#In summary: Yeah The Parents Suck

[madamechrissy]

Daddy Likes Crazy Girls

Pairings - Dilf Toji Fushiguro x fem reader

Summary -You're Megumi's best friend, and spend more time at the Fushiguro home than at your dorm room, and since you were a kid you've had it bad for Megumi's dad. He was always cool and fun until you got older, then he started being gruff and rude. Well, that just won't do, because you know you need his attention, and you decide to make his life a living hell, but Toji decides to give that hell right back on you. Who will finally give in!?

CW - age gap- Toji is 39, reader is 20, lowkey hint of somnophilia, rough blow jobs, dirty talk, Toji AND reader ain't shit, using others to make e/o jealous, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex, dirty talk, highkey daddy kink, spitting, choking, reader and Toji freaks. Megumi and Yuuji are reader's age no NSFW w/them (reader uses Yuuji to piss Toji off but it's SFW) Basically it's nasty, filthy DILF Toji smuttt - WC- 7.5k

Based on Your Best Friend's Dad Toji - The pic on the left is from here (tears on a withered flower) I could not find a source for the Toji image! Reblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoy!

Toji stiffens… in multiple ways as you saunter out that morning, as he’s throwing back two ibuprofen and sipping on bitter coffee, black, just out he likes it. You’re rubbing your eyes just a bit and yawning, stretching up your arms, tiny crop top stretched tight on your breasts, which bounce as your arms rest, and his goddamn cock twitches. He literally turns away, facing the counter then.

“Morning, Mr. Fushiguro.” You say brightly, sleep still in your voice, and he grumbles a hello, tensing when you walk towards him. “Oh, coffee, can I have some? I’m so beat and I have that test later.”

“Yeah, yeah… go ahead kid.” You glare at his strong back, shirtless and muscled, calling you kid when you were damn near old enough to drink, when you drove and worked and went to college.

You’re no kid.

You gently touch his shoulder, trying to get through to the coffee maker in the little kitchen, feeling him tense, as he narrows his eyes, looking over at you, lips pressing together, that scar just stretched a bit over his lip. You lean forward, breasts in his full view, as you start brewing your own cup, and he damn near rubs his hard cock at the sight of your nipples poking out.

God you annoy him, always over here, sure when you were younger it didn’t bother him, you were Megumi’s friend, a good one at that, and a good kid. And as a teen even, you had your shit together, living without your own parents, you had spent a ton of time here. But when you hit about eighteen or nineteen, and you just… started looking at him like you are now!?

Dilated eyes, lowered lashes, licking your goddamn lip?

When you started wearing less and less, and frequently crashed right on his couch, in various states of undress? When your tits jiggled just so, or you bent over in front of him, shorts riding up a bouncy ass? When you giggled and brushed your fingers against his arm?

You drive Toji fucking insane.

He’s tired of jerking it to his son’s best friend, he’s tired of picturing your thighs spread as he fucks women, you’re… infuriating him, actually. Batting your lashes and shooting little smiles, constantly trying to ruin him. Sure, people thought Toji was a creep, a pervert, a fucking whore, and to some extent, he was those things, but with women his age.

Being almost forty and having a very annoying, sexy and tempting twenty year old was not fucking okay. Sure, it’s one thing to jerk it to you, how could he not, but it’s harder and harder with every passing day not to give in, to play with that pussy he’s seen hints of, to suck on those pretty nipples that seem to always be poking out of something you wear.

Toji can’t stand you.

“Have a rough night, Mr. Fushiguro?” You ask then, and he turns his forest green eyes looking down at you, while you pour a little sugar in the cup, taking one of the spoons from his wooden drawers and then stirring it.

“Huh, no rough night. Slept fine.” Jerked it to the thought of you at midnight, and dammit he enjoys his sleep.

“Got it, you seem a little grumpy though.” You tease, nudging him with your shoulder playfully, just that alone makes him wanna spread you wide on this goddamn counter, picturing how your pretty pussy would be in his face.

“Grumpy, doll?” He asks, you giggle a little, looking up at him, the man you’ve had it bad for since you can remember.

As much as you love Megumi, a huge part of you coming here was for him, Toji, Megumi’s far too sexy father. Sure, Megumi was your age, but you two were just too close, but also, Toji. Rippling abbed, strong muscled, thick fucking Toji. The man whose muscles have muscles, and those lazy green eyes, that straight nose with plump ass lips?

The man who you know takes care of business, shit you’ve seen him on nights kissing down girl’s necks, shooting you a quick look before he’d grab their hair, their waist, like you could vividly picture it being you? The man who you could constantly see his thick, girthy outline in these slutty grey sweats he wears?

You want him.

You always have, but at first it was perhaps admiration, or a childhood crush, but now that you’re almost twenty one, and you’ve had sex, you’ve had experience, you can’t stop thinking that Toji knew what to do. Can’t stop thinking how badly you’d love to see that cock just begging for attention, have it down your throat, have him bend you over this kitchen table.

Your mind gets so sidetracked you forget he’s said anything you you, clearing your throat and shrugging. “A little grumpy to me in general lately.”

Toji scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Excuse me for not bein’ Mr. Fuckin Sunshine all the time, doll.”

Doll.

Imagine him saying ‘doll’ as he pounds your little pussy.

Fuck.

You shift just a bit, his gaze catches it. “Hmm, you’ve just been a little mean to me. I used to come… to you all the time, you know.” You smile just a bit, his lips are parted, then you sigh. “Have a good day, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Damn brat.” He mutters, running his hand through inky locks.

Since you hate your dorm mate, you always come over there, and Megumi never minds, he just gives you a lazy little smile, sometimes you crash in his room, he’ll even take the floor, or separate you all with a body pillow. He listens to your bullshit, with a little sigh and bored face, but he listens. Megumi has been your good friend, even through breakups and makeups with his best friend, Yuuji.

You’d been on and off with Yuuji for years, as the two of you are probably better off friends, but Yuuji is so damn sweet, and so down bad, you end up back with him again, much to the disdain of Toji. When you’re sitting on Yuuji’s lap, hand running through pastel hair, while Megumi and him game, you feel it, Toji Fushiguro’s glare right at you.

Something excites you so much from it, you get overheated, you get wet from your thoughts, and Yuuji would nervously notice, blushing.

You’re kind of shit for that, for being with Yuuji when the man you want is right there, but he never seems to understand that you’re a woman. No skimpy outfit or flirty looks do a damn thing, to the point you think… it’s all in your head, it has to be, some childish fantasy that you have to let go.

Little do you know, as you’re kissing Yuuji, and that boy’s hand is on your waist, Toji has to go to the damn bathroom, and start stroking his cock. He tries to muffle his moans, while he curses you internally, for making him act like some dumb teen. And your smiles are as if you know.

One night Toji comes home and sees you on the couch, with one of your fucking pretty, perfect titties out, shoved out from your twisted little crop top, just begging him to touch it. He goes over, cock leaking precum, to cover you up, but he bends on a knee instead, brushing your hair back, watching your lips part, tempting him to no goddamn end.

Imagine how they’d feel on his -

He clears his mind, or tries to, deciding to fix your tank top, but his thumb brushes your nipple on accident, eliciting a soft whine from your perfect lips, your areola tightening just from his touch. He pauses, hating himself then, but he has to just bend down, pressing a kiss on that peak, and then your hand instinctively grips his hair, making him freeze, wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

“Toji…” You whisper, his eyes shoot up, but you’re fast asleep, shit you’re dreaming of him, like he’s worth a gorgeous girl like you dreaming of his old ass, but he laps at your nipple, before he can stop himself, hot wet tongue tasting your sweet skin. “Mnh!”

Shit.

He pulls back, but sucks your pretty nipple in his mouth for just a moment, greedily, hand brushing over your body and the thin fleece that’s slung over your hips, feeling your heat even through it��

Fuck, shit, fuck.

He pulls back, exhaling and swiping up the slick from your nipple with his rough thumb, picturing how pretty your tits would look covered in his ropes of cum, before he stops himself, covering you up quickly and rushing to his room. He can’t do shit like that…

Why are you dreaming of him though?

It’s still not okay… right?

Nor is it okay he wanted to touch that heat, lap up your juices, watch your sleepy face construe in pleasure. He can’t, can’t, can’t. So instead he’s stroking his aching cock, which slaps his belly button as it’s released, stroking it with his hand in little twists, imagining it now, the taste of your nipple in his mouth, until he’s spurting cum all from that reddened tip.

He can’t.

*****

Toji becomes meaner, gruffer, ignoring you, trying to fall into every woman he can, all while you come over less and less, thank god. But you can’t stop thinking of him, he’s a constant thought as you play with yourself, having dreams of him that feel too real and you come over one more time, already lit as you call Megumi, and he yawns, letting you in.

“You’re so needy, tch.” He grumbles, you giggle then, kissing his cheek, earning his eye roll.

“You’re the best friend ever.” You kiss his cheek again and he grimaces, taking in your attire.

“You went all slutty looking to that party, hmm? Mad at Yuuji?”

“Gumi!”

“Hot, just slutty. Go put on my clothes or something.” He says, with another yawn, ruffling your hair then.

“All right, I will in a bit, but… one more drink?” He chuckles, gesturing to the fridge.

“There’s beer in there, but I suggest water after.”

“Sure, dad.”

Megumi basically was Toji’s dad, way too mature always. He rolls his green eyes, just a little darker than his father’s, yawning again. “You know where everything is, crazy ass. I’m off to bed.”

“Night, Gumi, thank you!”

“Yeah yeah.” He shuts his door, as you’re just a little tipsy, curious where Toji was… some date, you’re sure. He’s sort of notorious for the women he has, though you’ve never seen the man have an actual serious girl.

You crack open a beer, sighing now, still clad in your- as Megumi dubbed it- slutty black dress, sitting in the kitchen chair as you sip the beer, right when the door opens and shuts. Toji walks in, actually wearing some dress shirt and slacks, different from the thin work out tees and sweats you normally see, and pauses when he sees you in the chair, his lips clamping shut.

“Have fun, Mr. Fushiguro?” You ask now, crossing your legs, allowing him to see your pretty, perfect pussy as he realizes you aren’t wearing shit under that dress. He gulps, mouth opening, before he eyes your peer in your pretty little hand, the kitchen suddenly far too small.

“What?” He manages, and you uncross your legs again, standing and walking closer to him, looking so sexy and pretty he wants to yank you by your goddamn hair, show you just how to get fucked.

He doubts you get fucked good, you’re too bitchy and needy, he can just tell, you need someone to split you in two. You lean against the counter, tilting your head, looking so slutty in this dress, tits out, thighs showing, hugging every curve and line of that banging body.

You’re sent to fuck him up, he’s sure of it, whatever his shitty past was, you’re the punishment.

“Have fun?” You practically purr the words.

“You old enough to drink, brat?” He demands, and you giggle again, touching his chest just a bit, but that alone is setting him the fuck off, as his hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“Old enough for lots of things.” You look right up at him, tummy clenching with how tall he is, how big he is, mind running fucking insane.

“Still a fucking kiddo.” He grumbles, opening the fridge now, taking a beer out of it and gulping it down, struggling not to let in.

Annoying brat that you are.

“So, did you have a date?’

“Yep.”

“Did you get off?”

“The fuck!?” He demands, sputtering as you giggle, buzzed and finally bold enough to spit it out, as you see him scowl, leaning down. “You said what?”

“Did you get off, Mr. Fushiguro?” You repeat again, batting those long lashes, some fake ones you wear that shouldn’t be as hot as they are on you.

“The fuck, brat?” He grabs you by the hair on the back of your neck with one big hand, the pull of it making you soaking wet, dripping down your thighs.

“I could help you, you always gave me such good advice as a kid you know, as a teenager. Even though you’re so mean now to me.” You lean even closer, pouting, he tastes the sweetness mixing with the liquor in your system, shaking his head, teeth clenched together.

“Don’t know what you’re fucking saying, doll. Should shut your brat mouth up.” His words go straight to your pussy, when his finger finds you between your thighs, and he curses, you’re slick and so hot. “Slutty ass didn’t even wear panties with this little outfit huh? Want all those college boys to see?”

“I’m sure they did. But that wasn’t the- question- ngh!” When he swipes a rough finger against your clit, your moan does him in.

“This soaked just talking to me?” He whispers, you barely are able to form a coherent thought or answer.

You trail your fingers down to his cock, gripping it and raising a brow. “Want me to help you Mr. Fushiguro? That girlfriend suck you good enough?”

“Keep fucking talking shit, brat, you’ll regret it.” He whispers hoarsely, only for you to smile up at him.

“Oh, gonna teach me a lesson - daddy?”

“Fucking brat I swear to…” He shoves you down on your bare knees then, right on Toji’s tile floor, and you gasp when you watch him free his cock, gulping as you see just how huge it is, thick and veiny, and you look up at him then. Tall, intimidating, cock right next to your lips, while he grabs your hair. “Got one chance to come to your senses, doll- ah, fuck!”

You lap at him, and soon you find yourself sucking every bit of your best friend’s dad’s cock all the way in your throat, burning as it stretches to try to accommodate him, and he’s so thick and long it’s damn near impossible to take him all. Your nails are pressing against his slacks as you move your head, sucking him so sloppy, drooling all over him.

Toji can’t take how good your mouth feels, how pretty your eyes are as they fill with tears for him, gripping your hair with his fingers and now fucking your face. “Shut you up huh, brat?”

You just whimper, as he puts a leg between your thighs, and you’re rolling your hips against his foot, his shoe pressing on your clit. You’re whining and grinding as he fucks your mouth harder, grunting, precum salty and sweet coating your tongue. You’re soaking his pant leg, clit throbbing in need, while his cock slides so deep you’re choking on him.

“So desperate, huh, gonna grind on my leg like that? Slutty lil’ cunt soaking me? This what you do to me, fuck…” He’s muttering to himself more than anything, as you suck harder, the degrading words only making you wetter. You’re trembling and shaking when he pauses, throbbing. “Shit… you suck that good, got me fuckin mad ya ever sucked anyone.”

He yanks you back just a bit, looking at your reddened lips, plump and coated in your spit, your mouth is parted, gasping for a breath then, he’s pulling you back up now, pressing you against the counter, thigh between yours, you’re rolling your hips and whimpering as he shuts your mouth with his hand. He feels it, you soaking him, dying to taste you now.

“Keep it quiet, shit-”

Suddenly the door opens, and you two immediately part, Toji adjusting his cock and turning back to the fridge, trying to act busy as you cough just a bit, throwing back the beer when Megumi walks out. He yawns now, blinking bleary eyed at the two of you, as Toji tries to stop his precum from leaking out of his tip.

“Can you two keep it down, shit. Hey…” He turns to you now, as you put the beer in the trash. “Come get some pajamas on, you can sleep in my bed if you want.”

“Thank you, Gumi, good idea.” You snatch up pajamas that Megumi brings, a big shirt and a pair of his boxers, heading to the bathroom and resting your head on the door, shaking like crazy as you peel off your dress. Your thighs are a sticky mess, your damn throat hurts from his cock.

Your pussy is aching with need, you splash some cool water on your face, struggling to take several breaths as you eye yourself in the mirror. You lips are swollen from sucking him, eyes dilated and pupils blown the fuck out, your cheeks have taken on this color from how overheated they are. You struggle to compose yourself, wiping up the endless slick from your pussy.

What just happened?

You walk back out, seeing Megumi with a water bottle, smiling lazily at you, and you sigh, taking it and smiling, feeling so guilty. You just sucked his damn father, now you’re gonna act normal somehow? Toji is nowhere to be seen, so you try to just to push it out of your brain, even as you’re gulping down icy water and laying in Megumi’s bed.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Gumi.” You say, he sighs now, climbing up and laying on the other side.

“Don’t take advantage of me, hmm? Look like you got dick on the brain.”

“Excuse me!?” You both burst into laughter, you shove him nearly off the bed as he’s chuckling.

“You and Yuuji need to stop the back and forth, you know he’s like a sad puppy when you all break up.”

“Ugh, I know.” You sigh, covering your face now, wishing you could get this annoying old man out of your head. “Dick on my brain, whatever.”

“Mmhmm. Night night.”

“G’night.” You turn on your side, thinking just what Toji is feeling, was it nothing but some girl with some crush to him?

You all literally say nothing to each other the next morning, and Mr. Fushiguro has went from somewhat quiet to completely shutting you out. His replies are grunts and grumbles, and he doesn’t say a damn word to you. For weeks, you haven’t even caught a glance, to the point you wonder if it was all some drunk ass dream.

Unable to handle it, you quit coming over, for weeks, in a way Toji is thankful he doesn’t have to constantly have a hard cock, constantly masturbate to you- well he does anyway, but- the memory of your throat is something he can’t stop. The memory of you so desperate you were grinding on him like that, how he almost had you right in the kitchen.

He fights all of it, glad you’re not there, trying to go back out, to forget you even exist, feeling so damn awkward as he talks to his kid about you, asking ever so casually where you are. Apparently you have some new boyfriend, and Toji doesn’t like the irrational feelings that brings him, so he’s even more thankful you’re not around.

Thinking of some college loser not even getting your pretty pussy off makes him furious, no one even deserves to touch you really, even him.

As Toji’s on a date, and they’re being seated, a rooftop restaurant this woman wants to go to, he spots you then. You’re giggling, hand over your mouth, as you show some boy something on your phone, and he’s laughing too. A boy your age, that’s how it should be, anyway.

Right?

You notice him then, how can someone not notice Toji, his gaze across your body, lingering against your breasts, pressed up and on display in the little dress you’re wearing. You see his hand go to his date’s thigh, so you lean closer to your date, whispering little nothings in his ear. His cheeks heat up as his own hand touches your thigh.

Like some sick game, you both trade looks, touches with your dates, all while the intensity builds, and surely your date must think he’s got the easiest girl around, he’s doing really nothing and can feel your heat as he touches your thigh. And surely Toji’s date is enjoying every touch and caress, as you watch his fingers trail down her shoulders, picturing them.

It’s suddenly all too much, you murmur a quick apology. “I have to go to the ladies room real quick.”

“No worries love.” He says with a smile, and you quickly go to the bathroom, splashing cool water on your face, on the back of your neck, exhaling and trying to compose yourself.

“Shit…” You grumble, then gasp as the door slams open, his tall imposing figure right in the bathroom, broad shoulders so big he barely fits the damn doorway. “It’s a ladies room, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Stop looking at me like that.” He whispers, gripping your face tightly, you take a shaky breath, legs trembling as he’s too close, and your eyes flicker to his lips, glossy and full, making you ache to kiss him.

“Look at you like what?” You look at him under lashes, as he remember’s your damn demon mouth on him, and he turns you then, towering over you in the reflection of the mirror, tilting your chin to face it.

“Like that, see yourself? Fucked out face, begging to be filled.” You gasp when one hand is wrapping your throat, the other slipping up your dress, groaning in your ear as he hovers over you, finding your panties soaked.

“Mr. Fushiguro…”

“That lil boy toy gets you off, doll?” He asks softly, rolling his fingers under the waistband of your panties, as his other fingers squeeze your throat with the lightest pressure. Your eyes roll back, and he slips two fingers inside to the knuckle, stretching you so good you’re damn near sobbing. “Asked ya a question?”

“Does y-your girl… get you off? Suck dick like I do?” You ask in response, smiling at his scowl, as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, you hear the squelching wetness echoing in the bathroom, crying out and bucking your hips.

“Tired of that mouth, tired of you fucking with my head. Little demon brat.” He huffs, cock hard and thick against your back, dying to be inside you, feeling your sticky little walls gripping him, you’re damn near sobbing it feels so good, his huge hard body taking you over. “Look at yourself, huh? Pretty lil face, annoying the shit outta me.”

“Y-you annoy m-me.” He chuckles, as he guides your chin back.

“Open those eyes.” You do as he says, whimpering softly, while your cunt is drooling down to his rolled up dress sleeves, you feel every fucking ridge and callous against your walls, making you even wetter, your cheeks so flushed, your eyes so bright as he watches you. “You drive me nuts on purpose, don’t you brat?”

“Y-you don’t even w-want-” He yanks out his fingers, just as you’re about to cum, leaving you weak, as he literally lets you go, and you glare up at him, as he sucks you off his fingers, making your mouth drop open at how sensual it is.

“Goddamn, gotta taste that good!?” You can’t speak, not when he’s tilting your chin up again, leaning close. “Stop fucking with me, got it?”

“You’re such a dick.” He glares, and you glare right back, as he just walks the fuck out. “Ugh!”

Your jaw sets, stomping out a few moments after, seeing Toji acting so casual, hands gripping a stem of a glass of wine, still glistening from you, smirking at you, and you decide it then.

Two can play at his little game.

*****

You are bouncing around in your little damn cheerleading outfit, as you’re on the field, shaking your hips with your stupid fucking pom poms, all while Toji finally decides to come to Megumi’s football games. Megumi himself is curious why he keeps showing up, it’s not that Toji never came to them, it’s just he didn’t… very often. Usually working or something.

Well Toji takes heavy interest, as he’s got a new girl with him every game, you can practically feel his stupid smirk from across the field as he watches you, an arm wrapped around a pretty lady’s shoulders. So you decide, the best course of action is to slap a big good luck kiss right on Yuuji’s lips before the game, to the awws and oohs of the crowd.

It takes everything inside Toji not to grab you by your pig tails, drag you over and beat your bouncy ass. It takes everything not to smack that ass so hard you can’t walk anymore, especially as you turn away from a blushing Yuuji to smile meanly right back at Toji, seeing his glare.

You may or may not also bend over right in front of him, giving him a full view of thin lacy black panties when you should be wearing spandex shorts, making Toji so hard he physically hurts. It’s not your fault you dropped something, though! You smile innocently when you turn around, feigning surprise.

“Mr. Fushiguro, it’s so good to see you here.” You say brightly, smiling to the lady next to him then. “He’s such a good dad.”

Toji just glares as you wave, running back to the field to finish your routine, little do you know Toji has to leave in the middle of the game, so torn the fuck up from seeing you he can’t stand it. He’s again stroking his cock to his son’s bratty little fucking friend, cursing you the entire time, thinking he could make you stop if you saw him with other women.

But you are driving him more insane.

Megumi is out early for practice when you waltz right in later, wearing your pretty little maroon cheer outfit, the irony is it’s a letter fucking T on your pretty tits, as you peek around, noticing him. You both pause, it’s been damn near a month since you sucked him, and weeks since he fingered you, you’ve both kept your distance just enough.

“Shit, Megumi already left? My phone’s dead.” You frown at it now, sighing as Toji slowly walks up to you, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a click. You pause, breaths coming faster and faster as he looms over you, so big and intimidating and fucking sexy. You let out a whimper before you bite your trembling lip, and he cups your face with one hand.

“You’re playing with fire, y’know that brat? Fucking have no clue what you’re in for if you keep it up.” He juts your chin up roughly then, making your head fall back, you tremble then, biting at your lip harder. “Think I’m playing?”

“Think I’m scared of you? Think I’m some innocent kid? I’m not.” He chuckles gruffly, licking that scar, making it glisten as he tilts his head to the side, strong muscles flexing as he presses you further against the door.

“You ain’t done shit like I’d do to you, none of those lil’ boys could make you cum like me, split you in fucking two, fuck you stupid.” You gasp, his words going straight to your pussy, but you struggle to hide it.

“All talk, is what I think, maybe you’re too old to keep up with me.” You raise a brow with a little smile, when Toji grabs you by your throat, it turns into a full fucking grin.

“You psycho little brat, need a whole fuckin’ lesson, don’t ya?” He slams his lips on yours, and once he does, it’s over for both of you.

His tongue his sliding into your mouth, not teasing, no he’s fucking owning it, devouring it, as your hands slip up his chest, gripping his thin white shirt and his free hand slips down, yanking your cheer top down, one of your breasts spilling out. He moans as he pulls back, squeezing your throat harder, pulling you to him.

“Think I haven’t already sucked on these perky lil’ fuckin nipples?” You gasp then, earning his chuckle. “Sleeping in slutty ass tops, tits out.”

“D-did you… do more?” You whisper, hoarse as he’s choking you harder, and he smirks at you.

“No, freaky ass brat, what did you want me to touch you in your sleep?” You nod weakly, as he squeezes your windpipe even harder, until you’re a soaking wet fucking mess. “What’d ya want me to do?”

“Eat me out.” Your whisper ends him, he’s on his knees then, Toji Fushiguro, on his knees, as your heart hammers in your chest, and he shoves up that cheer skirt, licking you over your lacy panties, groaning as your slick hits his mouth, his tongue lapping the soppy mess out. “Ah!”

Your hands grip his inky hair, hiccuping and crying as he continues to lap at you with his hungry tongue, groaning against you, reducing your panties to nothing. “You’re such a little slut, wearing this? Want everyone to see this fucking pussy?”

“W-wanted y-you to…”

“Shit…” Toji takes your hands, putting them on your skirt then. “Hold this the fuck up, now.”

“Yes…”

“Yes what.”

“Yes… daddy- ah!” Toji groans, knowing he’s just a sick fuck for eating through your panties under your goddamn cheer skirt, knowing he’s old enough to be your damn dad almost, but he can’t stop himself now. Once he tastes you it’s fucking done for him, as you hold your skirt up, hooking a thigh over his shoulder and screaming out.

“Good fucking girl. Finally, listening huh?” You can’t function, dying for the barrier of your panties to leave, wriggling as he teases you relentlessly.

“Please!”

“Please what, doll?”

“Take em off, please… fucking please.”

“Hah…” He’s laughing, biting you over your panties, grinning up at the mess you already are. “Ya gonna cum from this? These boys so pathetic?”

“Mnh…” Is all you manage, and he moans, rubbing your damp and sticky fabric, finally peeling it off you, easing your thigh off him and pressing bites down it as he does.

“All sweet now, huh? Not being a slutty fuckin’ brat?”

“I need… need you… T-Toji…” He moans at how sweet you are when he laps you up between your puffy lips, groaning as you soak his mouth, your hands back to those thin inky locks, pulling as he swipes the flat of his tongue up your slit. “Ah! F-fuck!”

“Bad lil mouth, huh?” He smacks your pussy now, making it sting and throb, but you’re only more fucking wet, as he slaps it again, shoving two fingers up your hole and looking at you under sooty lashes, as his cock throbs in his sweats, precum making him sticky as you fall apart over him. “Nothin’ to say?”

“Fuck you… ah!” He smacks your pussy again, harder, wet slap echoing in the house as he stands now, picking you up like you’re nothing, throwing you over his shoulder as you squeak. “Let me down, f-fuck!”

Toji laughs, smacking your bare ass and making you squeak, before tossing you right on his bed, spreading your thighs and nudging right between them, spitting right on your pussy and grinning with white teeth glinting, slipping his two thick fingers through it. “Fuck, look at her, so soaked and I just am getting started.”

You blink in confusion, sure you’ve got experience, but just a few licks was better than anything you’ve felt. “I’m r-ready, though- mnh!”

“I ain’t even close to done with eating this pussy. Tastes so fucking yummy, demon pussy, demon mouth.” You’d laugh if he wasn’t slobbering all over your cunt again, making you quiver and moan, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his messy sheets, your toes curling, still in your fucking cheer sneakers.

“T-Toji, please-”

“You’re gonna get it, brat, until you’re beggin’ me to stop, until you can’t even move, can’t think. That what you've been wanting all this time, huh?” He asks, eyes alight with something dark and carnivorous.

“Y-yes, yes, I want it, I need it, I-ahh!”

You don’t have to ask again, because he’s already descending, stupidly tongue licking and fucking in and out of your soppy little hole, as you scream out at it, so close to cumming you can feel the pressure in your tummy. He can feel it, as he grips your hips, shoving that little pleated skirt up and drinking you, drowning in you, your body just twitching under his hold.

“That’s it, there you go, doll. Cum all over m’fuckin face.” He urges, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, so goddamn intense as he devours your pussy, your  eyes roll into the back of your head as he latches onto your little twitching clit, sucking hard, and your body arches up, your back bowing off the bed, as you shatter.

“Oh fuck, T-Toji m’gonna cum I - ah!” You’re sobbing out the jumble of words, your voice hoarse, your body shaking as he feasts on you, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin. He’s fucking humming on your clit, and you feel the orgasm wrecking you as your hips buck up to his face.

He’s moaning as you orgasm all over his face, juices fucking pouring, the sounds of him slurping them up are goddamn obscene, he’s drunk off you as he sips up every bit he can. His breaths are hot and heavy, and your thighs are clamping down around his head, already overstimulated and whining pathetically, but he’s just too fucking strong, and he’s not stopping.

“Again, doll, can your lil slutty pussy cum again f’me?” You weakly shake your head, and he chuckles up at you. “So cute, and we’re just getting started, don’t tap out now… where’s your school spirit?”

“Oh my god…” You wanna cuss him out, but you’re about to cum again as he shoves two thick fingers in, curling them and pressing that spongy spot in your messy, not sloppy fucking walls. “Too much!” You whine, his chuckle tickling your clit as he spreads your lips, watching it twitch.

“Talked all that shit, then can’t take a lil foreplay?” You’re sweating already, about to cum again, the tension in your body coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re screaming out his name, Toji. Your hips bucking against his face, your juices squirting out all over his mouth and chin, soaking the bed beneath you, and he’s just swallowing it all down, groaning with every drop.

You collapse back, breathless, sweat slicked, and your heart racing so fast you can feel it in your throat, and Toji sits back a bit,, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with a smug grin, your pussy still quivering and pulsing around his thick digits as he is relentless in his fingering.

“Weak and fuckin pathetic, huh?”

“Ngh…” Is all you can manage, gasping as he keeps scissoring his fingers in and out of your cunt.

“That was just the fucking appetizer, doll.” And with that, he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours, dilated and reflecting your desire when he leans over you finally.

“T-Toji… I….”

“You sure can’t run that bratty mouth no more, huh? I already fuck you stupid with just fingers?” You just whimper, he makes you pathetic, ripping your top off you now, groaning as he sees your tits right in his face, gripping them in his big hands, sucking right on your nipples, while you’re grinding eagerly, dying for his cock.

“Toji please, more…”

“Think you can handle this cock, doll?” You nod eagerly, and he grins, lifting you like you’re nothing, pausing at your skirt and moaning. “Think we’ll keep it on.”

Toji’s undressing eagerly, despite acting in control, he’s dying to slip inside you, soaking wet and eager, sliding three fingers in just to test you, and you gasp at the stretch, legs shaking while he curls them at the knuckles. “Ngh! Too… much…”

“Doll, need ya nice and ready.” He pulls them out now, shoving them in your mouth, making you soak yourself as he lines the thick tip of his cock against your folds, pressing into your entrance, you scream out at it, pussy clenching just his tip, making him hiss. “Fuck you’re so tight still, shit…”

“Please, fuck me please.”

“Begging so pretty, love you like this - ha- f-fuck!” Toji’s green eyes roll back in his own head as he sinks into your soaking wet pussy, stretching you just perfectly around him, cupping your face as he does. “Look at me, now.”

You struggle to focus your eyes as he fills you, shoving in one stroke so deep your nails dig in his back, nothing but your cheer skirt and sneakers on your body, something about that and your pigtails making Toji feral. He slams his cock deep inside you as your mouth is in a slutty O, whimpering at the burn, the stretch.

“Can’t take a dick like this, huh?” You shake your head weakly, and he wants to chuckle, to smirk, but he’s too pussy drunk now, as he fucks you harder, his bed creaking, headboard slamming on his fucking wall as he leans up. “Look at that… huh baby?”

You weakly look down, seeing your tummy bulge as he slows his movements, and you’re blushing, making Toji murmur how cute his cheerleader is, while he watches it slower and slower, groaning. His tip drags on some spot again, making your nails rake down his arms, leaving marks, and he moans, head falling low, sweat dripping from his brow against your lips.

“That’s it, fucking up your lil body, huh? Too fuckin big for you, ain’t I?” You weakly just nod, he has fucked your brains out, he’s smirking now. “Ready for real dick?”

“For what!? F-fuck!” Toji lifts a leg up now, slamming deep in your pussy, fucking wrecking you then, as you’re cumming all over his cock when he presses fully in, stuffing your little cunt so full you’re sobbing at it.

“There it is, feel her milkin’ me already, huh?” You’re dizzy, blacking out damn near even before he wraps a hand back on your throat. “Been driving me crazy for fucking years, y’know what you were doing, didn’t ya?

You nod weakly, tears in your eyes, gasping as you’re pulsing all around his thick veiny length, struggling as he stuffs you, balls deep. “T-too much, too much!”

“Nah doll, you can take it like a good girl, can’t you?” His words and his strokes fuck you up, you nod eagerly as he moans, fucking into you harder and deeper, before pulling out, watching you shake and laugh. “Hands and knees, doll.”

You eagerly obey, barely able to turn, he has to help you, pressing your head into his soft mattress as he fucks you so hard, the slapping and wet sounds filling his room with your muffled cries. You’re clinging to the sheets until he takes your hands, gripping them behind your back with one hand, delicate wrists squeezed while he pumps into your tight, eager pussy.

“Fuckin feel you, so goddamn perfect, made f’me huh?” You can’t speak, you just whimper, as he groans, yanking your head up by your hair, leaning over. “Asked ya a question doll.”

“M-made f-for you.” You whisper, he chuckles, kissing you sloppy before he lets you go, your head falling again, while he pounds inside your eager pussy, which swallows him in so pretty.

“Know how many times I… stroked it, fuck… know what you’ve done to me!? Think I’ll ever let this pussy go now?” He whispers, insane fucking things, maybe they should scare you, as he pounds you so hard you do feel split in two, but you’re just whining in pleasure as he hisses, your walls pulsing as you’re close again. “So fucking easy, huh?”

You can’t answer, you’re screaming into the sheets while he’s pounding you so hard, wrecking you for anyone, as he rambles - ‘that’s it, feel her’ - ‘no one’s ever fucked you like this, huh’ and ‘this is what you get, talking all that shit, hah- can’t fuckin’ speak now, huh?’

You’re a mess, drooling when he has you cumming again, only for him to flip you back on your back like you are some little doll to him, cupping your face and sucking in a breath for a moment. You have the marks of the bed on your pretty face, tears making your mascara trail, eyes fucked out. You have drool that he swipes, slowing then and huffing.

“Know how goddamn beautiful you are?” He whispers, so intimate and shocking for a moment, your breath catches, as he slows his strokes. “Know how you’re in all my dreams? Pretty, perfect, f-fuck…”

“Toji… y-you think…”

“I know.” You’re sobbing when he kisses you, when you’re clinging to him with numb hands from his brutal grip, and he slows just a bit, the kiss deepening. “God I’ve wanted you so long, doll, shit… like I’m dreaming.”

His words melt you, as you try to cling to any sense of reality anymore. “Oh, Toji…”

“Shh, stop making me sappy and shit, demon ass pussy here.” You breathless giggle, but it turns into a cry as you cling to him, hips rolling, when he’s getting close, and he’s cupping your face, you feel far too fucking much. “Where you want me to cum, doll, because I’m close, pussy gripping too good.”

“In me.”

“In you!?” You nod shyly, and he glares, narrowing green eyes as he tenses over you. “Anyone came in this pussy?” You shake your head nervously, earning his grin. “Perfect, gonna fill you first huh- want it all in you?”

You nod weakly, and he presses your thighs up, folding you in half, girthy cock and mean tip bullying your walls until he’s closer and closer, groaning. “Ngh!” You’re pathetically whining, he laughs.

“Beg for it, all this cum doll, been fucking waiting for this.”

“P-please- ah!” Toji loves how submissive you are despite you having been such a goddamn brat, pleased his cock has fucked your brains good enough you’re begging for it.

“Beg harder, doll.”

“Fucking please!”

“Please what, brat?”

“Daddy please!” Toji’s ended then, pouring hot spurts of cum so deep in your abused little hole, white ropes coating your fluttering walls as he damn near whimpers, falling heavy over you. You’re sobbing it feels so good, muscles throbbing and fluttering around his cock, pushing his cum and yours all down his cock. “Mnh!”

“That’s it, milk me like a good lil slut.” He huffs, easing back and shoving his cock in again, pressing kisses sweeter than his mean strokes down your neck. He exhales, fingers running down your skin as he feels you twitching under him. “Goddamn it, you’re such a brat, y’know? Until you get dick.”

“That w-was the cure.” He snorts now, shaking his head, leaning up with a breath, and cupping your face again, a thin sheen of sweat on your perfect skin, when he hears the door unlock, cursing.

“Shit…” You hastily cover yourself, as Toji struggles to right himself, hiding you under the blankets as Megumi walks in, sighing when he sees his best friend’s cheer top and likely her panties strewn along with his dad’s sweats.

“Really, you two?” He grumbles.

“Nothing happened, kid. Just… she’s…”

“Yeah, whatever.” He crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway as you peek out from under the covers. “We have a game? Get it together.”

He walks out and slams the door as you break into a breathless giggle, hastily getting up, only for Toji to shove you back down. You blink rapidly as he shoves two fingers in your sore pussy, making you hiss. “Toji what the fuck!?”

“Need you dripping me at the game, doll.”

A/N- Toji stuff is just my ABSOLUTE FILTH every fucking time, and I'm not sure I'm sorry about it lol. Reader and Toji both ain't shit, and poor Megumi LMAO. See you in the comments bbs hehe

taglist #1- @ella45jjk @rie-star @konekobby @maniccats @getoisinnocent @atiny-99 @y-u-w-k @mimiluvzu2 @kiliggirl @msniks @chsuguru @g00seg1rl @psychoartiste @aerareads @rentheannihilator @mima0127 @paradisestarfishh @themoreeviltwin @zym555 @nutmilky @superstar-t20 @2bizseechile @plimplimmeiododoi @shydroid3000 lavenderdaydream97 @xd3pr3ss3dx @tojiwoah @xllizs @collectionofdolls @midnightry @21yuki12 @angie420 @socrazylola @whosmarjj PERM- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @loafteaw @tojicvmslut @miizuzu @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @moncher-ire @orikixx @baepsays @airandyeah @naammiii

[yasministration]

hi!! i love love love your concussions and interruptions au and i was wondering if you could do one with james and lily doing parent stuff with reader and basically adopting her into their family bc hers sucks. i loved the latest installment where lily was helping her with her dress and i would love to see more of stuff like that ❤️❤️❤️

pass the wrench - harry potter

summary: when james comes can't find harry to help him fix something, he decides you're fit to help with the job. after all, you're practically already his daughter in law. wc: 1.6k+ cw: like one suggestive comment (james tells harry to use protection)

When James Potter walked into his living room, he was sweaty, a slight frown on his face as his brows tugged into a furrow. His hands were on his hips, scanning the living room as he looked for his son. Harry was nowhere in sight as you sipped at your tea with Lily, easy smiles on both your faces as you conversed.

“Is Harry around?” James asked, wiping a hand on his forehead, words targeted towards his wife. “In the shower.” She responded, bringing the mug up to her lips to take a long sip of her warm drink. James nodded, patting his greasy hands on his trousers. “Alright then, you’re up, kid.” He said, gesturing towards you with a jerk of his chin. Lily shot James an unimpressed look, tilting her head to the side. But you were elated, a wide smile gracing your face as you placed your cup of tea on the table, hopping up to your feet.

“Yeah, I can help!” Lily shut her mouth at the happy tone of your voice, rushing over to James, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise at your enthusiasm. “Bring your wand.” James instructed as he returned to the garage with you right on his heels. You waited for his instruction silently, watching with curious eyes as he began tinkering with something.

“What’s that?” You asked, inching closer to your boyfriend’s dad, taking in the vast object in front of you. “A car. Muggles use them for transportation.”

“Why do you have one?”

James glanced up from where he was ducked over the open hood of the car, his curls falling into his face. He grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” You laughed, eyes scanning the lifted hood of the car, trailing down to the metal components James was fixing. Or, attempting to fix. “Could I get some light here?”

You nodded, muttering ‘lumos’ and pointing your wand towards the area James was toying with. Chewing on your bottom lip, you leaned towards him, trying to see what he was doing. “Pass the wrench, would you?” You froze, turning your head towards the table near the car, tools laid out on its surface.

Swallowing thickly, you reached out towards the table, hands curling around the orange silicone handle of the tool you guessed to be the wrench. You placed it in Mr. Potter’s extended hand, and he brought it up to the car, freezing when he got a good look at it. James chuckled, turning to look at you, and you instantly knew you had guessed incorrectly.

“These are pliers,” He informed you, waving them around in the air. “Take another guess.” You huffed, shoulders sagging. “You know I got it wrong and you’re still gonna make me guess?”

James turned around, leaning his hips against the car and crossing his arms over his chest. Under his amused gaze, you stared at the table again, determined to get it right. “A wrench.” You whispered to yourself, ignoring James’s amused chuckle. You lifted another tool off the table, testing its weight in your hand. Humming, you placed it back on the table, unconvinced. You reached for another metal tool, simple looking, and yet you had no idea what it did.

You proudly presented the tool to Mr. Potter, grinning at him proudly. His eyes widened in shock and he nodded his head quickly, taking it from your hands and turning back to face the car. You giggled in satisfaction, pointing your wand towards the car again.

“Proud of yourself, are you?”

“Yeah, I am, actually.”

“Great, now pass me the screwdriver.”

You cursed under your breath, pulling your wand away from the car to spin towards the table again. “Wand!” He called, and you squeaked, pointing it in place again. You reached for the table, rolling a tool towards you and handing it to him. James hummed when he saw the screwdriver in your hand, taking it from you with an encouraging nod. “Is that right?” James responded with another nod, and you immediately asked “Okay, what next?”

“Um, next I think we see if it turns on.”

“Oh. How do we do that?”

James grinned, straightening up. He dug in his pocket for the keys, tossing them over to you. “Get in front of the wheel.” You nodded, rounding the car to open the door to the driver’s seat, settling down with a giggle. James closed the hood, then came over to your side of the car, where you had the door still open. He rolled the window down, then closed the door with a grin, seeing the joyful look on your face. He leaned against the open window, pointing towards the key hole.

“Put the key in there.” He instructed. You followed his command, glancing up at him expectantly after you’d done so. James made a twisting motion with his hand, and you mimicked it, furrowing your eyebrows when nothing happened. “Try again.” James mumbled, huffing when there was no result. He sped over to the front of the car, lifting the hood again.

You shrugged to yourself, glancing backwards and scanning the insides of the car. You squirmed, making yourself comfortable in the seat. Jumping slightly when the hood slammed shut, you met your boyfriends’s father’s eyes. He shot you a thumbs up, and you twisted the key again, eyes lighting up when the engine roared with life. “Woah!” You cried, looking up to meet James’s eyes. He jumped up with a loud cry, punching the air to celebrate his success.

“Did it work!?” You asked with a laugh. “It worked! Do you want to go for a drive?” You nodded at his words, and James hopped into the passenger’s seat, rolling down his window and putting on his seatbelt. You observed his movements, glancing back to find your own seatbelt and putting it on, locking it in the clasp. “Wait, I’m driving it?” James nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, like riding a bike.”

You froze at his comment, furrowing your eyebrows and turning to look at him. “I’ve never seen a bike like this.”

And at that very moment, the door to the garage opened once more and Lily Potter walked in, carrying a tray with two large cups of lemonade, the icy drink creating a layer of condensation on the glass. “For my mechanic and his little helper.” She said, sticking the tray into James’s side of the car. He lifted both cups at the same time, offering you one. You thanked Mrs. Potter, but she didn’t answer, squinting her eyes suspiciously at you both.

“Absolutely not.”

She finally said, putting the tray aside and crossing her arms. Her warning glare almost broke at the matching innocent looks on your and James’s faces, eyes wide and smiles sheepish. “What?” James asked, shrugging his shoulders. Lily let out an exasperated sigh, and she shook her head, reaching for James’s now empty cup. He handed it to her, and as he turned around to take your cup, you chugged the rest of your drink to follow. He laughed as lemonade seeped from the corners of your lips, taking the cup from you as you wiped away the liquid from your face.

It was only then that you realised how sweaty you had become in the humid space, your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. You tugged at your shirt, pulling it off your slick skin, and you laughed nervously as Lily ordered “Both of you out of the car.” James grumbled under his breath and you twisted the key to turn the car off, pulling it out of its place. You opened the door, trying to get up, but you were forced against the back of your seat due to the seatbelt still strapped across your chest.

You tugged at the seatbelt, trying to pull it out of the buckle. You desperately looked over to Harry’s parents, meeting their amused gazes. “I’m stuck.” You mumbled helplessly, and Lily smiled softly as James broke down into fits of laughter.

“Hey.” Your head shot back towards the garage door, and you sighed in relief as Harry walked in, hair wet, skin gleaming. “What’s going on?”

“Fixed the car with my helper.”

“I thought I was your helper.”

“You can be his helper,” You announced, leaning forward so you could see him behind the car’s thick metallic structure. “But I learned what a plier and a wrench is!” Harry stuck his head in the opposite window, a smile on his face. “I’m proud of you, love.” You grinned, fingers curling around the seatbelt strap. “What are you doing in there?” He asked, and you heard James chuckle again.

“I’m stuck.” Harry glanced back towards his dad, shaking his head before walking over to your side of the car. He leaned over you, one hand resting on the car seat next to your head, and unlatched the clasp. You gasped as the belt flew back into its place, blinking rapidly.

“Oh.”

Harry laughed, offering you a hand. You took it, letting him guide you out of the car and towards the garage door, leading you back to the house. “Thanks for letting me help, Mr. Potter!” You cried as Harry encouraged you through the doorway. “No worries!” His voice echoed back. And then, “Use protection!”

“Dad, I just got out of the shower, we’re not going to have sex.”

“Oh, speaking of,” You added, turning towards him, just having entered the house. “Can I use your shower?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re-you’re going to shower?”

“Mhmm, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t mind at all. Of course not.” He mumbled, running a hand through his soaking hair. His eyes ran down your sweaty figure, hair slightly tousled, a couple of strands sticking to the sides of your face. You looked nice like this, he decided.

“Use protection!” James called out again, and this time, as Harry reached down for your hand, spotting the wide, teasing smile on your face at the expression he had, replied with “Okay.”

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[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Love 101

my week-late valentine's post

summary: third years ask first years for love advice. the first years suck at giving it type of post: blurbs characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia, lilia, malleus, rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

I. Cater and Deuce

Cater has always loved the thrill of the chase (or, really, the thrill of stalking your magicam at 2am) and he would have been content with keeping his digital distance if he didn't see you in Vil's last post. Suddenly anxious that he's fumbling, he does what he does best: info. And who would have better info than your best friend? "Uhhh, I dunno," Deuce says. "If you really like someone, then you should be honest with them- that's what my mom used to tell me, at least. Or did I read that somewhere? Uh, never mind. I'm sure the Prefect will understand! Just- you better treat them right, or else!" Be honest? When has honesty ever helped Cater? It'd take two more nights of crushing anxiety for him to send a risky text, spilling all of his feelings for you in a Magicam DM and then handing his phone over to a very confused (but pleased?) Riddle, so he won't check his notifs for your username every twelve seconds...

II. Trey and Ace

Trust me, he was not Trey's go-to. Okay, sure, Ace is your best friend. Sure, he knows everything about you, from your favorite desserts to your grades, and sure, you've probably told him everything about your dream man, but... It's Ace. And unlike darling, doe-eyed Deuce, if someone asked too much about you, Ace would get suspicious and go right into protective best friend mode. So, Trey keeps it vague. "Eh? You're asking me for dating advice?" Ace grins. "About time! I knew you were smart. What you're gonna do is give 'em a little, not too much. Maybe ghost 'em for a week or two, so they'll really miss you when you finally text back!" ...Yeah. Maybe Trey should just stick to desserts.

III. Leona and Jack

Listen, okay, Leona didn't want to ask him, either. But Ruggie had nothing, your other frosh friends couldn't flirt their way out of a paper bag, and Grim refused to give Leona the goods without tuna payments (and he's spoiled enough as it is). Of course, the moment Leona even implied he was thinking of you, Jack jumped. "You have to be direct and honest! This could be your life partner, you have to put your all in!" Right, sure. Why does he even bother with these kids?? You'd be turned off if Leona started spilling his guts like that. He would've given up then and there... but then Jack insisted he come to "support his upperclassman", as if it were a fight rather than a flirtation. Leona cursed the Seven, the stars, and every single student on campus as he stumbled his way through asking you out. "Not that you would, or that I care, but I-" he looks over his shoulder, and Jack is still there, arms crossed like an impatient parent. Leona grumbles. "If you want to..." "He wants to please you, Prefect!" Jack barks. "DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT!"

IV. Vil, Rook, and Epel

It wasn't like Vil sought out Epel for the sole purpose of you, the freshman simply... happened to be in the room while Vil was thinking about it! Out loud! With Rook! In a... slightly argumentative manner! "Epel, settle something for us, would you?" "Oui, you see, I say the way to win the Prefect's favor is by anticipating their every thought!" "And I say that's insane. You know them best, so, tell us, what do they like?" The poor boy looks between them like he's being held at gunpoint. How should he have known?? It's not like you guys spent your time gabbing about boys! "APPLES!" he blurts out. "The Prefect loves apples!! My grandma always said the quickest way to a person's heart is through their stomach!" Rook giggles and Vil mumbles something about Epel's peanut-sized brain. ...Nonetheless, you wake up to crates full of apples at your door the next morning.

V. Idia and Ortho

beeeeeep... beeep... bing! Idia swivels around in his chair at the sound of the printer. Crap, did he accidentally hit print page again? What a waste of ink- that stuff's not cheap, you know! But it's just... Ortho. "Here ya go, big bro! I thought you might need this!" Idia cautiously takes the warm paper, entitled Romance Intel 101. "Uh... Ortho. Why are you giving me this? You know I max out the romance stats in all my games EZ," Ortho giggles. "It's not for a game, it's for the Prefect! Based on the data I've gathered, your heart rate accelerates by 1.2 seconds, and your pupils dilate by 40% when thinking of, or speaking to the Prefect!" Idia turns pink and crumples, as if he were the paper (the first line of which, BTW, reading "step one- make eye contact!") This is going to be a looooong school year...

VI. Lilia and Grim

You probably should've been suspicious when Lilia popped into Ramshackle and offered to babysit Grim for an afternoon, but you weren't- not with assignments due, at least. You said your goodbyes, and as soon as you were out the splintered door, Lilia spun on his heels. Short as he is, he towers over the little direbeast. "Hm, seems like we have time to spare. How about a casual conversation? Yes? Good! So, how do the youngsters these days go about showing their affections? I would like to make my feelings for a certain someone known, but I'm terribly out of practice." Grim thinks for a moment, and then: "Tuna. Looots of tuna. Heaps of it! It's all the rage!" Lilia nods sagely. "Ah, yes, I understand completely. There was a rotisserie chicken fad a few centuries ago... er, so I've read. Isn't love wonderful!" You come home from the library to an unconscious, drooling, but very happy Grim, and Lilia sitting atop a mountain of empty tuna cans and beaming. "Darling! You're back!"

VII. Malleus and Sebek

It had always been Sebek's honor and duty to serve the heir prince of Briar Valley, whether in war or in love. When Malleus wistfully said he wished to know you better, Sebek saw to it. That is, he spent the entire weekend shadowing you. And not subtly- he was never more than a few steps behind, pen and paper in hand. When you asked what in the world he was doing, he- "OBSERVING! NOW, QUIET! BEHAVE AS USUAL!" "You don't have to shout, you're right behind me. And observing what, Sebek?" "NONE OF YOUR CONCERN! ACT AS IF I AM NOT HERE!" At the end of the weekend, Sebek returned to Malleus' throne with a report that titled you "inquisitive, dense, and apparently hard-of-hearing."

VIII. Rollo and You

Your friends had seemed wary when Rollo asked you on a walk with him, though he promised he wouldn't take you too far from their clutches care. You had been in Fleur City for days and he didn't know a single thing about you, other than that you were magicless and pitiful. You were so often spoken over, interrupted, and dismissed, it took Rollo a strenuous amount of grace not to grab you by the wrist and drag you away from your rude, contemptuous classmates himself... He couldn't word the feeling. And he was hoping you could. "So," he says, "They refer to you as Prefect. That is your role? Do you enjoy it?" You shrug. Has being at that terrible school rendered you unfit for social interaction? "Very well. Then what do you do for... fun? You appeared to enjoy seeing the city. Are you interested in history?" You shrug again. How can he be expected to know you if you won't tell him anything?? Rollo decides that words are worthless, and his eyes land on your hands. His own fingers twitch and tingle in anticipation, and for a brief but terrifying moment, he thinks of reaching out to you. ...In the end, he can't will himself to do it. Maybe in another life.

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (08)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content mature content, nsfw; making out, nipple sucking, teasing, hickies, praise, dry humping (?), pet names, sexual tension, fluff!! sneaking around, fights and arguments, angst

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 07 ! 08 ¡ 09

Your skin burned; heat radiating off your entire body throughout the whole meeting. Rafe’s gaze pierced holes through you, unable to keep his eyes away from you, even with your father mere inches away, the small distance barely separating you. 

The meeting soon came to an end, a sigh of relief escaping your throat the moment the elders shot up from their seats, shaking your parents’ hands as they bid goodbye’s. You scrambled to hide behind your mom, awaiting Rafe and your brother’s leave; just in case the latter puts you in the spot, offering to drive you back, and make things even more awkward than they were. 

After the incident with Ryan, you both tended to be more careful, sneaking around to spend time with each other once everyone fell asleep (like literally… you’d make Rafe double check whether Ryan fell asleep, not choosing to put yourself at risk with the situation). It was oddly thrilling, though your words spoke otherwise, you found joy in telling Rafe off as he drags you to a dim corner away from everyone’s eyes, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins the moment he connects your lips with his, the gesture assuring you in a way; pushing your worries down the pit of your stomach. 

Ryan was also keeping watch, although Rafe brushed off his assumptions, the latter insisted the phone was yours, growing more suspicious when Rafe snatched it before he could get a hold of it. Hiding the whole thing from your brother felt as if something bitter lodged in your throat, one you couldn’t bring yourself to swallow down. 

It was horrible, with the thrill and giddiness came worry and guilt, that even if you were happy, the voices in the back of your head would hold you back, reminding you of the hell you created out of yourself. You were at a point where all you could do was wait, enjoy each moment in hopes of it lasting forever, merely going with the flow for the sake of happiness you’ve forced yourself to appreciate, though it wasn’t worthy of, no amount of assuring convincing you otherwise. 

The deadline for your trip was approaching, with each passing second, minute, hour. And for that, you chose to push down your emotions, enjoy the company of your friends while they were within reach, knowing you weren’t going to see them for the next months; years, even. And Rafe, yeah, the mere thought of dealing with the long distance had you stressing, unable to handle him being a few hours drive away. 

In that short while you spent with your friends had a lasting impact, influencing a big part of your life, one you weren’t aware was missing. It was as if this trip was meant to heal you, pay off all your pain in sorrow with the company of others, even if not much was being done, as you spent most of your time hanging out on the beach near the Airbnb.  

You were still grateful, though, impatiently waiting to get home after your friends suggested a girls’ night out. You swiftly agreed, because who were you to refuse? Besides, you didn’t fully dislike the idea of it, as it would probably help get your mind off things.

You hurried to get changed upon your arrival, sprinting up the stairs with the intention of saving yourself a bit of time. You took an everything shower, styled your hair, did your makeup, and picked something out to wear, not wanting to delay your leave any longer, and waste the precious time your friends spared you. 

Everything was fine, until it came to finding your desired pair of shoes. A puzzled expression settled on your face once you realized your Converse were nowhere in sight, almost as if they vanished into thin air. You searched the entirety of the closet for them, growing panicked when Cleo soon seeked your presence, asking whether you were ready. 

“I can’t find my converse,” you answered, eyebrows knitting with frustration. “I’m sure I put them here, where did they go?” 

“Your converse?” Clep questioned, tilting her head as she observed the now mess of a closet. “I think I saw them in the garage, are they white?” 

“Yeah,” You perked up at that, standing to your feet in an instant. “Why are they in the garage?” 

“Girl, I don’t know.” Cleo chuckled, shaking her head. “You should grab them, we’re leaving in a few.” 

“Lifesaver.” you sighed, planting a brief kiss to her cheek before you were off to the garage, entering from the door attached to the kitchen. 

You fanned away the dust fogging your vision, attention shifting to the sun invading the space through the slightly open garage door. You quickly got to searching for your shoes, yelping with excitement when you spotted it lying around, along with your pair of white crocs (God knows how these ended up here). You hurried to put them on, struggling in the process, and sighing with relief after you managed to insert one of them around your foot. 

Your action cut short, breath hitching as a familiar hand sneaked around your waist, halting you in your spot. You wasted no time to turn around, eyes widening in shock when your gaze landed on Rafe, a knowing smile leisurely dancing around his lips at your reaction. 

“You showed up.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “You took so long, I didn’t think you would.” 

“What are you doing?” Your lips parted in a gasp, shoving the latter by the shoulder. “The garage door is open, Rafe. What if someone saw you?!” 

“What, I can’t see my girl now?” His gaze flickered to your lips, leaning his arm over the chair you made yourself comfortable on. He then leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft, yet deliberate kiss, instantly interrupted once you shoved him away.  “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeated through gritted teeth, “Were you the one who stole my shoes?” 

“What? No!” He said in between giggles, the cockiness in his tone immediately giving away the white lie. “You know I would never.” 

“You idiot!” You huffed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re gonna get us caught if you keep doing this.” 

“You barely make time for me now,” he pouted, watching as you strived to put the other pair of shoes on. “I had to take action, since someone is playing hard to get.” 

A scoff escaped your throat at the snarky comment, firmly tying the shoelaces into a knot before you stood to your feet, straightening your back to catch glimpse of Rafe, whose eyes followed your every move. 

“What if I never wore my converse?” You snickered, pursing your mouth into a thin line to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Then what, would you have still waited for me?” 

“Without a doubt,” he replied with no hesitation. “I knew you’d wear them, though; you always do.”

“Whatever,” you playfully rolled your eyes, disregarding the way your face flushed with heat, expression giving your shyness away. “I need to leave.” 

“So soon?” His eyebrows curled with disappointment, as he pressed one of his hands to your hips, using the gesture to pull you closer. He tilted your head with the tip of his fingers, instantly crashing his lips into yours in a teasing kiss, teeth lightly grazing over your bottom lip before he pulled away. “I jus’ got ahold of you,” and another kiss, “care to spare me a few minutes?” 

“This is not working on me, Rafe.” You pushed him off, though you fully melted in his hold, wanting nothing but to get a taste of his lips again. “You know I can’t, Sarah will kill me if I’m late.” 

“There you go with Sarah,” he huffed, rolling his eyes as he moved away, giving you enough space to get through. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Well, I’m sorry.” You giggled, scrunching your nose at his reaction. “I’ll be back soon, don’t be upset.” You glimpsed around, eyeing the place carefully before you grabbed his face, not giving Rafe time to process the situation before you were leaping him in a soft kiss, one bidding him goodbye, and leaving him craving more. “Bye, I’ll miss you.” 

At that, Rafe grins, admiring as you walked away, now creating somewhat of a distance between you two. He waved his hand in your direction, swaying his body back and forth with mere giddiness. “Text me!” 

You nod in response, chuckling before strolling your way in your friends’ direction, instantly flashing Sarah an apologetic smile upon catching glimpse of her sulky expression. 

Rafe stretched his arms over his head, letting his eyes fall shut as a groggy groan escaped his throat, the action falling interrupted when he turned in the door’s (the one leading to the kitchen) direction, and spotted Ryan, whose glare puzzled Rafe, unable to read his mind, and know what he was thinking. 

“Ryan,” He nervously started, “How long have you been here?” 

“Not long,” the latter mumbled, exhaling through his parted lips. “Wanted to check why this door was open.” 

“Oh,” Rafe relaxed, partially due to the explanation, pausing before he continued. “Do you need anything?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “I got takeout, wanna eat?” 

“Sure.” Rafe nodded, following in Ryan’s steps when he took his leave, and making sure to close the door once he was inside. His eyebrows quirked upon his gaze landing on the table, confused on why there was no food plated on the hardwood. “Where’s the food?” 

“On the porch.” Ryan dismissed, escorting Rafe outside. He took a seat on one of the chairs, quickly joined by rafe as he reached for one of the boxed foods splayed on the table. “Help yourself out.”

Ryan didn't need to tell him twice as he dug in, munching on his food while admiring the rocky waves. It was a beautiful sight, calming Rafe in a way, though that didn't last forever as he took notice of the latter, who stuck to playing with the noodles instead of eating.

“Why aren't you eating?” Rafe asked, addressing Ryan with his chin. “Do you not like it?” 

Ryan remained silent, gaze yet fixed on the food in his lap, letting silence seep in before he cut through it. “I saw you earlier.” 

“Me?” Rafe scoffed through a mouthful of food, leaning back in his chair. “When?

“In the garage, with my sister.” Rafe almost chokes when Ryan replies, mouth stilling for a moment. “You know, Bug; the same girl you referred to as a sister.” 

Fuck. He knows. 

Rafe’s heart drops at that, fully abandoning the food he had in hand, tossing it on the table as he casually spins in Ryan’s direction, a mere attempt of maintaining a calm expression, as if he wasn't a panicking mess deep down. 

“What do you mean?” He feigned oblivion, blinking far too many times for his liking. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rafe.” Ryan stifles out a sarcastic laugh, turning to face Rafe, who despite his cool expression, turned red with nervousness. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“I don't.” Rafe lied through his teeth, gulping when Ryan straightened up, getting off the chair in an instant.

Ryan gave Rafe no time to process the situation, swinging a punch to his face, immediately causing the latter to stumble back, fully taken aback by the gesture. 

Sure, they’ve had their fair share of arguments, but it never got this bad; to the point where they needed to involve violence. 

“You’re fucking my sister, huh?” He then punches him again, and in that moment, awareness washed over Rafe, as he realized this was it. The truth was out, Ryan found out. “Out of everyone, you go for my sister?!”

Rafe sat there, didn't even bother swinging back, or defend himself, hence he knew he deserved it. He hid this for far too long, letting the guilt build up instead of owning up to it and being honest with his best friend. He let Ryan yank him up, then throw him to the floor, then proceeded to relax as he threw another punch to his face, completely wrecking his features with bruises that formed within seconds. 

“I thought you were my best friend,” Ryan grunted out, now pressing Rafe to the floor with his knees locking him in place. “I told you,” a punch, “not to fucking” and another, “touch my sister!” 

Rafe almost laughs at the statement, choosing to swallow it down, as his friend was already furious; he’d completely lose it if Rafe were to open his mouth, let alone laugh. 

He couldn't help it, though, giggling when he caught a glimpse of Ryan’s upset expression, perhaps not taking the situation as seriously as he truly should. 

Ryan pauses at that, eyebrows curling with confusion, as to why the latter suddenly erupted into a fit of chuckles. “Why are you laughing?”

“God, you’re ridiculous.” Rafe muttered through a breath, causing Ryan to perk with pent-up anger. 

“What did you say?” Ryan mumbles through gritted teeth, failing to hold himself back. 

Rafe straightened in his position, groaning once he pushed Ryan off, letting the latter fall to his side. His lips gaped in pain, hissing when his fingers brushed over the bruise near his mouth upon noticing the blood gushing out. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Rafe asked, a smug smirk slowly tugging at his lips. 

“You want me to fuckin’ kill you?” Ryan spat out, face fuming with anger. “You think my sister is a whore? You can sleep with her and call it a night? Huh?”

Rafe’s teeth clenched at that, tugging Ryan by the collar of his shirt. He yanked him back, veins trailing a path to beneath his buzzed hair, unable to contain himself, nor fight the urge to maintain patience. 

“Don’t cross the line, Ryan.” He threatened, tone serious, as well as the expression smothering across his face. “Say shit like that one more time and I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’hear me? I could easily take you down; kill you if I wanted, but I won't, ‘cause you're my best friend.” He then paused, seeking Ryan's gaze through his foggy vision before he continued. “I won't let you assume shit, okay? You can't say bullshit like this and expect me not to say anything.” 

“Assume? You’ve been hiding the whole fuckin’ thing from me.” Ryan scoffed, ridiculed by Rafe’s words. “You know how I get when I’m angry, Rafe, don’t fucking tempt me.”

“Let it all out, Ryan.” Rafe let go of him, holding onto the chair for support to get himself off the ground, quickly standing to his feet. “I like her, and I’m willing to do anything to be with her, even if I lose myself doing it.” Rafe grabbed his phone from the table, along with his wallet, as he inserted them in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m not letting her go, no amount of convincing could change my decision.” 

Ryan sat there and watched, gaze following Rafe as he strived to take his leave, immediately disappearing out of the latter’s sight. Telling (?) his best friend felt like something heavy getting off his chest, though he still had plenty to worry about. It was nice, knowing he won't have to hide his feelings away anymore. 

He planned to keep the incident between him and Ryan for now, not wanting you to find out, just for a fight to break down between you and your brother. For now, the least he could do is avoid you, favorably till his bruises healed. 

And that’s exactly what he did. Rafe never left his room, even after you came back, sticking to texting you instead, and refusing to see you, though you hinted your want to meet him. 

The latter wasn't budging, brushing off your attempts by changing the topic, and before you knew it, night has approached, later followed by you falling into deep slumber, only realizing you fell asleep after randomly waking up in the middle of the night to your phone abandoned on your pillow, after your many shots of convincing Rafe to see you. 

He’ll come around, you were probably going to see him during breakfast tomorrow. 

Or at least you hoped. 

Rafe never showed up for breakfast. 

You were confused, cluelessly staring at your food while your friends filled the room with chaos, failing to notice the disappointment sprawling across your face. 

You’ve grown used to the teasing comments Rafe would throw in your direction, wishing he was there to at least keep you company. You miss him, so much, it was driving you crazy. Throughout your nearly two months of staying here, this is the longest it's been since you last spoke to Rafe, or seen him in person; and that alone had you spiraling with frustration. 

Something was wrong. It wasn't a typical lazy morning for Rafe, as he always manages to squeeze in a bit of quality time, despite how hectic his schedule would get. This time around, he didn't even bother explaining the reason behind his sudden disappearance, remaining a mystery with each time your curiosity grew. 

That of course, lasted till the afternoon, when you fortuitously stumbled upon Rafe as he sneaked his way out to the bathroom, not catching glimpse of you down the hall; staring him down with a million thoughts wandering through your head. He clicked the door shut, taking the opportunity for granted when you strolled your way in his direction, disregarding the fact that others could see you, and only focusing on Rafe, while you patiently waited for him to exit the bathroom. 

The sound of the door unlatching made you perk up, breath knocking out of your chest when your gaze landed on Rafe, who froze, a look of discomfort instantly spreading on his face. His face, it was bruised, freckled with purple patches that covered a decent amount of his features, you almost didn’t recognize him. 

He muttered out your name through a breath, not looking too fond of getting caught in this condition, clearly uncomfortable with you trying to read his expression like you knew exactly what happened, and how he was feeling. With a gulp, the latter started again, tone evident, in contrast to his emotions. “What are you doing here?” 

“What happened to your face?” You asked, reaching out for his face, merely for the latter to dodge it as he grasps your wrist in between his fingers, holding it firm and in place. 

“Nothin’, I got drunk and accidently got into a fight.” Rafe lied through his teeth, loosening his hold around your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“You didn’t leave the house yesterday, Rafe.” You exclaimed, in response to his deceiving statement. “Who did this to you? Was it Topper? Did he show up while we were gone?” 

“C’mon,” he clicked his teeth, giggling to brighten the mood. “You think I’m that weak?” 

“This is not a laughing matter, Rafe!” You huffed, eyebrows knitting with frustration. “You were jus’ fine, how did you get all these bruises?”

“Baby, it’s nothing, like I said, I got drunk and–” his sentence was cut short as he jolted back, the muscular figure in view causing you to gasp before you stumbled back, eyes immediately widening in shock upon catching sight of Ryan, now pressing Rafe to the wall.

“‘Fuck are you doing, Rafe?” He asked through gritted teeth, tightening his hold around the collar of Rafe’s shirt when the latter remained silent, leisurely fluttering his eyes shut in response. “Didn’t I warn you, can’t you jus’ fuckin’ respect me for once?”

Rafe scoffed at that, angling his head back as he stifled out a laugh, hands landing on top of Ryan’s, before he shoved them off, slyly fixing the collar of his shirt. “You’re full of shit.” 

“What did you say?” Ryan moved forward, fingers clutching into a fist at Rafe’s words, aiming to swing at him, merely for you to interfere with the arm you pressed to his chest. 

“What is going on here?” You questioned with disbelief, gaze flickering between your brother and Rafe, hoping for an explanation, an answer, at least. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Rafe assured, addressing you with a tight-lipped smile. “Jus’ go back to your room, I’ll catch you later.” 

“Motherfucker,” Ryan spat back, venom filling the void in his tone. “You’re doin’ this to piss me off, aren’t you?” 

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now…” you muttered under your breath, confusing no one but yourself. “Why are you fighting?” 

“Why are you involving her?” Rafe mumbled, jaw clenching with anger. “Might as well jus’ tell everyone else, huh? Yeah everyone, my sister and my best friend have feelings for each other, and I’m a lil’ bitch that can’t handle things not going my way, so I decided to break things off between them, then beat my friend into a pulp to feel better about myself.” 

What?

Your lips parted in an inaudible gasp, halting in your tracks at the truth, and the reason behind their argument. Fuck, Ryan found out. 

He’d have to find out one day, you knew that, but right now? Your heart instantly sunk to your stomach, breath heaving with each exhale departing your lips, unaware of what to do with yourself, and the new information that practically slapped their way into your brain. 

By the looks of it, Ryan did not handle the truth well, hence the proof was evident on Rafe’s face. 

“I asked one thing of you, Rafe.” Ryan stated, “One thing; don’t fucking touch my little sister, and what did you do? You go n’ kiss her? What, you expect me to sit back and be happy about this?” 

“What do you wanna do?” Rafe’s face twisted with irritation, arms moving in front of his chest as he straightened up, now invading Ryan’s personal space. “What, you’ll try to separate us? I already fucking told you, I’m not letting her go, Ryan. I– I like her, so much; you of all people should know how serious this is for me.” 

“Go fuck yourself for all I care.” Ryan choked out a sarcastic laugh, “I know you, you’re a fucking asshole, and a scumbag who only cares about himself, don’t come talkin’ about serious shit, I know you won’t treat my sister well.” 

“You’re overstepping it,” Rafe started, tone serious, a slight warning for Ryan. “Don’t make me do somethin’ I’ll regret.” 

“Yeah?” Ryan mocked, getting under Rafe’s skin. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Stop talking.” You interrupted, sighing aloud with exasperation. “Just shut up, what if someone hears you? What will you tell them?” 

“But–” Ryan started. 

“Don’t.” You beat him to it, fluttering your eyes shut before you continued. “Go to your rooms, and handle this privately, please. Don’t start saying dumb shit only to regret it later on.” 

At that, both of them fall quiet, letting silence seep through the air, atmosphere heavy with tension that could kill. Ryan took a moment to collect himself, before wandering back to his room, knowing if he spoke he wouldn't stop talking. 

As for Rafe, the latter stared into the void, watching as you walked away, knowing he can’t speak up, in case he says something and ruins things for himself, messing them up more than they already were. Instead, he observed as you disappeared off to your room, lingering for just a moment, in hopes of seeing you for a few seconds, a mere glimpse, if that was too much to ask for. 

Disappointment washed over his chest once he realized you were gone, hopelessly heading back to his room, with the intentions of locking himself in there forever, maybe until he reflects on the dumb decisions his mind keeps suggesting, letting the voices in his head take over each time he was in the slightest bit agitated. However, that wasn’t long, as he was pulled out of his head when a soft knock erupted through the door, that if not for the silence, Rafe wouldn’t have heard it. 

His brows curled with puzzlement, hesitating to unlatch the door, only twisting the doorknob when another knock came through. Rafe’s chest raised at the sight of you, straightening up when he came in view, slightly taken aback by your presence. His gaze trailed down to the first-aid kit in your hold, heart quickening in pace upon realizing your reason for disappearance. 

The air filled with comfortable silence, Rafe didn’t dare cut through it, merely moving to the side to let you through, with you quietly accepting the invitation as you let yourself inside. Rafe shut the door, before he followed in your steps, deliberately approaching you as if not to startle you, admiring while you unpacked the boxed medicine in the process. 

A smile threatened to tug at his lips, fading in an instant when you turned, addressing him with your sharp gaze, that he somehow couldn’t read, falling blank since earlier. 

“Sit.” You ordered, dipping a q-tip in the rubbing alcohol that came with the kit. 

Rafe did as told, shoulder bumping into yours in the process of getting himself to the bed. He made himself comfortable on the edge, angling his head back to make it easier for you to apply the medicine. 

You tapped the ointment to the bruise near his mouth, hushing out an apology when he hissed in pain, continuing to clean up the wound, though it was probably too late now. You still wanted to do it, though, guilt settling in the pit of your stomach once you found out it was your brother’s doing. 

“I knew it.” You whispered through a shuddered breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect him to be this upset when he found out.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Rafe spoke, regretting it as he grunted in pain, his now disinfected wound burning when he moved his mouth. “It’s fine, I know how he gets when he’s angry.” 

“You’re both idiots.” You scoffed, a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. “Why were you provoking him, then?” 

“For fun.” He chuckled, letting tension linger in the air. 

You continued disinfecting the bruises, almost crumbling as his arm instinctively found the curse of your waist, fingertips rubbing soothing circles to the exposed flesh around your side. You tried not to react to the touch, feigning oblivion to his legs locking you in place, giving you no chance to escape him, or the desire pumping through your insides. 

“You’re so pretty.” Rafe’s voice abruptly broke out, earning your attention as you stopped what you were doing, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face. 

“Well, you’re not.” You teased, covering your flusteredness, wrapping up the first aid kit once you were done. “You’re busted, don’t get beaten up again.” 

Rafe squeezed your hip at the playful statement, chuckling along with you, though that gesture of his was desperate, speaking for all his wants and needs. “I’d gladly take another beating for you.” 

Your heart raced in your chest, mouth pressing into a thin line to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. You hated how sappy the snarky comment was, making you feel shy like a girl with her first crush, as if you’ve never experienced anything romantic before. 

“You’re an idiot.” You hushed out, almost gasping when Rafe’s fingers lightly tugged the waistband of your shorts, leisurely slipping them underneath, just enough to receive a reaction out of you. 

A hum of content rummaged out of his chest, tilting his head back even more, until the yearn in his gaze was visible, and in view, unable to hide it anymore. He fluttered his eyes up at you, pupils dilating with need, as new found tension seeped through, unlike the other times something bloomed between you two. 

This time, it was different, body submitting each time his touch would linger, clearly expressing the keenness heavy in his heart, now finally able to showcase it through action, with no one to interrupt, nor guilt to interfere. 

No thoughts were thought, no words were said, both of your minds were blank, full of emotions, and hushed desire. A breathy sigh stuttered out of your chest, fingers lightly grazing Rafe’s arms as they leisurely trailed up his shoulders, till you reached the crook of his neck. 

You engulfed his neck in your hands, thumbs gently pressing to his adam’s apple when you tilted his head back more, hinting that you were just as eager as he was, unable to put an end to the yearn eating through your heart, eventually aiming to do something about it. 

“Fuck.” Rafe muttered under his breath, fingers landing over yours. 

He wasted no time, immediately standing to his feet as he captured your lips in a kiss, knocking a breath out of your chest in the process. You stumbled back, slightly taken aback, though you quickly adjusted to the situation, slowly moving your lips over Rafe’s, able to taste the blood on his mouth. 

It was bittersweet, raw, full of emotions, speaking louder than you can put into words. Rafe’s lips moved with a motive, hot breath fanning over yours as he licked and nipped at your mouth, taking the gasp you let out for granted to slip his tongue in between your parted lips, and letting the warmness of your mouth engulf his own. 

His tongue met yours halfway through, a whine muffling its way out when his teeth grazed over your lip, aiming to explore every part of your mouth, even if it meant spending the rest of his life here in this moment. You tasted so fucking good, hell, eve better than the last time he’s kissed you. 

Rafe was drunk on your lips, not a thought behind his eyes as he stumbled back, littering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your hot mouth in the process of sitting himself down, tugging your head downwards with him. You almost chuckled at the gesture, action interrupted when he pulled away, eyes hazing with pure lust. 

Loud breaths heaved their way out of his chest, lips parting with a glossy layer of spit. His hooded pupils dilated with yearn, hands exploring your body like no other, unable to keep them to himself. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, sloppily pushing it up before his mouth found the plush of your stomach. 

Your head tilted back with pleasure, eyes forcing shut as you took in the sensation of Rafe’s tongue swirling around the low of your stomach, nibbling on the skin for a reaction out of you. He’d linger for a second, planting a soft kiss over the spot to soothe away the pain, and hell, did it feel good. 

He savored every bit of skin, whatever kept his mouth busy was not preventing him from caressing your body, worshiping you like you’re the only thing that matters. And you were, in Rafe’s eyes, things could not get any better, he’s wanted nothing but to do this, taste you, do this without the voices in his head lecturing him over the consequences of his actions. 

“So perfect.” He muffled, thumb pressing to the material of your bra, while yet holding your shirt in place. “Fuckin’ killin’ me, everything you do drives me crazy.” 

“Rafeee," you whined, (holding onto his non existent hair) fingernails digging to his shoulders, the sensation earning a grunt out of Rafe, yet littering love bites to your stomach. 

He nipped and kissed the soft flesh, one of his hands kneading the plush of your ass, using the pressure of his hold to push you down, causing you to almost fall as you landed in his lap, immediately straddling him, and making yourself comfortable. 

You adjusted yourself around the boy, almost shuddering when his hardon brushed over your ass, swallowing down your nervousness when his gaze leveled with yours, not breaking eye contact. His stares burned holes through you, you felt shy, and the need to get away before you melt in his arms. 

A sly smirk tugged at his bruised lips, tongue toying with his teeth as he leisurely tugged your shirt with both of his hands, slipping it over your head, until you were left with the thin fabric of your bra. 

His eyes hungrily trailed to your cleavage, throat running dry when he gulped, vision going blurry at the sight of your boobs perfectly sitting in place, begging to be touched and caressed by him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked for consent, letting his gaze flicker to yours for a brief second. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, sweeping him in a quick kiss, forehead connecting with his once you pulled away. “Now do somethin’ please.” 

“No need to say it twice, baby.” He whispered, licking into your mouth. One of his hands sneaked its way to your back, landing around your bra, swiftly unclipping it, until the straps fell loose around your arms. 

A wave of nervousness came crashing, watching with haste as Rafe froze, eyes flickering to your half-exposed nipples, now freckled with goosebumps due to the chilly breeze invading the hidden flesh. 

Rafe carefully hauled the strings down, till they were off your arms, freeing your chest from that stupid bra. Rafe’s mouth salivated at the sight, the bulge in his pants twitching with need. They were perfect, I mean, come on, Rafe was no virgin, but seeing you like this has no reason making his mind race with all sorts of thoughts, like a loser about to have sex for the first time. 

This was better than his imagination, so much better than letting his head wander off to how you’ll scream his name when he fucks you, tits bouncing beautifully while you ride his cock. It was a sight, one that made him feel dumb, and idiotic, for even thinking he can have you. 

“God,” he groaned, cupping one of your tits in his hold. “Such a fuckin’ brat, always makin’ me feel dirty.” 

Your back arched, chasing after the fraction of his thumb rolling your now hardened nipple in his fingers. You were insanely turned on, the sensation making your brain fuzzy, now dizzy all over. And if you thought that felt good, then you were wrong, completely jerking in Rafe’s arms when his mouth captured your nipple in between his lips. 

His mouth glided over the skin, coating it with a layer of hot spit, as he swirled his tongue just around the hard nub, causing you to yelp with pleasure. His teeth lightly grazed the sensitive flesh, mouth pooling with thirst, cherishing every second of this like a man starved. 

He sucked and nibbled, marking your flesh, and hissing when your hips rolled down, panties soaked with your juices. You couldn’t help it, despite Rafe’s hand pressing to your side, you continued, chasing after the sensation of his cock brushing over your ass through the thin material of your sheer sleep shorts. 

“Fucking hell, doll, ‘that feel good?” He asked, squeezing your tit when you stuck to nodding. “Words baby, lemme hear you.” 

“Feels so good, Rafe.” You muttered, Rafe’s crotch brushing over your clothed, slick folds with each time you grind your hips down. 

“There you go.” He mewled out, “Be a good girl n’ show me how good I make you feel.” 

Your body tingled all over at the statement, grinding down with all your might, as you feel your climax building up. Rafe, too, took notice of that, halting your hips in place to earn your attention. 

“Wait.” He mumbled, lips parting in a shaky exhale. 

“What?” You asked, fluttering your eyes open to catch glimpse of Rafe. 

“Don’t.” He warned, “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, slightly feeling shy under his gaze. 

“We have all night, baby.” He stifled out a teasing laugh. “I wanna take my time; appreciate each and every inch of you.” 

Rafe’s lips collided with yours in a soft peck, thumb rubbing soothing circles to the curve of your jaw. 

“Let me take care of you.”

That was it. The only assurance you needed. You wanted this, more than anything. 

Fuck the world, hell might as well get fucked too. 

smut continuation

a/n all support is v much appreciated!! this one is my fav despite how poorly written it was 😭 i tried to portray the fight scene and the tension in a somewhat decent way but this is all i can manage sorry fellas </3 but yeah phew ryan finally found out... didnt handle it well but 😜 anyways!! next part might be an extra of their first time... pure smut continuing this chapter so lmk if you guys are interested HAHA won't guarantee it being good but... yeha!! its not a necessary read, doesnt add anything to the plot, but i still kinda want to do it yeahh!! with that being said, lmk your thoughts on this chapter <33

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[razrbladekiss]

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

[plutoswritingplanet]

In My Back (Remmick x Female! Reader)

a/n: sooo uuuh... basically yeah... never in my life had i been on such a long writer's kick. idk what they put in this irish freak but im eating it up (this is a long one, like 11k words i think). Cross Posted on AO3

Warnings: Canon Violence, Carpet Munching like crazy, P in V, just... Smut y'know, Some Plot, Manipulation, General Vampire Shenanigans

Summary: Three times he comes in the night, with offers a plenty on his fingertips. The third night, he leaves you with a gift. A Devil's kiss and a taste for freedom.

MASTERLIST

"And then, when you least expect it..." your cousin's voice dips down into a menacing tone, that only serves to push a giggle out of your chest "They sink their teeth, and suck the blood straight outta your bones"

She snaps her mouth at you, teeth clinking together, and you push her away, laughing at the story. She laughs as well, dodging skillfully, as you swipe a wet rag at her. 

"Stupid" you huff, trying to act exasperated with her antics, and failing miserably, as always. "I told you not to bother me with those silly stories."

She shrugs at that, twirls around the kitchen, like a fine lady in a coarse dress, her bare feet sliding over the linoleum tiles. You watch, as she dances out of the kitchen, grabbing a muffin from the table. You almost scold her, but decide to let it go, as you usually do. It's hard to be mad at her, damn near impossible to be honest. She always had a way of melting coldness around her. 

With a small sigh, you go back to cleaning, wiping the counter and the windows, your mind wandering to your cousin's stories. It's always ghosts and goblins with her. Some new, terrifying thing, that would surely snuff sleep off your eyelids, if your feet weren't planted firmly on the ground. That's how it's always been, since the moment you both learned to crawl. She was the flying one, the one with her head in the clouds, too preoccupied with counting the stars to look down.

And you were the complete opposite. Grass at your feet, a clear road ahead of you. No wondering, no straying. 

Sometimes you envied her lightness, sometimes you remembered, it was a burden. Especially for a woman on this earth. Despite that, she never lost herself. Despite hardship after hardship, she remained strong in her openness, in her will to think beyond, what the world offered her. How she did that, after living the past she's had, was beyond you.

God must be a cruel, cruel man, you think. For condemning the most unequipped for the biggest disappointments. 

Still, you made sure, your cousin would never have to face her life alone. Not while you're still standing, unmoving, like an ancient pine tree. You would always give her shade, always protect her from the rain, pull her down if need be.  

The sun starts to set over the horizon, the last rays of light flickering behind the woods. Your house was small, and well hidden, despite its proximity to the town. Your parents knew what they were doing, choosing this place to settle down, and you couldn't be more grateful. Before your cousin begged for shelter, you lived here alone, picking up both your parents' professions. And so, along with baking and feeding the entire area, you also became mean with any car troubles. A woman's and a man's job, both of them dancing under the sweat of your brow. 

Your cousin begged you to leave that "dirty work". To focus on opening a legitimate business, a bakery at the marketplace. She cussed, cleaning out grease stains from your skirts, and you didn't have the strength, nor patience to explain to her, how you're only able to afford the soap in her hand, because the "dirty work" payed better, than any baking. 

And so, when she stops you at the door, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her nose scrunched. She's looking you over, taking in the rough gloves and the utility belt, contrasting almost comically with the flowy material of your dress. 

"Don't start" you point at her with your wrench, and she raises her hands in a mockery of surrender.

Her mouth twists in a way, that betrays her inner thoughts, betrays her need to say more. But, to your general surprise, she swallows, shaking her head. Then, her eyes find yours, and you feel the tangible warmth of comfort, at the slight, teasing pull of her mouth.

"Don't let any monsters in" she chirps behind you, as you open the door, and start walking towards your late Daddy's workshop. 

All you can do is laugh. A rough sound, deep and dark like freshly brewed coffee. A mourning dove, and a wise owl, that's what you two were. 

Lamps guide your steps through the darkness, as you make your way towards the workshop. It's a spacious raggedy shack, your father built himself, every nook and cranny marked by his strength. You feel as if you're stepping into a church, every time you slide the barn doors open. 

It takes you a moment to light the place up, as you skip around a beaten down Buick, your feet padding softly over the recently swiped floors. The silence of the night calms you down, adds a layer of something almost sacred to your work. Night birds call out in the woods, crickets chirp in the grass, and you inhale the crisp air with your whole lungs, until they hurt. Until you feel the wind in the essence of your being. As soon as the workshop is ready, you find the ghost of your father inside every clink of metal, every grease stain. 

That's why you do, what you do. That's why you hide the woman in your pocket, tug your skirts up, tie them to your belt, throw your hair out of your face. Your father's hands guide you, years spent looking over his shoulder marr your movements. It's not work anymore. It's a ceremony, a communion. 

The Mississippi heat covers you with sweat, salty drops mixing with grease and motor oil, staining your skin. And as you wipe your face with a coarse rag, you entertain the thought, that this, here, is freedom. Your own, personal brand of freedom. Or at least some ghost of it. 

That's how he first finds you. 

Skin glistening under the warm lights, making you shine in his eyes. Your breasts exposed to a scandalous degree, your skirt hiked up so high, he sees the small stretch lines on your thighs. The sight makes his mouth water, literally. Such a wild thing, the sickly sweet scent of gasoline clinging to you, as you stretch on the little stool. A groan pushes past your lips, and he has to grip the doorway with his claws, to stop himself from pouncing. Even if he can't really do it, while you're in the safety of your workshop, he feels as if he'd be able to tear down any rules of ancient times, just to taste the nectar of your blood. 

Then you start humming. Some unknown tune from far away, long ago. Your voice dripping like molasses, filling his ears with something, he was sure damnation took away. You move around the workshop, tidying up after yourself, legs strong like an ancient tree. A tantalizing image of skin, muscle and a jiggly layer of fat, that makes him want to sink his teeth in, over and over again. 

Such temptation could not be ignored. Shouldn't be. It begged him to indulge, and who is he to deny the sweet embrace of sin? 

"A woman with a wrench is such an uncommon sight these days" he starts, and skillfully dodges the aforementioned wrench, as it flies towards his head. "Now hold on there, darlin'..."

You spin around like a storm cloud, heart jumping into your throat, at the unfamiliar, male voice. He stands in the shadows, just out of reach for the outside lamp, leaning on the workshop's door frame. His face is barely visible, but you notice the paleness of his wrists, peaking at you from his front pockets. A sillhouette of a banjo on his back, tied with a frayed string, that's digging into his chest.

The world becomes quiet around you. Not a night bird, not a cricket. Just you, and him, and the increasingly fast beating of your heart.

"Who are you?" you demand, and the suspicion in your voice lets him know, he'll have to work for it "What are you doing here?"

Raising his hands in a mockery of a friendly gesture, he takes a slow step backwards, offering space. Your shoulders don't relax, hand creeping towards the folds of your skirt, where you hide a kitchen knife. One, you've never had to use, but God help you, you will. 

"Apologies, darlin'. I didn't mean to startle you" he says, keeping his tone light, as if he's just an old friend, paying you a visit "I was walkin' down to the town, but I must've lost my way."

"Yeah, you must've." you eye him cautiously, the tartness of your voice making the corners of his mouth curl. 

"Best get back on the road then."

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, as he swipes a look around the workplace. 

"I saw the lights, figured there might be some good folks up in 'ere" he comes even closer to the door, lingering just outside, his well worn out boots kicking at the pebbles. 

He makes a pitiful expression, as he looks up at you through his eyebrows, and for the first time, you can take a good look at his eyes. Blue, you think. But at the same time, strangely dark. It makes your eyebrows furrow, because despite your weariness, you can most certainly say, this stranger is a handsome one. With nicely toned arms, broad shoulders, and features that look warm in their softness, as well as dangerously sharp. 

You don't like it. This strange impasse, that's seized your muscles. Like a deer stuck in the crosshair of a predator, it makes your skin crawl, and your insides tighten. 

"No good folks here, just me." your voice is like a bell in his ears, slightly out of breath from all the work, and so, so dark. 

The stranger laughs, and the sound sends an onslaught of shivers up your spine. Your fingers twitch nervously.

"See now, I find that hard to believe" the lightness in his tone starts to get to you, slithering under your skin like a snake "Surely such a sweet darlin' has some good in 'er"

God dammit, the way his head tilts to the side, as if trying to coax this mystical goodness out of you, chips away at your defenses. Your brain wrestles with your natural, tart disposition, and the facts presented before you. Here he stands, a respectful distance away, his hands in view. You don't see any weapon on him, but you see the sweat clinging to his dark hair. You see the dirt on his clothes, under his fingernails, the labored breathing he tries to conceal. He seems harmless enough, but looks can be decieving, and you'll be damned if a soft smile and a twinkling eye will be your downfall.

"You a travelin' musician or somethin'?"

He laughs, in pure delight. As if the notion is something he'd never consider, but he loves it either way. His laugh makes your cheeks tingle with warmth, and you curse yourself for such a strong reaction. 

"Something like that..." he nods, eyes shining with mischief "I follow music 'ere I go."

With a defeated sigh, your shoulders slump, as you throw the dirty rag at the car.

"I'll get you some food and drink" you concede "Then, you can go on your merry way, yeah?"

"Yes Ma'am" he agrees immediately, his eyes following you, as you exit the workshop, sliding the door closed "D'you live here alone, darlin'?"

The question makes you remember the knife in your skirts, but you don't falter in your steps, as you make your way towards the front entrance to your house. It's not wise, running from a predator, if he indeed turns out to be one. 

"That's none of your business, is it?"

"Fair enough" he nods, walking behind you, teetering the line of being much too close for comfort "Though it's a curious thing, don't you agree? A woman of your young age, alone in the woods. No ring on your finger either..."

He knows you're not alone. He smelled the other woman, felt the lazy drag of blood through her veins a mile away. But you don't need to know that, nuh huh. 

Your right hand tightens into a fist on instinct, at his observation. Skipping the steps to the porch without an answer, you leave the door open for him. 

But he doesn't enter, stopping right at the entrance, his shoulder leaning on the painted door frame, mirroring his stance from before. You shoot him a questioning glance over your shoulder, and once again, he scratches the back of his neck with a sigh. Such a boyish, shy gesture. Or a camouflage. You're undecided yet. 

"Would be improper, to walk in without an invitation..." he explains, voice quiet, and almost timid. 

Something tugs at the back of your mind. The story your cousin told you just hours ago, rings out like a sermon between your ears, and gooseflesh erupts all across your arms. Stupid. Utterly stupid and impossible, and yet... Your shoulders jump up, and down, in a nonchalant shrug, before you disappear into the kitchen. No use pondering over demons. The night is scary enough without them, and strange men can be worse than all the ghouls combined. 

As soon, as you're out of sight, Remmick growls under his breath, finger scratching at the peeling paint on the entrance. He can smell you in the house, sweetness and musk, gasoline and cherry pie. Your heartbeat has calmed down significantly, but he knows, the cards he's been dealt are tricky to play. Good thing, he's a skilled gambler, and you've already extended a hand of hospitality. Already let him see a glimmer, of what's hidden under that hard shell. The sweetness of the fruit within, warmth like the sunlight he's been denied for so long. Your blood will be exquisite, he's sure of it. But before that...

There's a thrill like no other, when playing with one's food. 

"There you go" you announce, slipping out of the kitchen, your clothes in proper place this time, obscuring the sight of your bare skin from him "Water and food, for your journey"

His eyes trail over your body, before landing on the glass in your hand, along with a package, wrapped in cloth. Another smile graces his features, this time however, he looks less like a shy farm boy, and more like a pleased man. All skin, and bone, and muscle. The transformation is quite jarring, and you have to blink a couple of times, not allowing yourself to be distracted, by the gentle shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks. 

"Thank you, lass" he answers, taking the water first, and downing it all in one go, causing a small laugh to rip through your lips, almost despite yourself.

 "Forgive me, seems I'm more parched than I thought" he inclines his head, and you hand him the package. 

This time, his fingers run the length of your palm, sweaty and rough, as they retrieve the offering, and your mind goes to some very unsightly places. His eyes trail up slowly to your face, and you swear, you can see his pupils shining, just for a split second. 

Danger. The word climbs up your spine, takes root in your mind, as his tongue slips out to wet his chapped lips. Pink, and soft. 

Don't let the monsters in, your cousin's voice follows you. But she didn't mention anything about letting the monster stay a while, right at the threshold. She didn't mention the shivers you feel, prickling at your skin under his inquisitive gaze. And she sure as shit didn't mention, how your breathing gets slower, deeper, when you recognize that traitorous need in the depths of his eyes. 

It's been a while, since you've had a man, but you still remember, what it looks like, when you're wanted. When there's hunger crackling like fireworks between two people. And the hunger this stranger exudes, is nearly overwhelming, suffocating in the best way possible. 

Time to end this, cut the weeds out, before they overpower all rational thought.

"You should get on your way" you say, and shiver at the way his eyes snap to your lips, drinking in their shape as you speak. 

"Just one more thing..." he murmurs, low in his throat, so quiet, yet so unbelievably loud in the oppressive silence of the night. 

This time you're the one wetting your lips, preparing yourself for something, although you're not sure for what. The air feels sticky, smooth like honey, passing between you and him. An intimate sort of exchange, that slowly, but surely, melts your insides. Makes you feel a bit lighter, as if your cousin's spirit has invaded your usual hardness. 

Is this how it feels to be her? And if so, when will the first crash of thunder bring you down? Just like it brought her to the ground, again and again.

The man's eyes move back to yours, capturing your gaze and holding it hostage. 

"A cigarette for the road?" his words are a whisper now, and you feel ashamed, at how long it takes you to register his words. 

When you finally do, a single arch of your eyebrow makes his lips pull into a lazy smile. One that has no right working on you as much as it does. Alas...

"I saw you smoking in the workshop" he explains.

"...Ah..."

Your hand slips into your skirts, fingers brushing over the knife handle, and you take out a half empty pack. You offer it to him, and he reaches for the cigarette, his fingers sinfully elegant, as he presses it against his mouth, licking lightly at the tobacco. Something tightens low inside you at the movement of his pink tongue. 

He's good. You'll give him that. 

"I shall be off, then" he takes a slow step backwards, keeping his eyes on you, like he tries to pin you in place. "G'night, darlin'"

As soon as his boots hit the soft ground in front of your porch, your senses come back to you like a flood, as if some ancient spell has been lifted off your shoulders, and you straighten out with a sharp breath. 

You don't know what compels you. What wild, unfamiliar force beckons you, but before you can stop yourself, you're calling out to him.

"Stranger!"

He twirls on his heel, like a dancer on a stage.

"What's your name?"

"Remmick" he answers, voice carrying through the night. 

Then, he jumps up, dances a little jig that pushes clouds of dust into the air, and you can't help yourself. You laugh. A clear, honest sound, that surprises you in it's lightness. 

Remmick bows, turns around, and walks into the shadows of the woods, leaving an indent in the shape of his curved smile in your brain. 

"Remmick..." you repeat under your breath, before shaking your head at your own antics, and closing the door of your home.

The moon laughs at you as well, her light slipping into your room through a half open window. It's not a merry laugh however. It's a mournful, hopeless one, to which you are none the wiser, falling into dream-filled sleep. And as soon, as your eyelids close, as soon as your consciousness slips, a shadow rises from the earth, hanging over you like an executor's axe. 

***

You awake in the early morning, sweat clinging to your feverish skin, your hand squeezed tightly between your thighs. You don't remember what dream has put you in this state of mess, but your limbs shake as you stand up, your heart beating right out of your chest. It's a little disappointing, really, you think to yourself, as you wash off the slick from your thighs, that you've become reduced to this so easily. Surely not because of last night's visit. You're stronger than this. Stronger than some wanton virgin, who's never felt a man before. 

And yet, as you skip into the kitchen, and prepare for the day, you can't seem to shake the image of him from your brain. Like a sickness immune to all ointments, Remmick lingers under your skin, slithering and burning. 

Your cousin joins you downstairs some time later, lured out of bed by the smell of freshly baked goods.

"Whooo! Baby!" she sighs, taking in the kitchen, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes "You gonna sell these?" 

The sluggishness with which you turn to her, makes you realize just how distracted you've truly been. Ridiculous. You're being ridiculous, and for what?

"Yeah" you nod, wiping flour off your hands into your apron "Gonna head to town in a bit. Sure you gonna be alright on your own?" 

Your cousin rolls her eyes, and steals an apple from the fruit basket. 

"I'm not a lil' kid no more" she tells you, like she's reminding you of homework, and it's your turn to roll your eyes at her. 

Ain't you?, you wanna say, but you bite your tongue in time. She doesn't deserve your crudeness. So you cross the kitchen and peck her cheek affectionately. As if to make up for the thoughts, that are left unsaid.

"I know, I know. And you know where the shotgun is, in case trouble comes a knockin', yeah?" she nods once, with a resolute expression.

You recognize the irony in your words. Last night you practically invited a strange man into your home, just 'cause he smiled nice. In your stubborn refusal to admit your own transgression, you tell yourself, you'd shoot his ass to high heaven's, if he tried anything. Even if the notion rings hollow in your own brain. 

"What's on your mind, cuz?" 

Her voice drags you back to reality with harshness, and you take a sharp breath through your teeth. One, she immediately notices, her eyebrows scrunching into a frown. 

"Nothin'." a weak lie, a pathetic one, really "Just... Ghost and Goblins"

Concern melts into a teasing smile, as your cousin starts packing up the still steaming bread. 

"Ah..." she laughs, bright and airy "Some stranger in the night sunk his teeth into you?" 

For a moment you watch her expression carefully, trying to decipher if she knows, if she heard. Even if she sleeps long and hard, like the dead. All you can see on her face, is a smile of someone proud of her stories taking root. Relief and guilt mix in your gut, and you have to look away, before you crack. 

It doesn't matter. Nothing happened, and you'll never meet the smiling stranger again, so why do you feel so... What is it exactly that you're feeling? Disappointed? No, disappointment is for people like your cousin. For people who hope, who fly. Then what is it, biting at the back of your spine like a bloodsucking flea?

"I'll be back from town before you know it" your voice is quiet, dismissive, but she doesn't seem to hold it against you.

"Have fun" she calls after you. Then, silently, she adds "God knows you need it."

The road to town goes by smoothly, your truck jumping and bumping over stray stones. The bustle of the market welcomes you like an old friend, and just for a moment, you allow yourself to miss it. The people, filtering through the streets, laughing, talking, keeping friendly despite the underlying tensions in the air.

Your father would take you here often, while he was alive. He'd stand under the very same sign, you're lifting over your truck now, letting people come to him with business. You'd listen, like a diligent little student, soaking in the wisdom of the trade, helping him run books, count the money, catch conversations.

They all knew you here. From the very moment you've been old enough to stand on your own, you were part of something bigger, than just your family. Always your parents daughter, but so much more at the same time. And now... Now you're a ghost of your own choosing. Respected, liked even, but always on the outside, no longer part of something, but a welcomed guest nonetheless. 

Bread goes out first, then sweet rolls and pies. You've been slaving away in the kitchen since the break of dawn, but as the sunset comes closer, you'd be damned it it wasn't worth it. Soon enough, your purse is filled, and you're packing your stand back into the truck, arms burning from work. 

Wiping the sweat off your face, your neck, you make your way across the street, to the supplies store, where, as soon as the bell above rings, you're greeted by the owner. A woman, who could've been your peer, could've been a friend, if you were someone different. If you were your cousin, or at least, not a ghost.

"Look what the wind blew in." she leans on the counter, hair slipping out from under the scarf on her head "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You know me, always busy..." your eyes already scan the products, landing heavily on the prices.

She doesn't know you, though. You've never given her an opportunity to know you, and perhaps, that's why you always choose this shop. Perhaps, that's the only time you allow yourself to hope. That maybe this time, you'll be different, this time you'll let yourself be open. That's the reason you know, disappointment is for the hopeful. 

"You got some flour for me?" 

The shopkeeper nods, crosses the floor and jabs her foot into a couple of bags by the window.

"Got some milk too" she says "Hell, even some sugar, if you wanna"

To that you shake your head.

"I've got some sugar left still. And I'll pick up some eggs on the way back, from Ol' Johnson's farm"

A beat of silence.

"Oh? You haven't heard then?"

"Heard what?" you don't sound too interested, already pulling out a bunch of dollars and sliding them on the counter. 

The shopkeeper walks over to you slowly, a solemn expression on her face, and that finally gives you a pause. The sun paints the inside of the shop a deep orange color, your neck tingling with heat and sweat, hair sticking to your skin. 

"Ol' Johnson's dead. God rest his soul" the shopkeeper says, swiping a sign of the Cross over her heart, and you repeat the action, like it's second nature. 

Coldness seeps through you, a strange sort of feeling, like there's something more hidden in the revelation. Some terrible truth just waiting to bury you. You swallow thickly, trying to ground yourself. 

"What happened?"

Another moment of tension filled silence passes, as the shopkeeper takes a deep breath, eyes scrunching in sorrow. 

"His wife came back from her family down South. People said she found him, dead and burning in the morning sun."

Cold turns to freezing in your bones, brain working overtime under your skull.

"They burned him?" you ask, mindful not to sound too curious, too insensitive.

"Sheriff said they killed him first, mangled the poor man beyond recognition."

"Jesus...." you sigh, trying, and failing to push away an image of the old man's face, scorched and bloody. "What about his widow?" 

"She's staying at the Motel until they burry him. I think she'll head back South after, there ain't nothin' keeping her here anymore."

You nod solemnly at her words. A quick thought passes through you, a worry, where you'll get your eggs now. But you scold yourself hard in your mind for such heartlessness. This is not the time, nor the place for wondering about trivial matters. Not when a man's life has been snuffed out, and so brutally at that. 

"The funeral's tomorrow, if you care" the shopkeeper's words snap you back from your cold thoughts, and you realize, that yes, you do care "We'll have a small thing for him at the Joint"

"Yeah..." you speak before you have the time to think on it "I'll be there."

She helps you load your groceries into your truck, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you, and once again, you wish things would've been different. Instead, you thank her with a dollar bill, and start the car on the road back to your home, where you're not alone, but solitude still awaits. 

By the time you arrive, it's dark outside, the porch light guiding your steps. The house is quiet, your cousin asleep in her room, buried under heavy covers. You linger in her doorway for a moment, mind lost deep in thought, as you watch her peaceful form. Something tugs on your heart. Some undeniable feeling of sorrow, dragging your heart down to the wooden floors. 

What you're mourning, you're not sure. But it brings a tear to your eye nonetheless, and your feet carry you outside, into the peaceful darkness, the crisp evening air. There, you can finally breathe, you can let the tears flow easily, without worrying about your sorrow staining the warmth inside. 

Hands clutching your head, your shoulders shake in silent sobs, the heaviness, and the cold of today reaping it's spoils on your body. And you stay there, soil soaking up your tears greedily, until the steps of the porch creak loudly, tearing your heart straight from your chest. 

You shoot up, turning your whole body so fast, you nearly collide with one of the pillars supporting the roof over the porch. Hand wraps around the handle of the knife, perpetually hidden in your skirts. And then you see him.

"Heaven's you startle easy, darlin'" Remmick raises his hands, giving you a sympathetic smile. 

Here he sits, right at the porch step. The man you were sure you'd never see again, same clothes, same twinkle in his eye. He gazes at your tear stained face, with a calmness of someone who's seen more sadness, than you can comprehend. 

"The hell you doin' here?" you try to demand, but your voice is still too shaky, and your hand too weak, to hold the knife any longer. 

"Heard a bird sing in mourning" he answers, something warm slithering into his voice "Followed it's song all the way here."

You should be better than this. Stronger than this. Hell, you are stronger than this. But there's something so gentle in his presence, so different from the hunger you've felt the first time you've met. And your bones are tired, and your head is pounding, and God... 

Slowly, like a wild animal learning to trust, you sit back down on the porch, a safe distance from him. But nothing can shield you from the warmth of his body next to you. From the unexplainable sense of calm, that floods your veins with every breath you take. And the night is so quiet, not a noise around you...

"I could sing you a song" he starts, and you scoff at the notion, a wet, broken sound "Something that would lull your pain to rest..."

"I don't need cheerin' up" you cut him off, and he smiles in a way, that makes you feel exposed like a bleeding wound.

You look down at your hands, woman's hands marred with signs of hard work. No longer soft and gentle, but trembling and covered with callouses. You're proud of them, of every scar and blemish, and you wish they were clean at the same time. You wish they were made for holding silk instead. At least just for tonight, in the dead silence.

"No" he murmurs "No you don't"

His eyes meet yours, when you risk a look in his direction, and what you find, makes your heart feel light as a feather, and heavy as a stone at the same time. 

"Cheerin' doesn't bring anythin' for you, does it." he says it like it's a fact, like he knows you from within "You know the value of sufferin'."

God damn him, you think, new tears already stinging your eyes. He leans in, cold breath tickling your cheeks, and to your surprise, you don't run. You don't want to run. Not even a flinch passes you, when his fingers brush the stray hairs out your face, pushing the rest over your shoulder. 

A small hiccup rips through your throat, because you never want to be touched. Never, until now, until him. Any other boy from town would already have his neck scuffed, for even daring to get this close. But this stranger, this man, this...

"Remmick..." you whisper, something wet and broken in your tone, something you haven't heard since your mother's funeral.

He hums, deep in his chest, as if he's pleased you remember his name. As if somehow, in this state of brokenness, he's the most proud of you. Your head ducks on instinct, when he moves closer, taking a long whiff of your hair. 

"You know" he continues, low and intimate, his lips moving like the wings of a butterfly over your forehead "That tears can be sweeter, than any smile, any laughter.

Fingers pinch your chin, pulling your head up, until your glassy eyes meet his once again. For a moment, he searches your face, gaze drifting over your wet eyelashes, your trembling cheeks, your mouth opening and closing.

"Because tears are honest" he finishes, and a ragged sound of a gasp escapes through your teeth.

Your hand finds purchase on his chest, feeling the rough material of his shirt, the buttons hanging on a couple of flimsy threads. You could mend them for him, you could offer him food, drink, your bed, anything. If he'd only ask. 

But he doesn't. Instead, his large hand presses gently over the flushed skin of your cheekbone, thumb running gently under your eye, gathering saltiness as it goes. 

"Let me taste it, Sweetness" he whispers, pleading, his face leaning impossibly close "Let me taste your honesty."

His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, so close, yet not close enough. Your fingers tighten on his chest, dragging the fabric beneath your nails, and finally he dips down. 

But before you can feel him fully, before he drinks you like communion wine, your cousin's voice rings out throughout the house.

Heart jumping into your throat, you nearly rip yourself away from him, the spell of his honeyed words gone as quick, as it appeared. You stumble back on your feet, flushed and confused, gaping at him like a fish out of water. Something flashes through his expression, quick like a band of wild horses, but you catch it, you always do.

Perhaps, just a trick of the lights, something insignificant and unreal. But just like your cousin's stories, it lingers. 

If tears are honest, then what do you call the sudden meanness in his eyes? The ghost of irritated anger, that pulls his mouth down, sets heavily over his brow? 

Danger, you brain supplies again, and as your cousin calls out your name again, dread climbs up your back. 

He repeats your name, so silent you can barely hear him, but even so, he looks victorious. Defeated, but victorious nonetheless, and your instincts kick in tenfold. The handle of the knife is cold in your grasp, a grounding weight against your hand. He doesn't move, just stares at you, expression of utter calm gracing his confusing features. 

Now that's how a proper predator looks like. Half hidden under the shadows, his mouth open and panting, as if tasting the lingering scent of you from air alone. There's no tension in his figure, only steady confidence. He's gotten your name, he's almost gotten your trust, your honesty. 

You wish you were stronger. You were taught to be stronger. 

The front door creaks open, and you turn to push your cousin back inside, scream at her to stay back, stay where it's warm, and safe. Where the darkness won't catch her. 

But just as she steps outside, her thin sleeping gown flowing around her form, your eyes flicker to the porch steps. And he's gone. 

Not a trace of the strange man, of Remmick. Only the moon and utter silence. 

"You're back" your cousin wraps her arms around your waist, tugging you inside "I fell asleep waitin', I'm sorry"

"No, I..." you try to respond, barely hearing your voice over the thundering sound of your own heart, eyes scanning the tree line, every shadow looking like him. 

"You good? You look like you've seen a ghost" 

Finally, she drags you over the threshold, closing the doors behind. 

"You've been cryin'?" 

"No it's just..." you swallow thickly, throat tight "Needed some fresh air, don't you worry your head about me"

Your cousin looks beyond skeptical, a strange reversal of your usual roles, but she doesn't push, God bless her soul. Instead, she kisses your forehead, wiping away the ghost of Remmicks lips, and at last, your shoulders relax. 

"You work too hard, y'know" she murmurs, sleep still clinging to her "It's not good for the nerves" 

You know exactly what's not good for your nerves, and it sure as shit isn't your work, but you can't say that. You can't reveal the true source of your frazzled state, if only to shield her from all the confusion. All the dread and longing, that's mixing dangerously in your gut. She's been through enough, and suddenly awave of fresh guilt crashes over you. 

Carelessness is a sin, you never thought you'd commit. Yet here you are. God forgive you, because you cannot do it yourself.

***

Leaving the window open is your continuous mistake. One, which Remmick uses generously. 

His body levitates in the cold air, unmoving like a hanged man's corpse, scraping his nails over the window frame. Stuck in perpetual stillness, the warmth of his breath fogs the glass. Two dots of red cut through the darkness, overpower the moon's cold light behind him. Like a shadow of death to come, his presence looms over your room, over your sleeping form.

You never sleep under covers. He noticed it a while back, when you didn't know him, when he still thought you were just a bag filled with blood. His for the taking, to sate his never ending thirst. 

Now, he sees the bag has arms, that curve elegantly over the pillow. He notices the smoothness of skin, the delicate slope of your neck, where your blood sings a hymn just for him. Such a sweet thing, the ripest of fruits, just waiting to be devoured. 

Later. 

He has to remind himself to be patient, no matter how hard the pull of your saccharine scent calls to him. He needs you pliant, he wants you at your fullest. He wants love dripping from your fingertips like a fountain. Just so he can lap it up like a hungry dog. 

For now, he satisfies himself with this image of you, splayed out on the covers. A ghost of a Babylonian queen, come to life in this abandoned neck of the woods. 

Remmick takes a deep breath, humming to himself, as your scent fills every pore of his damned body. Dark and heavy, sweet on his tongue. He closes his eyes, nose pressing into the glass, teeth biting into his lower lip. What sweet torture this is. Being so close, yet so far away. 

Makes the spoils all the more worth it, in the end.

***

Ol' Johnson was a good man. 

He never took more, than he needed. Greeted everyone with a smile and a story, told in a voice roughened by years of smoking cheap tobbaco. He helped you, when you couldn't bring yourself to call on anyone, and kept helping you, until you've learned to accept it. 

And now he's dead. And all you have to remember him by, are dwindling memories, and a glass of lukewarm whiskey in your hand. 

The funeral service was a miserable affair. His crying widow nearly drowned out the sounds of the sermon with her sobs, and your heart broke for the poor woman, who lost everything in one night. She didn't look at you, when you offered her condolences, and you couldn't blame her. Tear stained eyes stayed  fixed firmly on the wooden coffin, as they lowered her husband into the ground. And they didn't move an inch, when ground covered him forever. 

She's a good woman too. Kind in a natural way, that seems to spread warmth wherever she goes. Always willing to give more, than what's expected of her. Now, the burden of being warm falls on the shoulders of the town. And they all take the mantle in stride, holding her through her grief, offering her comfort, that can only be found in community. 

You don't fit in here anymore. Besides, who would want comfort from a ghost. 

So you linger at the back of the Joint, sipping whiskey through your teeth, trying to remind yourself, that solitude is what you chose. You chose safety, you chose your cousin, your family. You can't regret that, you're simply not allowed to. 

Soon enough, mourning of death becomes a celebration of life, as musicians take stage, and bodies filter onto the dance floor. Sweaty, greased with alcohol, and yearning for a moment of recklessness, they dance. And with every step, every twirl, every pull of the guitar strings, you feel Ol' Johnson's spirit. You feel every story, every helpful hand, every puff of cigarette smoke. 

You can't stay still. Despite your promises, your responsibilities, you can't let his memory fade into a sad song. So you abandon your glass, your lonesome seat at the table, and you join in dance. You dance like you've never danced before, heels stomping on the wooden floor, sweat dripping down your face like tears would've. The music swells, and swells without stopping, and you're not stopping either. Not until your legs are burning, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. 

Then, you're stumbling out the Joint, passing by the bouncer into the cold night's air. Where there's stars, and the endlessness of the skies. You want to keep dancing, even if your legs beg you to stop, even when you collide with the cool metal of your truck's door.

This is freedom. This is love. This is the only regret you have. 

Digging out the keys from your purse, you eyes catch something in the dark. Two shining points, deep ahead of you. Your blood boils under your skin, a familiar feeling, which you keep forgetting ever day. Because you know this sight, deep within your bones, it settled a long time ago, a memory of something so terrible, your mind had to protect you from it. Had to keep forgetting. It can't protect you now however, and as the familiar spell of curiosity roots you into place, Remmick steps out of the shadows. 

Moon paints his skin in glowing paleness, something otherworldly clinging to his every step. 

No knife will help you now, you realize, as your back presses further into the cold side of your truck. And no one on the Joint will hear you, should you call for help. That's the price you pay for being a ghost. Music still plays inside, a quick tune that borrows it's rhythm from your feverish heart. 

"You followin' me or somethin'?" voice cutting through the night, you feign confidence, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Such a flimsy shield, one he'd tear without even trying. But he stops, a safe distance from you, his palms raised high in a placating gesture you know too well. There's not a trace of that alarming meanness from the night before, a lazy smile gracing his features instead. 

"I told you" he starts, tone light and friendly, like before "I follow music, that's all"

God, you wish you could believe him.

"This here a Juke Joint?" he asks, and once again, suspicion rears it's ugly head in your gut. 

"Ain't you a traveling musician? You should know where to play" 

He laughs, sheepishly. Although you're more and more convinced, it's a wolf laughing underneath sheep's hide. You can't shake the image of his face, twisted in anger, the two red dots hanging in air, just where his eyes could've been. 

"Folks wouldn't let me in" he shrugs, and you notice the considerable lack of the guitar on his back "A private celebration I think."

"A wake." you cut swiftly.

"Ah..."

He doesn't ask who died. You would've found it strange, if you didn't know. You don't want to know, fighting that awful feeling of your guts churning in premonition. But you do, and despite that, you can't run. Still, after all the dots connecting in your mind, you can't run from him, his shining eyes and his curling smile. 

Remmick comes closer, measured step after another, as if he's approaching some feral little animal, thrashing in the hunter's binds. Or a killer, that's found an easy victim. Your blood runs cold in your veins, gooseflesh covering your skin. Still, he doesn't snap his jaws, not yet. 

"You dance mighty fine, darlin'." the comment doesn't even sound like a flirtation, just a pure, bare bones fact "Saw you through the window, twirlin' and stompin'."

He doesn't wait for your reply, reaching into the pocket of his trousers, and pulling out a cigarette case. You recognize the design despite the darkness, and your throat tightens, until you can't breathe properly. God forgive you, you've almost let a killer into your home. Would've let him into your heart, if he'd ask. 

"Where'd you get that?" there's a tremble in your voice, one, that puts an edge to his easygoing smile.

"My Daddy gave it to me, for the long road ahead."

Lies come like second nature to him, leaving his lips dripping with honey. Once again, he licks at the end of the cigarette, eyes flickering up to meet yours. 

"My friend had one exactly like that" you note, still trying to cling onto some semblance of hope.

Alas, hope only breeds disappointment, you know that too well.

A slender flame from the lighter flickers in his pupils, as he lights the cigarette, taking a long drag of smoke. 

"Maybe we've got the same Daddy" he muses, clouds of white slipping past his teeth.

You'd laugh, if you were light as a feather. 

Another drag of the cigarette, and Remmick closes the distance between the two of you, standing foot to foot. Your body fails you, at this crucial moment, because all you can do is watch him, eyes wide, stuck between pleading and anger. 

"What are you?" the question leaves you, before you can catch it, and the man before you sighs, shaking his head.

"Told ya'. Travellin' musician" 

Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, flicking the cigarette to the side, and grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. You grab at his wrist, but don't go any further. His hold is gentle, despite everything you'd anticipate, and he leans his head towards your ear, like a lover whispering a secret. 

"Shhh..." he shushes you quietly, cold breath tickling your feverish skin "I've already decided I'll help you."

Confusion overrides any rational feeling, and your hands slip to the coarse fabric of his well worn shirt. The buttons are still barely hanging, but now you'd rather be caught dead, than mend them. Hell, you probably will be. Something mean and dark rises in your throat, pushing past your teeth with a hiss of a venomous snake.

"I don't need savin- ah!" 

A small, surprised moan tears it's way through your throat, as Remmick runs his tongue over the delicate spot behind your ear. His fingers bury themselves into your hair, gently massaging it in a way, that is almost grotesquely delicate. You can feel his mouth, running the length of your jaw, up your cheek, where he presses delicate kisses. The tip of your nose is next, then the softness under your eyes, the wrinkle of conflicting emotions between your eyebrows. 

"C'mon darlin'." he whispers into your hairline "Won't you let this sinner in?"

Once again, he doesn't leave time for you to reply, diving down towards your lips, taking them into a slow kiss, that makes your insides flutter. You should hate yourself for the way you're not pushing him away, for the way you chase his mouth with your own, when he pulls back for just a second. 

You should hate him for everything, but most importantly for the moan he gives out, when his tongue slips into your mouth. Such a beautiful sound, it shakes every bone in your body, makes your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt.

He tastes of iron, an unmistakable bloody residue, but it's so sweet on your tongue, you can't seem to care. Like poison attacking your senses, you let yourself be carried away, mind going deliciously blank. His hand still continues to coax you with the gentle movements of his fingers in your hair. While the other takes it's fill of your body, warm palm pressing against your waist, your hip, pushing the silken dress up your thigh. 

Then it moves higher, until he's grasping at your heart through the plush flesh of your breast, and this time you're the one moaning. His thumb brushes over your hardening nipple, pulling another sound from you, like he's playing a fiddle.

Heat rises within you like the tide, every touch, every caress building up a storm of want. Soon, it doesn't matter anymore, that he's surely the monster from your cousin's stories, because he kisses like an angel. 

His mouth leaves yours, a sticky mess of saliva that should disgust you, but God, you've never tasted anything sweeter. Once more, he attaches himself to your neck, kissing it with fervor, broken sounds escaping him, like a starved dog feasting for the first time in months. His hand palms at your breast one last time, before reaching back, and soon enough you hear the click of your truck's door. 

There's no time for questions, for concern. Not when the need runs so deep, and begs to be satiated. He pushes your body inside, splays you out on the back seat, amongst old blankets and empty bags of flour. Your thighs fall apart, to accommodate him, when he climbs over your body, like he can't bear being away from it even for a second. 

"The door..." you pant out, against the hunger of his lips.

"No one will see us" he huffs into your shoulder, and the utmost certainty in his voice makes you believe him. 

This time it's your hands doing the massaging, as you grip the black strands of his hair, trying to bring him closer. Trying to morph the Devil himself into your body. He hikes your leg up, over his waist in response, and you can feel with damning clarity, his burning hardness pressing against the flimsy cotton of your underwear. 

You want him inside so bad, it's nearly breaking you apart. 

"Too damned sweet..." he murmurs into the running pulse of your neck, and your entire body freezes, when he teases the place with surprisingly sharp teeth.

"...no..." 

It's a quiet, barely audible whisper, but he straightens himself on his arms, hovering above you with a questioning look on his flushed face. 

"No biting..." you repeat, louder this time, your heaving chest brushing over his "No pain. I don't wanna hurt tonight."

A blink, a gasp, and Remmick morphs between your very eyes. His expression turns into something so gentle, so caring, you're sure a man like him shouldn't be able to look like that. He takes a deep breath through his mouth, a broken sound emanating from deep within his chest. And then, he kisses you again. Slow, intimate, until your head is spinning.

"The things you do to me, woman" he whispers into your mouth, and starts to crawl lower. 

His tongue laps at your collarbone, lips sucking into the skin of your sternum. Your body arches off the seat, as he dips into your cleavage, letting your breasts spill out the top of your dress. He kisses them, like they're more than just a body part. It feels sacred, feels like a prayer in a language you don't fully understand. 

Another series of kisses over the fabric covering your stomach, and soon enough, he's making a home for himself between your thighs. Your body starts to shake in anticipation, half lidded eyes following the movements of his dark haired head, as he leaves wet kisses on the inside of your thighs. 

"Christ Almighty..." he groans, as his thumb runs over the wet patch steadily forming on your underwear "Like Heaven's Gates opening for me"

Your hips buck in a stuttering motion, as he puts his mouth over the cotton, tongue lapping at the fabric in a promise of things to come. 

"Knew you'd be sweet" he comments, voice dipping down so low, you can feel it in your insides.

Then, your legs get thrown over his shoulders, and before you have time to adjust, he pushes your undergarments to the side, and nearly drowns his face in your cunt. 

The sound you make is nothing short of scandalous, as he begins to lap at you, greedily soaking in the very essence of your being. His tongue finds your clit faster, than any man before, and as his mouth close over the pulsing bundle of nerves, you throw your head back. 

He's good, so good in fact, that your stomach begins to tighten in seconds. Your hands flail at your sides, nails scraping over the backseat, over your dress, his scalp. You don't know what to do with your body, completely surrendering to the ancient magic, he pulls from you with every drag of his tongue.

And God, the sounds he makes. You've never met someone so vocal, so utterly devoted to drinking every last drop you have to offer. Soon enough, your thighs start to shake, the pressure building inside you reaching levels you never thought possible. And he doesn't stop, not even for a moment, licking, sucking, flicking his tongue until your voice becomes hoarse. 

"Remmick..." you mewl.

The sound of his name feels right, leaving your lips, feels like truth. Like that mythical honesty, he wanted to taste in your tears. 

His grip on your body tightens, and it's as if he's been possessed by some demon of desire. You can feel his face pressing closer, deeper into you, and that's the final straw. Stars erupt in your vision, as you come, hard and fast, earth shattering around you. Body nearly flying off the car seat, your breath gets punched out of your lungs with the force of the most delicious of sensations. 

Remmick seems almost reluctant to part with your cunt, licking at the swollen flesh, until your hand slaps him away, too sensitive for any more attention. His face is glistening in the pale moonlight, and his sinful tongue cleans everything with an almost inhuman groan. 

"You're heaven, mo ghrà" his voice breaks "You're sunlight incarnate"

There's devotion like nothing you've heard before in his tone, and if you weren't so completely wrecked, you would've blushed. Instead, you reach for him, and he obeys, coming back up, until you can kiss him again. 

His arms sneak around your waist, pulling you up into an embrace, and your boneless body let's him do what he likes. Let's him settle you into his lap, legs nestling on both sides of his thighs. Forever greedy, he ruts into your twitching core, and you're cruelly reminded about just how empty you feel. 

"You'll never be alone" he whispers, voice muffled by the skin of your chest "You'll never be forsaken, not while I walk this earth." 

Something in the way he says that, makes your spine tingle with a dreadful sort of shiver. But there's comfort in his words, enough of it, for you to throw caution to the wind, and reach for the button of his trousers with shaky hands. 

You'll worry later. For now, you want him to make you forget what worrying even looks like. 

And as if reading your thoughts, he obliges, pushing your hands away, to do the work himself. His trousers fall open, and he frees himself with a choked groan. His cock rests on your lower stomach, hot and ready, smearing drops of precum over your skin. Your muscles tighten in anticipation, hands squeezing his shoulders.

"My girl" he murmurs "My sweet girl, let me in"

All you can do, is nod. 

Remmick lifts you up, as if you weight nothing, positioning you just right, before he slowly lowers you onto him. Your combined groans fill the silence of the truck, as you stretch around him. He's gentle, letting you adjust before pushing into you a bit further, until he's buried to the hilt in your heat. His head falls back against the headboard, hands roaming your body. You can see the treacherous light in his eyes, now, finally a tangible truth, rather than a figment of your dreams.

It doesn't scare you though, nothing scares you now. Not when he fills you up so completely, you feel like you belong for the first time in years. This moment of stillness, of silence interrupted only by laboured breathing, doesn't last long. 

Nails digging into the bottom of your thighs, he rocks you in a steady, almost languid rhythm. You flutter around him, small gasps of pleasure leaving your lips, and that familiar pressure introduces itself once again. He speeds up, guiding your hips in an up and down motion, that soon makes your teeth clink together. 

"That's right... God in Heaven... So warm... Mmmmm..." his voice flows between murmurs, groans and whispers, every word making your insides twitch, making your eyes flutter.

 "Take me in... Good... Deeper..." 

You can feel him, pressing into your bones, nestling into the deepest parts of your soul, and with every ragged moan he breathes, something close to sweet affection blossoms inside you. Honey and milk, they drip from your fingertips, as you caress his face, contorted in a beautiful image of pleasure. You could love that face. You won't, but Heaven's above, you could. 

"Christ" he chokes out, hips bucking off the seat "My sweet girl, mo ghr- ah..."

The sound of his voice alone makes you come again, lighter, but no less pleasurable. And as you tighten around him, a choked sound leaves his throat. His arms encircle you whole, pushing himself so close, he might as well find home in your chest cavity. Soon, his movements stutter, face hidden in your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your hair, and with a last, decisive thrust, he spills himself inside you. 

Bodies covered in sweat, you both shake in each other's arms, for a small, blissful moment being completely alone, shielded from the world. Remmick holds you, like you're his only hope, mouthing gently at the skin of your throat, whispering things you barely comprehend. Prayers, that are marked by something ancient, older than the trees and the rivers. Worship, that flows like blood from a wound. 

"Thabharfainn fuil mo chroí dui..."

You want to whisper back, but there are no words, that could compare to his. So you do the next best thing, running your fingers through his hair, tracing circles into his back, mapping his features with delicate kisses. He basks in the affection, eyes fluttering closed, a familiar twitch of renewed desire stirring your insides. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, still wet with whatever mixture of fluids, and he parts his mouth under your touch. 

And that's when it all comes shattering down. 

Because hidden beneath the chapped softness, are teeth that don't belong to a human. Sharp, pointed angrily, perfect for tearing at flesh. 

Remmick hums in his throat, feeling the way your body seizes with dread, and as his eyes slowly open, you're met with another damning sight. 

Those aren't human eyes either. They shine at you, reflecting moonlight in a haze of red that makes your skin crawl. 

People who dare to hope, are the one's crushed by disappointment. How dare you forget that?

"It all makes sense now, doesn't it?" he asks in a low voice, all traces of gentleness gone in an instance "The nightly visits, the quiet in the woods..."

His finger traces a line from between your breasts, up to your bobbing throat.

"The pull you feel, even now." a slow roll of his hips makes you choke on air.

Remmick's smile turns cruel. There's no denying, what you're seeing, and it's no longer the man you almost could've loved. It's not a man at all, but a monster your cousin's stories warned you about. Things you believed to be impossible, come to life before your very eyes.

"What are you?" your voice breaks, and he smiles, as if the question has become some sort of a joke shared between the two of you. 

"How about I make you a deal?" 

You've never noticed, how sharp his nails are, not until they drag back down your throat. Gentle enough not to break skin, but brutal enough to leave imprints in their wake. 

"I'll race you back to your house, and if you get there first, I'll leave you two be."

Dread turns your blood into ice, and all you can do, is stare in shock, as Remmick lifts you off his lap. His cock slides out of you languidly, and for the first time, since you've met him, you feel disgust. At him, at yourself, at the whole waking world. 

He brushes your sweaty hair out of your forehead, claws dragging over your face as he does so. Then, a quick press of his lips to your temple, and you shiver in your spot. 

"Be quick" he instructs in a tone that is entirely too cheerful, before he shoots you a wink, and climbs out of the truck. 

Three seconds, that's all you need, before you realize the severity, the absolute hopelessness of your situation. And as you scramble to the passenger side of the truck, thighs sticky with evidence of your misplaced affection, all you can see is your cousin's smiling face. 

***

The door to your home slams against the wall, when you stumble inside, feet barely catching up with your panicked movements. 

You scream her name through the halls, pathetic and desperate. Silence greets you, not a sound to be heard, and as tears spring from your eyes, you sprint towards the stairs. You climb the steps, hunched over like a wild animal, adrenaline pushing your every movement. And then, with the entirety of your body weight, you slam into the door of your cousin's bedroom. 

You can smell the blood, before you see it. A stench so profound, you'll never be able to get rid of it. 

And then, a scene so terrifying, so profoundly heartbreaking unfolds before your very eyes. 

Remmick stands in the middle of the room, hands folded casually behind him. His jaw clenched tightly over your cousin's throat, her lifeless body half hanging from the bed. There's blood on the floor, on the walls, on the sheer dress she wore to bed. And then, red eyes find you. 

Your cousin's form falls onto the floor with a sickening, wet sound, as Remmick let's her go, licking her blood from his gums, his chin.

"Now I understand..." he claps his hands lightly, and once again, you can't move, frozen to your spot, eyes glued to the heap of fabric and flesh, that was once your family "Why you've kept her hidden, like a princess locked in a tower."

His boots leave bloody prints on the wooden floor, as he steps closer to you, crossing the bedroom in long strides. 

"There's no worse thing, than a cruel man. Not for a woman like her." 

You can't look away from her. Not even, when Remmick's hand covers the side of your face, his thumb brushing the underside of your jaw in a gentle caress.

"I can see it all now, y'know" he murmurs "All her memories are mine. I know what a bastard her husband was. It's no wonder she ran away."

Another step closer, and his other hand finds the softness of your stomach, sharp nails scratching gently over the delicate fabric of your rumpled dress. You can still feel him, a dull ache between your legs, a stickiness of your bodies joined together. 

What a damned fool you are.

"And you took care of her so loyally" he continues, a hint of admiration entering his words "Sacrificed so much... But not anymore."

Finally, you dare to look up, and he sighs in delight, as tears fall on your cheeks. 

"I promised you" a whisper, a cold breath against your skin "No more alone, no more forsaken"

His lips kiss away the saltiness, with gentleness so unbefitting his monstrous nature, it makes your breath lock itself in the column of your throat. 

"There's only love in your future, mo ghrà. Only love."

The bundle of fabric moves. A jerky sort of motion, and your eyes snap behind his back, as your cousin's hand jumps against the bloodied floorboards. Remmick let's you go without a fight, and you stumble on your feet, falling to your knees, next to the slowly awakening corpse of your cousin. 

Her name is a prayer on your lips. You're begging for the impossible, you're aware of that, but she moves nonetheless, lifting her face. 

"Hey cuz." she croaks, the wound in her throat moving as she speaks "It's all gonna be alright now."

It's a fate worse than death, seeing the unnatural, golden shine in her eyes. The monstrous, sharpened teeth peaking from behind her smiling lips. You reel back from her, vision blurry from all the tears. She follows you, on her fours, as if she's forgotten what it means to walk. 

"I know it's scary" she stands up, blood dripping from her dress, her mangled body "I was scared too. But now... Now it's all bliss. It's all love."

Your heart breaks into a million scattered pieces, dread and pain nearly knocking you off your feet. But you keep backing away, until you stop at the very top of the stairs, swaying in your sorrow. 

"You did so much for me" you cousin closes the distance, drool slipping out her mouth, mixing with crimson on her chin "Let me repay you, let me give you a better life."

It's only as she reaches for you, fingers digging into your shoulders, teeth bared and ready to bite, do you react. A sharp yell rips through your throat, and you don't think anymore, that primal instinct of survival taking root. The world becomes a mess of limbs and screams, and soon it all spins around you. Wood of the railing breaks under your weight, when your cousin slams you into it, blood of your blood sends you flying. Your fingers grip her nightgown in a death grip however, and the both of you crash to the floor below, with a thunderous crack, that carries through the entire house.

For a moment you can't breathe, your vision going black as night. Then, everything spins, but you don't feel any teeth, any claws. Just waves of pain crashing over your back. 

You will never forget the next sound. It will haunt you through your life, turn every dream into a nightmare. The broken, ragged intake of breath on your left.

"Cuz..." 

Your head turns, and there she is. The dreamer, the flying dove, her chest split open by a stray piece of wood, blood spilling out her mouth like a fountain. 

"...no..."

Despite the blinding pain in your back, you rise to your knees, falling over her, hands trembling and for the first time, you're at a loss. What can one do in this situation? How can you fix this?

"No, no, no, no" your cousin's body twitches, her eyes growing more and more glassy with every ticking second "Please, God... Help..."

But there's no God in this house, not anymore. He's been casted out, with your cousin's last breath, and so, as desperation shakes your being, you call out to the only other option. The only way that's in the cards for you, until you too leave this earth.

"Remmick, help me!" it's hypnotizing in it's irony, you calling out to him, begging him.

He stands behind you, watching your shaking shoulders. Watching those fascinating, calloused fingers rip out hairs from your scalp. He knows, somewhere deep inside his rotten, ancient heart, that he would help you. He'd come acrawling for just one word. 

He also knows, you've been crying over a corpse, as soon as wood pierced your cousin's heart. 

And so, he lingers, a silent statue in a house, that was once a home. Like a pillar of marble, devoid of guilt, of heartbreak, stirred to life only by the misplaced fondness for a woman, who dared to hope in his presence. 

Time ticks by, your sobs turning into heaving breaths, which soon fade, leaving silence in their wake. That's when he finally makes a move, bloodied soles of his boots dragging closer, until your abused back leans against his side. It's a small touch, but for him, it means more, than any before.

There's no more strength in you, no more fight. Like a block of clay, begging to be shaped into a masterpiece, you surrender.

And it's all he's ever wanted. So then why...?

"Leave this place" his voice sounds foreign, even to his own ears "Go far, far away. And live."

You don't even lift your head, don't look at him, but he knows you listen, he knows you understand. A brush of cold lips against the gentle curvature at the back of your neck. There's no shivers, but your heart stutters, that's all he needs.

"A gift for you, mo cuishle"

***

A month later you're standing on the platform, nails drumming anxiously on the leather surface of your baggage. 

You're going far away, like he's told you, leaving behind the town, Ol' Johnsons abandoned home, the shopkeeper's smile, and the ghosts haunting the small house in the middle of the woods. 

And life goes on. You find your place in a shop of your own, in the middle of a town, that's buzzing with life. You put your talents to good use, and soon, people remember your name. They wave at you as you pass, they visit your shop, and talk to you, as if you've lived here from childhood. 

You make friends, good ones, that last through thick and thin. And despite waking up every night, covered in sweat, with the haunting images of that fateful midnight flashing behind your eyes, you're happy. You find lightness in your step, in your mind. You cradle the community within your calloused palms, and let them cradle you in turn. 

So, when the new Juke Joint opens, you don't think twice, about letting your dearest friend, Pearline, drag you with her. For a night full of drinkin', dancin', and cheerin'.

[heethera]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥?

➜ summary: what happens when your ex-best friend lawyers you into marrying him? exhibit a: the marriage contract you both wrote and signed when you were twelve.

pairing: lhs x f!reader, wc: 18k words , genre: work romance, fluff, slight angst (not really) w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing, implied sex

12 YEARS AGO

Twelve was a ridiculous age.

At twelve, you knew just enough to survive. Water was good. Hunger sucked. Sleep was non-negotiable. You understood that cereal could be dinner if no one stopped you, and that bruises from falling off your bike hurt less than the sting when Park Jongseong, your first middle school crush, told you your pigtails were uneven. For some reason, that hurt.

But love? Love was still the kind of thing you learnt from watching episodes of Phineas and Ferb when you were bored or whatever drama your mum had playing on the TV in the background. You didn’t really understand what it was.

All you knew was that it probably had the same colour and scent as Lee Heeseung.

It was the summer of 2014, and you were lying flat on your stomach across Heeseung’s bedroom carpet, the pattern of the rug imprinting little diamonds into your knees. The fan overhead creaked in slow, lazy circles. Outside, someone’s dog wouldn’t stop barking. Inside, Heeseung was twisting around with a new fidget toy he got from the dollar store. 

“Do you think I’ll have a boyfriend twelve years from now?” you asked, chewing the end of your pencil.

He didn’t even look up. “Beats me.”

“Hee, I’m serious,” you pressed.

With a groan as dramatic as his limbs were long, Heeseung finally glanced up. “What do you even want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, pencil now balanced horizontally between your upper lip and nose like a moustache. “I’m just thinking.”

Heeseung leaned back against the side of his bed, gaze flicking to the ceiling like the answer might be hidden in the fan’s creaky rotations. “Twelve years from now… we’d be—” He held up a hand, counting quietly. “Twenty-four.”

“That’s the age my parents got married,” you said, as if that somehow doomed you to a ticking clock.

Heeseung made a face. “Gross.”

You frowned, dramatic in the way only preteens could be. “I wanna get married.”

He clicked the fidget toy shut with a snap. “What is it with you and boyfriends lately?”

“I mean… twenty-four is old, Heeseung. Way old.”

“Barely,” he replied, then paused, his brow quirking slightly. “Besides, someone’ll like you.”

You cradled your face in both hands. “What if they don’t?”

He reached out and poked your cheek with the back of his knuckle. “You’re pretty. I’d like you.”

You blinked at him. “You would?”

“Sure.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “But not now. You’re weird.”

You cracked a smile. “Hm, so you think I’m pretty… that’s not what Park Jongseong said last week when I beat him at basketball. He said I looked like a ‘sweaty worm.’”

“Oh yeah.” Heeseung snorted, eyes crinkling. “That was funny.”

You launched a cushion at his face in retaliation. He caught it with one hand, barely blinking.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, tone casual as he dropped the cushion to the floor. “When we’re twenty-four… we’ll get married.”

You blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just in case,” he replied with a shrug. “If you don’t have a boyfriend and I don’t have a girlfriend. Then we’ll get married.”

You stared at him, unsure if he was joking. Heeseung always said ridiculous things—like how he was going to invent a chocolate that never melted, or become the first person to skateboard across the ocean. But this? This was different.

“Really?” This time, you sat up properly, legs crossed beneath you, your heart doing something weird and fluttery in your chest.

“Yeah.” He nodded like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

“Are you just saying that?”

Heeseung shook his head. “We can pinky swear on it.”

“A pinky swear?” you scoffed, arms folding. “That’s, like, so elementary school. We need something more binding.”

“Like what?”

You rummaged through your pencil case, digging out a crumpled sheet from your favorite Hello Kitty notebook, half-covered in doodles of stars and lopsided flowers. “A contract.”

Heeseung leaned closer, peering over your shoulder as you smoothed the page flat on the carpet. “You’re seriously writing this down?”

“Absolutely.” You grabbed a glitter gel pen and scribbled across the top in loopy, uneven letters: Marriage Pact – Do Not Ignore (Even If You’re Famous or Rich)

Heeseung burst into laughter. “What kind of title is that?”

“A legal one,” you replied seriously, already underlining it twice. “Sign here, please.”

Heeseung took the pen from your hand, tongue sticking out slightly as he wrote his name in slow, deliberate strokes. Then he passed it back.

You signed yours underneath, dotting the “i” in your name with a tiny heart.

And just like that, two twelve-year-olds, were legally bound by glitter ink.

-

12 YEARS LATER

You slammed your apartment mailbox shut with your foot, flipping through the envelopes as you climbed the stairs.

You sighed. “Electric. Insurance. Internet. Phone. Rent. Water,” you muttered, voice rising with each envelope. “Can’t believe we live in a world where they charge us for clean water.”

You shoved the stack under your arm and nudged the apartment door open with your hip, stepping inside and closing it behind you with the heel of your foot.

Jake looked up from the couch. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You held up the bills with a deadpan stare. “If ghosts came in white envelopes and demanded a fuck ton of money, then yeah. Paranormal as hell.”

Jake looked up from the couch, controller still in hand. “Again?”

“Yes, Jaeyun. Bills happen every month. That’s what we signed up for when we became roommates.”

You tossed the stack onto his lap. He sighed and paused his game, the TV screen freezing on a very intense moment in Mario Kart.

He flipped through the envelopes, brows furrowing as he read each one aloud. “Electric. Insurance. Internet. Phone. Rent. Water.”

He looked up at you with disbelief, “Can’t believe we live in a world where they charge us for clean water.”

“That’s what I said!” you replied, dropping your bag by the side of the couch and kicking off your shoes.

Jake was about to make another sarcastic comment, but then he paused.

He squinted at one of the envelopes, holding it up by its edge like it might bite. “What’s a Lee Heeseung?”

You stilled. “…What do you mean?”

Jake held it up with two fingers like it was radioactive. “Someone named Lee Heeseung addressed a letter to you. Wait…Lee Heeseung… sounds familiar. Isn’t this the guy who–”

You lunged forward, snatching the envelope out of his hands so fast the paper rustled.

He started to stand. “Wait—”

But you were already on your feet, clutching the envelope to your chest like it held state secrets.

“I’m going to my room,” you said quickly, already halfway down the hall.

Jake called after you, “You can’t just run away!”

But you were gone.

You dropped the envelope onto your desk and began pacing, feet dragging slightly over the worn hardwood floor. Back and forth. Hands on your hips, then rubbing the back of your neck, then up through your hair like you could physically scrape the panic out of your scalp.

Lee Heeseung.

You hadn’t heard that name in six years. Not since you were 18. What the hell was he doing sending you letters after 6 years of ghosting you? Letters, of all things. Not a text. Not an email. A letter.

You rubbed your face with both palms, fingers pressing into your temples. Your entire body felt tight with confusion. 

You stared at the envelope for a long second.

Should I open it? you asked yourself.

Your fingers twitched.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were already tearing into the envelope, clumsily slicing the top open with your nail. The paper ripped slightly at the corner from how fast your hands moved. The letter slid out, crisp and neatly folded.

You read it, then stood in silence, blinking. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Brain empty. You were confused. Stunned. A little stoned but from shock. Absolutely floored. Like someone had drop-kicked your frontal lobe.

This letter is to formally present the enclosed documentation for legal execution of a prior agreement, namely a childhood contract between yourself and one Mr. Lee Heeseung. The aforementioned contract, signed voluntarily at age twelve, contained a clause regarding marital union at the age of twenty-four should both parties remain unwed.  Pursuant to this clause, Mr. Lee Heeseung has submitted the original document, legally notarized, and formally requests your signature on the attached marriage certificate to fulfil the terms of said agreement.  Please review the enclosed documents at your earliest convenience. For any clarifications, feel free to contact our office or Mr. Lee directly.

Your mouth moved but to be honest, all you could manage was:

“What the fuck is wrong with him.”

-

You were late.

You weren’t usually late. In fact, you were one of those annoying people who showed up fifteen minutes ahead of time and still apologised for making others wait. But today? Today was the one day you really didn’t want to be late.

Your first day at your big girl job and here you were, sprinting toward the building that held your future career by its palm.

​​Your shoulder bag bounced wildly against your side as you dodged a man holding a suspiciously large iced coffee, barely avoiding a full-blown caffeine collision. The turnstile doors loomed ahead sleek and metallic. You jabbed your access card against the reader. You slipped through and finally looked up.

And then you saw Jake.

“Hurry up!” he called, gesturing frantically as the elevator chimed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into getting the bus without you.”

You jogged over, breathless. “Well you’d be late and you know I get the nervous poops.”

He glanced at his watch. “Yeah but couldn’t you have held it in? You know how they say the first impression counts.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped in beside him. “They also say to surround yourself with supportive friends, but look how that turned out.”

Jake grinned, holding the door for you. “Touché.”

The elevator doors slid shut with a polished ding, sealing you and Jake into a box of brushed metal and awkward first-day jitters.

“I still can’t believe we got the last two spots at Aureum,” You said, “The Aureum.”

“Well,” Jake  said, trying to catch his breath, “we fought our way here and beat out that no-good Park Eunmi and her bratty—���

“Jake.” You shot him a warning look. “We’re adults now. We don’t go around talking shit about people we won’t even be seeing anymore.”

He blinked. “Weren’t you the same person who called her, and I quote, a ‘two-faced conniving bitch’ yesterday?”

“Like I said,” you replied, smoothing your blouse, “I’m an adult now.”

As two of the newest Junior Marketing Associates, you and Jake had beat out over a hundred applicants. A hundred other applicants who probably practiced their interview answers in the mirror a million times before. And somehow, two under-slept twenty-somethings from a shared apartment with a broken microwave made it through.

Your eyes flicked around the office, trying to drink it all in, endless cubicles with glowing monitors, people tapping away at keyboards like they were born doing it, voices murmuring through headsets, and behind closed doors, offices that belonged to people with email signatures way fancier than yours.

You clutched your lanyard a little tighter. 

“Come on in, guys. Sit down, sit down.” A man in a blazer and slacks stood by the doorway, gesturing everyone inside with brisk efficiency. His voice was clear, professional, and used to being listened to.

You followed Jake into the room, quietly settling into one of the twelve chairs arranged in a half-circle around a low conference table. The space was bright, glass walls on one side, soft overhead lighting, and a large flat-screen monitor mounted neatly in front. A clicker and laptop sat idle on the table. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable.

“I’m Park Jongseong,” the man announced once everyone had filtered in. “We’ll be starting orientation in about five minutes. We’re just waiting for the head of department to arrive, and then we’ll get going.”

The name hit you oddly. A little familiar. Park Jongseong. It tugged at the back of your memory, but you brushed it off. Probably a coincidence. Jongseong wasn’t exactly rare.

He continued, tone practised. “Before that, let’s take attendance. Please scan the QR code on the screen, log in using your company ID, and mark yourself as ‘present.’”

The screen flickered to display the code. A few people reached for their phones immediately.

“If you have any questions, feel free to ask,” he added, hands clasped in front of him, his expression neutral but approachable. The lanyard hanging around his neck read Human Resources – Manager. That explained the ease, the polished tone. He’d clearly done this many times before.

You unlocked your phone and scanned the code, fingers moving over the login screen. Jake leaned over slightly to peek at your screen, making sure he was doing the same thing right.

You tried to focus, but the name still lingered somewhere in your mind. Park Jongseong.

You shook your head, returning your attention to the task at hand.

It couldn’t be. Not that Jongseong. Right?

“Okay, he’s here,” Jongseong said, glancing toward the glass wall. He gave a quick nod to someone just out of sight. “Please use my company email if you have any HR-related issues. Thank you, and I’ll see all of you after this session.”

He stepped aside, and a man entered the room.

“Good morning everyone, I’m the head of department,” the newcomer said, tone cool and efficient. “For anything related to your job, your submissions, deadlines, or team responsibilities, they will come through me. Understood?”

A quiet chorus of nods followed. You nodded too, still focused on your phone screen. It was taking forever to load. You squinted, trying to figure out why, until you realised you’d typed your employee ID wrong. You had tapped 7 instead of 6.

You tapped back, correcting it, only half-hearing the voice that came next.

“Right,” came a quiet chuckle. The voice was warmer this time, slightly amused. Familiar. “Sorry—I forgot the intro bit. I’m Lee Heeseung. You can call me whatever feels comfortable."

Your finger froze on the screen.

The pen you had been holding slipped from your hand and hit the floor with a small clack. You stood up so quickly your chair scraped the polished floor, every eye in the room swivelling toward you.

Heeseung paused mid-sentence, glancing in your direction. His gaze landed on you and stayed.

Your breath caught. Your brain refused to supply anything useful, like words.

Heeseung blinked, the faintest trace of recognition crossing his face but he said nothing.

“Is there an issue?” Jongseong looked up from his tablet, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. His brow furrowed slightly. “Hey, aren’t you—”

“No.” You shook your head a little too quickly, a little too firmly. “Nope.”

“But you’re—”

“Not her.”

Jongseong paused. “You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” you replied, already feeling the heat rise to your face.

“But how do you know who I’m thinking about?” he countered, eyes narrowing slightly.

There was a long, loaded beat of silence. You could feel Jake watching your exchange, an eyebrow raised.

You exhaled.

“Okay,” you muttered, shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m her.”

“I knew it,” Jongseong said with a grin, nudging Heeseung with his elbow. “I told you she looked familiar. Didn’t you just send her that stupid lawyer–”

Heeseung cut in, his voice even. “That’s enough.”

The room was silent. 

You cleared your throat, brushing your hair behind your ear and reaching for your pen like none of that had just happened. “Anyway. Please continue, Mr. Lee.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, stepping to the front of the room. “Where were we?”

And just like that, orientation resumed.

You sat stiffly in your seat, eyes glued to the screen at the front, pretending to take notes on the company’s mission statement while internally drafting your resignation letter in all caps.

You could feel it.

That unmistakable weight of a stare, burning, pointed, patient. Heeseung’s gaze practically drilled through the crown of your head. And you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. Not once. Not even when Jake elbowed you under the table, trying to stifle a grin.

Unbelievable. Out of all the possible outcomes in this capitalist hellscape, this was what you got?

As if that wasn’t enough to emotionally flatten you, you'd also just received a letter from his lawyers three days ago.

Because apparently, a glitter-gel-penned contract you made when you were twelve still counted.

-

“What the fuck was that?” Jake hissed, yanking you halfway out of your new ergonomic chair before you could even take a seat.

You blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “The whole thing with Mr. Lee and Park Jong… something.”

“Seong. It’s Park Jongseong,” you corrected, brushing down the front of your blouse as you stood properly this time.

“Yeah, that. What was that about?”

You glanced around quickly. The office floor was open-concept, dotted with neatly arranged cubicles, each one separated by low partitions and decorated with cheerful onboarding folders and branded pens. Too many ears. Too much glass.

“Could you not ask me about it when his office is right there?” you muttered, trying not to move your lips too much.

As if summoned, the two of you instinctively turned your heads.

Heeseung’s office sat just a few feet away. And through the transparent wall, you saw him.

Already looking. Directly at you.

You and Jake immediately snapped your heads back around like guilty children caught cheating on a test.

You could feel the heat rush to your face. Jake ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “He definitely saw that.”

“Of course he did,” you whispered.

“Okay. Lunch,” Jake said, already tugging on your sleeve. “You’re telling me everything.”

-

“Do you remember that guy I told you about… when we first met?” you began cautiously, already regretting this entire conversation.

Jake didn’t even blink. “The almost ex who broke your heart? The one who vanished without a word, no texts, no emails, just poof? The guy you cried over every night for the first two months we shared a dorm? That guy? The one who had you in sweatpants for so long our professor personally pulled you aside after our first group presentation to suggest dressing like you hadn’t just escaped a deadly house fire?”

You gritted your teeth. “You could’ve just said yes.”

“I like my answer better,” Jake replied, flashing that annoyingly smug grin of his.

You rolled your eyes, arms folding over your chest. “Fine. Yes. It’s… that guy.”

Jake’s eyes widened so fast. “Holy fuck. Wasn’t he the one who, correct me if I’m wrong, lawyered you into marrying him like 3 days ago?”

You nodded slowly. “I doubt it’s even legal, but… yes.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, the disbelief painted across his face shifting into something almost amused. “This is highly coincidental,” he said, voice rich with sarcasm. “Almost like…it's fate.”

You stared at him for a beat, then stabbed your spoon into your bowl and shoved a mouthful of meat in before mumbling through it, “If this is what fate is, then fate’s a fucking bitch.”

-

“Do you think they’re dating?” Heeseung asked, eyes fixed on the other side of the company cafeteria. 

Jongseong followed his line of sight.

Across the room, you and Jake were seated at a small corner table, trays pushed aside, both of you laughing, loud and unbothered.. You were leaned in close, practically in tears from whatever Jake had just said.

“Looks friendly to me,” Jongseong shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re still in love with her. Thought you hated her.”

“I do,” Heeseung said quickly. “It’s just—I don’t know. I mean… she was right in some sense.”

Jongseong didn’t miss a beat. “Dude, she didn’t even show up at the airport. You waited there like an idiot until the last minute. You almost missed your flight.”

Heeseung gave a tight laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe she was busy…”

Jongseong raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I don’t blame her,” Heeseung said quickly. “She was scared. She thought long distance would ruin us. That we’d fall apart, stop being friends, stop meaning something to each other.”

Jongseong turned his head, slow and deliberate, fixing him with that look, the one he always gave before saying something brutally true.

“Well,” he said, voice calm, “are you friends now?”

Heeseung said nothing.

“Didn’t think so,” Jongseong muttered, then grinned as he picked up a piece of kimchi. “Are you also forgetting who you video called the first hundred times you cried in Canada?”

“Why do you love bringing that up?” Heeseung groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Jongseong took a long, smug sip of his drink, barely suppressing a grin. He turned back to his tray of cafeteria food before pointing his chopsticks at Heeseung like they were an accusation. “Because it’s funny.”

Heeseung didn’t respond, just glared at his soup.

Jongseong raised an eyebrow. “So by the looks of it, I’m guessing you really got Beomgyu to send that lawyer letter to scare her?”

“To be fair,” Heeseung muttered, “I didn’t know she’d end up under me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jongseong said through a mouthful of rice, chuckling as he shook his head. “But if you wanna get all weirdly poetic about it, I guess this is kinda like destiny, isn’t it?”

Heeseung stared down at his tray, “Well,” he muttered, “if this is destiny then destiny’s a fucking bitch.”

-

Listen…Heeseung was smart.

He climbed Aureum’s corporate ladder in less than two years, thanks to an impressive portfolio born out of his time in Canada. Moving there had been a blessing in disguise. Academically, professionally, it launched him. He made the most of it. Graduated top of his class, turned internships into job offers, turned job offers into power.

But for all of Heeseung’s intelligence, his work ethic, and his calculated rise, if there was one thing he was consistently stupid about, it was you. He didn’t understand it. In fact, he couldn’t even explain it. You were the one area of his life that turned logic into mush and rationality into dust.

It started as a joke. A stupid, drunken mistake that should’ve stayed buried under the dim lights of some bar on a Thursday night.

It was happy hour. He and Jongseong were at their usual spot, a watering hole they swore they were too old for but kept returning to anyway. One tequila turned into four. Somewhere between rounds, Heeseung started rambling, slurred sentences about you, the past, and that dumb glitter-pen marriage pact you’d made when you were kids.

Jongseong, drunk and equally dumb, grinned and said, “Dude. You should actually send her something. Like get lawyers involved. Just to freak her out.”

Heeseung, handsome as ever and dumb as a fork, blinked. His eyes widened. “Wait. That’s… actually kind of funny.”

“No it’s not,” Jongseong had said, already laughing. “That’s what makes it brilliant.”

Which is how, somewhere around midnight, Heeseung scrolled through his contacts, called the first legal name he recognised, Choi Beomgyu, law school graduate, part-time legal consultant and said:

“Hey, can you help me draft a marriage contract?”

-

It had been two days since you started working at Aureum.

Coincidentally, it had also been two days since Heeseung had done any actual work.

Each morning, like clockwork, he walked in, tailored suit, briefcase in hand, and Prada shoes. He placed his bag neatly on the desk, powered on his computer, clicked into his emails… and then lost all sense of purpose. The first thing he did every morning was type a message to Jongseong. 

Subject: emergency i madonna die i mgona die shes lookihng voer pretty pretty u think shell love me back ohne day? Actually im jk i hate her but if hate why prtty? omg shes lookg voer...pretend teim oding work im doing many work work is fun work is cool Work . im work Best Regards Lee Heeseung Head of Marketing | Aureum & Co. 📞 +82-10-XXXX-XXXX ✉️ heeseung.lee@aureumcorp.kr 🌐 www.aureumcorp.kr “We don’t do average.”

He’d hit send. Then he'd type a second variation and send that too. On the first day, Jongseong had replied with “You good?” On the second, he didn’t respond at all. By day three, Heeseung didn’t even expect a reply. He was just venting into the void.

Heeseung told himself he just wanted a moment. A single conversation. A little closure. Maybe an opportunity to push your buttons, mess with you, throw you off your game. Because as far as he was concerned, you still owed him that. And now, here you were.

Still stupidly, infuriatingly pretty.

-

He sat behind his desk, legs crossed under the polished oak surface, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, eyes fixed on the list of new hires. 

But all Heeseung cared about was one thing: getting you alone.

He had crafted a plan that was equal parts desperate and genius, hosting a Getting to Know You session for each new employee. No one could question it. 

Nishimura Riki—Ni-ki. A boy with his hoodie still half-zipped, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks like he was allergic to authority. He entered without knocking, took the seat opposite Heeseung with zero urgency, and stared blankly at the offered glass of water. Said maybe six words in ten minutes. Heeseung didn’t mind. He respected the quiet ones. Good for him.

Next came Kim Sunoo.

He bounced into the room like the sunlight had a personality and sat with both palms flat on the table like he was bracing for takeoff. Heeseung barely finished the question—“How’s working here so far?”—before Sunoo launched into a detailed narrative about his family, his dead turtle, and the emotional trauma of overwatering a succulent. At one point, he teared up. Heeseung slid the tissue box across the table silently. You know what, good for him too.

Then came Yang Jungwon.

Jungwon knocked twice, entered with a clipboard, and sat like a model intern. His back straight, pen ready, shoes perfectly aligned under the chair. He answered every question clearly, thoughtfully, and didn’t overshare once. Heeseung liked him. He even made a note in the corner of his notepad: Promotion material.

And then Jake Sim.

Jake entered all smiles and sunshine, like he was walking into a brunch spot instead of a corporate office. His tie was off-centre. Shirt sleeves rolled too high. Hair a little too perfect. He slid into the chair across from Heeseung, crossed one ankle over his knee like he owned the place, and grinned.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

The office suddenly felt hotter. Like the air conditioning had given up. Heeseung straightened the papers on his desk even though they were already perfectly aligned, mostly just to stop himself from flipping the table.

“So,” he started, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward with faux interest, “do you see yourself working here long?”

Jake nodded, no hesitation. “Yeah, working at Aureum is honestly a dream. It’s been on my list of dream companies since uni.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “One of your dream companies?”

Jake blinked. “Uh—well, yeah. I mean, I had a few, but Aureum was definitely—”

“So what you mean to say,” Heeseung said, leaning back slowly in his chair with a smile that was definitely not a smile, “is that you’re disloyal.”

Jake froze. “What? No! That’s not—”

Heeseung picked up his pen and made a note on the paper in front of him. It had nothing to do with Jake. He just wrote ‘boring. lame. has uglier hair than me.”

He didn’t hate Jake Sim.

He despised him.

No real reason, of course. Except that Jake seemed to be exactly the kind of person you were comfortable around. The kind you laughed too easily with. The kind you sat next to at lunch and leaned into like it was natural. Didn't help that Jake was incredibly suave and handsome. Damn it.

It wasn’t personal.

Except it completely was.

Heeseung exhaled as soon as Jake left the room, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the final name on the list.

Your name.

He cleared his throat, stood up, and walked to the small mirror near the bookshelf to fix his hair, like that would somehow fix everything else.

And for the first time all day, Heeseung felt nervous.

You cleared your throat, then knocked. Heeseung looked up instantly.

His smile appeared before he could stop it, quick and unguarded, warm enough to light the whole damn office. Then, as if remembering himself, it vanished just as fast. His expression flattened into something more controlled. Nonchalance, he reminded himself. Be cool.

But it was hard to be anything close to composed with you standing there. Your head poked through the doorway, eyes bright and curious. That little hairclip still holding your bangs to the side, the same way you used to wear it when you were younger. Your hair fell in soft waves over your shoulder, reaching just past your waist. It swayed slightly as you tilted your head.

“Can I come in?” you asked, voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straighter, shoving a file to the side like he hadn’t just been zoning out for ten full minutes. “Of course.”

Heeseung gestured to the chair across from him, and you made your way over, smoothing the front of your blouse before sitting down. The cushion dipped beneath you, and for a moment, you didn’t speak. Neither did he.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Well… I already know you.”

You looked up.

A small pause.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked, half-standing.

“No!” he blurted, way too fast. He cleared his throat again, more controlled this time. 

Heeseung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, fingers tapping once against the wood before stilling. He glanced down at the paper in front of him, your employee profile probably and cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, voice measured, “you’ve been placed in the campaign strategy team.”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’s what the onboarding email said.”

He hummed, eyes scanning the paper like he didn’t already know what it said. “You’ll be working on the upcoming brand relaunch. A lot of external collaboration, internal pressure, long hours.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“You sure?” He looked up now, eyes sharp. “Because I need people who follow through. Who don’t just start strong and then bail when things get inconvenient.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I’m asking if you’re the kind of person who sticks around when things get hard. Or if you’re more of a… run-and-disappear type.”

There was a pause. 

You stared at him, jaw tightening. “Is this about Aureum, or about us?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

And that was answer enough.

Something in your chest twisted. “Because if you want to drag the past into this, you better say it plainly. Don’t wrap it up in company protocol and pretend it’s part of my fucking job description.”

And then, quieter, more bitter, he added, “It’s just… I thought you were serious about things. But apparently, you were only serious when it was easy.”

The room felt colder.

You inhaled slowly, the words slipping out before your brain could catch up. “You left. Not me.”

Heeseung flinched but you caught it. That flicker of something raw behind his eyes. But then, just as quickly, his expression closed over, sharp and unreadable again.

“No,” he said flatly. “You left first.”

Your breath hitched. “How did I—?”

“I needed you,” he cut in, his voice low, rough, brimming with a bitterness that stung more than you were ready for. “I could’ve used support. A friend. Anything. But the girl I loved the most—” his jaw tightened, “—she left me first.”

“I—”

“So before you paint me out to be the villain,” he said, his eyes dark, voice thick with something between anger and heartbreak, “think about how you ignored me after I told you I loved you.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, your chest rising and falling too quickly. “I didn’t ignore you because of that—I…” The words caught in your throat like they were afraid to come out. “How was I supposed to react? We finally—finally—got together and then right after, you told me you were leaving.”

“It wasn’t my choice!” he shouted, the words shattering between you like glass.

There was silence after that. Not the passive kind, but the kind that stung, like a slap in the middle of a quiet room.

“Mr. Lee,” you said, tone cool, professional, clipped. “I would like to leave now, since this meeting has had nothing to do with my job and everything to do with some attempt to lower my pride or exert some kind of personal power play that I don’t want any part of.”

You reached for the doorknob. And that’s when he panicked.

His mind raced, grasping at anything, everything, until one sentence tumbled out of his mouth like the world’s worst reflex.

“You’re supposed to be marrying me.”

The words dropped heavy into the room like a weight you hadn’t seen coming. You froze, hand still on the doorknob, back turned, breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“Did you think that lawyer letter was a joke?” His voice was quieter now, but there was something about the way he said it—like he was testing the air between you, like he wasn’t sure if you’d laugh or scream.

Slowly, you turned around, brows drawn together, the confusion and disbelief etched across your face. “Heeseung, that was a contract from when we were kids. Do you really think I’m some kind of idiot?”

He didn’t flinch. “It still stands actually… unless you want to get sued.”

You blinked. “Are you fucking with me?”

Heeseung held your gaze, mouth twitching into a slow, lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do I look like I’m fucking with you?”

And then, he started walking toward you. Steady, unhurried steps that somehow made the air feel thinner with every inch he closed between you. Your heart began to pound erratically in your chest, loud enough you were almost certain he could hear it. Damn him for looking like that—like a fucking model in fitted slacks and a shirt that clung just right to his frame.

He stopped in front of you, close enough for you to catch the faintest scent of his cologne, clean and a little woodsy. God, he was hot.

“Because I’m not.”

“You are insane!” you hissed, voice rising.

“I’m not the one yelling in a see-through office,” he replied, gesturing lazily to the glass walls.

You paused, suddenly aware of the four to five people from accounting who were staring directly at the scene. You cleared your throat and lowered your voice only slightly. “I am not marrying you, Heeseung.”

He clicked his tongue and placed his tea down. “Did you read the bottom? The fine print?”

“I’m not reading anything that came from you and your fuckass lawyer,” you snapped.

Heeseung sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples like you were the one being unreasonable. “If you bothered to read a very legal document, you’d know that... it’s either marriage,” he paused to take another sip, “or you pay $20,000.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“$20,000,” he repeated, a little too casually. “As outlined clearly in the exit clause.”

Your jaw dropped. “And where is a girl who JUST started working supposed to get that kind of money?”

Heeseung shrugged, stepping closer. His footsteps were slow, annoyingly calm. He stopped right in front of you and gently lifted your chin with two fingers, like he was mocking you. “Well,” he said, voice low and irritatingly smug, “that’s up to you.”

You swatted his hand away, hard. “I am not marrying you,” you repeated, practically growling.

“So you’re giving me the $20,000 then?” he offered again, tilting his head, lips forming a mock pout.

You narrowed your eyes, then without thinking, leaned in and bit his fingers.

“OW—what the f—” He jerked his hand back with a laugh. 

“I should’ve bit your face,” you muttered.

Heeseung grinned through the sting, shaking his hand. “Or... and I’m just spitballing here,” he said, stepping back with an exaggerated stretch, “I let you go—no marriage, no payment—if you do everything I say for one year.”

You stared at him like he’d grown three heads. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Just a year of doing whatever I say.”

You crossed your arms. “Three months.”

“Eight,” he shot back, without missing a beat.

“Four.”

“Six.”

You squinted at him. “Five and I don’t get you coffee.”

“Nope. Six, and you do exactly what I say.”

The air between you crackled, neither of you willing to back down. You stepped closer, closing the space between you with slow, deliberate steps until you were standing toe-to-toe in front of his desk. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned in, eyes dark with challenge, the corners of his mouth curling like he was already claiming victory.

Your nose nearly brushed his. “Fine,” you hissed. “Six months. But if you so much as make me iron your stupid ass fancy Prada suit, I’m out.”

“Okay,” Heeseung said smoothly, his voice low and maddeningly smug. His breath fanned your face. “But you should know, I don’t wear wrinkled suits.”

-

And thus began the worst month of your life.

Day 1: He made you sort his alphabetised collection of business cards… in cursive. Handwritten. On new cards. With a quill. “It builds character,” he said..

Day 5: He scheduled a client meeting at 7am. You arrived. There was no client. He strolled in at 10 with a latte and said, “Wow. You’re early. How driven.”

Day 6: Assigned you to shadow a client. You followed a random man around a bookstore for 45 minutes before he texted: “Wrong guy btw.”

Day 9: Email subject line: “URGENT – FOOT EMERGENCY.” The body? “Buy me socks.” No context. Follow-up email: “With little cartoon frogs. The happier the better.”

Day 11: He asked you to water the plants in his office. None were real. One was a coat rack. You watered it anyway. He thanked you with a straight face.

Day 13: He demanded lunch delivered to his apartment. On your break. You found him mid-couch, watching Shrek 2 with subtitles and a face mask on. “Wanna join me?”

Day 16: Made you create a 23-slide presentation titled: “Why Lee Heeseung Is the Greatest Asset to This Company and Mankind.” You had to present it. To two confused interns and Park Jongseong, who heckled the whole time.

Day 18: Sent you to buy exactly 50 blueberries. “Not 49. Not 51. 50. Count them.” You did. The cashier thought you were insane.

Day 23: Assigned you to “reorganise the supply cabinet.” Inside was a single banana, a picture of himself and Jongseong’s car keys.

God. you hated Lee Heeseung.

-

The soft clink of chopsticks against a lunch container echoed across the sleek, minimal office. Jongseong sat casually on Heeseung’s guest couch, feet kicked up, poking at his lunch.

“You know,” Jongseong began between bites, “this little revenge you’ve got going on? Don’t you think it’s starting to get a little...much?”

Heeseung didn’t look up. “What’s much?”

“You made her pretend to be a floor tile last week.”

Heeseung barely blinked, expression flat.

“And to be fair, she was very convincing,” he muttered, like it was a genuine compliment.

Jongseong set his chopsticks down, suddenly serious. “Hee. Be honest. Are you trying to punish her, or are you just scared to talk to her like a normal human being?”

Heeseung’s lips parted, but no words came out. His jaw flexed. The silence stretched, and for the first time in weeks, he hesitated.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, voice lower than usual. 

Just then, the door swung open. You strode in without knocking, your eyes on fire and your movements sharper than necessary. You slammed a paper bag on his desk, the contents shifting loudly inside.

“Here’s your goddamn lunch,” you snapped, not sparing him a glance.

And before he could even process the noise, you turned on your heel and stormed out, leaving the door wide open in your wake.

A beat of stunned silence passed.

Jongseong blinked. “You sure she’s not poisoning that?”

Heeseung finally looked down at the crumpled paper bag, then at the door you’d stormed out through. He didn’t move for a moment, fingers hovering near the bag, like it might explode.

Then, with a low sigh, he leaned back in his chair, swivelling slightly toward Jongseong. “Can you check if she’s had lunch?”

Jongseong narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I’m just saying, she’s been running around all morning like a lunatic. Maybe she skipped lunch.”

“Why don’t you check yourself?” Jongseong smirked, already enjoying this. “Or better yet, pack it for her next time. Maybe write a little note with hearts on it.”

Heeseung groaned and rubbed his face with one hand. “Jesus. I’m not in love with her.”

“I never said love,” Jongseong sang. “You did.”

Heeseung glared at him. “I’m just doing what a responsible boss would do. Basic leadership. Workforce efficiency. You know, keeping employees from fainting.”

“By micromanaging her blood sugar?”

Heeseung pointed at him, still scowling. “Shut up and just go check.”

Jongseong stood, grabbing his soda and grinning. “Whatever you say, boss.”

As he walked out, he muttered just loud enough for Heeseung to hear, “Bet if she skipped lunch, you’d hand-feed her a five-course meal.”

Heeseung didn’t respond. He just turned back to the lunch bag and quietly moved it a little closer to his side of the desk.

-

You were done. You hated Lee Heeseung with every fibre of your being.

You had been mid-task, setting up a fragile product display for a major investor walkthrough—when the shelf gave way beneath your hand. One of the glass panels slipped, and in your rush to keep it from shattering, your palm dragged hard against the sharp metal edge of the support frame. You hissed, sucking in a breath as pain bloomed across your skin, followed by a streak of red pooling fast..

It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was definitely more than a paper cut. You stood frozen for a second, blood dripping onto the glossy marble floor, the scent of antiseptic and showroom polish mixing unpleasantly in the air.

Heeseung was across the room but moved in an instant, almost stupidly concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice sharp with something that sounded a lot like panic.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, clenching your hand as if squeezing the pain away.

“Let me see.” He was already digging in the drawer for the office first aid kit, grabbing a pack of antiseptic wipes and a bandage like it was muscle memory.

You pulled your hand away before he could touch you. “Can I go now?”

He froze. “I’m just trying to help. Stop being so stubborn.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious right now? You’re the one who sent me to fix a million-dollar display alone. Don’t act like you suddenly care.”

Then you walked off without another word, your wound throbbing in time with the storm brewing behind your ribs.

Heeseung stood there, staring at the streak of blood you left behind on the polished floor. The silence in the showroom echoed louder than it should’ve. The first aid kit was still in his hands, unopened. For once, he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Had he been too harsh?

The thought circled, bitter and biting. He meant to keep things light, or at least ridiculous. Make you squirm a little. Maybe even get back at you for leaving him all those years ago. But this? Watching you walk away, shoulders tense, hand bleeding—this didn’t feel like winning.

It felt like being the asshole.

He set the first aid kit down a little too hard on the nearest counter and exhaled slowly. Damn it. He hadn’t wanted to actually hurt you.

Maybe Jongseong was right. Maybe this whole thing was going too far.

And maybe, just maybe, he needed to stop acting like he wasn’t still in love with you.

But god, you made it so damn hard.

-

You hadn’t spoken to him. Not once. Not since that night.

You hated what he’d turned into, this cold, distant version of the boy who once knew you like the back of his hand. He was still familiar, his face carved a little finer now, his jaw set a little firmer, but everything else? Foreign. A stranger wrapped in the skin of someone you used to love.

He used to be yours.

The boy who’d race across districts just to find that one ridiculous snack you were obsessed with because the local mart ran out. The one who never let you cry alone, whose hoodie always smelled like laundry powder and peanuts, who sat silently beside you, his arm around your shoulder, steady as a heartbeat.

He wasn’t that boy anymore. He wasn’t the one who once turned to you, eyes soft and sure, and said, I love you.

Not anymore.

But somehow, even through the pounding in your chest and the sting behind your eyes, you couldn’t help but feel it, that awful, twisting weight in your stomach. Guilt.

Because he was right.

You had left him first. You had pulled away. When he needed you the most, you had shut down, locked the door, and disappeared behind your own fear.

He was scared. Of course he was. Scared of leaving everything behind. Scared of starting over in a place where no one knew his name or the way he liked his coffee or how he bit his lip when he was nervous. Scared of being alone in a country halfway across the world. And the only person he had counted on to be his constant, you, had walked away.

-

6 YEARS AGO

Heeseung’s palms were sweating. His grip on the bouquet tightened, the white petals of the daisies trembling ever so slightly, your favourite flower. He glanced at his watch, then at his shoes, then back again, heart pounding louder with each passing second. It was noon. You’d be here any moment.

And he felt like he might be sick.

Just yesterday, everything had changed. His parents had sat him down with carefully measured smiles and voices too gentle to be comforting, ‘We’re moving to Canada. It’s a good opportunity. It’s what’s best for the family.’

But what about him? What about you?

His throat turned dry, mouth full of words he didn’t know how to say.

Today was supposed to be your first date. The start of something new, something real. Just two days ago, he’d stood under the willow tree with shaking hands and a confession written at the back of his hand. Then, he’d told you he liked you. And you had kissed him for the first time. 

This day was meant to be perfect. But now, all he could feel was the weight of goodbye on his shoulders and it stunk.

And then there you were.

Pretty as ever, like he hadn't just found out his universe was crashing just the day before. You waltzed into view with a skip in your step, a loose, ribboned blouse tucked into jeans, your hair tied up in a ponytail that swayed with every bounce. Your eyes were wide, full of light, full of him, and everything in you screamed excitement for the day ahead.

“Flowers?” you grinned, raising a brow. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

Heeseung’s lips curved before he could stop them. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

And just like that, the knot in his chest loosened. Just like that, he remembered how you always made him feel. Like everything was okay even when nothing was.

Then you smiled. And he was wrecked all over again.

You reached out, fingers finding his, lacing them together. “So…” you murmured as your hands swung between you, “where we going today?”

“I’m not one to spill secrets.”

“Oh? And is it a crime to wonder what my best friend has planned for our very first date?”

Heeseung winced playfully, biting his lip. “God, the word friend is starting to drive me insane.”

You laughed, soft and teasing. “Well, you haven’t actually asked, so I can’t just go around calling myself your girlfriend. That’d be… desperate.”

“You could reek of desperation,” he said, gaze steady, “and I think I’d still be in love with you.”

You let out a low whistle, raising a brow. “Damn. Dropping the L bomb already?” You leaned in with a crooked grin. “Didn’t peg you as a simp, Lee.”

“And I didn’t peg you as a hater,” Heeseung shot back, his smile matching yours.

Heeseung led you down a winding trail, hand in hand, until the trees parted to reveal a quiet creek. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves. A few couples lounged on checkered blankets, laughter drifting through the breeze. It was peaceful, idyllic.

“Ta-da,” he said, stepping aside with a grin so wide it made your heart stutter.

Before you was his surprise: a small picnic set up just for the two of you. A rattan mat stretched across the grass, a modest basket nestled in the middle. Inside were some store-bought sandwiches, your favourite yoghurt drinks, and tucked beside it all, two small square canvases with a neat set of watercolours.

“We’re painting,” he announced proudly.

You stared at him, then burst into laughter. “So we’re being secretive and artsy now? Who are you and what have you done with Lee Heeseung?”

He nudged your shoulder, feigning offense. “Hey, I can be romantic.”

“Oh please, you totally stole this off Pinterest.”

“Guilty,” he admitted shamelessly. “Honestly, it’s a miracle I even got Jongseong to help set this up while I distracted you.”

As if summoned by name, Jongseong emerged from behind a tree with a dramatic sigh.

“I swear, I do the darndest things for you,” he muttered, stepping into view, brushing off invisible dirt. “Now enjoy, lovebirds. Just remember, if the ravens start circling and steal your food, don’t come crying to me.”

The two of you had spent hours painting and teasing, talking over each other, laughing so hard it echoed off the trees.

“That’s supposed to be me?” you scoffed, squinting at his canvas. “Why are my eyes two completely different sizes?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Heeseung said, scandalised, snatching the canvas back. “Stop looking at mine!”

“I can’t help it! It’s like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion.”

“Oh, like yours is any better?” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “Why are my eyes so far apart?”

“They’re not!”

“They’re a mile away from each other,” he groaned, holding his face dramatically.

You gasped. “I think they look nice!”

“You made me look like E.T.!”

“They look nice, you’re just picky!” you snapped, pointing at the eyes you’d painted. “They’ve got that same sparkle your eyes have! See? Both pretty.”

He blinked. Then his cheeks turned pink. “So you do think my eyes are pretty.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You just said that.”

“No, I said my painting was pretty.”

“Oh, so now we’re pretending?” he drawled, a slow smile curving on his lips. “We kissed two days ago, and you’re back to acting like calling me pretty is a scandalous revelation? Pretending we’re just best friends again?”

His arm brushed behind you, anchoring against the mat, his body leaning a little closer, warm and steady beside yours.

You swallowed hard. “Well… you are my best friend.”

“Am I?” His voice was softer now, like velvet.

You nodded, a breath catching in your throat. “Y-Yes.”

He hummed, tilting his head. “That’s a pity. I really liked kissing you.”

Then he leaned in. His eyes flicked to your lips and you froze. You waited, heart pounding, lips parted slightly, breath shallow. Eyes fluttering closed.

And then…

Nothing.

You opened your eyes to find him gone, leaned back with a smug grin and the audacity to be laughing.

“You fucking asshole,” you hissed, shoving him with a pout, arms crossed tight across your chest.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Heeseung wheezed, still laughing as he reached for your wrist, trying to pull you back.

You turned away, refusing. “You just love embarrassing me.”

“Aww, come on, I was joking.” He bumped his shoulder gently into yours, trying to peek at your face. “You looked so cute.”

“You just want to humiliate me for your own selfish amusement.”

“Aw, baby, please—I was kidding—”

You both froze.

Baby.

Your head turned slowly. “What did you just call me?”

“Nothing.”

“You called me the b word.”

“I’d never call you a bitch,” he said quickly.

“No, not that b word.”

“Best friend?”

“Heeseung.”

“Okay, okay,” Heeseung said, hands raised in surrender, the corners of his lips still twitching with that smug, boyish grin of his. “Fine.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have, stretched tight between you like a string neither of you wanted to pull too hard in case it snapped. The leaves rustled above, a soft hush from the wind, but you couldn’t hear any of it over the way your heart was pounding.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound casual but your voice still came out sharper than planned. “If you’re not gonna ask me to be your girlfriend, then fuck it.”

He blinked, startled. “Huh?”

You turned your body fully to face him now, cheeks hot, but your eyes steady. “Heeseung?”

He straightened a little, eyes narrowing in confusion, like he wasn’t sure if he was being messed with. “What?”

Your lips curled upward, small but sure. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Heeseung stared.

And for a moment, there was nothing. No cheeky remark or flirty deflection. Just silence.

You hadn’t expected silence. You were bracing yourself for a grin, for the way he’d pull you into a hug and say yes like it was the easiest thing in the world. But he didn’t.

“Hee?” you said softly, your voice faltering, a knot of dread starting to twist in your chest. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I… can’t,” he whispered, barely audible.

You blinked. “What?”

Heeseung’s gaze dropped to the rattan mat between you. His fingers curled into the fabric like he could steady himself with something solid, something real, but the words still caught in his throat. How was he supposed to say it? How could he tell you now after everything? After the daisies. After telling you he loved you. After you asked him that question.

“I’m leaving,” he said, suddenly. The words spilled out like they’d been choking him.

You laughed, but it was hollow, disbelieving. “Leaving?"

“My dad,” he murmured, eyes still downcast. “He got a job offer. In Canada. We’re moving. I’m going with him.”

You sat there for a second, like the wind had been knocked out of you. And then you swallowed hard.

-

You hated reliving that memory.

It haunted you in quiet moments, when the house was too still, when a familiar song played, when someone said his name by accident and the air shifted. That gnawing, hollow ache of losing your best friend. The ache of watching someone who once felt like home turn into a goodbye you never got to say properly.

You’d stopped talking to him not out of cruelty, but because every word felt like watching him slip further away. Because you were scared. Because it hurt. Because loving him and losing him at the same time felt unbearable. You were selfish, and you understood that now. But he was leaving. And what did a couple of teenagers really know about long distance? About staying in love through time zones and silence?

You told him that. You stood there crying and told him it wouldn't work. That it was better to end it before it hurt more. He shook his head. He believed that if you loved each other enough, you could survive anything.

But what could you have given him that would make him stay?

You were no one special. Just a girl. And deep down, you’d convinced yourself he deserved better, someone who could give him everything he was reaching for.

Your own insecurities… they were the cracks that broke everything apart. And by the time you realised that, by the time the fog of fear cleared and you understood what you’d done, he was already gone.

Instead of blaming yourself, you clung to bitterness. You told yourself he was the one who left without saying goodbye. You told yourself he should’ve told you the date, that he should’ve made it clearer. You told yourself that if you had known, you would’ve run to him. That you would’ve fought harder.

But he didn’t tell you.

 And you didn’t ask.

 And that was the end of it.

You sent message after message after he left. DMs, texts, half-drafted emails, all swallowed by silence. No reply. No closure. You watched his life unfold through your screen. New friends. New places. A girlfriend.

He looked happy.

And in some twisted, aching way, you knew you had done the right thing. You had let him go.  And maybe he was never yours to keep.

-

PRESENT

“Did you eat the last cronut in the pantry?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you kicked Jake’s shin under the table.

He flinched and gave you an innocent look that was anything but. “Nope. I think that Ni-ki kid did.”

“Aw, man,” you groaned, sinking further into your chair.

The two of you were slouched in the company conference room, half-heartedly going over the slides for a pitch that your project manager, Park Sunghoon, had asked you to prepare. The room was quiet except for the tapping of your laptop keys and Jake’s occasional groan of disapproval whenever a client email annoyed him.

Then your elbow nudged into his side. “Hey, do you think Park Sunghoon’s hot?”

Jake barely glanced up. “He’s alright.”

“Alright?” You stared at him like he had personally offended you. “Dude, look at him. Jawline? Chiseled. Eyes? Big and brooding. And those muscles—my God, I can see them through his shirt.”

You pointed through the glass wall of the conference room where Park Sunghoon stood in conversation with another colleague, Jungwon, looking far too polished for a Thursday.

Then a throat cleared behind you.

You froze. Jake froze.

The two of you slowly turned around to find Heeseung standing at the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face and a very prominent vein pulsing in his jaw.

Your squeal was high-pitched and unmistakably guilty.

“Mr Lee! We were just working,” Jake said quickly, voice smooth but eyes flickering with panic.

You didn’t say a word. Still not speaking to Heeseung. Not after what he had essentially made you do.

Heeseung shifted awkwardly in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck like he wished he’d knocked first. “I—uh—I need one of you to be my assistant for tomorrow’s meeting in Busan.”

“Busan?” Jake blinked, his brows lifting. “I can’t. I’ve got that strategy consult with Sunoo.”

Then Heeseung turned to you. His voice gentled, just slightly. “You?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes fixed on your laptop screen, fingers still tapping random nonsense into the spreadsheet just to look busy.

“I’ll get a car to pick you up at eight,” he said, hesitating like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t.

You nodded again. Still didn’t look at him. And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, but his presence still hung heavy in the air like the scent of cologne he always wore.

Jake let out a long, low whistle. “You guys are so dead.”

-

Heeseung had told you to pack light. Light, as if you weren’t being dragged into a two-day conference in Busan with the human equivalent of the devil. Unfortunately, there was no suitcase small enough to prepare you for the storm of spending that much uninterrupted time with Lee Heeseung.

It was 6 in the morning, and the sky was still the kind of grey that made everything look sleepy and slightly unreal. You stood outside your apartment building, rubbing your eyes, a hat over your messy hair.

Jake stood beside you like a 1960’s housewife sending off her husband. Dressed in a hoodie tossed over his pyjamas, yawning every three minutes, he looked one gust of wind away from collapsing back into bed.

“You can go back inside and sleep, Jake.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “but I need to see you get into the car safely or I’ll assume someone kidnapped you and I can’t pay rent alone.”

“You could just say you care about me.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Jake grinned. “God, you’re shivering,” he muttered, before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders without another word.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Right as Jake tucked the jacket around you, the window rolled down, revealing Heeseung behind the wheel.

You blinked. “I thought you were sending over a car.”

“He couldn’t make it,” Heeseung said coolly. “So I’m driving us there.”

Your jaw dropped. “You want me to sit in a rolling asylum with you for five hours?”

“Just get in,” he said with an eye roll, already unlocking the doors.

You turned to Jake dramatically. “If I don’t make it back, it means Heeseung has killed me and buried my body in the woods.”

Jake snorted. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said, before softening. “But seriously, text me every hour just so I know you’re alive.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Bye! Be safe!” he called out, watching as you reluctantly opened the passenger door and slid in, still wrapped in his jacket.

And just like that, the trip began.

-

The first hour passed in heavy silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of your legs adjusting uncomfortably or the low hum of the road beneath the tyres. You stared out the window, arms folded, trying to pretend you weren’t painfully aware of Heeseung sitting just inches away.

Then, out of nowhere, he cleared his throat. “So… are you and Jake together?”

You choked on your own saliva, coughing into your elbow as you glared at him. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Heeseung nodded, unbothered, eyes fixed on the road.

Another three minutes of silence wrapped around the car. You sighed, leaning your head against the window.

“But if you must know,” you muttered, “no. We’re not.”

“Oh,” he replied, nonchalant. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You turned to him, brow raised. “Never had a female friend before?”

His lips quirked. “Had one. Just like you. In fact, I think it was you.”

That shut you up.

-

You trailed behind Heeseung, dragging both your suitcase and his, the wheels rattling against the tiled floor. Somewhere along the line, you'd just… assumed this was your role for the trip. His assistant. His shadow. His indentured servant, thanks to that ridiculous contract or what would’ve been a $20,000 debt hanging over your head if you refused.

You didn’t complain. Not out loud, at least. But inside, you were already cursing every single decision that led you here.

But before you could even reach the hotel lobby, Heeseung turned around and without a word, took both suitcases straight out of your hands.

“I can do—” you started, blinking.

“Shh,” he said, not even looking at you as he cut you off with a single syllable, raising one hand dismissively.

You stared at him, stunned, as he coolly rolled the two bags into the hotel. Like you hadn’t spent the last hour building him up in your head as the undefeated king of petty power plays.

And now he was carrying your luggage.

You hated that your heart skipped a little.

“I have a reservation Under Lee?” Heeseung said to the hotel receptionist, casually placing both suitcases beside the counter.

You stood just behind him, twiddling your thumbs and trying not to look like someone being dragged into a hostage situation.

“Oh!” the receptionist squeaked, her eyes lighting up. “Lee Taehyun, right? This must be your beautiful new bride! You two look so good together!” She beamed, completely unaware of your soul leaving your body. “And for newlyweds, we actually have a special promotion going on, rose petal turndown service, champagne on ice, and, of course, a complimentary aphrodisiac dessert to spark the honeymoon magic.” She winked.

You sputtered. “No. No, no. Absolutely not. We’re not Lee Taehyun or Lee whatever-he-is. We are Lee Heeseung. Could you please check that instead? Thank you.”

Heeseung scoffed beside you. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” you hissed, turning toward him with wide eyes. “She was about to sell us off to the forest spirits and feed us magical truffles so we could get pregnant and return here every anniversary for the rest of our cursed lives.”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing his temples like he’d heard this exact flavour of overthinking from you a hundred times before. “Still as dramatic as ever.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and looking away. Okay. Maybe you had gone a little off the rails with the cursed honeymoon fantasy, but still. Aphrodisiacs? Really?

“…Whatever.”

“Oh, right!” the receptionist chirped, tapping away at her keyboard. “Here we have it—a suite reserved for Mr Lee and his girlfriend.”

Heeseung blinked. “Suite?”

She nodded, all smiles. “Yes, sir. One king bed, ocean view, complimentary couple’s spa vouchers. Booked by a Mr Park Jongseong.”

Heeseung’s eye twitched. “No, that can’t be right. I got Jongseong to reserve two single rooms.”

She frowned, double-checking the screen. “I’m afraid this is all we have under your name. Mr Park Jongseong booked you a suite.”

Heeseung let out a slow exhale, the kind that clearly said I’m going to murder someone when this is over.

Fucking no-good Park Jongseong, he thought, gripping the edge of the counter. Ruining my life once again.

“Well, can you change it to two single rooms?” Heeseung asked, voice strained but still clinging to the last threads of patience.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist said with an apologetic smile. “That suite is the only room available tonight.”

“No, but—”

“It’ll be fine. Thank you!” you cut in brightly, grabbing the room key from the counter before he could dig himself deeper. You turned and started walking toward the elevators without looking back.

Heeseung followed, flabbergasted. “How is this fine?”

“Oh, relax,” you said, pressing the elevator button. “We’re just sharing a room.”

“Ten minutes ago, you looked horrified at the idea of someone thinking we were a couple, and now you’re suddenly fine with us sharing a bed?”

You turned to him with a sweet smile. “Oh, we’re not sharing a bed. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

He scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh yes, you are. I’m a woman.”

“And you also owe me $20,000.”

You turned your head sharply toward him, narrowing your eyes.

Heeseung smirked. The elevator doors slid open. This was going to be a very long trip.

-

This was one of the rare times you’d seen Heeseung serious and you hated to admit it, but it was kind of… annoyingly attractive. The way he stood there, hands tucked into his pockets, voice steady and low as he discussed strategy and projections like he actually cared. His posture, his tone, the faint crease between his brows, it all screamed quiet authority.

“I heard you’re quite the hopeless romantic, Mr Kim,” Heeseung joked mid-discussion, flashing a polite smile.

Mr Kim, a big-shot client who’d made waves in the industry, chuckled. He was currently planning to invest in a luxury jewellery company as a surprise anniversary gift for his wife. Conveniently, Aureum had just acquired one of the most prestigious jewellery lines in the country. Heeseung saw it as a win-win.

“Well, I’m sure you’d understand, Mr Lee,” Mr Kim replied, eyes glinting knowingly.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Of course.”

The truth? He was bluffing. Completely. 

Heeseung had heard stories from others who’d worked with Mr Kim, he valued authenticity, sentiment, sincerity. The only reason the man was even entertaining a partnership with Aureum was because Heeseung had, against every corporate bone in his body, lied and said they were alike. That he too was deeply in love, devoted to his long-term partner.

Meanwhile, you were perfectly content by the buffet table, happily snacking on hors d’oeuvres. Free food, no responsibilities? You were thriving.

“I’d love to meet her,” Mr Kim said suddenly, sipping his drink. “You said you brought her here today?”

Heeseung hesitated for only a beat before nodding. “Uh, I did.”

Mr Kim looked around. “Where is she?”

There was a long, tense pause. Heeseung glanced around the room, praying for a miracle. Then his eyes landed on you, halfway through chewing a mini tart, looking entirely unbothered and, in his opinion, far too cute for your own good.

“There,” he said, pointing. “She’s right over there.”

Mr Kim followed his gaze and smiled. “She’s beautiful. Seems just like what your type would be.”

Heeseung forced a smile, hand loosening slightly around his glass.

God, you were gonna kill him.

Then you wandered over, completely unaware of everything, happily licking tart crumbs off your thumb. “Have you tried the tarts?” you said cheerfully. “They’re so good.”

Heeseung turned to you. “There you are,” he said, voice dripping with sudden warmth. It was…weird. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, but he was already putting on his best smile. “I was just talking about you to Mr Kim.”

You blinked, gaze shifting to the man in front of you. Oh. Mr Kim. You knew who he was. Big client. Even bigger deal.

You quickly bowed. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Ah,” Mr Kim said, smiling warmly. “Heeseung tells me about you all the time.”

Your head snapped toward Heeseung. “He has?”

“He told me you were beautiful,” Mr Kim continued, chuckling. “And I see now he didn’t lie.”

Your eyes narrowed just a fraction, head tilting. “He did?”

“You seem surprised,” Mr Kim said, raising a brow, clearly confused by the disconnect.

Then you felt a light poke on your back. Heeseung leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper against your ear. “Play along and I’ll let go of the $20,000.”

You straightened immediately, laughing a little too quickly. “Oh! I’m just surprised he talks about me, that’s all.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Mr Kim said warmly. “You’re beautiful. The two of you look beautiful together.”

And then you froze.

Beautiful together?

You gulped, lips twitching into a forced smile. 

Back in the hotel room, you slammed the door behind you, nearly tripping over your own suitcase.

“You’re insane,” you snapped, spinning on your heel to face Heeseung.

“Look,” he said calmly, shrugging off his blazer and tossing it onto the couch, “just do this for two days, and I let go of the twenty grand. Seems like a win-win, doesn’t it?”

You stared at him, jaw dropped. “I can’t even stand being in the same room as you for two days, and you want me to pretend I’m your fiancée? You are actually, clinically insane.”

Heeseung gave you a lazy smile, then leaned against the table. “The deal’s already done. Once these two days are over, you’re free. Mr Kim’s contract is worth a million dollars to the company. So either you suck it up and act like you're in love with me… or you pay me one million—plus the existing twenty thousand you already owe.”

You stared at him. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

Your brain scrambled for a response, but all it managed was a silent scream and a thousand curse words you couldn’t legally say out loud.

You gulped, glaring at him through gritted teeth. “…Fine.”

-

It was the night of the conference. The hotel ballroom was already packed, sleek suits, designer gowns, the clinking of wine glasses, and enough perfume to drown in. Just the thought of having to smile and lie to at least a hundred people about being Heeseung’s loving, devoted fiancée made your stomach twist.

Earlier, Heeseung had sent you to a nearby salon, muttering something about how he refused to walk in with someone who “looked like they just rolled out of a laundry pile.” You’d wanted to punch him. But now, walking out of the room, you… almost didn’t recognise yourself.

Your hair was done in a half-up ponytail, the rest curled into soft, elegant ringlets. The makeup was natural but glowing, and the pink dress they sent up fit so well, hugging the right places, flowing gracefully just at your knees. Pink ballet heels, delicate dangling earrings brushing your collarbones. You looked like you belonged here.

But you didn’t feel like it.

Heeseung had already left for the conference earlier, texting only once to tell you where to meet him and, of course, to not embarrass him.

Charming.

You stepped into the corridor, a bit dazed, and decided to take the longer route through the golf course. There was a lake just beyond the path. The air was crisp, the sky painted with fading pinks and purples. You’d never stayed anywhere this fancy before. It felt like walking through someone else’s life.

Then you spotted it.

A lady in a chef’s hat, sprinting awkwardly across the green grass, arms outstretched, chasing something. A blur of white darted ahead of her.

A rabbit.

Your eyes widened. Were they going to cook it? Serve it at dinner for the hotel guests? You knew people ate rabbit. You weren’t someone to judge—“let people eat what they want” was practically your moral code—but the way the rabbit bounced in terror, its tiny legs scrambling to escape?

No. Nope. Couldn’t do it.

Without hesitation, you lifted the hem of your dress and ran. Full sprint. Across the grass, heels sinking slightly into the dirt, heart thudding as you caught up. With an ungraceful lunge, you scooped the bunny into your arms.

“Please don’t kill him!” you cried, standing defensively in front of the chef.

The chef skidded to a stop, looking at you like you were the crazy one. “What?”

“I know he’s probably delicious, but please! Don’t do it!” You clutched the rabbit tighter. “He’s scared! Look at him!”

The woman blinked… then chuckled. “Miss.”

“I’ll give you money,” you blurted. “I don’t have much but I’ll transfer to you some, just please, let him go!”

She laughed harder now, motioning to the other side of the lawn. “Miss… the rabbit’s a family pet. We’re just trying to get her back into the hotel suite. You see?”

You followed her finger and saw another staff member standing sheepishly beside an open rabbit cage.

“Oh.”

The chef blinked at you for a second, startled, before her features slowly softened into a smile, wide, warm, the kind only older women could pull off.

You were still clutching the rabbit like it was a child in danger.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the older woman said, chuckling as she approached you gently, palms raised like she didn’t want to startle you this time. “We’re not gonna cook the bunny.”

You blinked, still catching your breath. “So… you’re really not going to cook him?”

She laughed, her whole frame shaking. “No, darling. This naughty girl escaped from our suite when the door was left open. We’ve been trying to catch her for the last twenty minutes. But thank you for your… enthusiasm.”

You looked down at the rabbit, who blinked lazily in your arms.

The chef stepped closer and gently took the bunny from your arms. But before she stepped away, she paused, looking at you with a fond smile.

“You’re too cute,” she said softly, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. “Such a kind heart, and so pretty too.”

And then the chef walked off, humming to herself, rabbit nestled contently in her arms like none of the chaos had just happened.

You glanced down at your watch—and froze.

“Crap!” you hissed, eyes widening. You were 10 minutes late. You were supposed to meet Heeseung 10 minutes ago, and knowing him, he probably already assumed you'd either bailed or spontaneously combusted. You lifted the hem of your dress and took off running, again, heels clicking wildly against the marble floor as you made a mad dash through the hotel.

-

Heeseung stood at the entrance of the ballroom, posture stiff, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit. His tie was perfect, his expression… not. He had done the early rounds, greeted the important names, planted the seeds for tonight’s main pitch, and now all he needed was his fake fiancée.

He looked down at his watch for the fourth time. Then toward the entrance. Then back at his watch. He groaned under his breath, jaw tightening.

Of course you were late. Of course you’d leave him hanging, tonight of all nights. He was already imagining himself pulling out his phone to text you a series of snarky messages when the ballroom doors opened. 

And then you stepped in.

Heeseung's breath caught mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-everything. Time didn’t slow down; it stopped. He swore the music dimmed just to make space for the sound of his heartbeat. There you were, framed by the golden light of the chandeliers, hair curled into soft, glimmering ringlets that fell perfectly over your shoulders. Your heels clicked gently against the floor, matching your earrings that caught the light with every step, brushing your collarbones like a secret. You looked perfect. 

And Heeseung? Heeseung forgot what air was. Forgot that this was a business event. Forgot that this was pretend. All he could think was that no one else in the room existed but you.

You made your way toward him, a little breathless, cheeks warm, your eyes meeting his with that familiar glint of mischief and irritation and something softer underneath. He cleared his throat, awkwardly adjusting his collar like it was suddenly suffocating him.

“You’re… late,” he muttered, voice low, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably—because all he could think was how the hell do you look this pretty and expect me to act normal?

“I was trying to save a bunny,” you said, completely serious. Your brows were drawn together in the most sincere little frown, concern written all over your face like you were still thinking about the damn rabbit.

Heeseung blinked.

You had that look in your eyes, the one where they went all wide and sparkly and impossibly earnest. 

He was this close to melting. Just folding into your arms right then and there, because what the hell. Who gave you the right to be this pretty and this adorable? He wanted to squeal. He wanted to throw a chair. He wanted to tuck you under his coat and never let you do anything dangerous or heartbreaking or normal ever again.

But instead, he cleared his throat, forced his lips into a flat line, and muttered, “Yeah, well… you were still late.”

Pathetic. Even his pretend-annoyed voice sounded whipped.

-

Heeseung found himself standing beside Mr Kim near the open bar, both nursing glasses of champagne. The conversation had drifted from projections and sales to something lighter, more personal but Heeseung’s shoulders were still stiff, his eyes constantly flicking toward the far side of the ballroom to you.

You were talking to people. Merging into a circle of clients and industry professionals as if you belonged there. He watched as you laughed politely at something someone said, nodding attentively, gesturing animatedly when it was your turn to speak. He caught the way someone leaned in closer when you talked, how another man offered you a drink with a too-eager smile.

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

“She’s quite charming,” Mr Kim said, following Heeseung’s gaze with a subtle smirk. “Looks like she’s handling herself just fine.”

Heeseung chuckled stiffly. “Yeah, she tends to make a good impression.”

Mr Kim smiled knowingly, taking another sip of his drink. “My wife was talking about someone like her earlier. Said she saw a girl in a pink dress out on the golf course and thought she was watching a Disney princess chase after a rabbit.”

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink.

“Begged the chef not to cook it,” Mr Kim added, clearly amused. “Turns out it was our family pet. Apparently your fiancée offered money to save it.”

Heeseung groaned under his breath, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide the grin trying to creep up. “That sounds… exactly like her.”

“She’s adorable,” Mr Kim said warmly, his tone turning unexpectedly sincere. “Rare to see someone so real in a room full of people wearing masks.”

He paused for a beat, then added, “To be honest, I wasn’t sold on the jewellery deal at first. Didn’t see the heart in it. But my wife couldn’t stop talking about that girl—your fiancée. Said any company that attracts someone like her must be doing something right.”

Heeseung’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass. His eyes found yours across the ballroom, animated and smiling as you spoke to a small group. For a second, something soft bloomed in his chest, something he hadn’t meant to feel.

He nodded once. "She's perfect."

-

The conference had gone better than expected, and the energy in the room had shifted to celebration,champagne flutes half-filled, smiles looser, jackets coming off shoulders.

“If I may,” Mr Kim said, standing tall at the front of the ballroom, his voice warm but commanding enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room, “I’d like to invite someone very special to say a few words.”

The chatter died down instantly.

“Him and his fiancée are the reason I’ve decided to move forward with our partnership with Aureum,” Mr Kim continued, smiling. “It wasn’t just the impressive numbers, or the sleek portfolio, or even the pitch, which, I’ll admit, was still excellent. It was the authenticity. The human touch. In a world full of polished presentations and rehearsed lines, it’s rare to meet someone who speaks like they still believe in what they do and that’s why I’m here.”

Then Mr Kim’s eyes flicked toward him, his smile widening just a little. “Mr Lee. Would you join us for a quick toast? Perhaps say something about your lovely fiancée as well?”

Heeseung froze.

You almost choked on the crabcakes you were devouring.

Heeseung’s hand froze mid-air, fingers curled slightly around the stem of his glass. His eyes widened just a fraction, enough for you to see the panic ripple beneath the surface of his carefully maintained expression.

He stood slowly, giving you one last glance like he was walking straight into a firing squad, and made his way to the front of the room.

Mr Kim clapped him on the back. “I’ve always admired honesty, Mr Lee. Let’s hear what love sounds like from someone living it.”

Heeseung stepped up to the mic.

The room quieted. The seconds stretched. You watched his throat bob, watched the slight tremble in his fingers where they gripped the edge of the podium. He was freezing.

And Mr Kim noticed.

The man tilted his head, expression beginning to shift, curiosity folding into doubt.

You stood.

Heeseung’s eyes found yours immediately. And you didn’t think. You just walked.

You made your way up to the stage, your heels clicking softly against the ballroom floor, your heart pounding. You reached him, gently touched his arm, and turned to the mic. Heeseung stepped aside without a word, his jaw still tight.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice light but clear. “My fiancé’s not really used to a big crowd.  He’s the kind of guy who can negotiate million-dollar deals without blinking, but ask him to express a single human emotion in public and he acts like he’s being held hostage.”

A soft laugh rippled through the room.

You turned slightly, your gaze catching Heeseung’s from the corner of your eye. 

“Well...uh...Heeseung and I… we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember,” you began, “Then at the age of 18 left me for Canada. Canada. Can you imagine? Leaving this—” you gestured to yourself with mock offense, “—for Canada?”

The crowd laughed, a ripple of amusement breaking through the room.

You smiled, softer this time, your voice dipping gently. “We drifted after that—stopped talking, stopped being us. And then… he came back. Somehow, we reconnected, and, as fate would have it, he was actually even more insufferably annoying than I remembered.”

Another laugh bubbled from the audience, gentler this time.

“He knew exactly how to push my buttons. He was cocky, arrogant… God, I hated him. Made me do the dumbest things. Made me run the craziest errands. Like, have you ever seen someone counting exactly 50 blueberries in the middle of a supermarket? If you have, that was probably me.”

The room stilled, the laughter fading like it had never been there. The shift was subtle—just the way attention turned sharper, the way even the background music felt like it had lowered itself into a hush.

“But somehow…” you continued, your voice softer now, almost hesitant. You turned your head fully, locking eyes with Heeseung, and the noise of the room blurred around the edges.

“After all those years, after all the silence… I realised something.”

You drew in a breath, one that trembled slightly on the way out. “I blamed him for so much time lost. I blamed him for leaving, for not telling me when, for not trying harder. But I forgot…”

You paused. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, but it needed to be said.

“I forgot to blame myself,” you whispered. “And I never apologized.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the mic. The words felt raw, too honest, and somehow… exactly why you had hated him back then. Because loving him hurt, and you didn’t know how to carry that without turning it into anger.

Heeseung’s expression shattered—composure gone, his eyes soft and stunned, like you’d touched a place inside him he thought you’d never reach again. There was something breaking open in his gaze. Something unspoken but unmistakable.

“Till now,” you finished, voice barely above a whisper.

And then, with the ache growing full in your chest, your eyes still locked on his, you breathed into the mic.

“I’m sorry.”

The word hung in the air louder than you intended. You wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek, hoping no one noticed. But then it hit you, you were still on stage. Still holding the mic. Still standing under a literal spotlight in front of dozens of clients and colleagues.

You cleared your throat and plastered on a small, tight smile. “And of course,” you said lightly, forcing the laugh into your voice, “none of this would have happened if we weren’t madly in love and getting married in exactly” ,you glanced at your imaginary watch, “three months and four days. But who’s counting? Apparently, bridezilla herself!”

The crowd laughed. A few people even let out soft awws, and someone near the front clapped.

You gave a stiff little bow, muttered a quick “thank you,” and then got off the stage.

And ran.

You had somehow found your way back to the golf course. You walked faster, heart pounding, heels sinking slightly into the grass. You didn’t want him to find you. Not like this. Not when your walls were crumbling and your heart was screaming things you weren’t ready to say out loud.

But then, a hand gripped your wrist, gentle and firm, stopping you in your tracks. You spun around, startled, only to find Heeseung behind you. 

“What you said back there,” he said, voice low, shaking slightly, “did you mean it?”

“What?” you blinked. “I was just lying to get him off our backs. You know. I was doing my job as your fake fiancée, remember?” You tried to laugh it off, but it came out hollow.

Heeseung didn’t even flinch. “It didn’t seem like a lie.”

You scoffed, looking away. “I was just tryna get the $20,000 off my back, Heeseung.”

“You still love me,” he said, cutting you off. His voice was raw now.

You froze. “No, I don’t—”

“Stop lying to yourself!” Heeseung shouted, the words cutting through the quiet night, raw and ragged, like something inside him had finally broken loose. “Stop lying to me! I can’t take this anymore!”

His voice echoed across the empty golf course, full of something desperate and real, something that made your chest tighten and your breath catch.

“That girl…” he said, voice cracking, “that girl I was in love with… who I still am in love with—she’s in there somewhere. I refuse to believe she didn’t show up at the airport.”

“Heeseung,” you breathed, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Why?” His voice wavered. “Why didn’t you come? Why didn’t you show up? Why did you just… shut me out after I told you I was leaving—”

“Because!” you snapped, your voice breaking as you finally let it spill. “Because I’m selfish!”

Heeseung paused, taken aback. His brows pulled together.

“I didn’t want to get hurt,” you whispered.

“That’s not the truth,” he said quietly.

“It is,” you insisted, but your voice wavered.

Heeseung shook his head, stepping closer, eyes locked on yours. “You’re lying.”

You ran a trembling hand through your hair, your voice cracking as you looked away. “Fine! You want the truth? You really want to hear it?”

Your chest rose with a sharp breath, the words clawing their way up. “It’s because I thought… I thought if you stayed, I’d ruin you.”

You turned, eyes burning as they met his. “You were 18, Heeseung. 18. You were so smart. You had this whole brilliant, blinding life ahead of you. A future so much bigger than anything I could give you. And me?” Your voice broke. “I was scared I’d be the reason you didn’t shine. That you’d look back one day and realise you settled.”

You swallowed hard, “So I let you go. Because it felt easier to lose you than to stay and watch you wake up one day and realise you made a mistake by choosing me.”

Heeseung’s breath caught, his entire body tensing. “Why?” he asked, voice cracking, his voice growing louder each with each second passing by. “Why would you think I’d ever regret choosing you?”

You turned your face away, “Because I was scared, okay? I was 18. I was still trying to figure out who I was, let alone what I meant to you. And then suddenly I had to make a decision that felt like it would shape the rest of your life.”

You faced him again, voice rising with the ache in your chest. “You were leaving for this big, shiny life. New country, new people, new everything. And I—” You choked. “I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed and resented it.”

He stared at you like he didn’t even know how to speak. “What was good for me?” he echoed quietly, like the words were something sacred. Then louder, sharper—“You! You were! I fucking loved you so much, how could you not see that?”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when you were leaving!” you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of years unsaid. “I would’ve come. I would’ve come, Heeseung. If I’d known—if you had just told me when—”

“Yes I did!” Heeseung’s voice cracked again. “I wrote it. In the letter.”

You froze. “What letter?”

“The letter I gave your mom,” he said, breathless. “The one I—God, I gave your mom a letter. I told her to give it to you.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“What fucking letter?” you whispered.

“I gave your mom a letter,” he said again, quieter this time. “It had everything. The date. The time. Everything. I thought you didn’t come because you chose not to.”

“My mom… never gave me a letter,” you said softly, the words tumbling out like a secret you hadn’t known you were holding.

Heeseung’s eyes widened. “What?”

“If I did know, I would’ve shown up,” you continued, your voice cracking at the edges. “I would’ve told you not to go. I would’ve begged you to stay.” Your throat burned.

“I didn’t mean to leave,” Heeseung said quickly, shaking his head, his voice full of urgency. “God, I didn’t just leave. I waited. I waited until the last possible second. I looked for you until they started calling my name for final boarding.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, heart pounding. “Now I know you didn’t.”

Heeseung took a shaky step forward. “And now I know you didn’t ignore me. You didn’t walk away.”

You nodded slowly, unable to speak as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Before you could hide, before you could even wipe them away, Heeseung stepped forward and gently tugged you into him, his arms wrapping around you like they were made to.

He pressed your head to his chest, where his heart was beating fast and loud, just like yours. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other brushed against your cheek, wiping your tears.

Then, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for the shit I put you through.”

And this time, you didn’t hold back.

“I should've asked. I'm sorry.” you whispered back.

You tilted your face up to him, eyes still wet but softer now, like the storm inside you had finally started to settle. Heeseung looked down, gaze flicking between your tear-streaked cheeks and the curve of your lips, his thumb still gently resting beneath your chin.

And then you leaned in.

The both of you were hesitant at first. But the second your lips met, everything else slipped away. His hands in your hair, your fingers gripping his tie.

The kiss deepened. His fingers curled around your waist. Then, without warning, he tapped your thigh twice.

You understood immediately, jumping up as he caught you with ease. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, and he held you there, effortlessly.

Your lips never parted, not even as he turned and started walking, steady and sure. The golf course faded behind you, quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind.

He pulled back just enough to grin against your cheek. “As much as I like the idea of christening the 9th hole… I think we should take this somewhere less… open.”

-

The door clicked open behind you, but you barely registered it.

In one breath, Heeseung had you in his arms again, his hands firm at your waist, his lips crashing onto yours. There was nothing hesitant about it. Just years of built-up longing released in one desperate, searing kiss.

He guided you backwards gently, lips never parting from yours, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You stumbled slightly, gasping into his mouth, and he caught you with a quiet laugh, pressing you down with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Jongseong’s gonna have a field day with this one,” he whispered, grinning against your skin.

You let out a soft laugh. “Well, Jake too.”

He pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow at you. “Did you really have to mention Jake when I’m trying to put some moves on you?”

“You mentioned Jongseong first.”

“Yeah, but… Jake’s gross.”

“You’re just jealous.”

He scoffed. “What if I am?”

“Then you’re stupid, because Jake’s like a brother to me.”

“I wanna fire him.”

You snorted. “You can’t fire him without an actual reason, dumbass.”

Heeseung groaned, flopping onto the bed like the world had betrayed him personally. 

“This is so unfair. I fall for a girl and her emotional support dog comes in the same package.”

You rolled your eyes, hovering just above him with a smirk tugging at your lips. “Now are we making out, or are we gonna keep talking about our friends?”

“I definitely prefer the first option,” he muttered.

And then his hand slid to the back of your neck, and he pulled you down into him again, his lips meeting yours, firmer this time, no hesitation. Just heat and honesty and a kiss that felt like it had been years in the making.

-

Morning light spilled in through the hotel curtains, soft and golden, casting gentle shadows across the sheets tangled around your legs. You blinked slowly, the haze of sleep clinging to your lashes, the warmth beside you anchoring you to a reality that felt too perfect to be true.

Heeseung was still asleep, bare-chested, one arm slung lazily over your waist, hair a complete mess, lips parted slightly like he’d fallen asleep mid-sentence. His face, usually so composed and sharp, looked peaceful like this. 

You smiled, fingers brushing lightly over the curve of his shoulder.

Then you sat up. And screamed.

“Heeseung!” 

 He jolted awake like someone had lit a fire under him. “What? What—what’s wrong?”

“We’re late! The breakfast meeting!”

For a second, you both just stared at each other, completely frozen in chaos. The clock read 8:43. The meeting started at 9.

“Shit.”

You scrambled to untangle yourselves from the sheets, clothes flying across the room as you grabbed the first items in reach, your skirt halfway zipped, his shirt buttoned all wrong.

Heeseung stumbled while trying to put on his socks, nearly falling face-first into the carpet. “Why didn’t we set an alarm?!”

“Because someone was too busy whispering sweet shit in my ear and kissing my shoulder for an hour.”

“Well excuse me for being emotionally available for once!”

You both raced around the room like it was on fire, bumping into each other, yanking open suitcases, swearing under your breaths, and then suddenly, just as you were jamming a shoe onto your foot, Heeseung grabbed your wrist and spun you toward him.

“Wait,” he said, breathless. “Just one. Please.”

You blinked. “Hee, we don’t have time.”

“Just one,” he whispered, already leaning in. “One kiss.”

You sighed. Let your hands wrap around his collar as he kissed you, messy, rushed, and full of everything you’d both been too stubborn to say for years.

When you finally pulled away, both of you slightly dazed, Heeseung grinned. “Totally worth it.”

You smacked his arm. “Let’s go, idiot.”

And hand in hand, grinning like fools, you bolted for the elevator.

-

It’d been a few days since everything had changed. Since the night on the golf course. Since the hotel room. And since well, you and Heeseung had…done stuff. Multiple times.

You weren’t official but you were… together. Always orbiting each other like you were tethered by something invisible. No one knew. Not Jake. Not your team. And definitely not HR, which, unfortunately, was Park Jongseong himself, a man with a love for company policies and a suspicious sixth sense for office romance.

And so, here you were. In the office pantry with Jake, who was minding his coffee.

Jake nudged your elbow as he poured milk into his mug. “So, how was the trip with the devil himself?”

You sipped your coffee. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Really?” Jake squinted at you. “Damn, I thought you were coming back with at least three things I could use to file an anonymous complaint.”

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Y’know… actually, he’s not that bad.”

Jake slowly turned to face you. “Not that bad? He made you pretend to be a floor tile.”

You winced. “Okay, yeah, but—look, we were both kind of crazy. I spat in his coffee once, so like… we’re even.”

Jake nearly dropped his mug. “Even?” He stared at you like you’d just told him you’d taken up sword-swallowing as a hobby. “Who are you right now—wait.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, wait—oh no.”

You froze.

Jake’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. The two of you hooked up, didn’t you?”

You opened your mouth then closed it. 

Jake looked personally betrayed, “I knew it. I knew you were all weird this week! Who the hell goes to the janitor closet for breaks?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting away.

Jake’s jaw dropped. “Heeseung was in there, wasn’t he?”

You blinked.

“Oh my god—you two did it in the janitor cl—EW!” Jake staggered back like the mental image physically harmed him. “I eat lunch near that hallway!”

You held up a hand. “First of all, we did not—”

“You hesitated! That was a hesitation!”

“Jake, if you don’t shut up, I swear I’m going to tell Jongseong you said his HR memo font choice was ugly.”

Jake rolled his eyes, lowering his voice only slightly. “Fine but just so you know, this doesn’t mean I like him. He’s still an asshole.”

You shrugged, sipping your coffee like this wasn’t the most ridiculous conversation you’ve had in weeks. “Good. Because he hates you too.”

Jake blinked. “What the fuck did I do?”

You shrugged, “Exist.”

-

Heeseung sat at his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he finalised the proposal for Mr Kim. It was clean, sharp, every slide perfectly aligned to close the deal he’d been working for almost half a year. A deal that, according to the company group chat, had already been deemed one of the most high-profit wins in Aureum’s history.

He should’ve been riding the high of corporate glory.

But none of it really mattered. Not compared to the fact that he’d come back with you.

He tried to stay focused but every few minutes his eyes drifted upward, toward your little cubicle across the hall. You were hunched slightly over your desk, tongue peeking out the corner of your mouth in concentration.

He rested his cheek on his palm, watching you like an idiot. You were so pretty.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes met his, and instead of pretending he hadn’t just been caught openly simping, Heeseung grinned because ever since the two of you were unofficially official, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore.

You tilted your head, smirking. Then sent him a flying kiss.

Heeseung squealed. Audibly. And sent one right back with two hands like a dramatic fool.

And that was when the office door swung open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” came Park Jongseong’s voice, disgusted and traumatised all at once.

Right. Glass walls. Stupid, transparent, company-branded glass walls.

Heeseung sat up straight, clearing his throat. “I was… practicing.”

Jongseong blinked. “Practicing what, exactly?”

“…Nevermind."

Jongseong sighed and muttered "You're so weird,” before walking out.

Then the door opened again.

“Wait...I smell something,” Jongseong declared.

Heeseung didn’t even look up. “What?”

“A HR violation,” Jongseong said with a sniff, eyes narrowing.

As much as Heeseung loved Jongseong, god, the man could be such a self-righteous pain when it came to company policies.

“I don’t smell anything,” Heeseung said, typing without looking.

“No, no. I smell it. There’s a strong odor of office romance in the air and it reeks in here.”

“You must be sniffing yourself.”

“Oh please. This company only hires uglies.”

“You’re not the catch you think you are, Jongseong.”

“Yes I am,” he said with absolute confidence, “and I will find out who is reeking of romance. It’s horrendous.” Then, dramatically, he turned to Heeseung. “Is it you?”

Heeseung gulped, eyes twitching. “Couldn’t be me.”

Jongseong stared harder. “You’re right. You reek too much of a man who hasn’t gotten laid in three years because he’s been secretly in love with his subordinate.”

Heeseung blinked. Deeply offended, but smart enough not to give in. “Yeah sure. Whatever you say.”

Then, without warning, Jongseong spun and pointed directly at Jake, who had just walked in with his smoothie.

“It’s him!” Jongseong gasped. “He has the cheekbones for it. Look at him—he looks gorgeous. No way this man isn’t pulling chicks.”

“Cheekbones?” Heeseung scoffed. “They’re more like rotten apples. Don’t you think?”

“No. This man looks like he was carved by God himself.”

“Or the devil, actually.”

“No. Look at him,” Jongseong insisted, grabbing Heeseung’s shoulders and spinning him toward Jake. “He looks like a piece of Renaissance art with a gym membership.”

“He looks like three-day-old underwear.”

“You’re just jealous… because… oh my god.” Jongseong’s eyes widened, turning to face Heeseung fully. “He’s dating her, isn’t he?”

“What?” Heeseung looked at Jongseong like he’d just suggested he was secretly a lizard.

“That’s why you’re extra moody today,” Jongseong gasped. “Because Jake and her are together. And that leaves you all alone.”

Heeseung’s stomach flipped violently. He hated the image of you and Jake together. He hated the way Jongseong even said it like it made sense.

“They’re not together,” he snapped.

“Well, if they are, we could always just fire Jake,” Jongseong offered casually, sipping his coffee.

“We are not—” Heeseung paused. “Hold on. That’s a good idea.”

“Well, then she’d have to go too. Because, y’know, also dating Jake.”

“Oh. Right.” Heeseung grimaced. 

Jongseong raised a brow. “Not like you care though? You fucking hate her.”

“Actually, people change,” Heeseung muttered. “She apologized. She’s… not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Jongseong repeated slowly, squinting.

He looked at you through the glass. Then at Heeseung. Then at you again. Then back at Heeseung.

His mouth dropped open.

“It’s you,” Jongseong gasped, pointing between the two of you like he’d just cracked a government conspiracy. “It's you two!”

Before another word could escape his mouth, Heeseung shot up from his chair and launched himself at him.

Jongseong barely had time to react before Heeseung had tackled him into a makeshift headlock, one hand slapped over his mouth as the two of them stumbled into the corner of the office.

“Let go of me!” Jongseong struggled, flailing under Heeseung’s grip. “I have rights!”

“Not until you promise you won’t say a word!” Heeseung hissed, tugging on Jongseong’s shoulders and trying to wrestle him into silence while Jongseong kicked wildly at the air.

Outside the office, you and Jake stood with your coffees, watching everything unfold behind the glass.

Jake blinked. “What the hell do you think is happening in there?”

You shrugged, casually sipping from your mug. “No clue. Glass walls don’t help if they built the place like a soundproof aquarium.”

Back inside, Jongseong finally managed to pull Heeseung’s hand from his mouth long enough to shout, “I am a man of the people! I have to report this monstrosity!”

“Calm the fuck down,” Heeseung gritted through his teeth, still trying to keep him pinned. “You’re a HR manager, not Captain America.”

Jongseong wheezed, flailing. “The people must know!”

“The people can suck it!” Heeseung growled, still halfway wrestling Jongseong into the carpet.

“Jongseong, I swear to God, if you’re the next obstacle to us getting back together, I’m never forgiving you.”

“I—I—” Jongseong wheezed, still pinned beneath Heeseung’s arm. “When the hell did you get—so—strong?”

Heeseung didn’t even flinch. “Pilates, bitch.”

Outside, you took another slow sip of your coffee, eyebrows raised. “Five bucks says Heeseung bribes him with cake to shut up.”

Jake nodded. “Ten if it’s that strawberry shortcake from the café downstairs.”

“Deal.”

Jongseong finally shoved him off, crawling backward until he could breathe. “Okay, fine!” he huffed, adjusting his rumpled blazer. “You seem pretty serious about her.”

Heeseung straightened, flicked his collar, and gave the smuggest little smirk. “I am.”

There was a pause.

Then, softer this time, “So please?” Heeseung added, meeting Jongseong’s eyes. “Could you just… keep it down?”

Jongseong looked at him. Then at you through the glass. Then back at Heeseung.

He sighed deeply, like he was about to betray his entire code of ethics. “Fine.”

Heeseung grinned. “Thank you.”

“But the second you start getting gross in meetings, I’m reporting both of you to HR which is me.”

“Deal,” Heeseung said, already pulling out his wallet. “Strawberry shortcake?”

Jongseong paused. “Extra whipped cream.”

Heeseung nodded. “Done.”

-

You knew it was a risk.

The moment Heeseung had grabbed your wrist in the hallway and tugged you into the janitor’s closet with that familiar look in his eyes, the one that always made your knees weak and better judgment nonexistent, you knew.

And yet here you were.

Pressed against the wall between a mop and a bucket, lips tangled with yours. His hands roamed your waist with urgency, and your fingers were tugging at his tie.

“This is your fault,” you whispered against his mouth.

“You kissed me first,” he murmured back, breathless, grinning.

“Because you looked hot during the finance meeting!”

“You said profit margin like it was a dirty word!”

You were about to argue when—

The door opened.

“Oh my GOD,” Jake’s voice rang out, horrified.

“What the hell—” Jongseong's words trailed off as he stepped in behind Jake, immediately shielding his eyes with a clipboard. “I knew it. I knew it! I’m reporting the two of you to HR.”

You scrambled to fix your blouse, cheeks burning. “Jake, shut the door!”

“You’ve scarred me. I need therapy.”

“Technically,” Heeseung said, calm as ever, “we’re on our ten-minute break.”

“That’s it,” Jongseong snapped. “This is the third time this week I’ve caught you two doing something borderline illegal in the fucking mop closet. I’m reporting you. I’ve been way too tolerant.”

“How about a hundred bucks and we pretend this never happened?” Heeseung offered smoothly.

Jongseong paused. Then grinned. “Damn. Didn’t know I could go blind for ten minutes, but apparently, I can. Nice doing business with you.”

Jake blinked. “Wait, how about me? I can still report this to HR too!”

“You’re lucky I don’t fire your ugly ass on the spot.”

Jake scoffed. “I told you two months ago—I don’t want your ratty-ass girlfriend. You can stop being weird about it.”

“Ratty?” you gasped, hand to your chest like you’d just been stabbed.

Jake rolled his eyes. “You know I’m exaggerating. You’re the prettiest princess in the entire damn kingdom.”

You giggled. “Hee, apologise to him.”

“Absolutely not. He just called you pretty right in front of me.”

“Am I not pretty?” you asked, feigning offence.

Heeseung groaned. “You’re very beautiful. Which is exactly why we’re in this situation in the first place!”

“Well, then, could you please apologise to Jake?”

Heeseung sighed, dramatically pained. “Fine. I’m sorry, and I don’t hate you.”

Jake blinked. “…Thanks?”

“Now,” Heeseung said, already tugging the door shut again, “can we have five more minutes?”

“NO!” they both shouted in unison.

The door slammed shut anyway.

Jake stared at it, traumatised. “I’m never opening a janitor’s closet again.”

Jongseong nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen things. I need bleach.”

“Join the club.”

[ybklix]

hold me & explore me

༄˖°.🍂 pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

⊹ ⁺ ˳ ❀ SUMMARY: Something inexplicable has happened to you since you met that cute guy that your mind can’t stop idealizing him and imagining the craziest things, which started as a fling, in your mind is turning into something sweet

𝜗୧ ♡ genre — warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, fluff, softdom!felix, strangers to lovers, breeding kink, marking, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral sex (m rec), handjob, cum eating, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie. ೀ word count: 8.4k

♡ juno by sabrina carpenter ♡

masterlist - taglist ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

a/n: this was a felix bday fic... - finally dusted off in june 2025, the only part missing from the fic was the smut lol

You met Lee Felix the weekend you were visiting your parents because it was your little sister’s birthday party, the same period it was his, and you both happened to met at the same place for almost the same reason.

You were relaxed, you had finished your college work so you could spend a pleasant weekend at home with your family without having to stress academically and on Monday you had to go back to reality. But at that instant you were there, in line at the supermarket waiting for your turn, with your little sister next to you, curious about her surroundings, looking around and gently holding on to your jeans, you weren’t paying that much attention, but it was inevitable to see his long blond hair, his slim build with a leather jacket and the slight surprise you got from hearing such a manly voice coming from such a slim build.

It was Felix, who at that precise instant you knew nothing about him and paid no attention to. It was a quiet Saturday morning and there were still some things missing for Juliet’s party so your parents asked you if you could help them with the shopping and your sister joined you, she was so excited that she even woke up early, while you were a little tired, mentally going over your list of everything you had to buy, feeling that you were missing nothing.

The boy in front of you was about to pay, to which he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans so he had to move his jacket, at that moment, Juliet saw something that caught her attention so much and sucked in air in amazement.

“Pikachu!” Juliet exclaimed.

She had seen a medium-sized stuffed keychain of said character hanging on the blond boy’s pant belt loop. Your face burned with embarrassment, you had heard her, in fact, even the boy listened, turning to look at you both in confusion, first he saw you, with his big brown eyes and his gaze softened as he looked down and met a little girl.

You blamed your older brother for a moment, who when he visited your parents would marathon Pokemon and other anime you were sure it was about that boy with the hat, along with your little sister who absorbed absolutely everything you guys did.

The boy stole your breath, even though you experienced a slightly embarrassing moment as you were gently judged by his gaze. The boy smiled, his look seemed so tender to you, almost like he was scared and expressed ‘Pikachu, where?’. He understood immediately and shook his keychain a little, while you thought at your brother was pathetic, but from a pretty man with long dyed blond hair it was just adorable, he was ready to say something sweetly to Juliet, a girl unknown to him, but quickly turned back to the cashier who uncomfortably cleared her throat as she blushed at the simple act of seeing him again, the boy smiled broadly at her, being polite, but you could see how a big welded almost fell on her knees in her own shift at about 10: 30 a. m., by a nice man.

“Oh yeah” he spoke, embarrassed and turning to pay, handing her his card.

Felix loved children. He was a faithful believer that they were holy creatures always seeking good because they didn’t even know what evil was.

The actions seemed more tender to you, he had such a unique appearance, his features were also thin and fine, he had round but sharp eyes, freckles accompanying his face and big lips. You had seen him just that moment ago when he turned around and made eye contact with you for two seconds, you could quickly deduce then that he was shopping with his sister or some relative because she was identical to him, she had almost the same face, only with straight and neat brown hair.

You were about to think more about the boy in front of you, since there was something about him… so inexplicable and unique, but a call from your older brother interrupted you and you had to answer. And, unnoticed, Juliet slipped away, pulling off the perfect robbery of stealthily taking Felix’s keychain, he thanked the cashier and walked with his sister out of the place. You were still on the call while your eyes followed the blond boy, who only turned around, giving a warm smile to Juliet, who in turn was hiding the little Pikachu. You hadn’t turned to look at Juliet, you lost yourself for a second in the boy’s pretty look while you kept your cell phone to your ear and at the same time discharged the things from the shopping cart, thinking before losing sight of him that it was nice to see pretty people and to think for a second that attractive people just exist and walk around, living a normal life, if that’s the case, just hanging around.

The young cashier did her job quickly and you carried the purchases to your parents’ car, making sure your well-behaved little sister held on to your clothes and walked along with you, but in the middle of the parking lot, approaching the cars she again exclaimed cheerfully:

“Pikachu!”

You turned to see her as something so normal and noticed her raising her little arm while happily shaking the exact same keychain you saw the boy with a few minutes ago. You opened your eyes in fright.

“Juliet! Where did you get that? Don’t tell me you took it from that guy.”

“Duh! It was so cute, sissy, I wanted it.”

She replied tenderly with her bright eyes, calling you sissy for sister.

“Juliet!” you were about to complain to her, slightly upset for some reason, but you saw her huge eyes in her so innocent little face and softened your tone since talking angry to her wouldn’t fix anything and would make her feel bad, “You can’t do that, take things that aren’t yours no matter how much you want it, okay? It’s wrong.”

“Why? Suzy Choi does it all the time, she says you should take whatever you want” she looked at you genuinely confused.

You sighed, thinking of a little five year old girl stealing, finding it mildly funny.

“Well, it’s wrong. Tell Suzy when you see her doing it.”

She pouted, “Then what should I do to Pikachu if he’s not mine?”

You noticed her tender tone of regret and her face no longer reflected the same happiness, she was worried, “I’m sorry, Y/n” she mumbled.

“It’s okay… you should tell that to the boy” you quickly raised your eyes, in search of the blond male.

You were a bit panicked for some reason, no one wants their little sister to be a thief and you hoped she truly understood. You figured it hadn’t been long since the boy had been out and there was a small chance he was still there… plus the parking lot wasn’t that big after all and… spinning around and searching by look you saw him, his shiny hair standing out anywhere, he was somewhat withdrawn from you and was just closing the trunk of a black car, ready to get in. You picked up the key ring.

“Look, there he is!” you said to her.

You hesitated for a moment whether to give it back to him… but if you didn’t you’d keep it, or have Juliet keep it or else she wouldn’t learn a lesson, so you grabbed her arm and took the cart too. You walked quickly and embarrassedly managed to shout, “Heeyy, hey!”. The boy was already about to get into his car, you kept shouting losing hope, but suddenly, he stopped from getting into his car and turned his eyes out of curiosity hearing screams, finding you both going towards his direction and seeing him.

He saw you with confusion, not sure if it was him you were talking to, so he looked to his sides in confusion, but there was no one but more cars with no people in them. So he slowly walked to you with unsteady steps. You slowed your pace as you saw him approaching you.

“Something wrong?” he said in his thick voice, raising an eyebrow.

You were catching your breath as you were a bit shaken, plus the guy looked so good up close, sounded good and smelled good, he was just unreal up close.

“I’m sorry… it’s just… my little sister, she has something to tell you.”

To him you looked tender, trying to catch your breath, but at the same time he was puzzled, he felt a great relief to hear you say that it was your sister and not your daughter, he had nothing against that… but it was something that would be a little hard for him to assimilate, since you had caught his attention from the first instant.

He lowered his gaze, placing his hands on his knees to be almost at her height, remembering the little girl with joy and his gaze lit up instantly, you knew from the start that he was one of those sweet boys who liked and got along well with children… something extremely rare to see.

“Pikachu… I took your Pikachu without permission, I’m sorry sir, it was just that it was really cute and I really liked it” your sister stammered once she felt the older boy’s light and warm gaze on her.

He found it amusing the way she was called him sir… he was almost 24, but the innocence of children though; then he suddenly frowned, thinking internally, ‘my keychain…’ as he patted his pants in search of his object to no avail. But he didn’t see his keychain in Juliet’s hands as they were empty, because you had it, so he slowly looked up as he straightened back up, finding the stuffed animal in your hands, you blushed for some reason and just abruptly extended your arm to give it to him, while inaudibly telling him so he could read your lips a, “Take it.”

You hoped he wouldn’t soften his heart and end up giving it to the little girl, leaving her without a lesson. But, as much as he wanted to do that, the keychain was important as it had been gifted to him by his best friend Seungmin on his trip to Japan. He took it.

“Isn’t it wrong to take things that aren’t yours without the other person knowing…?” you spoke, looking at your sister and he caught on instantly.

“Ahh yes, very wrong. But I’m glad you recognized it, thank you” he commented sweetly with a smile.

“Sorry” pleaded the girl looking into his eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, this Pikachu already has a home… but maybe I’ll give you one so you can give him a home too.”

Juliet’s eyes lit up, he didn’t know why he was promising things to strangers… or he did. Children were his sensitive spot, he adored them. His dream was to have a family, to take care of them, to give them love and a home, to have children raised close to the same age range, and to be bonded like he was with his sisters. In addition to his usual job and already-graduated career, he was part of a donation and volunteer organization exclusively for infants.

“Really?” Juliet was already excited.

“What’s your name?” he leaned over to her again.

“Juliet!”

You almost rolled your eyes, because she said her name to a stranger and because she would get what she wanted anyway, as if with your parents wasn’t enough, now she would be capricious with the cute guy you liked. You wanted Juliet’s luck for a second because the guy had his attention on her and saw her so purely, making him look even cuter. But he didn’t dare to look in your direction, as you were making him nervous and shy, despite being so sociable, when he sees someone he likes… he turns into a different person.

“Wait here a second, Juliet. I’m Felix, by the way.”

You thought that, of course, the only way you knew his name was from your little sister… And Felix quickly made his way to his car, opening the back and pulling out of it a stuffed animal of the much-acclaimed character of about 30 centimeters. Juliet sighed again in surprise with her happy face and sparkling eyes. You have to be kidding, you thought, how many plushies can a man in his twenties have with him, taking them everywhere he goes. You were about to refuse the gift, but modesty did not yet exist in your little sister’s excited body.

“For me? Thank you, Felix! It’s the best birthday present!”

She took the stuffed animal as he smiled at him.

“Oh, wow, happy birthday, Juliet!” he smiled, showing his teeth and narrowing his eyes.

After that, it was just nervous giggles and your disbelief that Juliet’s cuteness has its advantages and has taken the attention of the boy you liked for a moment.

However, your second encounter was hours later, in a famous bakery. You were about to pick up Juliet’s cake since you returned to run a few errands. When you entered, there he was again, waiting behind the counter, to what he told you, he was also there for his cake because his birthday was the next day, but he was celebrating with his family that very Saturday. This time, you were alone, and somehow… you felt a spark, your first butterflies, so genuine for a boy you barely knew. It was so cute the way you both talked so little, but said so many things to each other with your eyes, and you liked him even more after the sweet way he treated your sister and how he talked sweetly about his family, you asked him how old he was, a 24-year-old man, sweet, choosing to spend his birthday with his family, you didn’t believe it, you thought it was too perfect to be true. Then he blurted out a comment that made you shudder.

“We keep running into each other, at this point, we have to get to know each other.”

And you did. You spent his birthday with a guy you barely knew, he picked you up in the afternoon and you talked for hours in a park and he took you out to lunch, which you insisted you pay for since it was his birthday, but he declined. You asked him about his plans for his birthday, to which he said that he had already celebrated with his friends on Friday and that the rest of the days he wanted to stay with his family, since he rarely saw them because of his demanding job as a systems engineer in an important company, plus he was planning to go away as a volunteer for Christmas, which hurt his mother a little, but made her happy for the big heart he had. You swore that every word that came out of Felix’s mouth made your heart pound, you didn’t know how such a good man could have been there, living his life, you wanted him for yourself, the best part was that he was one hundred percent available. The reason you bumped into each other too much was that you lived in the same area, he always lived there, or at least now his mother with his younger sister does, but your parents had just moved a couple of years ago while you were still busy with college, your stuff was the lightest to carry, your whole life now belonged to school, which you expressed to Felix and he understood perfectly the highs and lows of a college life and a college student.

You were mesmerized by him, he was so nice and cute that the first thing you did when you were at college on Monday was the tiny mistake of excitedly telling your best friends that you had met a cute guy, who was so fucking family oriented and seemed like a dream for you. And like a modern romance, you exchanged numbers and kept texting, you’d tell him you were headed to a certain class and he’d randomly send you a picture of his keyboard at work, sweetly killing you with love, you were lost, slowly not knowing how out of nowhere someone was turning your world upside down when you had no dating plans at all, but Felix…

Your best friends approved completely, they thought it was unreal the way his face was, so perfect and cute. They spent long minutes watching every post on his Instagram in detail, having a comment for every single one of his posts.

And you proudly expressed that his personality is a thousand times better, that he was genuinely a nice person, you didn’t say it, however all the sweet and nice thoughts and words were stored in your mind. For a moment you thought what you must have done right all of a sudden to be lucky enough to meet him. And the week for you seemed so long, at least Monday through Friday since you didn’t get to see each other all the time. You recognized that something was happening to you… something you had never felt for anyone else, it seemed ridiculously silly the quick way you were taking in your feelings, but you seriously liked Felix. You wanted to meet him, you absolutely wanted him for yourself, god, you were so immersed in the issue that without thinking about it you were already idealizing a perfect life with him, you couldn’t help it, he was so cute, he made you want to fall in love.

It was Thursday and he had given you little hints to know if you spent every day at the university, what times you had available and he tenderly gave you his schedule, he worked from 9 to 5 like any normal person, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays he attended the organization he was part of from 6 to 10 p.m. and usually always came to his apartment after work, on Sundays he went to church and sometimes he sees his best friends on the weekends. You almost bit your pillow when he told you all that… plus he never officially asked you out, so you couldn’t hold back any longer and told him that Saturday you would be free and could get out of the college town area and could you see each other, to which he quickly said yes.

And the day came. For you, it was one of those days that happened once a month, no, it wasn’t your period, it was your ovulation days and suddenly you found Felix 100 times more handsome than usual. You already liked him, now you were suddenly crazy about him and the silly sensations of the typical butterflies in your stomach didn’t help you much.

He invited you to a fancy Italian restaurant for dinner, you were as nervous as Felix was, who didn’t exactly know what would be the best first date so he desperately asked one of his friends and suggested a good dinner, the poor guy was looking for hours for the best restaurants and services there could be because he really liked you and wanted the best of you… as well as a good impression of him. So he picked you up outside a small coffee shop that was a few blocks from your campus. Felix was dressed in blue jeans, white shirt and a black varsity jacket accompanying his outfit with necklaces, chains and bracelets and you didn’t know how to react to it… or you did know only that your thoughts were silent.

When you arrived… he was so cute and gentlemanly but suddenly you started chatting and you had forgotten how excellently delicious his voice was, you saw his face in detail, the way he moved his lips and suddenly your senses cancelled the noise around and there was only his thick voice reaching your ears.

It didn’t feel real, it was like a dream, a perfect date with the perfect guy, like a movie. You were so used to a quiet life.

You were so focused on him, listening to what he had done in his office today, when a high-pitched noise of a boy screaming while running startled you a little and distracted you both. Felix watched him run around your table and then his mother coming after him with a chagrined face as Felix laughed softly with tenderness and his marked Adam’s apple bobbing noticeably. The young and dolled up woman carried the shaken child, then handed him over to a man who you both assumed was the father. You and Felix watched the three of them slowly leave. A nice family of three. You felt something strange, almost as if you could see your future being exactly like that, a very pretty mother. You thought about it for a short second but you thought you were thinking nonsense, then you looked at Felix, who still had his eyes averted to the direction they were going. He had a very cute smile on his face.

“They’re just kids…” he commented softly. “Only they can scream as much as they want because they don’t control their emotions yet, they don’t even know what an emotion is…” he spoke, almost in a whisper.

You smiled tenderly. “You should’ve been a preschool teacher” you added amused.

Felix was still staring blankly, until you caught his attention, turning to stare at you with his big, bright brown eyes, still wearing the smile on his face.

“Mmm, I still think my passion is technology” he answered, “But I do adore children, I want to have children, about as… as many as my future wife chooses, but I want to take care of them and raise them, that is part of my future plan” he commented, surprising you and filling you with an inexplicable tenderness and a wave of purity, if everything went well, if he could love you and continue to do it well, with some naivety you strongly desired to be that wife and mother of whom he speaks, “What about you?”

Felix looked at you gently, waiting for an answer.

“Future plans? Aham, finish college, a job, an apartment” you replied, joking with a slight tone of sarcasm, you knew exactly what he meant.

It was a very strange first date… who talks about wanting kids and marriage on their first date when you’re supposed to be so young, most your age wouldn’t even dare the thought of it as a joke. It was as if Felix had a young but pure and slightly conservative soul.

He laughed cockily for a second, making him look incredibly attractive, he was cute and sweet… but you couldn’t help but look at him with eyes of desire as well.

You wanted him now, you needed him, you wanted to kiss him and be touched by him, you hoped he wasn’t conservative at least in sex, you wondered what a night of sex with Felix would be like at the same time as a nice night spent with him, you wondered a lot about him, there were so many things you wanted to explore with him. You were horny and he made you want to fall in love, like everything had color, the flowers smelled stronger and more beautiful all around, the birds were singing and suddenly love and everything was absolutely worth it.

“I mean…” he said, but took it back in seconds, “Well, forget it” he replied apologetically.

A slight blush tinged his freckled cheeks, he got shy, because he also liked you too much and it was his first date and he didn’t want to look like a desperate nut for wanting to start a family with someone he had just met, even though he would do it with you without thinking about it, that’s how intense you made him.

“No, no, you can tell me anything” you replied softly, even though you knew exactly what he was holding back from telling you, you wanted to hear him ask you, ask you exactly what your hormonal period was preparing you for just now.

Felix pressed his lips together, licking them slightly shyly, “Do you want to have children? Sure, if it’s okay to ask” once again he blushed, nothing between the two of you was common, you wanted to have everything soon after.

You both stared at each other, hungry for each other but holding back between intense, complicit glances.

That had been a question that could define everything and something very important for Felix, if you said no, he would understand completely, he would still get to know you… but it would be a disappointment for him because he had already fantasized about the perfect image of you as a family, he liked you too much and he couldn’t help it. A wide smile formed on your face, it was adorably hot, if it’s with Felix… you could have as many children as you could raise, your parents had 3, at first it was always you and your brother… but Juliet was a miraculous oversight. Just looking at Felix and meeting him… if he is already cute, imagine having another mini version of him, to raise them and watch them grow from scratch, you would die of tenderness. You moved your face a little closer, getting completely lost in him and nodded.

“I honestly haven’t thought it through because…. I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy who would ask me such a thing” you joked, to which Felix embarrassedly grimaced, being so transparent and expressive. “But yes, I’d like to” you replied shyly.

“Good” he nodded, murmuring shyly.

You looked at him, mesmerized by every aspect of his face and said:

“You must have been a good kid. A cute one.”

He blushed again.

“What. No… not at all, I was just a normal kid.”

After a couple more conversations, Felix had a hard time talking bout love and you understood it, it was only your first date but he confessed that his parents were divorced. He said little things like he had his father’s voice, and that he and his younger sister looked like him, you walked around a bit, watching the stars between nervous giggles, and then, eight words that shook your body:

“Do you want to go to my apartment?”

After the cutest night, your mind could only think of one thing when alone. You adored that he was tender and sweet, yet mature enough to have a job and his own place to live alone.

The closer you got to the parking lot of his building, the tension between you grew more and more, it was evident that you were both thinking about something neither of you dared to say.

Felix parked his car, and as soon as he turned it off, the soft music that accompanied you both stopped. You were both slightly uncomfortable as you didn’t know what would happen next.

“You live… alone, don’t you?” you said suddenly, unable to bear the silence.

“Yes” he replied, his voice sounding slightly thicker than usual, which caught your attention, almost bristling your skin, you turned to see him. Felix continued talking, slightly nervous to have your full attention on him, “I used to live with a friend… but he moved to another apartment.”

You lost yourself in Felix again, his complexion behind the wheel, his soft licking of lips… You thought it was time to ask for something you wouldn’t regret taking a chance on, since you knew he wouldn’t say no.

“Ahh, yeah? Moved to a better apartment?” you teased him, turning your body in the seat, creating some noise in the warm, quiet interior of the car.

Felix finally saw you, your very confident posture and bright eyes asking for something… something that intrigued him, and he wanted to know what it was.

“Hey, no, the apartment is nice, do you want to go up now?”

You nodded excitedly, but sighed in disappointment as Felix quickly got out of the car. You had already visualized the steamy scene of the two of you kissing passionately and making out wildly in the car as you unbuckled your seatbelt and sat on his lap. His lap, you thought, you wanted to be there, you wanted his hands on your waist while your lips collided with his, you wanted the warmth of his body next to yours, you sighed, because you had found a gentleman who rushed to open the door for you when you were about to get out.

You smiled slightly as you entered the elevator, thinking about how someone you had just met suddenly brought all your emotions to the brink. You were excited, almost wanting to bite the tip of your finger because now you knew what was coming next.

“Felix,” you called, and he turned to look at you, his body relaxed against the elevator walls. He raised his eyebrows. “It’s a very nice date... because... it’s not over yet.” He smiled, and you slowly approached him, stopping inches away from him. Finally, you whispered close to his lips, “But you know what would make it better?”

Felix laughed, widening his arrogant smile, and looked at you intently, letting you get closer to him, leaving you just a small push away from brushing his lips.

“What?” he replied, his deep voice echoing in every part of your body, which was beginning to stir with excitement just from his presence and the nonexistent distance between your bodies.

Felix wanted to hear you say it, to sweetly ask that...

“That we kiss now.”

There were no words to describe the immense joy that took hold of his body; it had been a long time since he had met someone he liked so much. It only took a little push, a subtle movement for you to finally touch lips. The tingling in your stomach returned, and your restless, nervous hands found their way to touch his body, moving from his waist to deepen the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently stroked his long hair. Felix held you tightly by the waist, pressed his body closer to yours, and sought to move in sync with your lips.

You lost track of time. Each kiss, each caress, became more desperate and restless. You were completely surprised when his mouth forced yours open to make way for his mischievous tongue. Things were escalating just the way you had dreamed. Your knees felt weak, and he was full of surprises because, in your mind, he seemed like such a sweet and tender man. You even thought he would become shy after the kissing and touching session was over. In your mind, he respected you too much to he would stop kissing and find a way to distract you so as not to move too fast on your first date because you knew he was taking you seriously and not just as a quick fuck he could take home... or at least that’s what you fantasized about. And that was fine, you loved his delicacy. You would love for him to do that, which you could almost visualize, and you were fine with it. It would be a sweet and tender date, and at least you dared to kiss and give little hints that you want something more intense the next time you see each other.

But that fantasy was too sweet to be true. Felix was a man with the same desire you had for him at that moment.

His grip on your waist and his hands exploring your body were intense. He held you tightly, running his hands down your back, and that only made you more aroused. The throbbing in your pussy increased, you could feel the delicacy of your wetness spreading in your panties; and you discovered that his intentions were more than just sweet, more than just hot kisses involving tongues and shorten breaths, when you finally felt his arousal pressing against your body. It was mutual. His erection rubbed softly against you, almost making him tremble and moan into your mouth. Felix needs you. Right now.

Without realizing it, the elevator opened, taking you to the top floor of the building where Felix’s apartment was located.

You had to separate, out of necessity. Otherwise, you could have remained lost in each other’s mouths. You looked at each other, somewhat embarrassed at first, your cheeks turning pink, and a slight warmth spreading through your bodies. The attraction and need you felt for each other was so obvious.

“Let’s go,” Felix said, taking your hand.

You let him do it and looked at him... his hand holding yours and him quickening his pace to guide you a short distance to his door. Your heart raced even faster at that moment, not because you were going to enter his apartment and surely fuck him—although that was a big part of it—but because of the soft sensation of his hand with yours. It was so nice and sweet that you never wanted to let go. You watched him closely as he entered the code to his apartment with his other hand without letting go of you. Felix was so attractive and attentive that maybe you were falling in love.

The little magic didn’t last long, as he let go of you as soon as you entered his apartment.

“This is it,” he said, immediately turning on the lights in his home.

You stood shyly behind him and took in the place. You could see the details of a well-decorated space, decorated by his mother, who is an interior designer, and Felix mentioned that, had let her do it.

He turned and looked at you. His face reflected sweetness, his thick lips still swollen and bright pink... but his gaze was certainly dark.

Felix had a purpose as soon as he knew what you both wanted that night. His erection was bothering him and making him more and more impatient, especially when it came to you. So you saw him approach you dangerously, his thin frame breathing heavily, and witnessing him like that sent a strong tingle to your lower body. He was as turned on as you were at that very moment.

You didn’t back away, you stood still and let him grab your waist somewhat roughly. His face came close to yours, and you reveled in the sweet sight of every detail of his face just inches away from you. His freckles, his cute lips, his big dark eyes... and he said, slowly and slightly dominantly, almost making you tremble:

“Do you kiss on the first date?”

You couldn’t help yourself. His heavy breathing hit your face, and you smiled broadly in response.

“Oh, I can fuck on the first date as long as it’s with you.”

He chuckled, amused, a kind of beautiful smile, and kissed you again. This time it was more provocative at first, slow, seductive. His soft lips played with yours, but the hauntingly pleasurable sound of your mouths colliding only made you more aroused.

The kiss became desperate and dirty, and the real action began as soon as he decided to escalate things, caressing your ass and thighs under your dress. And that’s where it all started.

Felix touched you exactly how you wanted him to. His soft lips moved down your chin, your neck, your collarbones. He breathed deeply against your skin, holding back the occasional soft gasp, and inhaled the scent of your perfume, while his mouth played with you, licking and biting your skin, just as intense as you had dreamed any experience with him would be. His teeth clamped down on your neck, sucking gently but intensely enough to make you sigh and leave a red, violent mark on you.

You were his now, and that drove you both crazy.

At the same time, his hands held your ass and thighs tightly, he caressed your skin as if he didn’t want to let go, and it was just when he reached your sensitive spot that you moaned his name, capturing his attention, and he responded with intense eye contact and a mischievous, naughty smile while his mouth continued to abuse your skin. That was just an incentive for him.

So he continued, his cock throbbing in his pants, knowing that you were enjoying his caresses and his lips exploring your skin. Felix rubbed your clit over your panties, making you moan in response. He was so impatient; it had been a long time since he had touched someone like that and felt such magnetism and sexual desire, that it all built up inside him. He liked you too much, his desire for you and his high sex drive led him to abruptly pull down your panties, exposing your pussy.

Felix felt you. He pulled away from you to appreciate you, to appreciate the little mess you were, with a few hickeys on your neck and collarbones and your face, your lips about to babble his name, you biting them trying to hold back moans, your body tense, letting yourself be carried away by him, by the sensation of his warm hand, lost lustfully under your dress.

He pinched your clit, pressed it and caressed it in circles, playing with it and stimulating it as much as he wanted. Until he remembered the sensation of it on his fingerprints, until he had you completely needy in front of him. Felix kept a half-smile, enjoying watching you try to hold on to him because your legs were betraying you.

He was surprising you quite a bit. Yes, he was older than you and probably had more experience... but you never saw it coming with that sweet, handsome face, that tender appearance he always kept.

Felix could feel how wet you were, cursing and stammering under his breath. You were paradise. His fingers slid between your folds, the wet, slippery feel of your pussy between his fingers almost making him want to cum in his pants right there. He tentatively teased your entrance and spread all your wetness across your vulva, reveling in the feel of your labia and the smooth skin of your pussy. He couldn’t take it anymore, he closed his eyes deeply, clearly enjoying you, so wet, excited, and needy for him that he licked his lips and slipped two fingers inside you without warning.

“Mmm, Felix.”

A soft moan, followed by more groans, was all you could express. Your body was trembling, asking for more and more of him. His fingers thrust into you with precision, the sounds filling his apartment with vulgarity that night.

You stared at him intensely, your chest rising and falling as you took each thrust of his fingers that left you weak. Felix was enjoying the inside of your pussy receiving his fingers, which he knew would soon be replaced by his cock. He couldn’t wait, but he found it so difficult to stop touching you. Every part of him wanted to remember every sensation of you. However, in a quick and desperate move, as you mischievously and shamelessly lowered your gaze, your hands went to his pants. His erection showing through the denim made your mouth water, so you started to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, pull down his zipper, and finally pull his pants down a little.

You looked at him and then stared at his boxers. First, you caressed him through the fabric, and then you shyly but boldly slipped your hand into his underwear. You bit your lip as your hand found the rigid shape of his cock, your arm brushing delicately against the skin of his pubis, and your hand lost itself in the sensation of his throbbing, sensitive, hard penis.

Felix let you do it and looked at your tender face, excited to be touching him.

You fondled him like that at first, because you were a little shy about taking out his cock so unexpectedly, but the movements of his fingers increased in you, he was fucking you with a certain brutality in contrast to your soft caresses, and in a desperate act, you thought fuck it, and pulled down his boxers, exposing his aroused cock.

It was perfect. Better than you could have imagined, you wanted it inside your pussy right now, fucking you until you got dizzy cock-drunk.

You took his length and stroked it, not missing a single damn detail of his manhood—the length, thickness, and texture of his cock, his testicles, his perfect pink tip covered in a few shy drops of precum.

Felix threw his head back, enjoying every stroke. He didn’t lose the rhythm of his fingers working on your pussy, so there you were, both completely surrendered to pleasure, masturbating each other at the entrance to his apartment.

You looked at his attractive face, moaning and enjoying the pleasure you were giving him, but sometimes you looked down at his cock with vulgarity. You couldn’t help it, it looked so dirty, and he looked so needy, your hand moving up and down his genitals was simply such an addictive visual stimulation, just what you needed at that moment when you were so horny. Felix caught you watching him—you salivating, licking your lips, almost drooling, which made Felix smile arrogantly.

“You want to taste it, don’t you? Go on, sweetheart, do it. Get on your knees and do it right for me.”

His voice made you tremble, but it was true. You wanted to taste it, you wanted to use his cock in so many ways, sexually. You looked him in the eyes one last time before obeying him. He took his hands off you, and you felt empty. You knelt down, without letting go of his member, and with your heart beating fast, almost up to your throat, you gathered your courage, stuck out your tongue, and began to taste his cock, to delight in it, licking and sucking it at your own pace, bringing Felix to ecstasy. You felt his body tremble, and his whimpers made him vibrate with every fiber of his manly being.

He took your hair and let your mouth guide itself. Your pussy couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted to touch yourself but at the same time you didn’t want to stop pleasing Felix. He looked at you, with desire and affection, your sweet lips taking his cock, choking and drooling on it.

“You take it, soo, soo well, love.”

Felix couldn’t hold back any longer. The idea of filling you with his semen was so cruel, dirty, and so real, a fantasy so close to becoming reality if you continued in the exquisite way you were doing right now. He was going to cum. You felt him so close that you deliberately sucked with more consistency and intensity; you could already feel him, so surrendered and devoted to you, his warm cock filling your mouth and trembling for you. You were sucking him so heavenly that with a loud, trembling whimper, he came inside your mouth, leaving you with the satisfying sensation of his semen hitting the inside of your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Felix gasped and babbled.

You took as much as you could and pulled out his cock, still trembling in orgasm, causing a few drops to fall to the floor and a little on your dress. And your face was a bit of a mess, makeup smeared, his fluids and your saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, yet you swallowed his cum with satisfaction, that’s how crazy Felix had made you. You needed and wanted everything from him.

You looked back at the dirty scene of his used cock, glistening, stimulated, its tip covered in white in front of you.

“Let’s go to my room. Now.” he ordered, more seriously.

You were catching your breath, but you stood up anyway, wiped your mouth, and Felix led you to his room, once again taking your hand. He turned on the light, but at that point you were so horny, so overwhelmed, that you couldn’t admire the place. Your eyes and every fiber of your being were focused on him. Only him and an immense desire to be his again and again, to be adored, held, and explored by him.

He was so damn sensitive, but his stigma didn’t fade, not for you, not until he made you his.

Felix quickly took off his jacket, and you understood his desperation as he began to undress. You swallowed nervously, watching him lasciviously as he took off his shirt to reveal his slim build, his abdomen with defined abs, completely removing his shoes, his jeans, and every garment. You noticed that he was still erect, and that made you happily eager. Everything about him impressed you and made you so hot, like you had never been before, like you had never needed someone before. You could even feel the heat of your body, almost burning, your temperature genuinely rising because of him and the imminent connection you were both about to have.

You snapped out of your trance once you saw him completely naked, and he was already approaching you. You understood that you had to take off your dress quickly, but he stopped you, whispering in a rough but tender voice:

“Let me do it, honey.”

Felix put his hands back on your body, but this time they somehow burned more intensely on you. You let him undress you completely while he caressed you, your back, tits, thighs, and when both your bodies were finally vulnerable, ready to surrender, he stood in front of you again, appreciating you and your nude body, joining bodies and foreheads, kissing you slowly and delicately, his hands caressing and gently cupping your breasts.

When you separated, he whispered softly to you again: “Lie down on the bed, please, sweetheart.”

With your body still trembling in the same state of exquisite desire and sexual pleasure, you lay down on his bed and shyly opened your legs for him. Felix admired your naked, lying body, your vulnerable femininity exposed and glistening, ready for him, and he positioned his body on top of yours, so close and intimate.

You saw him take a condom from his nightstand, and looking so tender with his big, bright eyes, he was about to put it on.

You looked at him lovingly. He was so cute and naive, wanting to use protection when all you wanted was all his cum around you if possible, you were so feral. You were still so turned on, your chest still rising and falling intensely. You wanted everything from him, that your old thought was no joke. You wanted to use his cock in so many ways, and him cumming in your mouth was just a small fantasy fulfilled, but cumming inside you and penetrating you like that without protection was an even better fantasy.

You chuckled softly, getting his attention.

“Fuck the condom. Just fuck me, Felix. Do it now, please. Don’t you want to have kids?”

He looked at you in surprise, his heart pounding, having barely opened the condom wrapper.

“You’ll let me get you pregnant?” His voice rough, tick, he chuckled.

Fuck, creaming and filling you up would be a dream to him. To knock you off and make you his woman forever.

You nodded with a big smile and watched him throw away the condom. You knew that Felix’s children would be beautiful with his DNA. You could almost fantasize about him filling you completely, marking his territory by making you his property.

Finally, he slid his cock into your pussy. He slid into you so deeply that you both let out a sigh. His rhythm was gut-wrenching, slow and intense, sharing such an intimate moment as you looked into each other’s eyes. He kissed you and went down as far as he could, to your sensitive neck and the curve of your breasts, exploring you, tickling you with his long blond hair. Your legs and arms wrapped around him.

Everything with Felix was sweet at first, his cock and cum were sweet, his movements and thrusts were sweet, but he always increased his pace, his patience ran out and desire took hold of him, leading him to fuck you hard, mercilessly, holding you under his body while yours moved abruptly with each intense thrust and you dug your nails into his back. His grunts grew rougher, the sweet sight of his angelic face became blurred... you could reach orgasm like this, but you were eager.

“Let me be on top. I wanna ride you,” you begged breathlessly.

You wanted to try so many things with him, different positions, new dialogue, you were crazy about him. You hoped you could continue seeing him, get to know him better... or at least tonight, have more than just one round. You were so fucking horny.

“Anything you ask, beautiful.”

Felix quickly pulled out of you and in one swift movement, he lay back and you moved nimbly to get on top of him.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

You took his cock and let yourself fall gently, being slightly sensitive from Felix’s previous violent and pleasurable thrusts.

And he let you ride him, let you sit on him so deeply that you both whimpered and crushed his testicles, sliding your tight pussy up and down his length, swinging and jumping on it.

Felix held your waist while helping you guide yourself, setting the delicious rhythm. He caressed your abdomen, played with your breasts, caressing and squeezing them, took your neck and face, delighting in you while both of you made a perfectly executed mess—the sounds of your wetness, of both sexes colliding, and the gasps of both of you clouding the atmosphere.

When you felt that you were both so close, when your eyes almost rolled back, you moved closer to him, increasing your movements on him, desperate, messy. Felix encouraged you to orgasm with soft whimpers, holding you tightly by your hips and stimulating you by taking your breasts, licking and biting them as you had to rubbed them against his face.

“There you go, cum for me princess. Oh, fuck, make me cum and take every fucking drop. Oh, please, please, be a good girl.”

Finally, you reached climax, trembling and breathless, whimpering his name. He came, whimpering, just after feeling your walls squeeze his cock when you came. You reveled once more, this time in the sensation of his cock trembling inside you and his semen filling your pussy and running down the length of Felix still buried inside you.

You let yourself fall gently onto his chest, close to his neck, with his cock inside you and the aftermath of both sexes throbbing. He stroked your hair, letting you rest on him, sharing agitated heartbeats. There was so much connection between you.

“That was great,” he whispered. “Don’t you want to stay the night? We can watch a movie.”

That caught your attention. You were barely recovering, feeling every inch of you throbbing. Felix gently took your face in his hands and looked at you tenderly, with something else you weren’t sure you could express yet.

“Or we could have even more fun,” you joked with a smile.

Your gesture was contagious, and he leaned in to give you a light, tender kiss on the top of your head.

Both of you knew that night had been just the beginning.

taglist: @rylea08 @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne  @choso4u @nightmarenyxx @smuttaburger @vernorica124 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @bokkiesluv

ty for reading!

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Four

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — So, for reference, this fic is going to be "split-up" into sections of about 10 chapters per "era" of Oscar and Harper's lives. This is the Boarding School era. (YAY CONGRATS ON THE WIN OSCAR)

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They sat cross-legged on the floor of Oscar's bedroom, backs pressed to the bed frame, the pregnancy test box torn open between them like the evidence of a crime. It felt different this time. Heavier. Too real. The plastic wrapper crackled in Harper's shaking hands, slick with sweat.

Oscar kept looking at her, barely blinking. His knees touched hers. His thumb made nervous little circles on his jeans, over and over like if he stopped, something bad might happen. His hoodie sleeves were shoved up to his elbows — the arms she'd seen tense when he hauled his kart frame or when he wrapped them around her in the middle of the night, after nightmares.

"You sure you wanna do this right now?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"We have to," she said. Her throat was tight. "We need to know how pregnant I am, right?"

He shrugged a bit and then nodded. 

She got up and disappeared into the en suite, the test clutched like a weapon. The door clicked shut.

Oscar sat perfectly still.

One minute.

Two.

She came out without looking at him and sat back down slowly. Placed the test between them.

A blinking hourglass stared back.

The room went dead quiet. No words, no breathing, just the faint hum of Oscar’s laptop still open behind them, some paused video of a race breakdown he didn’t care about anymore. They didn’t look at it.

They stared at the test like it was a bomb.

The blinking stopped.

The screen cleared.

Then the words appeared.

Pregnant | 3+ weeks

Harper made a noise — something between a gasp and a laugh and a sob — and sucked in a breath like she’d been drowning.

Oscar just stared. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. That little crease between his brows deepened and didn’t go away.

She spoke first, barely audible. “That’s... okay. So that’s more than a month. Before Christmas.”

He nodded slowly, numb. "Before it snowed, probably. I think that's how it works but...”

She turned her head toward him, her face pale, mouth trembling. “What the hell do we do now? I mean, we — we used protection. Every time. We were so careful.”

But she already knew.

Oscar looked like he’d been punched. He picked up the test with shaking fingers, held it too close, like maybe it would say something different. “Not… shit. No. Not every time.” He swallowed. “That one time. In the woods. When — when it was raining.”

She made a strangled sound and curled in on herself, pulling her knees up and hiding her face. “Oh my god. Oh my god. We’re so stupid. We’re so fucking stupid.”

He set the test down like it might burn him.

And then they just… sat there. Hearts pounding in the quiet. Sam was still down in the common room, watching the football, thankfully. They weren’t gonna be interrupted. Not yet.

Harper finally whispered, so soft he barely heard her. “What do we do now?”

Oscar wiped his palms on his thighs, blinking fast. “I think— I think we have to tell someone. My dad. My mum. Or— I don’t know. Mark? Someone older. Someone who knows what to do. Because I don’t. I have no clue what the hell we’re supposed to do.”

She nodded slowly, but her head kept bobbing like she couldn’t make it stop.

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t either.”

She slumped against him, and he caught her, arms stiff at first like he was scared to touch her. Then he pulled her tighter, and she let herself melt into him, like if she stayed still enough, she could disappear.

“My mum’s going to kill me,” she whispered into his chest. “The only reason she even let me come back to Haileybury was because the school in Switzerland didn’t appreciate my disastrous STEM grades. But now... now she’s definitely going to send me away. Some girls’ home or something. She won’t even look at me. And you—” her voice cracked, “you won’t even see me again.” 

Oscar froze — then let out this breathy, shaky half-laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “No. No, she won’t.”

“She might,” she said, voice cracking. “She would. You don’t know her.”

“I won’t let her.” His voice was firm this time. Small but certain. “You’re not gonna be alone in this, okay? I swear.”

She didn’t answer.

But she didn’t pull away.

And for now, that was enough.

—

They hadn’t planned to tell him first — Mark.

But something about the little meeting room — the scribbled race calendars on the whiteboard, the faint stink of oil and track mud on Oscar’s boots — made it feel like the moment was already happening. 

Like they were mid-crash and couldn’t steer out of it.

Mark was talking logistics — camp dates, tuning sessions, Belgium travel — when he paused. His eyes flicked toward Harper, quiet in the corner.

She was usually mouthy. Annoying. Always poking at him with weird questions about tire compounds just to watch him groan.

Now she was silent. Her hands twitched on her pleated school skirt. Her face was way too pale.

Mark’s brow furrowed. “Everything alright, kid?”

Oscar hesitated.

Then Harper said, in this too-small voice, “We need to tell you something.”

Mark blinked.

Oscar turned to face him properly, his spine going straight like that would help, like he could fake being older than fifteen and three-quarters. “Harper’s pregnant.”

The silence hit like a gut punch. Not shock — Mark didn’t do shock — but something worse. Like the air got sucked out of the room and nothing had been put back yet.

Mark leaned back, slowly, eyes jumping between the two of them. “Right.” He rubbed his face, then let his hand fall. “How far along?”

"Three-plus weeks," Harper answered, quoting the test. She still didn't know exactly what that meant. Why couldn't the test just tell her exactly how pregnant she was? It was weird. "We took the test last week. I missed my period over Christmas. And, uh — I guess." She glanced at Oscar. "We don't know what to do." She admitted. 

 Mark nodded. He didn't yell. He didn't flinch. He just looked... gutted for them. 

 "Are you alright?" He asked Harper, his tone more serious than either of them had ever heard. "Have you talked to a doctor yet?"

She bit her lip and looked down at her lap with a shrug. 

Oscar answered for her. “No. We haven’t talked to a doctor yet. That’s what we do next then, yeah?”

Mark nodded slower this time. “Alright. I won’t sugarcoat it. You’ve both fucked up. Big time. This is a huge deal.”

Harper looked down fast, blinking too hard, eyes glassy.

“I’ll help however I can.” He said, but there was something tense on his face. 

Oscar’s voice was small. “We know we've messed up, okay? We know.”

“You’ve got to tell your parents. Both of you. You especially, Oscar. Do you have any idea how pissed they'll be if they find out I've kept this from them?”

Oscar winced. 

“We will,” Harper whispered. “Just not today. Not yet. I’m... I’m really scared of telling my mum.”

Mark leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “Okay. Shit. I guess I'm glad that you at-least told me, then.”

Oscar exhaled. 

Harper’s leg bounced like it had a motor of its own.

—

Harper ducked into the bathroom, saying something about needing a second. 

The office door swung behind her.

Oscar fidgeted with the edge of a packet of race notes, fingers trembling.

Mark hadn’t moved. The silence had turned tight. Awkward.

Then Mark stood. Crossed the room. Closed the door fully with a soft click. When he turned back, his arms were folded and his face was hard.

“Oscar,” he said. Quiet. Sharp. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Oscar looked up slowly. “I obviously wasn’t.”

“No. You weren’t,” Mark said, voice still low but like it had claws now. “You’re fifteen. You’ve got the most important season of your life ahead of you. And meanwhile, you’re—”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” Mark snapped. “You think this won’t affect your career? You think that this is just going to be all fun and dandy? This isn’t a movie, Oscar. This changes everything.”

Oscar’s jaw clenched. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can win races. That I want to be a world champion.”

“It changes how people see you,” Mark shot back, stepping in. “Sponsors. Teams. The press. You think the Red Bulljunior team is going to like this? You think Ferrari will look at you and not just see a teen dad?”

Oscar’s fists curled in his lap. “So what — I’m supposed to pretend it’s not happening? Tell her to— to get rid of it? Abandon her? Is that what you’re saying?”

Mark’s voice cut through him like a blade. “No. Don’t twist my words. I didn’t say walk away. I didn’t say abandon her. I’m saying wake the hell up. Because you’re not just going to be able to be a kart driver anymore. You’re a fifteen-year-old kid who’s about to be a dad.”

Oscar stared at the floor. His chest felt like it was full of wet concrete.

“I’m not leaving her to deal with this alone,” he said eventually. “I promised her that I'd stick by her, yeah?”

Mark paused, then sighed through his nose. “I know you’re not the kind of kid who'd do that. You’ve got a spine. But having a spine isn’t the same as knowing what you’re about to walk into.”

Oscar’s throat burned. “I love her.”

“I know,” Mark said, softer now. “And that’s why I’m so scared for you.”

Silence fell again.

“I’ll do both,” Oscar said. Quiet but solid. “If she keeps the baby. I’ll be present. And I’ll race. I’ll win.”

Mark just looked at him for a long time, eyes tired. “Then you’d better grow up fast, mate,” he said at last. “Because the second that test turned positive, you stopped being a kid.”

—

They sat on the floor again. Same spot as before — backs against Oscar’s bed frame, knees almost touching — but the silence was heavier now. Denser. Like the space between them was filled with invisible debris.

Outside, the sky was grey and close, clouds sagging low over the school grounds. It felt like the world was holding its breath — pressing down, waiting for them to crack.

Harper had one of Oscar’s karting hoodies on, her fingers buried deep in the sleeves. She stared at the wall like it might give her an answer if she waited long enough.

“So we have to tell one of our parents,” she murmured eventually.

Oscar looked over at her, then nodded. Slow, like the movement itself required effort. “Yeah.”

She didn’t look up. Just pulled her knees tighter to her chest and pressed her forehead to them. “I can’t tell my mum. Not yet.”

He didn’t push. He knew exactly what that meant — not just because of who her mother was, but because of what Harper became around her. Smaller. Quieter. Like she was always bracing for something that hadn’t happened yet. Like she lived half-flinched.

“I don’t even know what I want to do yet,” she whispered. “How can I tell her when I don’t even know what’s happening in my own head?”

Oscar’s voice was soft. “Okay. Fine. We don’t tell her.”

Her head lifted, eyes flicking to his in surprise. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’ll have to eventually,” he added, a bit cautiously. “But I get it. I know why you don’t want to.”

She blinked slowly. “Right.”

He shrugged, staring down at his hands like they might tell him something. “So... I was thinking maybe I should tell my dad.”

Harper’s brows rose. “Really?”

Oscar nodded. “He’s solid. He won’t freak out. I think he already knows something’s off — I haven’t been calling as much.”

“Are you scared?”

There was a pause. A beat too long.

“Yeah,” he said. Quiet and real.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. Her fingers were cold. “I love you.”

“I know.”

Harper leaned into him, cheek resting against his shoulder. She didn’t say anything else for a moment, just breathed and listened to his heartbeat where her ear met his chest.

“We don’t have to do everything today,” she said eventually. “We only told Mark earlier.”

“No,” Oscar agreed. “I know. But I want to. I think I should.” He paused, then added with more urgency, “We have no idea what we’re doing, Harper. What if something’s wrong and we don’t know it? I don’t even know what kind of — like — appointments we need to make. Or what questions to ask. I tried Google, but it’s all medical and scary and confusing.”

Harper shut her eyes. “You’re right,” she admitted, her voice thread-thin. “You’re right. Okay. Call him. Tell him.”

—

Oscar paced the length of the empty common room, his phone clutched tight in one hand, thumb hovering over the contact that just read Dad.

Harper sat curled on the couch, arms wrapped around a pillow like it was a shield. She was trying not to watch him too hard, but her eyes kept tracking him. Every step. Every pause.

“I hope he doesn’t get mad,” she said softly. “Just... be honest with him.”

Oscar nodded, jaw tight.

Then he hit call.

It rang twice.

Then — “Hey, mate.”

Oscar froze for half a second. Swallowed. “Hey, Dad. You busy?”

Chris’ voice came through the speaker, a little fuzzy with bad signal. “Bit of admin, nothing urgent. You alright?”

Oscar moved to the window, staring out across the rain-dark courtyard. “Um. Yeah. Kind of.”

A beat.

“You don’t sound alright.”

Oscar let out a breath, almost a laugh, but it cracked on the way out. “No, I’m... I need to tell you something. It’s — it’s a lot.”

There was silence on the line. Not confused. Just quiet. Just waiting.

Oscar inhaled, then forced the words out. “Harper’s pregnant.”

They hung there. Exposed. Like he’d cut something open.

He stared at the window so long that the reflection blurred.

The line stayed quiet.

One second. Two. Three.

Then Chris said, calmly, “I’m assuming the baby is yours?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said.

“Okay.”

Oscar blinked. “That’s it?”

“No. But that’s what I’ve got for now.”

Oscar turned from the window. Harper was sitting up straighter now, the pillow hugged tighter to her chest, chewing the inside of her lip.

Chris spoke again. “Is she alright?”

“She’s... scared. We both are.”

“You sure you’re alright, mate?”

“I think so.” It came out thin. Not very convincing.

There was another pause. Then Chris’ voice came firmer. “Right, then. I’m coming to England.”

Oscar’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll book a flight tonight. Be there in a few days.”

A breath.

“This isn’t something you two need to be sorting out alone. You’re just kids. Bloody teenagers — and this is a hell of a thing for you to be dealing with on your own.”

Oscar closed his eyes. His chest stuttered. “Dad, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” Chris said. “Because I’m your dad. And you’re my son. And because this, Osc, this difficult, rotten-part? This is when it's my job to show up, okay?”

Oscar pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Alright.” His voice broke. “Okay.”

“You make sure you’re looking after that girl, yeah?” Chris added, voice softer now. “I'll tell your mum; try my best to keep her calm, but expect a phone call, alright?”

Oscar turned to look at Harper.

She met his eyes, wide and searching.

“Okay. Thanks, Dad,” Oscar said, voice barely audible.

“I’ll call you when I land.”

The call ended.

Oscar let the phone drop to his side. He stood still, breath uneven.

Harper rose slowly and walked across the room to him.

“Well?” She asked, lip bitten red with anxiety.

“He’s coming,” Oscar said.

She exhaled — and then, for the first time all day, she smiled. Small. Tired. But real.

“Thank god,” she whispered, eyes wet and hands trembling slightly. “Was he mad?”

Oscar pulled her into a hug. “No,” he said into her hair. “Not mad. Just... disappointed.”

She winced. “That’s worse sometimes.”

“I know.”

He tightened his arms around her. 

—

Jane lay sprawled on her back across Harper’s bed, legs dangling off the side, face still half-covered by yesterday’s makeup. Somewhere beneath the duvet, her phone buzzed—ignored.

Harper sat curled in her desk chair, knees tucked to her chest, chewing the inside of her cheek.

She’d been quiet too long.

Jane cracked one eye open.

“Okay,” she said slowly, sitting up. “What’s going on? You’ve been suspiciously unfun for the past few days.”

Harper exhaled like her lungs were collapsing. “Promise you won’t freak out?”

Jane narrowed her eyes. “That depends. Is this about a secret sibling? Did someone die? Are you getting expelled?”

Harper stayed silent.

Jane’s face shifted. “Wait. Is this about Oscar?”

A nod.

“Is he okay?”

Another nod.

“You okay?”

A smaller, less convincing nod.

Then Harper looked at her. Eyes too bright. Lips pressed tight.

“You remember the other day? When I freaked out about my period?”

Jane nodded, slowly.

Harper gave a wry smile. “Yeah. Well — I’m pregnant.”

Jane stared. Blinked once. Twice.

Then she said, “No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

A beat of silence.

Then Jane blurted, “What the actual fuck, Harper!”

And just like that, Harper laughed — wet, shaky, half-hysterical — and started crying at the same time.

Jane flew off the bed and dropped to her knees in front of her. “No, no, don’t cry—I didn’t mean it like that, I just—you?! I always thought if someone here got knocked up, it’d be someone named ‘Isobelle’ or ‘Jazmyne’ with a ‘y’.”

Harper choked on another laugh.

Jane grabbed her hands. “You’re like… the good one.”

“I was trying to be.”

Jane groaned, dramatically thudding her forehead against Harper’s knee. “You are literally the boarding school teen pregnancy stereotype. I feel like I’m in a Netflix original series.”

“Shut up,” Harper muttered, smiling through tears.

“I’m serious. You. The broody Aussie boy sneaking into the girls’ dorm. The secret makeout sessions on the astroturf. It was all leading here.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” Jane corrected, standing and wrapping her arms around her from behind. “And I love you. And we’re going to get through this. Even if I have to punch your mum in the face. Because I just know she’s going to be a cunt about it.”

Harper leaned back into her best friend and finally let herself breathe.

“Oscar’s dad—Chris—he knows. He was... I don't know. Calm. He’s flying to England tonight.”

Jane nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

“I don’t want to tell my mum.” She whispered. 

Jane kissed the top of her head. “Yeah. We’ll save that one for when we’ve got riot shields and a legal team.”

They stood in the quiet, Harper’s hands finally still.

And even though nothing was fixed, she still had Jane.

—

The next morning, Oscar was waiting outside the girls’ dorm before breakfast. Hands in his blazer pockets, hair still damp like he’d barely slept.

Harper blinked at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m here.”

She didn’t argue. Just fell into step beside him, shoulder brushing his.

—

He walked her to every class.

Even the ones they didn’t share. Even the ones on the far side of campus, through ankle-deep slush and biting wind. He waited outside Chemistry like a silent sentinel, tie askew, eyes down.

“You didn’t have to wait,” she said quietly as they left.

“I wanted to.”

—

At lunch, they sat side by side instead of across from each other. Oscar barely touched his food, but his hand rested on Harper’s knee under the table—steady, warm.

Jane raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Sam joked, “Why are you so clingy today, man?”

Oscar shrugged. “Dunno.”

—

In English, they shared earbuds while working on essays. Some soft indie track played low enough not to distract—just enough to fill the spaces between thoughts.

Harper rested her fingers on his wrist. He let her trace the rope bracelet on his arm without question.

—

Between classes, they didn’t say much.

Oscar carried both their books.

Harper tugged at his blazer sleeve while they waited for the bell.

They didn’t kiss. Didn’t hold hands.

But every part of them seemed magnetised; shoulders brushing, pinkies bumping.

—

After last period, she looked at him and said, “You really don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This. Following me around.”

He gave a small, crooked smile. “I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to do.”

And that was the truth—neither of them did.

But for now, being near her was the only thing that made sense.

So he walked her to the girls dorms.

Waited until she stepped inside.

And only then did he let himself walk away.

—

Dinner was loud—trays clattering, voices echoing, and the sharp, mysterious scent of the school’s chicken surprise wafting from the kitchens.

Harper sat between Jane and Oscar at their usual spot at the end of the table. Across from them: Matt, Sam, and Alfie, already halfway through their meals, locked in an argument about whether a pigeon could realistically steal a car.

“You guys are morons,” Jane muttered.

“I’m just saying,” Sam insisted, “pigeons in London are jacked. They’ve got gangs. Wing muscles.”

Oscar grinned. “If I see a pigeon with biceps, I’ll give you a heads up to lock your car, yeah?”

Harper smiled faintly. Not fully tuned in, but grateful for the noise. For the normal.

She picked at her food. Not much appetite—just toast earlier, a few crackers at lunch—but now, surrounded by banter and noise, it was easier to eat a little.

Matt was telling a dramatic story about nearly being run over by a golf cart when Alfie leaned across the table and stage-whispered, “Harpy-girl. You’re unusually quiet. Finally realised you're dating the wrong guy?” He wiggled his dark eyebrows at her. 

Oscar rolled his eyes and gave him a mighty kick under the table. “Shut up, Alfie.”

Harper played along, if only to wind-up her usual steady-headed boyfriend. “Yeah. You know...it’s been a lot to work through.”

The table cracked up.

“Babe,” Oscar said, frowning at her. 

“Well,” she continued, “your hair when you first got here was a choice.”

Jane leaned in. “The mullet was honestly the most traumatic part of the year.”

“It was a phase,” Oscar muttered, grinning.

Harper let herself laugh. 

Oscar glanced at her sideways, smile quiet.

Later, after trays were cleared and the boys snuck off to raid the staff kitchen, Harper lingered at the table.

Oscar stayed too, their knees touching under the bench.

She looked at him. “Thanks for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I’m always going to show up for you. I swear.”

Her eyes shimmered. But she nodded.

And he didn’t press.

Because sometimes, just sitting in the noise with your person was enough to keep the hard parts quiet.

For now.

—

They were leaving French when they saw him.

At first, Harper didn’t recognise him; tall, neat jacket, hands in his pockets, standing under the old oak near the science block like he didn’t quite belong.

But Oscar stopped cold beside her.

And Harper looked again.

Chris.

Her stomach flipped.

Oscar said nothing. Just started walking toward him, slow and sure, Harper tight beside him.

Chris looked up. His expression was unreadable—not angry, not cold. Just… quiet. His eyes moved between them.

“Hi, Dad,” Oscar said.

Chris gave a small smile. “Hey, mate.”

Harper shifted. Arms folded across her chest. Chris looked at her properly now, and something in his face softened.

She managed a tight, polite, “Hi, Mr. Piastri.”

Chris nodded. Looked at them both again.

Then said, “Right,” and pulled them into a hug.

Oscar was taller now, but Chris still held him like he was eight years old. Harper stood stiff for a moment, stunned—until Chris gently tugged her in too.

And then it was warm. Solid. Real. Arms around both of them. Tight, but not crushing.

No words. Just the kind of silence that grounded you.

Harper’s shoulders dropped. She hadn’t even realised how high they’d been. Her cheek pressed to Chris’s shoulder, and behind his back, she felt Oscar’s fingers brush hers.

Chris finally stepped back.

“You two must be scared shitless." 

Oscar gave a crooked, breathy laugh. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Chris nodded once, his eyes crinkling. “Right. Let me call your mum, tell her you're okay and that I'm here. Then we'll find somewhere to talk." He told them, and then wandered a few steps away. 

For a second, they stood under the oak, wind tugging at Harper’s hair, the cold nipping at Oscar’s ears.

He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together without looking down. “You okay?” He asked softly.

Harper swallowed. “Not really.”

Oscar nodded like he understood completely. “Me neither.” A beat. Then, still not looking at her, he said, “But we’re going to be okay.”

She glanced sideways. “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I think... if we stick together, and we let my dad handle the hard parts...”

Harper let out a breath. Not a laugh, not quite a sigh—something quieter, heavier.

He turned toward her then, gently squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what's supposed to happen now. But I’m not, like, going anywhere. Yeah? I promise.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and for a second, she looked like she might cry again—but she didn’t. She just nodded.

Then, from a few metres away, Chris called out, “Alright, you two—come on. Let’s get somewhere warm before I freeze my arse off.”

Oscar gave her hand one more squeeze before they let go.

They started walking together across the frost-hardened grass.

NEXT CHAPTER

[retroaria]

⊹₊⋆.˚ Confessions ⋆.˚₊ ⊹

summary: the bllk boys and their romantic confessions, some are love, some are not! all of them are pretty cute though, not gonna lie…

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 💋

⊹₊⟡⋆ Isagi Yoichi ‹𝟹

isagi makes it a point to confess to you in person. he spends a few days thinking (and overthinking) exactly what words to use. he wants to make sure he can confess his true feelings and also let you know how lucky he would feel if you accepted him.

once he’s ready he’d send you a text or call you, asking you to meet him somewhere quiet, maybe just his house or yours. the two of you meet up and he’s immediately flushed. he’s nervous and excited all at the same time. he’s the kind of guy that would want to have built a strong friendship and bond before confronting his feelings for you, so he’s confident that you guys will be ok no matter what happens.

he’d take your hands in his and look you in the eyes while he confesses. his gaze would be warm and sweet, he’s just glad he could even get the opportunity to express himself to you.

“I’ve really love having you with me. You make me feel better, even when I thought I was fine before, being with you just feels better. The closer we’ve gotten, and the more I’ve seen of you and your world, the more I realize how badly I want to be a part of it.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Bachira Meguru ‹𝟹

as soon as bachira realizes he has feelings for you, he feels immediately ready to tell you. he’ll let the feeling settle for a little and try to tell you in an indirect manner. he’ll swoop in with a surprise kiss on your cheek, giggling as he watches your flustered expression. or maybe he’ll leave little notes around for you, in your bag, in your car, in your pockets, in your books, etc. they’d say silly little things about how adorable you were that day or he’ll briefly write about something that reminded him of you, maybe some mediocre poetry he thought up in his love sick state. you’d catch on pretty easily that it was bachira, and he never intended to keep that a secret.

then after a few days of messing with you, he decided he’d tell you the next time he saw you. when the two of you met up he immediately sucked you into a bone crushing hug, like he was holding on for dear life. he’d pull away, “hey cutie~ guess what…” he’d coo at you.

“i like you! Like, I really like you. Maybe I even love you. actually, yeah, love sounds better. I love you! I wanna take you on a date and kiss your stupid face. I know you feel the same, I wish you could see how red you are right now.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Nagi Seishiro ‹𝟹

Nagi realized he loved you when he began to notice how sad he would get when you leave. being sad is a serious pain for him. he doesn’t like the way it makes his brain and body feel all fried and stressed, he hates not wanting to do anything even more than he already does, yet simultaneously willing to do anything to get you back in his apartment. Nagi would beg you to sleepover every time you hung out at his place, he’d sometimes try to wrestle you into the bed. you were just so kind and warm and calming to him. he felt graced by you and your presence.

his confession would come out of him like a nice long sign of relief. he’s been having this strange internal battle between his love for you and his love for laziness. it’s a hassle to have to confess and then put in the effort to build up a romantic relationship, but in the end he decides it’s even more of a hassle to not tell you how he feels. plus, you’re so worth it.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me. It’s like I don’t really know what to do with myself. You make me feel alive. That sounds cringe. I love you, is what im trying to say. I hope that makes sense.”

disclaimer: do not date a guy like nagi in real life you cannot gentle parent this man child lol

⊹₊⟡⋆ Reo Mikage ‹𝟹

Reo’s confession was a long time in the making. he clung to his feelings for as long as he could until it really felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t tell you. he did that because he wanted to wait for the timing to be perfect. he wanted to find the perfect spot to do it, the perfect words to say, all at the perfect time in both of your lives. but of course, things rarely work out that way.

what actually happened is he blurted it out in the middle of you talking one day. you were telling him about something you were working on, something you loved and were really proud of. he was listening so intently, or at least trying to. his thoughts kept stringing him in a different direction and before he knew it, he dropped the L word on you like a nuclear bomb.

“I-uhh…Ok listen, I’m sorry I promise I was listening to you it’s just…you look so beautiful right now and you sound so cute and excited. It got me all frantic, I didn’t mean to drop that on you so out of nowhere…it’s true though, I do love you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Michael Kaiser ‹𝟹

(unless you speak german) kaiser has already confessed to you a million times. “ich liebe dich~” he’d say to you upon every parting, telling you it was simply a term of endearment. if you did happen to know what that meant already, or if you took the time to search it up, he’d be like “yeah, I said that, so what?” this man would propose to you in the middle of times square in broad daylight he’s so confident but that’s a different hc for another time lmaoo.

his confession is charming and flattering. he truly worships the ground you walk on while also believing that he’s the only one who could appreciate you as you deserve. his hands cup your face and his eyes fall warmly on yours. his voice is direct and steady. not a twinge of nervousness can be seen, just pure love and admiration. he speaks to you with a calm and lulling voice, a tenderness he only lets linger when he’s with you.

“Liebe, don’t you see how soft you make me? I’d hate for you to not realize how I feel for you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me, that is.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Rin Itoshi ‹𝟹 (i wrote so much for rin wtf)

Rin has walls that he has spent a lot of time and effort building up over the years. they’re forged to keep out anything and everything that may be a distraction from his goals, but if this is the guy you’re going for, i’m sure you’re a persistent little pest. you’d sneak your way into his life, just by being there, texting him, talking about him. soon enough you’d infested his mind as well, suddenly he’d find himself thinking of you when he least expects it.

one day he was on the pitch, just a practice game, but you were in the stands watching him. throughout your friendship you’ve done this quite a few times, so he has no reason to pay much mind to your presence in the middle of the match. today was different though, you were up close, eyes beaming at him in the center field, hands at the side of your head clutched together in a little cheer. he hadn’t done anything yet, the match just started, what were you even cheering for? it was cute, he decided. that’s why it broke his focus long enough for the other team to score. actually, it was adorable. so adorable it tugged the corners of his lips upward slightly, which he quickly moved to cover with his hand. he just threw a match and he was smiling? what were you doing to him?

after some time of thinking you might be employing psychological warfare against him, Rin decided it was time to really sit down and confront his feelings. he’d go a few days, maybe even a week or more without speaking to you. don’t worry, he was thinking about hardly anything but you the entire time.

“Sorry for ghosting you, I just needed to think about some things. It made me a little sad to be away from you too. I hate you a lot less than I hate everyone else, you know? Don’t get cocky about that. Also, don’t leave me ok? I’ll be nicer, yeah sure. Maybe I can walk you home…or something. Here, let’s hold hands.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sae Itoshi ‹𝟹

he’s way more flustered about it than you might think. he’s not embarrassed or nervous necessarily, he just hasn’t expected to feel this way about anyone. similar to kaiser, sae thinks he’s the only person who could truly love and appreciate you as much as you deserve. this typically stoic and selfish man finds himself smiling in your presence and wanting to give you everything you want and more.

your relationship until this point has been uhh… “transactional” we’ll say. the two of you liked going out and hanging out together, but no feelings attached. a few kisses were shared here and there, he’d take you back to his apartment to cuddle sometimes, but wouldn’t ever let you sleepover. eventually things started to get a little more *intense*. you did start staying over, a lot. so much so that you had a toothbrush on his bathroom sink and clothes in his closet. the first time he ever had the thought of being in love with you was when he realized his sheets always smelled like you now, and he wanted it to stay that way.

the fact that you were enough to turn his head, take over his thoughts, and make him fall in love with you feels like proof beyond the reasonable doubt that you are perfect.

“You can move in, if you want. I wouldn’t mind. We’re basically already dating, so I don’t see the point in denying it anymore. Yeah, I didn’t think it would go this far either. I like knowing you’re here at my place, with me and not with anyone else.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS

⊹₊⟡⋆ Oliver aiku ‹𝟹

“You know I love you, let’s stop pretending. Seriously, you could keep me on a tight leash if you really want. Promise, I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Kunigami Rensuke ‹𝟹

“I love you, I want you to know that. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I want to care for you and keep you safe, you mean so much to me, you don’t even know.”

i love this post so much, the nagi disclaimer i had to put, the strange onion analogy for rin, the flustered reo moment. also just isagi being here, the man that you are, Isagi Yoichi. i had so much fun making this - aria

divider - @enchanthings

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Start A New

Fandom: The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x F!Reader

Summary: In a tragic car accident, Jack loses his wife, who was your best friend, and you lose your husband, the father of your child. Now both of you navigate life together and co-parenting your daughter, Evelyn, while also trying to figure out your feelings for each other.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who loved the first part! Now here's that happy ending you all wanted...

Undeserving (aka Part 1) | The Pitt Masterlist

Jack tried to get some rest. He really tried, but he kept going over his argument with you. Did you really not see how much he loves you and Evie? Do you really not know how heartbroken he'd be if you left?

He sighs and checks the time on his bedside. It's almost noon and Evie usually takes a nap around this time. It might be a good time for him to talk to you again so Evie doesn't see if things get heated.

He kicks off his blankets and drags himself out of bed. He exits his room and heads to the kitchen. You're there again, looking at your laptop. He hopes you're not looking at apartments again, but it's likely.

"Can we talk?"

"You should be sleeping."

"I can't. My mind is going all over the place," he takes up the empty chair beside you. He glances at your screen and, sure enough, you were looking at apartments.

He rests his arms on the dining table, "Please, don't leave," he says in a broken, pleading tone.

You fully face him, "Jack, I love you. I really do, but...I feel bad. You were my Anna's husband. She was my best friend. The one she was supposed to grow old with. I feel guilty that she's not here, that you and her never got to have kids and grow old together. I feel bad for practically replacing her."

"You're not-"

You hold your hand out, "Let me get everything out...please."

He nods, "Okay."

You take a deep breath, "I feel guilty for being here when she couldn't be. I also feel guilty for loving you when it should be Andrew here helping me raise Evie. I feel guilty for taking up your space, your time. I-I feel like I don't deserve you. You're such a good, loving, caring man and I shouldn't be taking over your life the way that I've been these past few years.

"That's why I want to move out. But also, my therapist think it'd be good for us to live separately. We've become too dependent on each other because we lost our partners in the same accident. We need space in order for us to have a healthy relationship. And I really hope you understand that."

He gulps and nods, "I get it...but fuck, sweetheart. You and Evie are the first and last thing I think about when I wake up and go to sleep. I'm gonna be honest, it's gonna fucking suck not having you two around all the time."

You reach out and place your hand on top of his, "Again, this isn't happening any time soon. I still have to find a place."

"Have you looked at places nearby?"

You nod, "Yeah. I don't wanna be too far from you."

That brings a small smile to Jack's face, "That's something at least," he murmurs. He leans in and presses his lips to your head, "I love you so much, sweetheart." He turns his hand up and laces his fingers with you.

"I love you too," you whisper. You lean back to look at him, "We'll get through it." you cup his face with your free hand, your thumb grazing over his five o'clock shadow, "We've gotten through worse."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Yeah...we have."

_____________________________

In the upcoming months, you continued to apartment hunt. Jack would accompany you to provide input. You looked at various apartment complexes within two to five miles away from Jack's home.

You eventually found a place just three blocks away from him and much closer to the park the three of you frequented.

Leaving Jack was hard, but you knew it would be good for you two. Evie took it hard, obviously. She didn't want to leave her Uncle Jack Jack and her cries brought tears to your own eyes.

Jack held Evelyn close as he explained everything, "You'll still see me, honey. I'm not going anywhere. We'll still go to the park together and have family time. I'm not leaving you, baby. I promise," he holds her tighter and you see tears welling up in his eyes as Evelyn sobs, "I promise, Evie. I'll always be here for you and mommy."

When move in day came, Jack helped you as much as he could. When he was at work, some of the day shift nurses and doctors came to help you.

Robby grunted as he set a box down, "So...I heard you two confessed your love."

You rolled your eyes, "Yes. We did."

"You know, usually when people love each other like you do, they move in together. Not move out."

"We need the space and more independence. We did everything backwards, Robby." You explained as you begin to unbox the box he brought in.

"I know. But don't tell Abbot I told you this, but he's been really anxious about this. He doesn't know what he's going to do without you girls."

"We'll figure it out eventually. We've spent a majority of these past few years always at each other's sides and we weren't even officially together. It's going to be a big change, but we can get through it. After everything we've gone through, especially Jack, I think we'll make it out okay."

The doctor nodded, "I hope so 'cause now his bitchin' is even more sad and depressing."

You giggled and shoved his shoulder, "Get back to work, doc."

He salutes you, "Yes, ma'am!"

_________________________

Three months living in the apartment with just you and Evelyn was a rough start. Evie was constantly asking for her Uncle Jack Jack and you had to explain that you couldn't go to his house every single day.

Eventually, she got used to it being just you and her. Some nights did feel lonelier than ever. You had to fight yourself on not inviting Jack all the time. But so far, he'd been coming over once a week and you've been going to his the same as well.

It was an adjustment for sure, but you three of you eventually used to it.

Any downtime he had during his shifts, Jack would call you, wanting to hear your voice or see Evie via video chat. You thought things would be tense for a long time between you and he. But, thankfully, it was only tense for the first month and you two fell back into how things were before. You'd joke around, share about your days, but now it's coupled with some flirtatious banter.

It was weird in the beginning, hearing him flirt with you and you flirt back. But now it's second nature with you two. Your flirtatious banter would be silly or cute or downright sinful, but only when Evie wasn't around.

Jack: what're you wearing?

You snort when you read his text. You text him back:

You: aren't you supposed to be working?

Jack: was thinking about you and I'm on my lunch....so what're you wearing?

You take a selfie of you wearing one of his old Army shirts and reply to him with that.

Your phone suddenly starts ringing and you laugh, answering it, "There's no way I'm having phone sex with you while you're at work."

"Well can I come over after my shift and we can have real sex?"

You clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. You look beside you to see Evie still passed out after you two started watching a movie.

"Won't you be exhausted?"

"I'm wound up today and sex is a great relaxer." You can hear the smirk in his tone.

"Yeah? Says who?"

"Me, I'm a doctor, remember?"

"Last time I checked, you're a doctor in medicine. Not sexology."

He hums, "Fine. You caught me...I just miss you."

You soften your voice, "I miss you too. I miss you a lot but...this time apart has been good for me."

"I know, but don't get too comfortable. Once your lease is up, you're moving back here. Got that?"

You chuckle, "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I want us to be whole again. It's so fucking quiet in the house now. Fuck, the other day, I had Bluey playing in the background just so it feels like you two are around still."

That tugs on your heartstrings, "Jack-"

"Shit. I gotta go. They need extra help and we're already down a doctor. I gotta go sweetheart and I'll talk to you later, okay? I love you."

"I love you too, Jack. Bye." He ends the call and you lay back in bed. You bury your face into his shirt, wishing it smelled like him again.

_____________________________

It felt like deja vu. You're at the park, sitting on the picnic blanket with Dana like you had all those months ago. Jack and Evie are playing on the playground like they always are.

Dana, feeling the same sense as you goes, "Funny to be here with you guys again but now you and Jack are together. Separate, but also together."

You nod, "I know. Weird, right?"

"That was a rough patch you guys went through, but look at you now. You two have gone through a lot and keep overcoming it. Shows how strong the two of you are," Dana lifts her bottle of water as if giving you a cheers and sips from it.

You smile at the older woman, "Thanks. None of what the both of us have gone through was easy, but we did it together. Loving him is easy. I still feel sad and guilty sometimes. For Anna. For Andrew."

"They would've wanted you two to be happy," Dana says with confidence.

"I know, still doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it sometimes." You sigh, "Therapy has helped a lot though."

"That's good, honey. Really good."

"Sweetheart!" you look up and see Jack looking your way, "You want ice cream?"

"Rainbow pop please!" You glance at Dana, "You wany anything?"

"I'm good."

"Just one for me, baby!"

"Got it!" he gives you a thumbs up and guides Evie to the ice cream truck.

Dana wistfully sighs, "You guys are so fucking cute. I really am happy you two are together."

"Thanks, Dana. I am too."

______________________________

Three Years Later

Evie was at a sleepover at her friend's apartment in the same complex. So that meant you and Jack had the place to yourselves since Jack was off that day.

After a few rounds of sex, you two were just cuddling in your bed. Your head is resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around you and tracing lines along your back.

You two were laying in a blissful silence when Jack slid out of bed, "Where you going?"

"I wanna grab something from my pants," he grabs his jeans from the floor and found what he was looking for in his pocket.

He sits back in bed and presents you with a tiny box. You immediately sit up and look at him with wide eyes, "Jack..."

"Sweetheart, you already know how much I love you. There aren't really words that I can say that you haven't heard before. I love you and Evie so much. We've gone through hell and back. Our lives have been intertwined since that night. I didn't expect to fall in love with you, but I did. I didn't expect to love Evie as much as I do.

"I love the life we've built together, even though the start of it was unconventional and, frankly, extremely traumatizing-"

You snort, "What a way to propose, baby."

"Well I didn't necessarily say the words yet, did I?"

He opens the box to reveal a gorgeous ring. The cut was perfect and it was a ring you definitely see yourself wearing forever, "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Of fucking course I will," you press your lips to his and you feel him smiling into the kiss, "I love you," you mumble against his lips.

He breaks the kiss, grinning, "I love you too," he takes the ring out of the box and slips it onto your finger.

You look at how it sits on your finger. You didn't think you'd be wearing another wedding ring again, yet here you are.

You giggle and Jack looks at you, "What's so funny?"

"I can't believe you proposed with your dick out and made a comment about our shared trauma."

He shrugs, "Well isn't our entire relationship built on unconventional and traumatic events?"

You roll your eyes and climb onto Jack's lap, "Shut up and make love to your fiancee."

He smiles wide, "No need to tell me twice."

_____________________

"DID HE DO IT?! DID HE ASK YOU TO MARRY HIM?!" Evie asks as into the apartment after her sleepover. Jack follows her inside, chuckling.

You hold up your left hand, "He did, baby!"

"YAY!" Evie wraps her arms around you and then gasps. She turns to Jack, "Can I call you dad now?!"

Jack looks at you. You two have talked about it before. You're okay with Evie calling Jack her dad. He practically is.

He softly smiles at the six year old, "Yeah, honey. You can call me dad." Evie launches herself at Jack and he catches her. He hugs her tight.

It's funny. You and Jack thought you were undeserving of each other, but turns out, you were just what the other needed this whole time.

[yasministration]

snobby slytherin princess - sirius black

summary: there's something about a snobby slytherin princess that sirius black cannot resist. so when you get into an argument with rabastan lestrange and let it slip that sirius black would have a better chance at marrying you, the boy springs into action. wc: 0.8k cw: public argument, pureblood stuff

Behind the perfect poise and manners all of the sacred 28 had been taught lay a beast of impatience and sass, every pureblood child being pushed to their limits. The marauders hadn’t been expecting to watch a showdown between two pureblooded slytherins on their way to the great hall for lunch, the silence between them a tell-tale of how double potions had gone. But their boredom had been noticed by some higher power, and by some miracle, they ended up two mere meters from you as you strode away from the great hall, a very obviously panicked Lestrange following behind you.

He was calling after you, breaking into a run to catch up with your pace as he pleaded “Don't be so stubborn! Can we please just talk!?” All air was sucked out of the hallway as you came to an abrupt halt, right next to the three boys and Lily, spinning around to face Rabastan.

“You want to talk? Okay, talk!”

Rabastan spluttered, at a loss for words. You scoffed, “Or do you just want me to talk so you can figure out what you did wrong and apologise for it?” Sirius made an impressed sound, but Rabastan was so busy trying to climb out of the grave he dug himself that he didn’t even notice. But it was hopeless; he had crossed the line and had veered into the dangerous terrain of your honest opinions.

“Rabastan, I am not marrying you. Go cry to daddy about it. He’ll have another wife lined up for you by tomorrow night.”

If the marauders weren’t already frozen with shock, they would be now. They had matching expressions on their faces, jaws slack, eyes wide. Sirius, as much as he loved listening to pureblood drama, had no idea about your engagement. Or, your arrangement, should he say.

“But I don’t want another wife, I want you.” It was a desperate attempt, but Rabastan trusted his acting skills. Rabastan’s father would kill him if he knew his son’s behaviour drove the perfect suitor away. Luckily for you, you saw right through him.

You doubled over, a loud laugh escape you, eyes still filled with rage. “No, you don’t! Oh my god! I’d have chosen your brother if I knew how disgusting you were!” Rabastan stumbled back from the force of your words, as though you had struck him. His brother? He didn’t know you or your parents had been given options. He thought his parents had decided to guide you towards the better Lestrange brother — him. He didn’t know that his parents wanted you to marry either one of them.

Shit, he really messed up.

Rabastan stepped closer to you, eyes pleading. He didn’t care how much more he humiliated himself in front of his rivals, he just had to avoid humiliating himself in front of his father. “Just give me one chance, just one.” Your eyes followed the movement of his hand, reaching out to hold yours. Laughing uncomfortably, you reached down with your free hand to remove Rabastan’s hold from you.

“You already had one chance. What, did you think this engagement was actually secured?”

Tilting your head to the side, you held Rabastan’s eye contact, as though challenging him to say another word to you. When he said nothing, you nodded, adding as the final straw “Even Black stands a better chance at this point.”

Rabastan laughed coldly, his innocent front now forgotten as he said “Yeah, Regulus two years younger stands a better chance. Sure.” You smiled sweetly at Rabastan, shaking your head. “No, Rab. Not Regulus.”

You heard Rabastan’s breath hitch in an embarrassing gasp as you spun around on your heels and continued down the hall — but not without catching Sirius Black’s eye first. He was fixing his posture, rolling his shoulders back and clearing his throat. He felt his cheeks go hot at your comment, head turning to follow your disappearing figure.

“Shit, there’s just something I love about a snobby slytherin princess.” His friends’ heads shot towards him, Lily’s face shocked whereas Remus and James both held amused smirks. But just as he stepped aside to follow you down the hallway, two more women made their presences known.

Rabastan turned to face Narcissa and Pandora, throwing his head back as he said “I messed up so bad.” The two women didn’t spare him another glance as they strutted past him. “Yes, you did Lestrange.” Narcissa called out, quickly followed by Pandora’s comment of “And daddy won’t get you a new wife with that attitude!”

“Cissy, you think I can bag her?” Yelled Sirius to his cousin, who very briefly turned her attention to him, shrugging her shoulders. “You know she does quite like a rebel.”

And then, “Not a disrespectful scumbag, Rabastan.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-f017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @why-am-i-like-this18, @theoraekenslover, @animalcrossingshameless, @azure-drag0ness, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @cakiebleh, @slytherin-princess-x, @daydreamandforget, @bxuzi, @dlljdhsh, @5sospenguinqueen, @aouoo, @spider-girl , @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx

[soaps-mohawk]

Pre-Dinner Activities

Summary: Simon is horny for his wife. That's it. That's the plot.

Pairing: Simon x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ explicit sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, Simon is a little shit

A/N: I saw a post about writing filthy smut and posting it today so people have to read it while at dinner with their families. So Happy Thanksgiving for those of you in America, and for those of you not, uh Happy Thursday/Friday whatever day it is for you. This is shit, I wrote it yesterday, but enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Simon, we’re going to be late.” 

“There’s traffic this time of night.” He says, ignoring your protest as he kneels down behind you. “Can come up with a believable excuse.” 

“I’m not going to dinner with your parents looking like I’ve been fucked three ways to Sunday.” You say, finishing your mascara. 

“That’s what makeup is for.” Simon mumbles, hiking your dress up around your hips. 

“I already did my makeup.” You say, grunting as he pushes you up against the bathroom sink.

“You can touch it up.” His lips brush your inner thigh, his fingers slipping around the hem of your panties. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t get turned on every time we go out to dinner.” Your voice gets breathier as his face pushes up between your legs. “Guess this is better than fucking in the parking lot after.” 

Simon hums, the sound vibrating against your pussy as he mouths at your folds. “That’s definitely happening too.” 

Your complaint is cut off by a breathy moan as he drags his tongue through your wet slit. Despite your protests you can’t deny how wet the anticipation of his mouth on you has made you. 

“Fuck.” You breathe, leaning further over the counter as he pushes further between your legs. “You’re going to suffocate yourself.” 

“Good.” His voice is muffled as he presses further between your thighs, sucking your clit between his lips. 

Your panties are looped around one ankle, giving you room to spread your legs for him. Those big hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you back against his face. His lips suckle at your clit, and you know he’s getting absolutely drowned by the slick dribbling out of you.

He offers up no complaint though as he drags his tongue across your clit, his nose pressing against your folds. He draws circles around the sensitive bud, his mouth slurping at the slick starting to seep out of you. 

“Fucking hell, Simon.” You moan, your legs jerking as he scrapes his teeth against the underside of your clit. 

He lets out a muffled grunt, his tongue alternating between circles and teasing flicks against your clit. You’re going to cum and fast with how worked up he’s making you. He loves eating you out, his head between your thighs every chance he gets. He just loves you in general, but he also loves your pussy. 

“Fuck,” You moan as his tongue flicks across your clit. He’s groaning into your pussy, the sound vibrating through your slick folds. 

He pulls away just slightly from your clit, just enough to drag his tongue through your folds again. “Gonna cum?” He asks, his voice still slightly muffled. 

“Yeah,” You breathe, dropping down onto your arms on the counter as you push your hips backwards into his face. 

He uses the new position to his advantage, sucking hard on your clit. Your hips jolt from the pleasure, needy moans leaving your lips as you lay there against the counter. 

Your knees buckle as he continues to suck hard on your clit, his pleased groans vibrating through the sensitive bud. You're so close, your orgasm rapidly approaching. 

You’re right there, right on the edge of your orgasm when he pulls away, completely withdrawing himself from between your legs. You let out a disgruntled whine, lifting your head to stare at him in the mirror as he pushes himself up to stand. 

“What the fuck Simon!” You say, watching him as he frantically undoes his belt. 

“Can’t stand it any longer.” He shoves his pants and briefs down, his cock rock hard and angry red. 

He doesn’t give you any warning before he’s pushing into you, splitting you open around his thick cock. His hand pushes against your upper back keeping you pinned as he begins to snap his hips against your ass. 

“We’re really going to be late now.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his, meeting his thrusts. 

“Can’t show up to dinner with my parents with a raging boner.” He says. 

“I could have given you a hand job in the car on the way.” You whine. 

“Can’t show up with cum on my pants either.” He grunts, pushing his cock as deep as he can inside of you. “Much prefer this anyway.” 

“Damn it, Simon.” You groan as he shifts his hips, dragging his cock against that spot inside of you. 

“You fucking love it.” He grunts, his hands dropping to your hips. 

He's not wrong. 

His thrusts are rough and sharp, pointed with a purpose. His cock drags along that spot inside of you with every thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the orgasm you were denied just a few moments ago. You’re not going to last much longer, not with his cock bullying itself into you like that. 

“Fuck, fuck-” Your back arches, pushing your hips back against his. He keeps the pace, thrusting into you hard and fast as you cum around him, gushing all over his cock. 

“Fucking beautiful.” He groans, his eyes cast downward at your ass as his thrusts start to get sloppy. 

You watch in the mirror as he gets closer and closer to the edge, his eyes still cast downward, his lips parted as he breathes. There’s sweat beaded on his forehead, dampening the edges of his hair. You’ll have to fix that. 

His head tilts back as he cums, exposing the column of his throat. You want to sink your teeth into his skin, but that’ll be for later. He cums inside of you, filling you up with hot spurts of his seed, his hips pushed right up against your ass. He grinds against you a couple of times before folding himself over you. 

His hands come to rest on the counter on either side of you, his gaze locked with yours in the mirror. “Think it’s too late to cancel?” 

“Yeah.” You breathe, reaching for a tissue to dab at the sweat beaded on your own forehead. “We’ve already cancelled twice.” 

“Fuck,” He breathes as he slips out of you. “You’re right.” 

“We need to leave like five minutes ago.” You say, quickly fixing your makeup as he helps you back into your panties. 

His hand cups your pussy as he pulls them up, his fingertips applying gentle pressure to your clit. “Keep that in there for later.” He grins, nipping at the skin behind your ear. 

“Fine,” You give him a pointed look through the mirror. “But we’re going to dinner with your parents, so no fingering me under the table this time.”

As always, if you'd like to be notified of any new stories, please follow HERE and turn on notifications.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤEASTER SPECIAL: PAW PRINTS * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where Matt and Y/N spend the early hours of Easter creating baby powder bunny prints on the living room floor and biting into carrots, just to make sure their daughter has the best Easter morning.

FEATURING　dad!Matt Sturniolo x reader��REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Happy easter to everyone who commemorates it 🤍✨️

1:07 AM - Sunday, April 20th

The house was finally quiet.

Well... mostly.

Y/N slowly tiptoed down the stairs, one hand on the wall to steady herself in the dim, cozy glow of the hallway nightlight. Her sock-covered feet barely made a sound on the steps, the wood creaking only the tiniest bit under her weight.

She took it slow - real slow - because she’d just spent the last thirty minutes doing the most exhausting, soul-sucking, patience-testing thing known to parents, putting a toddler to sleep.

And not just any toddler. Their toddler. Three years old. Full of personality. With curls that never stay tamed and a voice that could rival a megaphone at bedtime.

But she was finally asleep.

After four stories, two songs, a stuffed bunny hunt, and one mini meltdown about how she "NEEDED her sparkly Easter socks or the bunny would skip their house".

Y/N was drained.

But as she reached the last step, her tired eyes blinked, adjusting to the soft light of the living room, and what she saw instantly erased all of her exhaustion.

There, standing on the hardwood floor, was Matt.

Messy brown curls flopping down into his eyes. His favorite red sweater - that she was 99% sure had been balled up on the laundry chair an hour ago - now pulled over his tall frame, wrinkled and crooked at the collar like he’d thrown it on in the dark. His black sweatpants hung low on his hips, one leg slightly tucked into his sock without him even noticing.

He looked so sleepy.

Like, painfully sleepy. Eyes heavy. Shoulders low. But he was moving around with purpose, his hands busy with a bottle of their daughter’s baby powder, a half-eaten carrot, and the softest little bunny ear headband looped around his wrist.

Y/N squinted.

"Matt?" She whispered, barely above a breath.

He jumped a little and spun around with big blue eyes like he’d been caught breaking into his own house.

"Shit- you scared me, angel." He whispered back, his voice all raspy and deep and tired.

"What... what are you doing?" She asked, tiptoeing closer, trying not to laugh.

Matt looked down at his hands, then at the floor in front of him. There was a perfect trail of tiny powdery bunny prints starting at the kitchen door, leading all the way toward the couch. Some were tilted like the bunny had hopped, some overlapped like it got excited. He had obviously made them with his own feet and hands, dipped in powder.

"I’m... making evidence." He shrugged.

Y/N tilted her head.

"Evidence?"

"That the bunny was here." Matt said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, holding up the carrot like a prop. "She’s gonna freak out when she sees it. You think it looks real?"

Y/N blinked at the mess on the floor. The powdery mess. His hands were literally coated in white. So were his feet. His sweater had smudges, too. His hair was sticking up in four directions. And yet, she felt her heart melt right into the floor.

"You stayed up for this?"

Matt nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I mean... she’s been talking about it all week. I told her the Easter Bunny leaves footprints. You should’ve seen her face when I said that. I couldn’t-" He yawned mid-sentence. "I couldn’t let her wake up and not find anything."

Y/N smiled, her eyes softening. She walked over and gently grabbed the carrot from his hand, inspecting the bite marks in it.

"Did you really nibble it?"

Matt looked mildly offended.

"Duh. You think the bunny would leave a full carrot behind?"

She snorted, covering her mouth to avoid waking their daughter.

"You’re such a dork."

"You married this dork." He mumbled sleepily, stepping in baby powder again and crouching down to press another bunny paw onto the floor.

"I did." She whispered, crouching beside him. "And I’d do it again. Especially if I knew you’d look this cute at 1am while preparing our house for Easter morning."

He glanced at her sideways.

"You think this is cute?"

Y/N reached up and gently brushed some powder off his cheek, smiling with the little scrunch his nose instantly created.

"Absolutely. You look like the world's most exhausted Easter Bunny."

Matt leaned in closer, nose almost brushing hers.

"Might be. Definitely the hottest one, though."

She giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back on her heels.

"Okay, lemmd help. Gimme the powder."

It didn't take any second thought from Matt. The next minute, they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, whispering quietly about their day, dipping their hands and feet into the baby powder and making more tracks. Matt would press one paw down, and Y/N would do the next.

At one point, Matt reached over and smeared powder across her forearm, and she gasped like she'd always do when he threw snowballs at her on winter mornings.

"You wanna start a war?" She whispered playfully.

"Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time." He grinned.

They were careful. Matching the spacing, tilting the paws slightly, even leaving a few little white "fur" smudges on the baseboards like the bunny had rubbed against them.

They placed her Easter basket beside the couch, overflowing with chocolate, candy, plushies, and one little sparkly egg with a note tucked inside that read:

"Thanks for the socks. I love them.

Hoppy Easter!

- Mr. Bunny"

By the time they were done, Matt had powder on his neck, Y/N’s black leggings were speckled white, and the kitchen smelled like baby lotion. They stood in the middle of their living room at 1:38am, looking down at the chaos they created like two kids who just got away with something.

"She’s gonna scream when she sees this." Y/N whispered.

Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"She definitely will."

Y/N looked up at him, and he looked down at her with the most soft eyes, a sleepy smile taking over him pink lips.

Matt reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You did good today." He murmured.

"So did you."

He pressed a kiss to her lips, heavy eyelashes brushing against her cheekbone.

"Let’s go to bed before she wakes up at 6am and demands chocolate for breakfast."

Y/N groaned, already dreading it.

"Please, no. I need, like, five more hours of sleep, or I’ll turn into a ficking villain bunny."

"Too late." Matt grinned, guiding her toward the stairs. "You already married me. That makes you the main character and the villain."

"Shut up, Easter Bunny."

They walked up the stairs holding hands, powdery footprints behind them, and carrot crumbs on the floor.

7:12 AM - Easter Morning

"Mommy!"

"Daddy!!"

"MOMMY DADDY COME LOOK!!"

Y/N jolted awake first, instinctively reaching across the bed to Matt, who was already halfway sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Was that her?" He mumbled, voice thick and scratchy with sleep, fingernails scratching his beard covered jaw.

Y/N blinked.

"She’s... shouting?"

Before either of them could fully process it, their daughter burst through the bedroom door with a slam, her tiny pink pajama set covered in glittery bunnies and one sock halfway off her foot. Her curls were a disaster. Her face was glowing.

"HE CAME!" She screamed, full volume, absolutely breathless.

Matt sat up straighter.

"Who came?!"

"THE BUNNY!" She shrieked, bouncing in place like her little body couldn’t physically contain the excitement. "THE EASTER BUNNY! HE WAS HERE! HE WAS HERE, DADDY!"

Y/N pressed a hand to her chest, trying not to laugh, feeling her heart melt with the genuine smile on her daughter's face.

"What?? Baby, what do you mean?"

"There’s FOOTPRINTS!!" She gasped, eyes so wide they barely blinked. "And a carrot with BITES! And a note! And he said thank you for my socks! HE KNEW I gave him the socks! He actually KNEW!"

Matt dramatically gasped.

"No way."

"Yes way! Come see! Come see right now! I didn’t even open my basket yet ‘cause I needed you to see the proof first!" She yelled like it was an emergency.

Matt threw the blanket off with fake panic.

"Okay, okay, okay! We’re coming!"

Y/N was already getting out of bed, tying her soft beige robe around her waist, trying not to laugh as their daughter literally sprinted out of the room again. Her little feet slapped the floor with speed that didn’t match her size.

"IT’S REAL! I TOLD YOU IT’S REAL! I’M GONNA DIE!!"

Matt looked at Y/N, eyes half-closed, hair a mess.

"She said she’s gonna die."

Y/N bit her lip, grinning.

"You made her whole universe."

Matt walked to her with gentle steps and kissed her cheek, his beard tickling her soft skin.

"We made it."

They followed the giggles and gasps downstairs.

And there she was. Standing in the middle of the living room. Hands in the air. Eyes sparkling. One finger pointing at the powdery footprints and the messy trail leading to the half-nibbled carrot beside the basket.

"LOOK!" She shouted, turning to face them with her arms out like she had just discovered treasure. "LOOK WHAT HE DID! HE HOPPED RIGHT THROUGH OUR HOUSE! AND THEN HE ATE THE CARROT! DADDY, HE ATE IT!!"

Matt gasped again and dropped to his knees beside the scene, his legs cracking with the movement.

"This is some serious bunny activity."

"I know!!" She yelled, practically vibrating. "He even LET IT ON THE WALLS! That means he was REAL FLUFFY!"

Y/N knelt beside them both, brushing hair out of her daughter’s face and smiling so big her cheeks hurt.

"And he left you something too, huh?"

Her daughter’s eyes widened all over again, and she spun toward the basket.

"MY BASKET!!"

She tore into it like her life depended on it, candy flying, plushies squeaked, glitter eggs cracked open. But the loudest gasp came when she saw the note inside the shiny sparkly egg.

She clutched it like it was a signed autograph.

"He WROTE TO ME! With his paw-hands! Bunnies don’t even write, but he DID!"

Matt dramatically leaned in.

"He must’ve learned just for you."

Her eyes filled with wonder.

And then, with her curls bouncing and her whole body shaking with joy, she launched herself at Matt, wrapping her arms around his neck so tight he almost tipped backward.

"Thank you, daddy." She whispered.

Matt blinked.

"What?"

She looked up at him with a shy, soft smile.

"I know you helped him create this big, big plan. You're his bestest friend, right?"

Y/N's heart squeezed.

Matt pulled her in close and kissed the top of her head.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Bunnies never tell."

Y/N scooted close and wrapped her arms around both of them.

"We need to call uncle Nick and uncle Chris!"

© vanteguccir

[keirareidss]

father figure - a.h

♡ summary: reader has never had a good relationship with her father, so when hotch shows up for her, she's not quite sure what to do pairing: father figure!aaron hotchner x fem!artist!reader (platonically!) warnings: reader has a bad relationship with her family, crying, tooth rotting fluff, inspired by the episode in the office where Michael goes to Pam's art show wc: 1.5k

You sat on the plane wringing your hands anxiously. The team had just finished a big case in Orlando. It wasn't as bad as usual, leaving the team tired but not traumatized. You were nervous for your art show coming up at the local exhibition hall. You wanted the team to come and see your art because you didn't have anyone else to show up for you. Your family never supported your art, your mom claiming that it just distracted you from your schoolwork and your dad saying that you'll never go anywhere in life. Just ask them. Just ask if they want to go. Just ask.

"Hey-" You cut yourself off, clearing your rough throat. "Uh, does anyone want to come see my art show this weekend?" You asked the team.

"I can appreciate good art." Rossi smiled, reliving some of the tightness in your chest.

"Ooh, I am definitely in." Penelope chimed in.

"I'll try to come." JJ said, glancing at you for a second before going back to typing on her phone.

"Great, I'll uh- I'll text you guys the time." You said, feeling a lot lighter than before. Your team would support you. They were like your family. Of course they'd say yes, they're all great people.

You couldn't wait for your art exhibit. You've been doing art since you were young, a way of coping with your... family problems. It was, as your therapist said, a way to process your emotions. You expelled what you felt onto the canvas and once you were done, being able to step back and look at the piece as a whole, it felt good. Relieving.

Once you got back home, you texted the BAU group chat the time and place of your exhibition. You could barely sleep that night, anxious for the weekend.

It was crowded. Crowds make you anxious. You couldn't help it. Maybe it stemmed from the time your parents left you at the mall and you waited in the crowds of people for them to come back. It took over an hour for them to realize you were even gone.

You looked around the art exhibit, hoping for any glimpse of your friends. After an hour had gone by, you were leaning against the wall, insecurely tugging at your dress. Were you too dressed up? Everyone else was wearing jeans. Was the hem of the dress too short? You were feeling entirely self conscious and it sucked. So far, only two people have come up to completely see your work. One, a sweet old woman who complimented you art and the second, a couple whose conversation you overheard when coming back from the bathroom.

"It just feels bland. Like, there's no emotion."

"Yeah, I get that. Like if you're not even going to try, then why make art in the first place."

"Honestly." He rolled his eyes and they walked away from your art. You crossed your arms over your body.

After nearly three hours and no other visitors, you decided to give up. You pushed off the wall, turning to take down your failed art exhibit when you heard a voice behind you.

"Am I late?" You turned to find Hotch, dressed more casually than at work but still made up nicely. "I'm sorry, Jack didn't want to go to bed." He gave you an apologetic smile. "Did everyone else already leave?" He asked when you didn't say anything.

"Um..." His gaze moved to the art pieces behind you.

"Wow. Are these yours?" He asks, stepping closer to look at your art.

"Yeah." You said dumbly.

"They're amazing. I bet Rossi liked this one, huh?" He chuckled, pointing to one of your pieces. You stayed silent. "These are really good. You're very talented." He said, turning to you with a soft smile.

"Thank you." You stammered out. His expression fell slightly.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, noticing your shifty demeanor.

"No. No, I'm fine." You said. Hotch looked around, noticing how empty the exhibit seemed, many of the guests having cleared out by now.

"Has it been this empty the whole time?"

"No, it was a lot busier earlier in the night."

"Did you get a lot of guests?" He asks, his head tilted slightly.

"Uh... a few." You lied. Hotch stared at you for a few seconds and you immediately knew he was profiling you. Before you could tell him to cut it out, he spoke.

"None of them showed up, did they?" He asked and you knew he was talking about the team.

"Um..." You trailed off and Hotch sighed.

"I'm sorry." He began to apologize and you shook your head.

"Oh, no, it's fine."

"They shouldn't have stood you up-"

"No, really, it's- it's fine." You said, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from his pity. He says your name in that gentle way of his that always makes your eyes well up with tears. "I'm used to it."

"That makes it worse." Hotch said, his voice incredibly soft.

"I'm fine." You chuckle wetly, surprised at how quickly you started to get emotional. He steps closer, putting a gentle hand on your arm. "It's okay." You said, blinking quickly to push the tears back. You look down at your shoes, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh, honey." Aaron pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Your arms circle his torso, burying your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry." You cried.

"Sweetheart, why are you sorry?"

"... I don't know."

"It's okay." Hotch holds you tight, letting you cry into his chest. Once your eyes were dry, you pulled away, wiping your cheeks and looking guiltily at the small stain on his shirt from your tears.

"Sorry." You mumbled.

"It's alright. I'm sorry no one showed up. They're missing out." You just waved him off but he continued. "Really. Your art is extraordinary."

"Thank you." You murmured. "But, um, I think I'm just going to go." You said, moving to take your art down.

"Let me help you." Hotch said. He was extremely careful when peeling your pieces off the wall. You packed them all up and carried your bags out, Hotch insisting to take some of them. He held the door for you like a gentleman and stood on the sidewalk with you. "Did you drive here?"

"Uh, no, but I'll get an Uber or something." You said, attempting to get your phone from your purse.

"No, let me give you a ride. Please."

"Oh, Hotch, no-"

"Please. It's the least I can do." He was already putting your bags into his backseat. You sighed and got into the passenger side. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Aaron spoke up again. "If I may... why didn't your family come?" He asks, wincing immediately as he realized how nosy he was being. "I'm sorry, that- you don't have to answer that, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no. It's fine. Um... my parents haven't always been very supportive of my art. They always said it would take me nowhere in life."

"I'm sorry."

"No, please, it doesn't matter. They were right." You stared out the window, avoiding his gaze. Hotch didn't know what to say. He'd had his fair share of family troubles, sure, but they were his. He could deal with them internally. He hasn't had much experience with comforting other people in this area. He'd always wanted to make sure that his own son, Jack, never felt that way towards him. He needed to be better than his own father.

"I'm sorry." He says your name reverently. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that and I'm sorry you don't think you're good enough. You are. Your work is amazing. Excuse my language but, it was shitty of the team to not show up for you when you needed them."

"It's fine. They're probably just busy." Aaron shakes his head.

"You don't always have to brush everything off. I know you think that if you act like you don't care it won't matter but I also know that you still feel it. Deep down, you're still disappointed." Your eyes were welling up again. Hotch reached over the console to take your hand in his, squeezing it. You stayed silent until the car pulled up outside your place. You got out, grabbing your stuff from the backseat. Hotch got out as well, pulling you into a hug. "I'm proud of you." He murmurs into your hair. "I'm so proud."

[hattersrabbit]

FAMILIARITY

absolute trinity x reader | sfw

CW! gn! reader, slight angst, character x reader romantically involved, multiverse shenanigans, drabbles, spoilers for absolute comics

Summary! Absolute Trinity meeting their s/o from the mainstream universe

BATMAN

"Bruce..."

His name was soft off your lips. The heat was hot on her skin as you looked up at the tank of a mine in front of you. The Batman from your home was less big, actually a lot.

"You know me...?" His voice felt hostile. Albeit it wasn't your Bruce it was him. He was big and still handsome. "You’re different from where I know you." You smiled at him.

He was still confused it seemed.

"You can take off your mask, Bruce." You asked hesitantly.

"How can I trust you?" His lips morphed into a scowl.

You faltered but you raised your head, “I’m not sure what’ll make you trust me, but I do know your parents would be very proud of you. I know that, and my version of you knows that. Even if he doubts it.”

Bruce stared at you blankly. His giant hand raised to bull down his cowl to reveal a very young man with still some wonder in those eyes. Short black hair and baggy eyes.

You stepped forward and cradling his face between you hands. Bruce didn’t know why but he allowed you himself to lean down for you.

“You’ve been working hard.” You smiled quite sadly, “Things never change do they.” You said it like it was a fact instead of question.

He titled his head with narrowing eyes. “The other you is rich, but also just as sad. He works so hard and is always blaming himself. Doing everything to make sure Gotham thrives. Things never change.”

He nodded. His blue eyes blanking as they stared at you. Only seeing love in those eyes of yours. No matter what he’s done, or perhaps violent, whether it was him or the other him you’d love him.

“He treats you good?”

“Always. He cares too much, so much it’ll kill him if he’d ever to lose me or anyone else he cares about.” You reassured.

Bruce found himself thinking that when he met his world’s you he’d protect you too. If this was you and your original then he’d protect you too.

Yeah, he couldn’t lose anyone else otherwise he’d lose it too.

WONDER WOMAN

“Woah you’re so tall and pretty!” You giggled when looking up at the woman with flowing dark hair, blue eyes, and red tattoos.

Diana, but not your Diana. Someone who belonged to the darkness, but good. She was intimidating but she was warm like the sun. Just like your Diana.

“Why thank you.” It was her, definitely. “You’re not from here. You came through with magic. May I ask how that happened?” She mused with a tiny laugh as you got a look at her prosthetic arm.

“A man named Savage made a device that sent people to different universes. It broke in the fight and I got sucked in.”

You played with the parts of your hero costume as you stared up at her tall stature. “My Diana, she tried to save me but couldn’t reach me.” You thought of your Wonder Women.

Just as beautiful and dressed in blue,yellow, red, and white. Flowing black hair and her blue eyes. She looked like a goddess and looked like light.

“My Diana? Another version of me, good [ ]?”

“Yes, my Diana is a lot less dressed in darkness and born in Paradise Island, a land full of women called Amazons.” You noted how she froze when she heard you speak.

You wavered over her expression. “You aren’t from Themyscira. From Hell maybe?”

“How did you figure it?” Diana’s brows were up to her forehead as you giggled. “You’re whole getup kinda screams hell. But you’re still my Diana. I can see that.”

Diana hadn’t met you in her reality. She hoped you existed here, and was just as kind as you.

A smile that made you shine like the sun. A sun that Diana only experienced when she arrived her on Earth.

“I see. Well I’m glad your perception isn't me being evil.” She summed up. Her arms bulking as she crossed her arms. Your eyes glittered in excitement as she did so.

“Of course, because no matter how my Diana looks I’ll always love her.” The heat from your cheeks were loud. Diana couldn’t deny the flush of her cheeks.

Truly you were the birth of the Gods. A treasure she would protect; in every universe and any version of you.

SUPERMAN

Clark, or Kal-El floating in the air with blue eyes that were haunting. He didn’t give off that golden retriever aura like you were so used to.

He wasn’t all that huge, and this Superman was lean yet fit. Those eyes weren’t all that calming but haunting. Bright gold was shining off of his suit. Long hair and fair amount of stubble on his chin and jaw.

He was distant.

So unlike your Kal-El. In fact there was no Clark Kent. Simply the his Kyrptonian identity.

If was it was there then it was nonexistent.

Suddenly you felt a red cape surround you. Kal-El coming down and wrapping it around you. Your clothes were ripped. How you got here, but all you knew is that a machine by Gorilla Grodd broke and here you were.

That last memory being Clark being too late in saving you. Tears flowing from his eyes as you escaped into a blue light, and here you were.

“Kal-El…”. You shakily spoke.

“You know me?” He spoke. His voice still as he stared at you blankly. His mind twisting in gears. “Yes, but not mine. I can see that. I’m not from here.” You looked around to see the torn down buildings.

“You’re so much different from my Kal-El. My Superman is much more smiley, but I can see there’s goodness in you.” You looked hopeful into your eyes.

“This world is ugly. Some of these humans are ugly.”

His words made you still. Kal-El looked at you when he felt you falter. Shock in your eyes. That expression fatally fell to a sad smile.

“This world has been cruel to you.” Your hand drifted to his face. He didn’t know why but he allowed himself to melt into your touch. “But you still want to help. Humans are horrible but still fighting will make a difference.”

His expression seemed somewhere else. Like he was hearing someone else’s voice. Blue eyes flickering everywhere for anyone around you two. They came back to you and looking your eyes, locking eyeballs.

A hopeful look in them, “In your world, is it good?”

“Yes, and evil. But we do our best because even the tiniest effort can make the difference, Kal-El.” You gave him a smile. Cupping his face to which he melted.

A loud explosion was heard from elsewhere. Immediately you found yourself in his chest. His suit feeling different, and not made out of cloth like your Superman.

Kal-El made up his mind. Until you could return back to your universe he would protect you. Your world needed your goodness, and so did his other version.

After all it was true. Even if his suit said otherwise. Because maybe a world can be saved from themselves.

Just one step at a time.