husk drank his bottle before continuing, “Last time she got fucked up like that she started changing in the lobby.”

“What’s wrong, old pal?’ Alastor teased, “Afraid of a little skin?” He laughed, mocking his rival.

“You know what. Fuck you. I’m going to my room to reboot myself. I cannot wait to get the fuck away from you.”

Alastor grinned at his frustrated and flustered self, his shadow doing the same.

You woke up surprisingly with a terrible hangover. You found yourself tucked into bed and in your nightgown. You had no recollection of the night before and the last thing you remembered was taking your 10th shot. After that, everything was gone. You stretched before you started to pack a couple of bags for your stay with Vox.

Charlie came into your room to check in on you, “You’re awake? How are you feeling? And…what are you doing?”

“I made a deal with Vox.” Charlie’s face dropped at the news, worried for you and your safety. “It’s a chance to get Angel Dust free and on the path to redemption. I…I can’t bear to see him come home after a rough night and I can sense his sadness.”

Charlie hugs you, “Be safe, okay? I know you’re strong but please…don’t get hurt.” You smile in return, placing a hand on her rosy cheeks.

“Thank you. I promise. I’ll be safe.”

Vox was waiting at the lobby entrance for you. Alastor was more than glad to get him out and was practically trying to throw him out the door with Angel and Husk watching in delight, munching on some popcorn.

“I’m waiting for Y/N! She’s coming with me!” He protested, dodging his black tendrils.

“She is not going with you.” Alastor hissed, static in his voice, “She would inform me if she would and she has not.”

You heard the commotion from the stairwell and flew down the stairs, using your body to keep distance between the two rivals. “Alastor! I apologize but I am. I have made a deal with Vox.” Vox straightened himself out, a smug smirk on his face. “I…want to get Angel Dust’s deal broken off. He and I have discussed and agreed that I shall stay and work with him for 3 days.”

Alastor squinted at you, reverting back to his regular form. “A deal with him? My…That is the most foolish of decisions you have ever made.” He scoffed, ears pinned to the back of his head. You step closer to him, holding his hand in comfort.

“Alastor, I apologize for not informing you sooner. I shall remain safe. My duty and loyalties remain with the hotel. I have told you before and I shall tell you again, I must work on breaking the deals that harm the staff the most. You, of all people, should understand that.” His eye twitched a bit at the reminder of his own chains but he did understand. He sighs and nods.

“If anything brings harm to you, inform me immediately.” That was Alastor’s way of telling you to stay safe. You smile and give him a hug, whispering a ‘thank you’ to him. He hugs you back before letting you go off with Vox into a portal you had created.

Upon arriving in his lobby, he was immediately greeted by Velvette and Valentino arguing about how Valentino had, yet again, destroyed one of Velvette’s models. Vox groans and looks at you, his face saying ‘See what I have to deal with?’ before approaching them.

“What the fuck’s happened now?” He says, “And please do not rip each other apart in the lobby.”

“This little piss baby ripped apart not one but two models. I have a show tomorrow and I would have been able to work with but he went ahead and ripped apart two unlucky bitches!” Velvette growled.

“That little bitch Angel Dust texted me to fuck off last night! Me!” Valentino screamed, “I will murder that little whore.”

“Enough.” His voice distorted, left eye spiraling before clearing his throat, “That is no way to act in front of our new temporary guest, Y/N.” He held his hands out and pointed at you. “She’s going to be here for three days and I do believe she’d be a good candidate as a model for you, Velvette. Is she not?”

Velvette squinted at you, eyeing you up and down, “Oh I don’t think I’d be a good-”

“Shush. Shut the fuck up for a bit.” Velvette raised a finger at you before swiping with her other hand, quickly switching your outfit. You were now suddenly in a red dress that showed your curves. She hummed and walked around you. “I suppose she could work. Do you know how to work a catwalk, angel?”

“I-” You cleared your throat, “I certainly know how to walk.”

“Not the fucking question. Pop your little wings out and walk in a straight line.” She ordered. You complied, revealing a set of wings before walking forward, “Alright…now turn. On your heel. Quickly.” You pivoted on your heel and walked back towards Velvette.

“You know what…This could work.” Velvette lit up a bit, “Pleasure to finally meet you. I’m the famous Velvette. One of the better Vees.” She shook your hand quickly before going on her phone.

Valentino slid over to your side, leaning down to your height, “Ah…the famous angel that fell from Heaven to fight for Hell.” He gave you a big smile. You had a vendetta against him because of what you know. He takes you hand and spins you before pulling you close, “I’m Valentino. If you ever decide to drop that tacky hotel and make real money. Let me know~ I can make you a star.”

Vox pulled you away from him, noticing your discomfort. You laugh nervously and fiddled with the dress you were now suddenly stuck in. “Thank you kindly for the offer but I am alright. I have no intentions of partaking in…your art.”

Valentino’s smile didn’t falter, “You know how to find me~” He states before walking away. You see him angrily typing away at his phone to probably harass Angel. You let out a sigh, putting away your wings before looking at Vox.

“I know. A handful, right?” He rolled his eyes, “You’ll get used to it.”

He leads you to your room, “This is where you’ll be staying. Don’t worry, I won’t spy on you.” He winked, “Unless you want me to.” You rolled your eyes in response. “Let me know as soon as you’re settled in. I want to go over what we’ll be doing for the next 3 days.”

“Alright. Thank you for your hospitality.” You nod. You were about to turn around to unpack when you felt his hand grab yours. He gave you a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before teleporting off into the nearest camera.

Vox sat in his office with the Vees while you were in your room.

“So what’s the plan here, Vox? Why is the angel in our building?” Velvette asked, a bit on the edge of the fact that someone as strong as you was in close proximity, something she didn’t allow you to see earlier.

“She wants me to break Angel Dust’s contract with Valentino.” He responds. Valentino slammed his fist on the table in anger. “She made a deal that in return for me trying, she’ll be here for 3 days working with us.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Valentino growled. “You can’t make me break that deal. That little whore makes me the most money!”

Vox simply grins menacingly, “I can make this all worth it, Valentino.” A plan brewed in his head. He just had to get you to put your guard down around him.

“And what if this shit doesn’t work and I lose that motherfucker because of your deal?”

“It’ll work. And I’ll find somebody better for you. You have so many whores, Val. Angel Dust is just one whore. He’s already going against you, don’t you want somebody that’s a little weaker? Somebody easier to control? By the end of this, we can have all of Hell to recruit.”

“Who would be better than Angel Dust?”

Velvette rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you try and get that popstar in? Verosika Mayday’s her name.”

Valentino calmed down a bit, “Hmm…If I can get Verosika on board, then I might just consider it.”

“Then we have a deal. I get you Verosika and in return, you break Angel Dust from his contract completely.”

Valentino grins, “Deal.”

“Are you really into this angelic bitch?” Velvette asks, aimlessly scrolling through her phone.

Vox laughs, “Absolutely not! I need her power and after those 3 days, I think I have just the plan to get her on my side.”

#vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #or is it angst #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor's your friend #vox being vox #hazbin hotel vees

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gyratingpresley · 21 days ago

Text

You're mine.

Pt 2

Warnings: Austin being aggressive, and protective, smut, Asshole Austin/a little corrupt, Austin Butler x reader, some angst???. Sorry it took so long. Enjoy babies xx

A week had passed since Toms party, you were sitting in Austins study, watching as he paced the floor yelling into his phone. "I don't give a fuck! You get me that fuckin' prick here now!" He chuckled darkly to the persons response, "Oh you'll fuckin' get him, you'll get him alright." Austin was wearing a newly ironed polo shirt and white dress pants, his hair freshly styled, you on the otherhand sat there in your pink babydoll nightgown. Standing up, you fix Austin a drink at his minibar, pouring a little bit of rum into a glass, then finally filling it up with coke. "Here, baby." You say softly, handing the stressed man his drink.

"Thank you, dollface."

His fingers were covered with rings as they usually were, but a flash of gold that adorned his neck caught your eye, TCB. You smiled to yourself, his favorite necklace. Austin sipped at the drink, his jaw flexing as he thought things over and over.

"So what was that about, Austin?"

He groaned, placing his drink down.

"Nothing important."

You huffed, crossing your arms like a child.

"Not important? You seem pretty tense." He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing you would stop talking. "Austin, baby, talk to me."

"Fuck! I don't want to talk about it!" He throws his glass at the wall beside you, it breaking into tiny shards, some pricked your feet, causing you to wince. His eyes watered as he sunk to his knees. Your husband hasn't been known to cry, but you love it when he talks to you and lets it all out. "Hey, hey, Austin, tell me what's wrong." You kneel down to his level, pulling his head to your chest. "Don't ever leave me." He sniffled into your chest. Your eyebrows knotted together, "What are you talking about?" Your words soft and tender. His tears leaked onto your skin, the warm liquid traveling down your collar bone.

He wiped his tears, looking back up at you. "I don't want a repeat of last week." He sighs, eventually bringing you to stand with him.

Now you understand. This was about Walt, the man who kept you entertained last week, the GAY man. "For fuck sakes Austin! He was gay!" You avoided all the broken shards of glass as you walked out of the office. Austin followed close behind, he was hot on your heels. The hardwood floors were cold, feeling like shards of ice against your feet. "Y/n! You get back here!" He boomed. You whipped around, crossing your arms, "Who was the so called 'prick' you needed." The words rolled off your tongue, the tone sending a shiver down your own back. Austin stood a little over a meter away from you, his tear stained cheeks burning red with anger. "No one." He bit out. The sun streamed through the celling to floor curtains, his blonde hair glistening. You felt like clawing at your throat just to get air. "Who was it." Austin walked a little closer.

"Wal-."

You groaned cutting him off, "I'm not doing this, he was gay! It was just dancing." His hands curled around your waist, pulling you into him.

"What does that matter? You're mine." He growls into your ear, nipping it slightly. You push him as you tried to move away from him. "No Austin, stop i-" He kissed you, one hand groping your ass and the other cupped your face, "Austin! Please stop, we need to talk this out." You mumbled against his lips. He backed you against the hard wall pulling up your nightgown, his fingers then tracing down your bare stomach, you banged at his chest, "Austin!" Your hands felt as if they barely touched him, he yanked down your panties, the delicate lace tearing at the seams. All you could hear was Austin's heavy breathing as he undid his belt. He couldn't do this, he couldn't avoid things with sex. "Baby! Sex is not going to fix this right now!" You cupped his face, forcing him to look up at you, his eyes dark with lust and a hint of pain. You knew he wasn't going to stop, once he starts he never stops. Picking you up, he angled his tip with your entrance, precum already leaking. He looked up at you as he slowly pushed in, your lips parting, Austin smiled slyly. As soon as he bottomed out you moaned.

Austin slowly and steadily began to pull out and then push all the way back in again, taking his frustration out on your pussy. Each thrust said something different, one saying, "What does it matter he was gay?" Then the next says,"I won't let you leave me."

You moaned again, reaching down to toy with your swollen clit, it buzzed with anticipation. First the circles you drew were slow, but as Austins pace increased the circles grew faster and bigger. He clung onto you like you were about to slip away, like a wormhole was going to suck you into another universe. "You're never gonna leave me. You belong to me." He huffed out as he kissed you. Leaning your head against the wall you groaned, feeling him inside your pussy, arching you back and taking him even deeper. "Oh fuck! That's the spot. That's the fucking spot!" You squealed, letting him plow into you. "This pussy is so perfect, it's like it was made for me." Those words tasted like honey coming from his mouth. You kissed him sloppily, and he parted your lips with his tongue, shoving it in. Your tongue moved against his as he groaned into your mouth, the whole word crumbled away.

"I'm going to fuckin' cum! Goddammit!" He yelled out, grasping your hips, now ramming into you. Your skin clapped together, which just fueled his lust.

"Ah! Ha!" You yelped as he rutted his hips into you, taking full control.

You gasped as he fucked your tight cunt as hard as he could, you found your own release soon enough, moaning as you arched your back more, riding out the high. Austin spanked your ass as he rode out his own climax, his seed covering your walls. His orgasm felt like euphoria. He swore he could see stars.

Now you were silent, nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, his head leaning against your chest as you stroked his back.

It was the next morning, you were lying in bed asleep, all spent, Austins cum leaking from your sore pussy, purple marks covering your inner thighs, neck and breasts. Clothes discarded of the floor, hair all tousled and knotted. Austin lay next to you, smirking. He was surprised you were asleep so soundly, apposed to the rounds he had been putting you through all night. His mind kept flitting through the memories of the moments you forgot your own name or when you would scream out his. He thought about how deep inside you pussy his cock could go, how your clit was just begging to be taken care of. Austin looked towards the handcuffs that were thrown to the bottom of the bed. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. The way your wrists were stuck about your head, God. How vulnerable you were, all for him. Mrs Austin Butler, he chuckled to himself, imagining all the ways he could have you again. For some reason, the sight of you all splayed across the bed, ignited a little spark inside of him. He leaned over, brushing his nose along your neck. "Wake up, baby." He hummed, kissing the marks. You shuffled around in bed, eventually opening your eyes. "Mr Butlers hungry..." He pouted. You sat up, rolling your eyes. "Austin! Your cum is still leaking out of me, what are you talking about." He chuckled crawling in between your legs. You moaned as he licked a stripe down your folds, taking one lip into his mouth, then the other. You leaned back against the pillows, his tongue began to work your clit, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Ah!" You squealed. "Fuck, Austin, I can't, mm'to sore." He kissed your clit, looking up at you. "You can do it, little girl." In went one finger, then another, and Oh! One more... "Three! Austi-!" You cut yourself off, moaning loud enough the whole of the neighborhood could hear. "Oh yes, that's it, fuck, right there!" You yelped as he ate you out while his fingers fucked you. "Cum on my fingers baby, you can do it." He encouraged you, your orgasm rose to its peak, finally you let go and came undone of his fingers. With one last suck in your clit, he took his fingers out and replaced them with his erect cock. Shoving it in. You jolted, "Holy fuc-" He flipped you around, forcing you down onto his lap.

"Ride that dick." He growled, moving your hips.

You did as you were told, beginning to grind on him, forcing his cock deeper. You placed your hands on his toned chest, bouncing your ass on his dick. Austin grunted as he smacked your ass, leaning you to kiss your breasts. He took one of the rose buds into his mouth, sucking on it. You bounced on his cock, moaned as he filled you to the hilt. The coil tightened in your stomach as he took over, ramming his hips into you. By the looks of it he knew you were close, taking his fingers and rubbing your pussy. "Go on, baby, cum for me."

His words set you off, you parted your lips, groaning as his thrusts slowed down. He reached out for his own orgasm, pumping his cock into a few more times before he spilled into you for the thousandth time. He pulled you off him, watching as you fell limp against the bed. Austin smiled, satisfied with his own work.

"So, learned your lesson now?" He hummed as he stood up to find you a fresh pair of panties. He was being unreasonable. First off, it happened a week ago, and he was married to a guy no less.

You spoke quietly. "He was gay."

Austins eyes darked.

"And you're mine, what's your point?"

Thank you for being patient babies, here's the awaited part 2! It's probably the last part, but if enough people want a part 3, I will consider it 👀

Tagged:

@redwitchbitch1 @iloveelvisss @prettyrose0135 @from-memphis-with-love

#austin butler fanfiction #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #possesive love #benny cross #austin butler smut

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heartcereql · 1 year ago

Text

a/n: i'm a slut for this man.

war!tommy shelby x nurse!reader

chattering in the background. the faint smell of alcohol. but not that alcohol. not rum, not scotch. clean alcohol. hospital alcohol. more voices. cloth against his forehead. it was cold. ice cold. and then he remembered. the fire. the wound.

tommy's eyes shot open, upper body lifting slightly from the sudden action, though it was mere seconds before he fell again on his back, his body tired and hurt, unable to support him.

and then he saw you. his eyes must have been blurry from the time they spent closed because he could have sworn there was a glazy halo surrounding your figure, all dresses in white, hair pulled back from your features, allowing him to gaze upon your features. you looked like an angel.

before he could even process the woman before him, said woman was approaching where he laid.

"you're awake! how are you feeling?" you spoke in a sweet tone, a smile softening your face.

he just gaped at you for a moment. you were even more beautiful up close. how was he feeling. all the better now that you were here, certainly, but even in his shocked and dumbfounded state he could distinguish that he couldn't tell you that. he tried to check if his body hurt. he felt a bit numb, probably he was on some sedatives; besides a light headache, he didn't feel much.

even though all these had happened in a few seconds to him, you were getting worried at his lack of response. maybe he was worse than you thought.

"sir?" you called his attention, a frown clouding your expression.

this seemed to bring him back to earth.

"yes, i'm alright, yeah" he nodded, giving you a smile of his own.

adorable. sharp cheekbones, the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, he was certainly delightful to look at. and he seemed like a sweetheart.

"that's great. let me check this..." you put your hand over his forehead to check his temperature. you were short on thermometers so you had to do it the old fashioned way for now.

his world stopped. breath caught in his throat, eyes widening in the tiniest bit- so that you couldn't notice, heart picking up its rate. your touch was feather-like, but lasted enough for him to feel the softness and warmth of your skin; the trace of your fingers still lingering on him when you pulled your hand again.

"not bad; the fever's going down... i'm going to change the bandages now, okay?" you said. you couldn't explain it, but you couldn't cease to smile.

he mumbled in agreement as your hands found his wounded arm, untying the now stained cloth. as you unwrapped his pained arm, your hands steadied on his bicep, making goosebumps arise on his skin.

once the wound was uncovered and fresh air hit the injury, tommy winced. you gave him an apologetical smile before turning to find a wet towel to clean the dried blood. his eyes never left your figure, studying your every move. when you returned and started washing the blood off, he forced himself to look away. he didn't want to creep you out.

but, on the other hand, nurses came and went easily; what if he never saw you again? so, on second thought, tommy's eyes returned to you, savouring every second.

as you finished, you looked at him, only to meet those enchanting icy orbs. you both smiled again, soft laughs, looking away shyly to hide your embarrasment.

you started to bandage his arm again. he wanted to ask you about yourself, find out about you. though knowing he was the reason you kept smiling made him feel all the better.

"um, so, you've been a nurse for long?" he asked, voice unsure, testing the waters.

he immediatly regretted it: you looked his age, 'been a nurse for long'? please.

but you didn't seem to share his thoughts, as your eyes glimmered a bit before answering.

"not really, no, but my mother and grandmother were nurses for the better part of their lives, so i know my way around" you answered, eyes suddenly too timid to meet his.

as the both of you engaged on a pure and warm conversation, bandages finished long ago, you lost track of time. your only focus was on him.

“y/n!” you were pulled out of the conversation as someone called for you.

“shit, uh, that’s me. i- i have to go.. but it was lovely to talk to you!, um…” you trailed off as you still hadn’t caught his name.

“tommy. tommy shelby” he replied with a smile.

“well, tommy shelby. you get better. and when you do, you look for y/n y/l/n” you offered him one last grin before sprinting off to where the voice came from.

y/n. oh he would definitely look for you. granted.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x reader #heartcereql

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thecuriousbeauty · 4 months ago

Text

Traitor-The Present

Chapter 2

Word count: 5,075

Warnings: Violence, gun, blood, nightmare, slight panic attack.

Author's note: Thank you for the love on Chapter one! Feedback is appreciated:) Here's the link if you've not read it: Chapter One

There was no way y/n could follow Harry around all day, he was a busy doctor. He had patients to tend to. For the time being, she didn't have a better idea except to continue meeting him at the bar.

"Have you always wanted to be a doctor?", she asks the man, clad in a lime green shirt today. He seemed like he was in better spirits than he was the previous night, so y/n took the opportunity.

"I..don't know.", Harry's eyebrows furrow, like he tried to think, and it hurt him to remember. "I know how to treat people."

"That's nice.", y/n nods. "It must be a big responsibility, having lives of people in your hands."

"I think I'm used to it.", he replies shortly. "Why are you so interested?", he looks up at her.

"Just like that.", she shrugs. "Can I not make friends? I'm new to this town."

"Why did you come here?", he asks.

"Less expenses than in the city.", y/n sighs, looking around at the bar. Girls swinging their hips on the dance floors, guys looking at them like they were a piece of meat, and lots of loud music blasting. This wasn't her scene at all.

"You don't like getting drinks.", Harry tells her, more like a statement than a question. He was observing her too.

"I don't mind the drinks, it's the whole scene I don't like. I prefer spending my free nights in my bed, with ice cream and a good novel."

Harry cracked what looked like a small smile, one of the dimples on his cheek popping, which made y/n feel warm. She cursed herself for feeling like that, before continuing with the talk. "You said you want to make friends. I'm not the right guy, y/n.", Harry says.

"Why? You're ice cold, mean and friendless? What a sad lifestyle you must lead, Doctor."

He chuckles, popping some of the fried peanuts into his mouth. "I'm not cold and mean."

"So you are friendless.", y/n concludes.

"What's the point? I don't have time for friends.", he says.

"But you need friends in your life, Harry. Friends support you through hard times, you can be yourself with them, and you can have lots of fun!"

"Friends also betray you.", he grumbles.

"Have you been betrayed be a friend or a close one?", y/n asks, trying to know if there were people he thought plotting against him and Reagen in the past.

"I don't remember.", he snaps, motioning for the bartender to fill up his drink. y/n waits for him to calm down, watching him tip the entire glass down his throat and groan.

"Whiskey's your choice of poison?", she asks, flinching. She doesn't like the burn of whiskey.

"Yes, but it's too much for someone like you. You should try something sweeter, like rum.", he says. "Old Monk rum for the lady please.", he tells the bartender.

"What do you mean by someone like you?", she raises her eyebrows at him.

"You know what I mean.", he simply says. y/n decided to come back to the topic of friends. "Do you have a best friend?"

Harry freezes again, and y/n observes the look in his eyes like he was trying to remember a painful memory. Oliver had told her that Harry was his best friend. He needed his best friend back, and she heard the suffering in his voice when he told her that. "N-No..no, I don't think so, I don't know. I have memory issues, I don't remember a lot of stuff."

y/n nods. "That's okay. Well, I can be your best friend. I mean, I can start by being your friend and then we can see how it goes."

Harry smirks. "You really want to be my friend, don't you?"

"Be grateful I'm taking pity on you, Mr. Friendless mysterious guy.", y/n replies, and Harry laughs. y/n smiles. So he does remember how to laugh.

The bartender keeps her drink in front of her. "I've never tried this before.", y/n says, looking at the dark, sweet smelling liquid.

"You'll like it.", Harry says confidently. "Trust your new friend's drink choosing ability."

y/n grins and tries it. The liquid drink went down smooth, leaving her mouth refreshing and quenching for more. It had almost a dehydrated berry taste to it, which she really loved. She also felt the slight warmth of the alcohol.

"I do like it.", she decides, taking another sip. "How did you know?"

"Just like that.", he shrugs, imitating her from their conversation earlier, and she smiled, liking him more as she got to know him a little. "Oh and by the way you agreed to us being friends.", she adds, in case he let it slip by accident.

"Just friends, y/n?", he gets up after stuffing some cash inside the book the bill came in. y/n sits there thinking about what he said, and he gives her a small wave. "I'm gonna get to bed, see you around."

Harry leaves the bar, leaving y/n pondering. Did he want something more than friendship with her? She couldn't deny that she wasn't attracted to the man, but she couldn't take advantage of him like that. She was already feeling bad for befriending him for someone else. She was only using him and he didn't know that. She decided that she wouldn't let her feelings grow. Yes, he was handsome, and it was natural to get attracted, but she wasn't going to let anything else happen between them.

______________________________________________________

The painting was gorgeous. It as crafted with such bright tones, and beautiful color bleding. y/n had poured all of her emotion into it. It was piece she didn't look at very often. She didn't keep it for sale either. It was personal.

The woman in the painting was made of a mix of colors. Her eyes were standing out behind wide framed glasses, and she wore an intriguing and knowing smirk on her lips. Her hair fell down in blunt bangs over her forehead and framed her oval face.

"This is beautiful.", Harry speaks. "You paint more of landscapes, who is this woman?"

y/n sucks in a breath, approaching a sensitive topic. "I don't know..I think it's my mom. I remember how she looked like..but my Uncle Luke said my parents left me when I was little."

Harry tears his eyes away from the painting, looking at her. "I'm sorry. You haven't tried to contact them?"

y/n shakes her head. "I've thought about it, but I don't know if I can take whatever the truth is. And I'm happy with my Uncle."

Harry nods, looking at the other paintings. "Can I buy it?"

"Sure, which one?"

"All of it?"

"All of it!?"

"I have a new flat, it's empty.", Harry says flatly, like it was obvious. "This would look nice on the walls."

"But all of them is going to look like an art gallery and less of a flat, Harry. Um let's select a few out, okay?", y/n says, and Harry nods. "I'll have to see what your flat looks like, to know what matches."

y/n wanted to see if she can get her hands on any pictures, any files, or anything that can point out to his past life.

"Fine, let's have tea at my place.", Harry agrees and she smiles, nodding. "See, you're getting the hang of things for someone who hasn't had friends before."

Harry only gave the girl a small smile, continuing to look around her studio.

Harry's flat was huge. Two bedrooms, a big kitchen with a patio, a beautiful balcony overlooking the small town. It was neutral themed, the colors brown and cream. Harry makes them tea, and brings out some cookies as they sit on the couch.

"For looks like yours, you had to have been in love at least once.", Stella says, and Harry keeps his cup of tea down. "Maybe. Don't remember. Are you saying I'm handsome?"

y/n bites her lip as Harry smirks. "I didn't say that. You may be good looking, that's all."

"Sure, whatever you say."

"She must have been lucky, whoever the girl was.", y/n tries to get it out of him. Come on, please remember something so I know you really are the person Romania told me about.

Harry sighs, bringing his hand to his forehead like he had a headache. "I-I..I don't believe in it."

"Believe in love?", y/n asks, and he nods, bringing his hand back and looking at her with those beautiful eyes. "Do you believe in love y/n?"

y/n nods. "Of course. Love is like this overwhelming sentiment that keeps you up all night and makes you feel like a little child waiting for Christmas day. The feeling of having a soulmate and a place you can really call home, that sounds promising."

Harry's eyes ran over soft features, as he spoke, "You sound like you have been in love."

y/n laughs, biting into a cookie. "Nah, me? I talk too much, and I'm weird. Who would want to love me?"

"There might be someone.", Harry whispers softly, but not soft enough so y/n couldn't hear it.

__________________________________________

"I'm not sure if he is the man you're looking for.", y/n tells Romania on the phone. "He doesn't remember anything about his past, and he's such a sweet guy! He's a doctor who saves lives for god sake, he's not your mafia boss!"

"He's had you fooled by his charm, Miss y/l/n.", Romania huffs. "The reason he remained our secret weapon was because of how easily he could blend in. Do not fall for his charm, it's all an act."

"I think he really doesn't remember, Romania.", y/n twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, worried about what she has to do.

"He does, y/n. I have to believe he does, for his own good.", Romania sighs. "Or we have to kill him."

y/n's hand freezes over the phone. "K-Kill him?"

"Yes, he's a threat to our opponents. He knows too much. If they get to him first..", Romania drawls off. "You won't understand, y/n, just know that he is very important. You are our last hope. If you cannot prove that he remembers, then we will kill him. At least he'll get to be with Reagen then."

"Y-You can't kill him.", y/n whispers, her heart beating fast. What did she agree to? She made a deal with people capable of killing a poor man?

"Then do your job, y/n. I'm sending another fifty thousand to your account. Update me soon." Romania hung up with that, and y/n sat down heavily, hand on her forehead. She has to find a way to break into his shell. She doesn't want to be responsible for the death of a man.

__________________________________________________________

Broken windows. Blood covering the pieces of glass. Someone held a gun to her forehead, the face unclear. The wind was strong, piercing her skin. Then she heard the trigger being pulled and a shot being fired.

y/n wakes up with a gasp, her body sweating under the linen sheets. She closes her eyes, pressing a hand to her heart in relief. It was just a dream. The same dream she keeps having. Uncle Luke had told her to stop watching and reading mystery. This was the consequence.

Her thoughts went to Harry as she pours herself some water. She wasn't even supposed to ask questions to Romania. There were so many questions she had. About his line of work, about his family, about why the opponents had stayed away from him so far, and most importantly, about Reagen. How did they meet? How was their relationship? Were they going to get married?

So many questions she couldn't have the answers to.

The next morning, her Uncle Luke wanted to go on a walk, so she went with him. "Boy troubles.", Uncle Luke observes. "Who is it?"

"It's no one.", y/n dismisses it, feet trudging over the fallen autumn leaves. She didn't like the town, but she couldn't help but admit it was pretty. Full of trees.

"Really?", Uncle Luke teases and she sighs, giving up. "It's just Harry."

"Who's Harry?"

Her uncle had forgotten all about her side job, and the mysterious guy she was spying on. y/n cooked up a story about a customer named Harry to make Uncle Luke happy. She would do anything for him.

She fixed up some breakfast for him before rushing to the cafe. She was running a little late. She got to her painting. Then sat at a table, eating a lovely sugary custard pastry and drinking her ice lemon mint tea while she had a break.

"Do you always eat so much sugar?"

She looked up surprised to see Harry. "It's not good for your health.", he says, before sitting down across from her. "After you shove the sugary cereal down your throat for breakfast, you have this as your everyday snack?"

"Woah, don't go Doctor mode on me.", y/n laughs, continuing to enjoy her pastry. "But it's so good, and this is the only time I'm relaxing, so let me have my pastry, okay?"

"Suit yourself.", Harry eyes it with disgust.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?", y/n asks him.

"It's my day off.", he answers, eyes moving to her lips as he watched her tongue peek out to clean up the little bits of custard. "Thought to spend it with my friend."

"Ahh.", y/n smiles. "How do you wanna spend it then?"

"Someone once told me it's fun to have ice cream and watch a movie. Show me how it's fun."

"Is that a challenge?", y/n grins, quickly downing the rest of her drink.

"Sure.", Harry gives her a signature smirk, before he leaned forward to bring his hand up to her face. His hand rests on her cheek as his thumb gently rubs away a bit of custard on the side of her mouth. y/n felt goosebumps on her skin as he touched her, and their eyes meet. y/n gets lost in the depth of Harry's eyes. She saw something she hadn't seen before.

Pain.

Harry quickly pulled away and y/n grabbed a tissue. "Give me a minute.", she told him, and he nodded, waiting for her. y/n had done her paintings for the day, and she signed out of the cafe.

They went to the grocery store to pick up some goods, all while talking happily like friends. Harry was lowering the guard he had up, and although that made y/n happy, it made her guilty at the same time. He thought she was his friend. He was trusting her.

And what was she doing?

She was using his friendship to get out some information that she doesn't care about, out of him so she can get the rest of her money from the deal and lead her life.

A man lurking behind them caught y/n's attention in the grocery store. She ushered them to the next aisle, and she saw another man at the end of it. Both of them were looking at Harry like he was their worst enemy.

y/n remembered what Romania had told her about their opponents.

"Harry, let's get out of here.", y/n keeps her hand on his arm, feeling the urge to protect him. He did not deserve this. He didn't even know who he is.

"Wait, we didn't get the kind of noodles you like-"

"-This will do." y/n puts one of the instant ramen packets into their trolley, staring back at the men hoping they'll back off. "Come on."

Harry follows her with the trolley, oblivious to the men watching him. He offered to pay, and y/n quickly gets them back into her car.

"Why were you rushing?", Harry asks.

"I um..I have to pee!"

"There was a restroom inside.", Harry points out.

"Yes I'm scared of urinary tract infections, yeast infections especially, they're so nasty, have you seen the pictures? I'm scared of using public toilets.", she lies, and rambles on.

Harry looked at her for a second, before doubling over and laughing. y/n smiled sheepishly, adoration filling her as she watched him laugh. That laugh did things to her.

"Well okay let's go then, you have to pee!", he says, and they both laugh as y/n pulls out of the parking lot, missing the two men staring at them from a distance.

_____________________________________

y/n watches Harry as he immerses in the movie, watching it with interest. They had obviously decided on a crime thriller. She had seen before, and she was more interested in studying the tall man beside her, lounging in his sweatpants, curled up on his couch.

"You're right, I should do this more often.", Harry mumbles, leaning back and stealing a glance at y/n. "You sleepy?"

y/n was a little sleepy with the lack of sleep last night, but she shakes her head, rubbing her eyes. "Not at all!"

A mountain of blankets and half eaten snacks rested on the coffee table in front of them, and she knew she probably wouldn't make it through the whole movie but she had to.

"Did you go to a doctor about your memory issues?", y/n decides to bite, and Harry heard her, but he still asks, "Sorry?"

"You have memory issues, you can't remember a lot of things. Have you seen a doctor about that?"

Harry pauses the movie. "No. It won't help."

"Why not?"

"I've tried taking medicine, it won't come back. I lost those memories for a reason y/n, I don't want to bring them back. Just like how you don't want to reach out to your parents.", Harry answers, jaw clenching. "I have a good life here. I'm happy."

"Are you though?", y/n leans forward to him. "Are you really happy, Harry?"

Harry remained quiet, studying her face. "It doesn't matter."

"It does! I wish to see you happy. If we can get your past behind you, maybe you can-"

"-I'm already behind it. I don't know what happened in the past, and I don't care. Can we just watch the movie?"

y/n sighed in defeat, but nodded, curling back on the other side of the couch as Harry presses play on the movie. How the hell was she going to get him to remember who he was?

y/n can't fight of the sleep for too long. Harry sees her dozing off, and a fond smile coats his lips as he looks at her. He wanted to carry her to bed, where she could sleep more comfortably but he figured he wouldn't without her permission. Instead, he went to his room to get his blanket and tucked it around her small frame.

He hated anyone in his personal space, but this was y/n. He could make an exception. Hell, he had already invited her into his house.

y/n mumbles incoherently in her sleep, and Harry coots closer to her, keeping a hand on her arm, in case she was having a bad dream, and continued to watch the movie.

y/n saw the same dream again. Blood. Broken window. Glass. Gun.

Harry frowned as her serene, peaceful face split into a disturbed one. Her eyebrows scrunching, and her legs tucking underneath her chin. She began to shake lightly.

"y/n.", Harry shakes her awake gently.

y/n runs in her dream, away from the gun, but the shot is still fired from the gun. Before she could see who was injured, she jolts awake.

Her scared eyes meet Harry's. "Hey, it's okay, you're in my flat, we were watching a movie and you fell asleep.", Harry strokes some of her hair back from her forehead as she looks at him, like she wanted reassurance that she's safe.

Harry doesn't hesitate before pulling her into his lap, wrapping his muscular strong arms around her, and tucking her head into his chest. "Shh..it's okay, you're okay. It was just a dream."

He felt a strong emotion to kill anyone or anything that caused y/n to get so scared. He knew it was in her dream, but he hated the thought of y/n being hurt. She was so delicate, so sweet, he had to protect her.

"H-Harry?", y/n whispers into his chest, her arms tightening around his body.

"Yes?", Harry whispers back, continuing to stroke her hair to soothe her.

"I'm sorry.", she sniffles, and he gets confused. Was she apologizing for having a bad dream? He had a feeling it was for something else. Either way, she was shaken up and his job was to get her to relax and make her feel okay.

"Don't be, sunshine. I got you."

______________________________________________________

y/n felt horrible. She felt like a monster. Here there was a man who comforted her when she was scared, and on the other hand, what was she doing? She was just doing her task. She would eventually throw him to Romania like he was a piece of meat. y/n felt like electricity was coursing through her veins when Harry's hands smoothed over her body and her hair, calming her down. He scooped her into his lap with no effort, and Stella felt safe.

She felt safe like she never had before. She wanted to stay in his arms forever and forget everything else that happened. She wished she'd met this man before all the Romania and money crap. She wanted to call her and tell her she couldn't do it anymore, but she couldn't back away now. Harry is not showing any signs of who he was five years ago. If he really is that person, then y/n needs to bring his memories back. His friends, or a family y/n doesn't know about, they need him.

She apologized to him, said that she's sorry for hurting him and doing this to him, but he thought she was worrying about her dream scare. If only he knew the truth.

Then there was what he called her. He called her sunshine. It sounded so sweet, and she wishes he calls her that again. y/n could no longer deny it. She had feelings for Harry, and the feelings kept growing.

One week. It has been seven days since she started her task. She has only three more weeks to get Harry to open up. She has to gain his trust first. Yes, he's letting her into his house, he's getting comfortable around her, but she has to gain his full trust.

"Here you go, chicken alfredo. You need some real food after all that ice cream.", Harry smiles as he serves the pasta he just made into two plates.

"I didn't know you could cook.", y/n says impressed as she sits on the chair.

"How could you? You've never had my food before. Now you know.", Harry answers, sitting beside her with his plate. He watched her as she tastes it. y/n let the creamy pasta satisfy her taste buds, and the flavorful bite of the chicken was amazing.

"It's so good.", she hums. "You're multi talented. Any other hobbies? Secret gamer? Guitarist? Cyber hacking? Gold smuggler?" y/n waits for his response to the last two.

Harry chuckles, eating his own pasta. "Gold smuggler?"

"I don't know, mystery guy. You tell me.", y/n says playfully.

"Not that I know of. But that would be an interesting secret hobby, wouldn't it y/n?", he asks, giving her a look. What was that look? Was it a knowing look? Was he teasing her? Was he hiding?

"I guess, y-yeah.", y/n replies shortly.

If he is hiding, he's doing a very good job of it. He remembers everything, he's putting up an act, a mask. Romania's words lingered in y/n's brain.

"I do play the guitar. How did you know?", he asks, pouring some water into both of their glasses.

"Your fingers are calloused.", y/n states her observation.

"Observant, I see.", Harry nods impressed. "You ask so much about me. What are your interests besides painting and reading thriller novels?"

y/n laughs. "Watching thriller movies." Harry rolls his eyes, and she grins. "Okay. Um..I don't really know, I don't get time Harry."

"You should explore yourself some more.", he mumbles.

"Oh? Says Mr. Always Busy Doctor."

He shrugs, and y/n looks at her phone as it rings. It was her Uncle Luke.

"Sorry, gotta take this.", she excuses herself, and Harry nods, twirling the pasta around his fork.

"Uncle Luke?", y/n answers, and hears panting on the other line. "W-Where am I?"

She keeps her fork down, fear creeping up. "You're at home, Uncle Luke, everything okay? Did you go out somewhere?"

"y/n..w-where are you?", her uncle's voice came out in a whimper and she stands up immediately. Harry looks at her with a frown.

"I'm at a friend's house, I'll come over now, okay? Don't worry, you're at home. Look around, what do you see?", she replies calmly, even though she was freaking out.

"S-Stairs..p-pictures on the walls. Of us."

y/n sighs in relief. He is at home. "Yes, it's safe, Uncle Luke. You're at home, okay? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Come soon..sweetheart.", he whispered, and y/n feels her heart break at his small voice. "I will. I love you."

She stuffs her phone into her pocket and looks at Harry. "I'm sorry I have to go, my uncle needs me."

"I'll come with you.", Harry was already putting away their plates.

"No, Harry, it's okay..my place is small and it's a mess and..you don't wanna be there.", y/n says embarrassed.

"y/n, I didn't always have a flat like this. I used to live on the streets for a few months. Then someone who said they know me came and told me that I'm a Doctor. I managed to get my license back, and everything worked out. I know what it's like, okay?" Harry squeezes her shoulder gently.

y/n quickly stored in her brain the information he had shared. Then she felt bad. He told her because he thought she was his friend.

"Okay, come with me.", she agrees. Harry and y/n leave Zach's flat, and it's a twenty minute drive to y/n's place.

"Your uncle..", Harry drawls, waiting for her to complete.

"Alzheimer's.", she answers, and Harry nods understanding. They didn't talk on the way. y/n was worried, and Harry wasn't used to starting conversations.

When she got home, y/n runs to her Uncle who was sitting at the end of the stairs. "D-Did you fall?", she gasps, seeing him clutch his foot like he was in pain.

"Y-Yes.", Uncle Luke nods, arms leaning to pull his niece into a hug. "y/n. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Uncle, shh..", y/n assures, holding him tight and feeling guilty. She had left him alone and he fell. "Y-You didn't fall down all the stairs, did you?"

"No I tripped on the last few.", he answers. "I think my balance is off. I'm okay I think..I just needed to see you."

y/n nods, kissing his cheek. "It's okay, I told you that you can always call me. I'm glad you did." She looks over him to see if he was injured.

"W-Who's this young man?", Uncle Luke looks up at Harry who was silently watching their exchange.

"He's Harry, I told you about him, remember?"

y/n looks back at Harry, who was looking at her uncle with an expression she couldn't read. Uncle Luke nods at him. "Sorry our first meeting is like this."

"I don't mind.", Harry leans down to help him stand up. y/n took one arm and Harry the other, Uncle Luke was brought back on his feet.

"Does your ankle hurt?", y/n notices as he winces, and he nods.

"I can take a look.", Harry says. "Let's get him to bed."

They got Uncle Luke back to his room, and y/n makes him drink some water. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and his fingertips ran over Uncle Luke's ankle as he examined it. Harry did his prodding, checked the movement on the ankle, and observed that there was no swelling, but a purplish bruise forming. He did not feel any broken bones.

"It's a small sprain.", he tells them. "You have a crepe bandage, y/n?It should be there in a first aid kit."

"I think so, let me see.", y/n says, and goes to the cupboard near the sink where she keeps basic first aid.

Uncle Luke stares at Harry, making sure his niece is gone, before spitting out, "What are you doing with y/n?"

"We're friends.", Harry answers patiently, although he did not like the tone Uncle Luke spoke in.

"Don't you dare get close to my niece. I know all about you, Harry Styles.", Uncle Luke uses his full name, and Harry did not even know that that was his full name. He's used to people coming up to him and calling him that, then they threaten him and go away.

"Do tell me, cause I don't remember.", Harry says, and Uncle Luke grabs his collar with an iron grip. A weak man like him shouldn't be this strong, Harry notes.

"You think you're smart, don't you? Doctor Turner, huh? We're just waiting for the right time. You killed my family. I will watch you being burned down to the ground, Styles."

"What the hell are you talking about?", Harry exclaims, trying to get his hand off of him.

"Oh my god. Uncle Luke, stop!", y/n rushes over, and Uncle Luke lets him go, his face full of hatred and anger. "I'm so sorry Harry!", she says to him apologetically.

"It's okay.", Harry tells her, staring at her uncle. "Illness does it."

y/n nods, rubbing her Uncle's arms, calming him down. "I'm here, Uncle. Harry's my friend, it's okay."

He didn't answer, just kept looking at Harry as he wrapped his injured ankle up. "Keep it elevated, ice pack on and off. It should be fine in two days.", he said when he was done, and left the room.

"I'll be right back.", y/n tells her uncle, before running behind Harry.

"Harry!"

Harry pauses near the door. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what got into him.", y/n grabs his hand to stop him from storming out. Harry nods, a little shaken up with what her uncle had said. You killed my family.

Harry was a Doctor. He saved people, he didn't kill them. He knew her uncle was sick, but the fire in his eyes when he looked at him? He couldn't shake it away.

"He's turning delusional, I'll make an appointment with his doctor for tomorrow.", y/n shakes her head, stressed about what to do. Harry thought she had too much of stress in her life. He could see the dark circles under her eyes due to the lack of sleep. He wanted to ask her about it, but now wasn't the time.

"I-I have to go, y/n", Harry tells her, and y/n nods, standing on her tip toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for your help. You're a good man, Harry."

Was he?

Harry's fingers went to his cheek where she had kissed him as he stepped outside the door. Her touch made him feel less anxious. He hoped it would leave him calm enough to get some sleep tonight. His thoughts shifted to the girl who came into his life just a week ago. She was perfect. He had a chance to make things different from last time.

After all, she's his to ruin, isn't she?

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